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The Places You Found LoveEveryone, but you especially as a woman, is biologically programmed to find babies cute. It's an evolutionary imperative, because the rational thing to do when you've got a screaming, shitting dependant taking up your food, is to kill it, and we need something to stop us doing that. It's also why people are generally attracted to big eyes and smooth skin - because they're characteristics of children.
And I'm not saying this to detract from the beauty of parenthood, or to make you sad, I'm saying it to point out that this fact doesn't make a baby's laugh any less wonderful. And I don't think the source of anything can make it less so.
This is why I can point out that any form of love isn't God or fate or destiny, it's that if two people have a strong emotional attachment, their children are more likely to survive.
Atomic bombs are beautiful.
So I will say that the me I am now, will and always has been feeling what I feel, but that sentence doesn't even make sense until we consider that
The Reasons We DieWhat I meant to say was that sometimes I just stare at the cigarette in my hands and beg for it to stop messing around and just kill me already.
But I figured you don't want to hear that.
The Shifting Nature of RealityYou asked me, "In these dreams, what does it look like?" I told you it looks different every time. Sometimes it's like a million feathers falling, sometimes it's like snow, sometimes it's like little stones, sometimes like ash, sometimes like a fine sand blowing across the hills. It's always silent. It falls around me but it never touches me. It never sticks. I told you sometimes I see dim figures walking in the distance through all the falling white. I told you I wish one would turn around and come to me. I wish one had your face. I wish the pink of your cheeks and blue of your eyes would appear to me unveiled from out of the drift. But the sad small figures don't turn around. They walk on, shoulders low, and disappear. I just watch them. You said, "I'm here now," and touched my hand. "I'm here now."
The Time Gone ByTick tock. All day. Every day is tick tocking by. There is no clock in your office that ticks or tocks, but you can hear the tick tock in your head. Tick. That's another second of your life gone, you think. Tock. That's one more second waiting for the man to tell you what to do. Tick. I'm a thinker, you think. Tock. Time to be a doer. Tick. You walk into your boss' office. Tock. I quit.
The clock stops.
The NuancePlay it one more time please, I need to hear it again. I need to make sure that its the only sound in my head. Play it again for me, I want to hear it once more. I want to make sure the only sound is correct. I don't want to hear that stare again. I don't want to see those words. I'll play the part again, I need to play it again. I need to make sure that every note is right. Give me a second to rehearse that part once more, I haven't been playing it right this entire time. I know it might sound right to you, but it doesn't sound right to me. I can't hear those words anymore. I never want to see that stare again. I have to keep playing. I never want to hear that again.
The Silence Goes On For YearsIn case of emergency, break glass. Throw plates. Cave to the insecurities you've harbored all along. Scream. Curse. Panic. Accuse her of never loving you, even though you know she did and still does. Tell her you never loved her. Tell yourself. Feel the world crumbling around you. Rip the rest of it down. Ignore her pleas. Her tears. Your regrets. Watch yourself leave, unable to stop your own feet. Slam the door. Keep walking. Realize, too late, that you didn't mean it.
The Art of Finding FlawsMaybe that's all it means, to grow up; to watch your heroes become human, right before your eyes.
the Millennia LaterDesolation has its own stark beauty. It's in the limbs of dead trees twisting up, pleading at the grey sky. It's in the air, cold with a faint hint of smoke and the barest breeze that stirs up the dust at your feet. The white-grey ash falls like snowflakes, dusting your hair, your coat, your mask. You catch one of the flakes and it crumbles between your gloved fingers. The ground is packed as hard as concrete under your boots as you turn your back on this cold, still world. You look up; the moon is barely visible. You will carry that memory with you as you go back underground. Mankind no longer has use for the stars.
A Different Sense of RealityReality: The state of being real,
Real: actual, true, genuine
What is real and what is unreal? Where does reality end and fantasy begin? These two realms of real and unreal, reality and fantasy, are not divided but intermingled.
Tell me; when you read a story, a work of fiction, that engages you and makes you feel happy, thrilled, angry or sad are those feelings unreal or real?
When a character in said story dies, are you not saddened?
When injustice is done and the villain reigns are you angered?
So now tell me; does said story cease to be fantasy or does it forever stay within the realm of the unreal?
I say these characters and these worlds that are dubbed as fantasy become just as real to us as the very chair you are seated in right now.
I say reality is subjective, reality is what we make it.
I also say; I live in more than just one reality.
Alexander the FakeEver heard of Alexander the Great?
Do you believe he is real, that he existed and did all things we have been told he did? Of course you do. It is in our history books, so it must've really happened.
Alexander the Great ruled in the 300's BC. We know a great deal about him based on written documents giving us historical accounts of his life and deeds. Did you know though, that the only surviving documents of these historical accounts were written 300 or more years after Alexander the Great lived? Yet we trust these documents and the older sources they cite, even though we do not have those older sources available to confirm what is written.
Now what about Jesus? I know many people who do not believe He existed. Yet we have historical documents, both those of the Bible and those unrelated to the Bible that give us accounts of Jesus.
The Biblical documents were written as early as 30 years after the death of Jesus! And non-Bi
VillainsVillains are generally considered evil or bad. They challenge the status quo, upset the way things are, and don’t seem to care about rules or laws. Not all villains are alike though. Not all of them are wanton killers or trying to end the world.
Take Mega-Mind for example. He was pushed into the role of villain, he didn’t actually hurt anyone, and all he really wanted was recognition. And Dr. Horrible? All he wanted was to change the world, overhaul the system and rule with his love by his side. Unfortunately, in a show down with his nemesis Captain Hammer, his Death Ray broke, and exploded when Captain Hammer tried to Kill Dr. Horrible with his own gun. It killed the love of Dr. Horrible’s love instead.
There are many movies and books about “heros” who are less likeable than some of the villains they face. They are arrogant, rude and obnoxious. One of the most applauded “Villains” of all time is Robin Hood. He broke laws and upset the st
Holocaust Reflection : Reflection on UsVisiting the Holocaust Museum is a difficult subject, especially in Israel. Unlike many museums which are houses of a people's history and triumph, this museum is a walk through a people's history and suffering. The Holocaust stands as a mark of identity for modern-day Jews just as World War II stands as a mark of identity for most Westerners of the past three generations (born 1910-1995).
We are now moving into the third and fourth generations past the Holocaust and WWII, where things such as “Nazi” and “Communist” and people such as Hitler and Stalin have become more of a byword than a warning for future generations. Many people are all too likely to associate government actions with the Nazi party and many people are just as ready to roll their eyes.
When visiting Yad Vashem (the site of the Museum) I entered with a reverent and somber silence, in my mind befitting such a chapter of our human history. I found it odd, then, to find teenagers in there laughing,
Raw hopeThis is raw hope. This isn't structure, this isn't style. This is "universe looking itself through new eyes" - through eyes that are trying to solve a problem, to learn a lessson. This is pure hope, this is believing in future, beliveing that this has a purpose.
This is something that I would delete, throw away, regret. I've written a few; now deleted. I've told myself that I won't delete it. I have deleted them. This is life, this is an attempt to jump into the flow, and in the end think that it was a pretty good ride. This is a permission slip. This is an untamed dream. Of a possiblity.
Not a dream of writing, but possibly. This is a message that says: i'm somewhere. I exist. I want to make you aware of it, I want to see, to feel, to create. I want to be the universe looking itself through new eyes and think to itself that it's okay. That it's allowed. This message is a open-handed invitation to life, hope and dreams.
I have a lot of personalities. I would like to write about them. I
Rules $, $$, $$$, $$$$, $$$$$Eighty-five people should not have the wealth of half the world.
When one works hundreds of times longer,
Hundreds of times harder,
Hundreds of times more-
One should not earn hundreds of times less.
Those with billions should not complain when a single dollar under their boot threatens to part with them,
As those with only a single dollar could earn billions, and not complain.
If one is to complain, make it something worth complaining about;
One person with one billion dollars can really be worth nothing at all.
And when you look at your system of government, and living;
When you discover that money makes your laws;
When you learn that government lures your leaders away from the truth;
When you realize how much a single shred of green can paint a country
It should dawn on you that the rest of the world has been bowing to a fal$e god.
Lessons in Writing III: The Value of TextureLessons in Writing III: The Value of Texture
So much of the information we receive about the world around us comes to us through our eyes. Our sight allows us to quickly and easily judge an object’s size, shape, and colour. When we meet people for the first time, their appearance is usually the very first thing we notice and often what we remember best, long after we have parted.
But our sense of touch is important too, albeit more subtle. As children we love plush toys because of the softness they have in comparison to everything else. When we’re toddlers, we put our hands on everything because we relish how different things feel from one another: the fibres of thick carpet contrast with the smoothness of wooden floorboards; our parents’ hands feel so much larger and rougher than our own; and the graininess of sand stands apart from the clumping of mud.
As adults, we retain our love of textures, particularly contrasting textures. One of the things I love most
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More