The Places You Found LoveEveryone 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 time is just another spacial dim
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 Overuse of MetaphoresYou smile like it's an accident that comes without an apology.
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.
nihilism at seven:fifteen in the morning"i think jerry seinfeld and larry david could be the greatest philosophers of our time.""i think all young people your age go through stages like this.""no, seriously. they made millions of dollars about the monotony of nothing, it's genius.""that is the beauty of seinfeld, yeah.""i mean, dang though, what would jerry seinfeld the character be remembered for though?""he probably wouldn't be.""exactly. he was known for being a funny guy and banging chicks. but what happens when you get old and your prick goes limp? who's gonna remember him besides george, elaine, and kramer?""no one.""i don't want that. i don't want to be a funny guy and just have sex with women because i could, that's not a happy life. that's pointlessness.""but the point of the show was just that, nothingness. that's the entire point; hell, life is about creating purpose.""it's about creating tasks and jobs for you to accomplish and continuously doing so in hopes of finding some shred of happiness in a big b
Why I oppose spankingTW: Mild self-harmI was spanked as a child. I was a well-behaved youngster who needed little discipline and was generally obedient and respectful to the best of my ability. I can probably count the number of times I was spanked on my fingers. I was not scarred for life by this ordeal, I am well-adjusted, and I have never reacted by being violent to others. To all appearances, I am a testament to the value of the practice of spanking.And yet, I oppose it. Vehemently.This was not always so. For most of my life, I assumed that spanking was a generally useful practice that taught kids to expect consequences to their actions. It promoted personal responsibility, I was told, and enforced respect. I fully expected that I would spank my own children (hopefully not often). I further expected that children who were not spanked would likely be unruly, disrespectful, and lack a sense of responsibility and self-control.However, as I began to
Christian Persecution in the USAA lot of Christians seem to be fond of crying about the oppression they experience in American society. My first response is to laugh, but a lot of these people take themselves very seriously so I feel like I should give them a semi-serious answer to some of the claims I've heard. By "semi-serious", I mean I will include some facts but I will still have a deriding attitude. I can only try so hard. Now usually, I don't like formatting a question-answer session against an imaginary opponent since it seems unfair, but this isn't really an imaginary opponent. All of these statements or questions have been put to me before so, as far as I'm concerned, they are fair game."Christianity is becoming endangered."Honey, this is America. Christians are the vast majority in this country. A 2007 poll places the percentage at 78.4% Christian . The vast majority of our politicians and even our president identifies as Christian. The fact that people were
Give Life to the Backgrounds"Give background personality, give it life."Think about WHY in the world do you draw backgrounds?Are you thinking you need to do better in drawing backgrounds because your art needs it to look better?How do you treat backgrounds in your work? What is actually "backgrounds" to you??Background by defination in art simply means, the picture plain in the back of the main subject.So background can be "white" or "blank" that's still background in considering of the art elements.But what "background" means to most of us, is "scenery" and "enviromental" drawing/painting behind the main "character" or "subject" on the picture.There is a thing about the background's relationship and the characters (The main subject)....when we are making a single image, don't we need to make sure the viewer see the "focal" point of the image which is the most interesting part?Sometimes the background itself can be point blank, to help the focal point to stand out and retreat, that's still
LipogramDear Jenny,I met you at a party on New Year's Eve, when the music beat in triplets against my quavered heart. You looked out of place, out of step, and for many, out of mind, so I ventured forwards and let the crowd carry me to the edge."Hi," I yelled. You mouthed something I didn't catch. "Sorry - I can't hear you!"This time, I caught the words on your lips that had snagged on your teeth."Neither can I."You spoke like porridge, with thick consonants and lumpy vowels - haltingly, as if English wasn't your first language. In a way, it wasn't. You spoke in glances and touch, in the way you'd feel someone's presence instead of hearing them enter a room. You spoke through pen on paper and ink on skin. In time, I grew used to the fact that I could not ring you; that the way you stared at my lips when I spoke wasn't impolite, but necessary; that you didn't, and never would, understand the concept of a regional accent. I grew to love you and your quirks - like the way you loved it when w
Prawidla Wszystko jest pojęciem względnym: jedni mówią bohater, inny głupiec. Są dwa wybory co do zawodu: pasja, czy chleb. W dzisiejszych czasach osoba o własnym zdaniu nie ma życia. Pozostało jedynie strzelić sobie w łeb... ale zaraz, ja już nie żyję. Bieda nauczy się wszystkiego. Czasem wierzę, że umiem latać, ale potem narkotyk przestaje działać. Nie można ciągle chronić dziecka przed upadkiem, bo inaczej nie nauczy się wstawać. Każdy jest kowalem swojego losu. W chwilach trudnych tylko dowiadujemy się z kim pracujemy w jednej kuźni. Człowiek kończy się tam, gdzie kończy się jego mentalność,a człowiek pozbawiony moralności nigdy się nie zaczął.
The Eagle And The BudgieYou can't explain freedom to someone who doesn't know they're caged.