Six Weeks and an EternityHe’s going to finish his degree. In six weeks, he’s going to have his final recital and jury. No more touchy Yamaha in a tiny practice room, no more living off Mr Noodle and too-little sleep. In six weeks, he’s not going to be Malorie-Miles’-promising-student. In six weeks, he’s going to be Arthur-Fucking-Goldberg-Like-The-Variations, capitals and profanity present and necessary. Because in six weeks he’s going to perform in front of half the conservatorium. In six weeks, he’s going to be handed offers left and right. He’s going to hammer Mendelssohn, nail Haydn, flawlessly execute Schubert, turn Rachmaninoff from beautiful sound to liquid gold for the ears and effortlessly make Mozart something worth playing. Six weeks.
Mozart hadn’t been his idea, of course. It had been Mal’s.
“Arthur, mon beau, you will play Mozart for your recital.” He recalls the conversation clearly.
“Mal, I’m not going to
The BreadmakerEdith knelt before the bread ovens, pushing limp, sweat-soaked hair back from her forehead to better look through the tiny window at the tiger loaves cracking in the heat. She heard Flavia scolding another cook for burning a loaf, her usually kind voice cracking out under the stress of the incoming orders. Every time the far steel door opened to release the loaves, Edith caught the sound of loud voices and something too happy to exist in her world.
France was celebrating. What, Edith knew not, but that they were was obvious. She imagined the wine connoisseurs were having and even worse time of it. She’d worked in (been sold into) the wine trade once, but they soon found her to be all but useless as a connoisseur, as unable to read the swirling script on the bottles as she was to read the unadorned black letters Flavia read out to the cooks.
The loaves were done. Smoothly, Edit pulled open the oven, feeling the hairs on her arms all but curl from the heat before she managed to rem
The Penrose Girl and the Caspian SeaThe fire licks at her body and he wants to scream, because she can’t. Not anymore. His hands are held loosely in his pockets, one turning a red poker chip over and over. She’d been a gambler, he remembers. Of course he remembers. It was how they’d met. She was a terrible gambler. She made a living from spinning lies, but couldn’t hold a poker face for shit.
A tiny, fond smile pulls at a corner of his mouth as the rest of his face is swallowed with melancholy. His Penrose Girl.
She’d never liked fire, but cremation had been her idea. She loved he sea, but was scared of the creatures in it. A woman of paradoxes. He loves her for it.
A switch is flicked and the flames die away. She is gone. Nothing but ash is left. He wonders numbly how it can happen like that. She was there, but now she’s not. It’s a sudden thing and it makes his old hands tremble as they clutch his walking stick.
Later, when standing on the beach near their home, he wonders when
They Have to be WrongAudio: http://pmcde7.tumblr.com/post/100300139659/they-have-to-be-wrong-by-paulette-mcde-music
They Have to be Wrong
By Paulette McDe
Music: Olafur Arnalds - 3055
Inspired by: Shane Koyczan’s ‘To This Day’
Do you ever take a moment and just
To hear the air flowing smoothly down your throat, feel the quickening of your heart as you exhale. Inhale. Exhale. And each breath is a moment to be proud of. A success. Because you did it. You beat them again, proved them wrong. Everyone who ever cut you down or made you hurt. Made you cry. Made you bleed. Made you hate every moment that beautiful muscle beating in your chest continued to carry on, seemingly unhearing of their cruel words. But it hears. Of course it does.
It hears and feels a thousand tiny cuts break across its walls, each insult sinking deeper, wearing down the defences and it knows it’s only a matter of time before they cut through. Before the hairline fr
EnigmaThe mathematician breathed. He wouldn’t have called a deep breath, because it wasn’t one. But he made a conscious effort to draw the air into his lungs, imagining it swirling, drifting across his bronchioles before he let it flood out, releasing it back to the world. Why? Because he was human. He was flesh and blood and bone. He wasn’t extremely strong, though his was adequately fit. He was intelligent – he had to be, for his profession. But he was still human. Just human. Why should he be cursed to carry every drifting life in this damned war? Why should one man be burdened with saving them? He was only human. But he was getting ahead of himself. The politician sitting sternly across the large, wooden desk from him hadn’t posed the question. Or, come to think of it, the subsequent threat. He was sure the two would go hand-in-hand.
“Do you know how many have died because of Enigma, Mr Turing?” He had a cold, closed-off face. He didn’t car
Merlock 2Five o’clock came slowly. John was laying on his side, watching the dots on his digital clock blink at him mockingly for four hours, waiting for his alarm to go off. It was no longer a call to wake him up, so much as a reminder that if he didn’t get ready for the day soon, he wouldn’t be ready for it when it came. Somehow, his meeting with Sherlock had convinced him he wouldn’t dream. As the dots on his digital clock read 4:58am, he wondered if he had been a dream. Because yesterday hadn’t been so terrible. He’d laughed. He’d joked. He’d forgotten, for a second. John regretted leaving his cane down by the jetty. The walk would be painful without it.
4:59am. The dots blinked at him. Coffee and tea. He’d put them in a couple of thermoses, take them down to the jetty. He wondered if Sherlock would turn up. He wondered if Sherlock existed. Maybe he was finally going mad. Though, what caused him to dream him up, he’d
What If...Everyone wants to believe that they are special. Having magical powers, being long lost royalty, the Chosen Hero to save the day/world, being from another world, or being something more than human. There are endless possibilities if one has enough imagination. The truth of the matter is, everyone wants to believe that they have irreplaceable worth, and they do. It's just that they can't see it. See that whether they are just human or something completely Other, every person is different, and every one of them has worth.
This said, There are those of us who simply wish to be like everyone else. To be normal. To be human. To be accepted. Most people forget in their fantasies that being different can be scary. People might try to hurt them because they are afraid of anyone different from them. Of anyone or anything they don't understand. People can be cruel, and merciless. Death, torture, endless taunting, mocking, bullying, and being ostracized are just a few of the possible things that
Simply HumanDon't belittle humans as good.
Don't belittle humans as evil.
For humans are simply human.
Wisdom for the Gentleman and Young LadyBeauty:
"One man may look at a scar and see an imperfection, while another may see a hurting soul."
"You will damage the diamond if you polish it too much."
"When setting boundaries, think of what you would do in front of a third party."
"Always have a plan for your night out."
"How can you 'still be friends' if you were never friends to begin with?"
"Don't ever lay a harming hand on a woman, even if the social norm allows."
"If he doesn't ask for your body, he truly loves you."
"Staring at the waitress is like telling your lover she isn't good enough for you."
"If he holds the door for you it's not because he thinks you're incapable of getting it yourself. He's putting you on a pedestal."
"Don't mistake love for lust."
"Love soothes, but lust burns."
"A man that appreciates beautiful women only admires. He does not stare."
"Just as sharks swarm to a drop of blood in the water, perverts will swarm t
CourageSometimes, the greater example of courage is to get up again and keep fighting;
Other times, it's to be able to admit defeat and live with it.
America..... Seriously? I really hate it how people in America are saying that Christianity isn’t right and how they don’t teach in public schools. People all over the world are being killed by governments and military groups for believing in Christianity. ALL OVER THE WORLD. Most of us Christians are sitting around lounging with not a care in the world. We sit around in an eggshell world and if that shell breaks or cracks, we break, just like the egg. We do have a voice, and I’m tired of sitting around and doing nothing. Even though I’m just a senior in high school, the things that I hear on TV, radios, websites, and newspapers have caught my attention. People all over America are starting to say that America isn’t Bible based. This country’s FOUNDATION was firmly planted in the Bible. Athieists try to use the Declaration of Independence against Christianity, but the it uses several quotes that support Christianity. Check this out:
POSTCARDSThere are no absolutes in life, nothing is concrete or factual.
There are only ideals.Thats not a bad thing, there like postcards
to ideal places you'd like to be but may never afford to get to.
The Media and the Govt.Which organizations tell you what you want to hear?
The Media and the Government
Which organizations only look out for themselves?
The Media and the Government.
Which organizations invade your privacy?
The Media and the Government.
Which organizations often work together?
The Media and the Government