Genevieve Padalecki on her sister Sarah’s recovery
When traffic was making him late for his panel, he didn’t just sit in the car and wait for it to take him to the hotel.
I’m sorry, but celebrities don’t do that. They accept that they’re going to be late and apologize when they get there. They don’t get out of the car and run the rest of the way to the hotel so that they don’t let down their fans.
Bravo, Mr. Collins. Bravo.
Every language has its own version of um. French has euh, Korean eum, Finnish öö, Russian eh; even sign languages have signs for um. The fact that most languages have some kind of um suggests that it serves a natural and important language function.
So what is this important language function? Why do people say um? Not because they are nervous. Scholarly studies of the word reveal that the use of um does not correlate with anxiousness or any particular personality traits. Rather, um is used to signal an upcoming pause—usually uh for a short pause and um for a longer pause. The pause may be needed in order to find the right word, remember something temporarily forgotten, or repair a mistake. Um holds the floor for us while we do our mental work. It buys some time for thinking.
i was thinking about falling and the soullessness of angels, and was wondering, what if Castiel were to grow a soul? that it’s not something he falls with (“I’m an angel, you ass, I don’t have a soul to sell”), but something he grows himself, as if in his own little garden in his heart.
and what if it began to grow by the ringing of his name, the first time “Castiel” was spoken by a hunter’s lips as Castiel awoke on the ground, because names have power and nothing can truly wrest Castiel from his, not memory or Metatron because no matter what he is or becomes he’s still just Castiel, isn’t he?
and each time Dean says “Castiel” it grows little more. with each smile and lilt of his name on his friend’s lips a new bud blossoms, until all its branches are full grown and the next time Dean whispers “Castiel” rough and secret into his ear as his hands fold across his back like wings the leaves of his soul rustle in the contented breeze of an eternal summer
“That must be lonely.”