Diane Lin Sullivan

Las Vegas Digital Marketer

Posts from the ‘Images’ category

The philosophy I try to follow is to fail fast and to fail often.  This is something I drew after I had the most inspiring, uplifting, and enlightening conversation with a friend who I haven’t seen in years. Her stories made me want to draw out the different areas where I want to continue to grow as a marketer.

Digital Marketing World of Diane Lin Sullivan

I am getting married to this amazing man named Garner Presser.  I saw him on OkCupid one night in 2013 and the rest is history.  Garner recently finished his first novel, Louder is Better, and is currently looking for an agent to help get it published.

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“I do things like get in a taxi and say, ‘The library, and step on it.’”
– Infinite Jest (1996)

Everything takes time. Bees have to move very fast to stay still.” – Brief Interviews with Hideous Men (1999)

Fiction is one of the few experiences where loneliness can be both confronted and relieved. Drugs, movies where stuff blows up, loud parties — all these chase away loneliness by making me forget my name’s Dave and I live in a one-by-one box of bone no other party can penetrate or know. Fiction, poetry, music, really deep serious sex, and, in various ways, religion — these are the places (for me) where loneliness is countenanced, stared down, transfigured, treated.”

“Every love story is a ghost story.”

Harlem by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred? 


      Does it dry up 
      like a raisin in the sun? 
      Or fester like a sore— 
      And then run? 
      Does it stink like rotten meat? 
      Or crust and sugar over— 
      like a syrupy sweet? 


      Maybe it just sags 
      like a heavy load. 


      Or does it explode?

Kindness by Naomi Shihab Nye

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing. 
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend

Assurance by William Stafford

You will never be alone, you hear so deep
a sound when autumn comes. Yellow
pulls across the hills and thrums,
or the silence after lightening before it says
its names- and then the clouds’ wide-mouthed
apologies. You were aimed from birth:
you will never be alone. Rain
will come, a gutter filled, an Amazon,
long aisles- you never heard so deep a sound,
moss on rock, and years. You turn your head-
that’s what the silence meant: you’re not alone.
The whole wide world pours down.

What the Living Do by Mary Howe

Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably fell down there.

And the Drano won’t work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes have piled up

waiting for the plumber I still haven’t called. This is the everyday we spoke of.

It’s winter again: the sky’s a deep, headstrong blue, and the sunlight pours through

the open living-room windows because the heat’s on too high in here and I can’t turn it off.

For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street, the bag breaking,

I’ve been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying along those

wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my wrist and sleeve,

I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This is it.
Parking. 

Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called that yearning.

What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want 

whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss—we want more and more and then more of it.

But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass,

say, the window of the corner video store, and I’m gripped by a cherishing so deep

for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I’m speechless:

I am living. I remember you.

Percy and Books by Mary Oliver

Percy does not like it when I read a book.
He puts his face over the top of it, and moans. 
He rolls his eyes, sometimes he sneezes. 
The sun is up, he says, and the wind is down. 
The tide is out, and the neighbor’s dogs are playing. 
But Percy, I say, Ideas! The elegance of language!
The insights, the funniness, the beautiful stories 
that rise and fall and turn into strength, or courage. 
Books? says Percy. I ate one once, and it was enough. Let’s go.

It’s been a couple of weeks being in real estate. Here are some highlights:

1. I went to a vacant home and found a homeless man sleeping.

2. I went to a vacant home with the master bedroom locked and slippers outside the door. I learned from above.

3. I went to a home where a little girl asked me an inappropriate question.

4. I went to a home that made my heart beat fast. The owners were sketch.

5. I went to a home that inspired me to love big and be thankful.

6. I went to a home where the seller accidentally giggled at the conversation the buyers were having. Everyone started laughing together.

7. I heard about a stunning former dancer who had a builder as a father. She was always interested in his work and one day decided to become a home inspector. Although she dressed appropriately / safely for her job she once got locked in a bathroom by the owner. She was fine but it made her re-think some things.

8. I met the kindest (grandpa) inspector who built an inspection business with his wife. After 20 years in business they are still super successful using only word of mouth. When you listen to stories of when they first started out and then see where they are now you feel the world is a cool place.