Hi I'm Jordan. I am a fan of Harry Potter, the Phelps twins, Matthew Lewis, Fred and George, Neville, the Big Bang Theory, Phineas and Ferb, and Whose Line/Improv-A-Ganza.

Born on May 27, which makes me a Gemini :)


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Text Post Sat, May. 26, 2012

I’m assuming the London Olympics will have Quidditch.

(Source: voldemortoutbitches, via jessleighica)



38,585 notes

Video Post Fri, May. 25, 2012

“Thanks for the Memories, even though they weren’t so great…”

(via welcometothe-blackparade)

576 notes

Photo Post Fri, May. 25, 2012

(Source: ilovemusic7, via mount--diablo)

413 notes

Photo Post Fri, May. 25, 2012 we-reidentical: Important things that fans should take note of/reblog.

we-reidentical:

Important things that fans should take note of/reblog.

(via we-reidentical)

367 notes

Photo Post Fri, May. 25, 2012

(via it-gives-the-blind-sight)

1,331 notes

Video Post Fri, May. 25, 2012

(Source: crackandcandy, via emmyexecution)

5,835 notes

Photo Post Thu, May. 24, 2012 nerdydyke: letsgo-to-neverland: I’m a lesbian so i must have a crush on every girl i see.I have alot of guy friends so i must be fucking every single one of them.I smile alot, so i must have the perfect life.I listen to reggae, so I must be a stoner.My opinion matters, so I must be a bitch.I’m comfortable with my body, so I get around?I’m friends with a lot of guys, so I’ve must have hooked up with all of them.I like to help out, so I must be a suck up.I’m black, so I must be ghetto.I’m black, so I must be stupid.I’m Mexican, so I must be low class.I’m bisexual, so I must get around.I’m straight up blunt, so I must be a bitch.I like to drink, so I must be an alcoholic.I don’t hang out with guys, so I must be a lesbian.I cut myself so I must be emo.I’m bisexual, so none of my girl friends can feel safe.I laugh and smile, so I cannot be depressed.I like spending my day at home, so I don’t have any friendsI am gay, so i must be bulliedMost of my friends are dudes, so I must be a tomboy.I’m on Tumblr, so I must have zero friends in real lifeI’m a Muslim, so I must be a terroristI make alot of mistakes so I must be stupid/retarded.I strongly defend LGBT so I must be gay.I’m from a broken family, so I must be a rebel.I like rasta colors, so I must smoke weed.I’ve had sex, so I must be a slut.I’ve made mistakes, so I must be untrustworthy.I really love him, so I must hold on.I’m a Filipino, so I must be a maid.I really love him, so I must be taken for granted.I’m a Politician, so I must be corrupt.I’m Blonde, so I must be really stupid.I’m wearing a black shirt, so I must be emo.I wear make up, so I must be a flirt.I make alot of mistakes, so I must be hated.I am a teenager, so I must be misunderstood. I’m male, so I must be sexist. I’m male, so I must want sex all the time. I’m female, so I must be emotional. I’m trans*, so I must want to get surgery. I’m short, so I must be weak. I’m a rape survivor, so I must have deserved it. I support men’s rights, so I must be a douchebag. I support women’s rights, so I must hate men.

nerdydyke:

letsgo-to-neverland:


I’m a lesbian so i must have a crush on every girl i see.
I have alot of guy friends so i must be fucking every single one of them.
I smile alot, so i must have the perfect life.
I listen to reggae, so I must be a stoner.
My opinion matters, so I must be a bitch.
I’m comfortable with my body, so I get around?
I’m friends with a lot of guys, so I’ve must have hooked up with all of them.
I like to help out, so I must be a suck up.
I’m black, so I must be ghetto.
I’m black, so I must be stupid.
I’m Mexican, so I must be low class.
I’m bisexual, so I must get around.
I’m straight up blunt, so I must be a bitch.
I like to drink, so I must be an alcoholic.
I don’t hang out with guys, so I must be a lesbian.
I cut myself so I must be emo.
I’m bisexual, so none of my girl friends can feel safe.
I laugh and smile, so I cannot be depressed.
I like spending my day at home, so I don’t have any friends
I am gay, so i must be bullied
Most of my friends are dudes, so I must be a tomboy.
I’m on Tumblr, so I must have zero friends in real life
I’m a Muslim, so I must be a terrorist
I make alot of mistakes so I must be stupid/retarded.
I strongly defend LGBT so I must be gay.
I’m from a broken family, so I must be a rebel.
I like rasta colors, so I must smoke weed.
I’ve had sex, so I must be a slut.
I’ve made mistakes, so I must be untrustworthy.
I really love him, so I must hold on.
I’m a Filipino, so I must be a maid.
I really love him, so I must be taken for granted.
I’m a Politician, so I must be corrupt.
I’m Blonde, so I must be really stupid.
I’m wearing a black shirt, so I must be emo.
I wear make up, so I must be a flirt.
I make alot of mistakes, so I must be hated.
I am a teenager, so I must be misunderstood.

I’m male, so I must be sexist.

I’m male, so I must want sex all the time.

I’m female, so I must be emotional.

I’m trans*, so I must want to get surgery.

I’m short, so I must be weak.

I’m a rape survivor, so I must have deserved it.

I support men’s rights, so I must be a douchebag.

I support women’s rights, so I must hate men.

(Source: keykaulitz, via loveyoubud)

59,520 notes

Photo Post Thu, May. 24, 2012 creativenothing: Students in Quebec were asked to send the cops the route of their march. Here is what they replied with.

creativenothing:

Students in Quebec were asked to send the cops the route of their march. Here is what they replied with.

(via loveyoubud)

896 notes

Photo Post Thu, May. 24, 2012

(Source: nevrsaydie, via mount--diablo)

213 notes

Photo Post Thu, May. 24, 2012 secrettreehouse: mishalmoorebloggyblog: As seen on Facebook. (posted by Homestead Survival) A sweet lesson on patience. A NYC Taxi driver wrote:I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.. ‘Just a minute’, answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90’s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940’s movie.By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboardbox filled with photos and glassware.‘Would you carry my bag out to the car?’ she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.She kept thanking me for my kindness. ‘It’s nothing’, I told her.. ‘I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.’‘Oh, you’re such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, ‘Could you drivethrough downtown?’‘It’s not the shortest way,’ I answered quickly..‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice.I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. ‘I don’t have any family left,’ she continued in a soft voice..’The doctor says I don’t have very long.’ I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.‘What route would you like me to take?’ I asked.For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, ‘I’m tired.Let’s go now’.We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move.They must have been expecting her.I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.‘How much do I owe you?’ She asked, reaching into her purse.‘Nothing,’ I said‘You have to make a living,’ she answered.‘There are other passengers,’ I responded.Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.She held onto me tightly.‘You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.. Behind me, a door shut.It was the sound of the closing of a life..I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day,I could hardly talk.What if that woman had gotten an angry driver,or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life.We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

secrettreehouse:

mishalmoorebloggyblog:

As seen on Facebook. (posted by Homestead Survival)

A sweet lesson on patience. 

A NYC Taxi driver wrote:

I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.. ‘Just a minute’, answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90’s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940’s movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.

There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard
box filled with photos and glassware.

‘Would you carry my bag out to the car?’ she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.

She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

She kept thanking me for my kindness. ‘It’s nothing’, I told her.. ‘I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.’

‘Oh, you’re such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, ‘Could you drive
through downtown?’

‘It’s not the shortest way,’ I answered quickly..

‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice.

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. ‘I don’t have any family left,’ she continued in a soft voice..’The doctor says I don’t have very long.’ I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

‘What route would you like me to take?’ I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.

We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, ‘I’m tired.Let’s go now’.
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move.
They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

‘How much do I owe you?’ She asked, reaching into her purse.

‘Nothing,’ I said

‘You have to make a living,’ she answered.

‘There are other passengers,’ I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.She held onto me tightly.

‘You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.. Behind me, a door shut.It was the sound of the closing of a life..

I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day,I could hardly talk.What if that woman had gotten an angry driver,or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.

But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

(via loveyoubud)

103,070 notes

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