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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.
Art Needs YouA scene can be painted with words as well as brush strokes. The words are like the colors. There tone, the specific word, can change the meaning of a sentence drastically. The page, whether it is a computer page or paper, is the canvas.
It is the blank slate that an artist must put their mark. The idea can be daunting-How am I to fill a space so white? So blank? Then the words-or the paint-begin to flow. The idea was there all along, just waiting to be freed. It may not be what was originally intended, but it is art nonetheless. It doesn’t have to be Da Vinci or Hemingway. It may never reach greatness. However, you created something, no matter how novice, or how professional. Its practice, learning, and heart. You can’t have art without heart.
You pour heart and soul into everything you create. It makes the art come to life. You post it with faith and hope. Faith that you’d done the best you could. Hope that others would like what you worked so hard to create
Time MachinePeople always dream about being able to go back in time,
but what they don't realize is that they can.
Every time you read a story, listen to a record,
or watch an old film, you're time traveling.
So go ahead, pick up a book, listen to a classic tune,
watch a movie, and discover your time machine.
Nothing SpecialOur world is nothing special. It is nothing more than a collection of statistical averages. What we once believed to be the centre of the universe and all creation, is in fact, just one planet of many, orbiting one star of many, in a galaxy of many. And it is not extraordinary.
Earth sits at neither the top, nor the bottom of any scale. It does not have the highest mountains, the deepest canyons, the biggest volcanoes, or the wildest weather. We are neither the hottest, nor the coldest. We cannot even claim to have the most moons.
Even our brother and sister planets are not at the top of their respective scales. Jupiter, whom we once regarded as the benchmark of giants, is not the largest planet out there. Nor is Mercury the hottest. Nor Pluto the coldest. Even our sun, our very own Sol is not the biggest, brightest or hottest thing in the sky. It is an average star, with average planets. It exists in a galaxy, which is, in itself, only average.
And yet, despite this, despite the sheer
Poetry and Photography- A personal quote of mineI capture things with a camera. I let go of things with words. My artistic pursuit is a never-ending story of catch-and-release; I never get to keep my ideas for very long...
I am an artist.“Why do you like drawing so much?”
Drawing allows me to sketch out my ideas on paper. It allows me to zone out of the world - just for a little while - so I can catch my breath.
“I don’t get how you can just sit inside and draw all day.”
I don’t get how you cannot. Drawing is like entering a whole different world to me, sometimes one that I like more than my own. It’s like a new adventure every time I flip to the next page of my drawing book.
“I would much rather be outside doing something.”
That’s what you want, but not me. Maybe this is what I find for pleasure. Creating and shaping my own characters is my activity and I enjoy it, just like you enjoy your outdoor activities.
“I want to get out there and actually make my day worth something, not just sit in front of a piece of paper.”
Maybe some of us don’t like making it big. Maybe some of us enjoy the peace and serenity of drawing. I believe creating a pic
Mortality and Qualia.
Is there life after death? What is the meaning of life? Why is there something, rather than nothing? These are some of the largest and most profound questions that exist. Can meaning even exist in a world where entropy reigns supreme and death is the inevitable end of all?
That last question is hard to answer, but fortunately, I don't think answering it will be necessary.
Doubtlessly, my religious beliefs shed light on all of these points. However, for many reasons, I will presently set those aside, and lead us on a philosophical and scientific tour, rather than a theological one, on the nature of mortality.
In the modern era in which we live, it is quite natural for most people to turn to science for answers. After all, I type this on a laptop created by knowledge of the material world, and the rules that govern the interactions of material in space and time. We are immersed in technology, not the fruits of philosophical musings and metaphysics, but the yield of the s
Two waysOnce upon a time, two men, brothers in soul, wondered how to seek the path to wisdom, the older decided to live a hermit in the tallest of the cusp, to live and ponder the meaning of life by himself for some years, but the younger decided to stay in society and the safety of home, disposed of course to seek his own path with the favor of his people and the daily routine.
As the time passed and years changed, the countdown for the meeting was up one day, and both brothers encountered their stories, eldest opened up the conversation:
“During my time in the mountains I had time to ponder and think, the meaning of life and develop my mind, peace and feed my soul, and what did you learn, brother?”
“During my time at home, around my family and people I know, between my problems and my productive life, I learned many things from people, morals and valuable feelings from my mistakes and triumphs, my flaws and talents, I helped many people change just as much as they helped me
Nine TimesI saw him nine times.
The first time we were both sitting in the room together, getting ready to take the math test that would determine our placement. I was scatterbrained and throwing things around, trying to find the pencils that I had known I would need but had still just tossed in my purse. He was lounging backwards in his chair, looking for all the world as though he didn’t have a single care in the world, including the upcoming test. It annoyed me, that I was frantic and ready to scream, while someone else could be that relaxed.
I tested out of the class.
I don’t know if he did.
The second time I saw him, it was a few months after I arrived on campus. He was the one rushing and frantic this time, running across the square. He was probably late for class, though I had no way of knowing for sure. I was already lost in my own thoughts and ideas, deciding on my major and convincing people that yes, this is what I really want to do with my life. If they weren
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