MMMH, BOY, DO YOU LIKE STARING AT THE FLESHY LUMPS OF FAT ON MY CHEST? YEAH, YOU KNOW IT.
Love as a CurrencyWe price things in terms of love
"I love this thing,
But does the value of its cost
Outweigh the value I, myself
Have placed upon it?"
"I love this person,
But do I love them enough
To do the things for them I'll be expected to
If I tell them?"
The funny thing
Or the sad thing
Is that if the answer is 'no'
We sigh and place our hands on our hearts
As though it tears at us
To simply walk away
And forget about that thing
Or that person
But we do it anyway.
We price things in terms of love
While something everyone has a right to,
Is not a currency everyone understands.
I tell people,
"I love the English language
I love words
I love what they can do."
But I don't think I have a right to that one.
I price things in terms of love
"I love this kid."
"I love this room."
"I love this story, this poem,
This artistic application of twenty-six letters
And however many words,
Gathered to make something
If I were to price things in terms of beauty
Which I do, sometimes
...and out the other sideWhat's the worst part? Arthur asks, carding his fingers lightly through Eames' hair.
He's silent for a long time and it's moments after Arthur resigns himself to not getting an answer before he speaks. His voice is low and tired and full of so much numb pain Arthur can't help but tighten his arms around his shoulders, trying to protect him from harm already done, dealt by himself. The worst part, he murmurs in that broken voice, is believing that if you make it through withdrawal, you're out for good.
Arthur brings his chin down to tuck over Eames' shoulder, eyes closed against the mess of styrofoam cups neither have bothered to tidy. He has nothing to say, so he presses his tight lips against the bare, tattooed skin, neither apology nor forgiveness, but reassurance. I thought you would die, he thinks about saying. I thought you'd given up, he wants to whisper. I thought you'd abandoned me and I was so scared and so angry and you're so infinitely dumb, but we'll face this together, he
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
Can Christians Like Dragons?In other words, can a Christian morally have a love for dragons? The logic behind the question is that dragons by Biblical standards seem to be evil creatures. Therefore it should be incompatible to follow Jesus Christ and love dragons at the same time, right? This is what I've been accused of many times, being a firm holder to Truth yet having a soft spot for dragons. I would like to answer in detail these accusations, thus the reason for this article.
Let us look at dragons from every angle, starting with what The Sacred Scriptures say. In The Holy Bible the Hebrew word used for dragon(s) is 'tanniyn' and shows up 29 times in The Old Testament. But, do note that dragons are not always referred to under that word in Scripture, so the count is higher. I've divided these verses up into groups, mainly general and specific cases.
**Dragons in general
--in The Bible we see that dragons are often used by God as curses. Examples are the Babylonian Empire (Isaiah 1
a year in the rearview mirrorDear Past Me,
A couple of months from March, you will forget about this book. You only ever wanted to fill it because your sister gave it to you, anyway. One day you will realize that maybe she never treated you right. That’s not really her fault, but you won’t be able to look her in the eyes for the longest time. You still can’t, not really. You’ve started trying to rebuild bridges that you burnt down between you and her, but it’s hard to create when all you have is a box of matches.
You don’t win your poetry competition—you will tell everyone that you knew you had no chance, but you and I both know you’ve seen too many movies to not have wanted the basketball to go through the hoop from the middle of the court with a second left to spare. You will not keep in touch with anyone from the competition. You will say that you do, but you don’t. That’s okay. You’re okay.
You’re more than okay. You’re loved. I know
Haiku Theory Part 1 -2009-A Lot of Words About A Little Poem
An Introduction to Haiku Structures
A haiku poem cannot be defined according to the number of syllables and lines it contains (nor by the number of syllables in each line). Although I do not wish to go into the reasons why at this point (I will save that for a later discussion) the form of modern English haiku, as Haruo Shirane writes, is a short poem, usually written in one to three lines. (in Gilbert, 2009) At this point our definition sounds very vague. If the number of syllables and lines do not define a haiku poem, then what does? And if a haiku poem is simply a short one, two or three-line poem then what separates it from other forms of Western short-verse or, in the case of one-line haiku, a sentence?
Patricia Donegan writes, in agreement with the Western haiku community at large, that syllable counting... is not the important thing for haiku in English. Haiku is an experience, not an act of co
The Six Lessons of LokiI. The Norns are bitches. You can either entertain them or yourself. Deal with it.
II. If you plan to do something stupid, make sure you can save your own ass.
III. He who plays with fire risks getting burnt. Even I am no exception to this.
IV. Never lie, but only tell the truth if you have to.
V. Snake venom is painful.
VI. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but Mjollnir is sure to kill me.
The media doesn’t support a positive body image
because it’s not good for business.
They want us anxious and afraid
of seeing the numbers on a scale go up.
We’re not worth our weight in gold.
It’s what we don’t weigh
My first boyfriend, who panicked when I touched him
would say “I’m fat”
the way somebody says “I should have never been born.”
They want us spending our money
on designer jeans, instead of groceries,
on concealer and diet plans, instead of an education.
Please don’t starve yourself.
Believe me, I’ve tried
and your body will start to eat itself from the inside out and
if you let it
it’ll get to some valuable stuff.
they’ll only appreciate your body when it’s a corpse.
They won’t notice you
until there’s nothing to be noticed
they’ll mourn and wish for something
that is no longer
In the second grade, I learned that
Self Harm MonologueYou call me a 'freak'.
A 'pathetic emo loser'.
Well guess what?
I don't care.
What makes you think I care?
Who are you to question me- to judge.
You don't have that right.
You strut up to me-
Fag in hand,
in the same nagging, persistent tone,
with the same words that make me want to claw out my eyes in disbelief, you ask me..
" Do you cut yourself?"
And it goes on.
Pfft- like I haven't heard you.
"Yes" is always my reply.
Your tedious response, as always- is the same.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah- Im sick.
Pfft, look at me.
So my skin may be a war ground- a treacherous field of scars and fresh wounds...
But so what?
This isn't for you.
This is for me.
My struggle with myself.
You can't feel the pain I feel.
Some of you...
Think you help.
Here's the thing.
The letters, the phone calls, the counselling sessions with the toffee nosed bastards,
They help nothing.
The effect not a god
Funny Quotes 2Every fight is a food fight when youre a cannibal.
-- Demetri Martin
"My formula for success is rise early, work late, and strike oil."
"I'm desperately trying to figure out why kamikaze pilots wore helmets."
"A good essay is 10% inspiration, 15% perspiration, and 75% desperation"
"All my life, I always wanted to be somebody. Now I see that I should have been more specific."
"If you can't fix it with duct tape you havent used enough."
"All those who believe in telekinesis, raise my hand."
"Constipated People Don't Give A crap."
"Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way when you criticize them, you are a mile away from them and you have their shoes."
"Never be afraid to try something new. Remember, amateurs built the ark. Professionals built the Titanic."
"There Are Three Kinds of People - Those Who Can Count and Those Who Can't"
"Do you know why they call it 'PMS'? Because 'Mad Cow Disease' was already taken."
"Life is what happens to yo
kaa and hinata part 1The village was quiet and peaceful as the sun slowly rose out of the ground; illuminating the lands as far as human's eyes can see. The villagers would usually arise from their home and carry out their regular duties and spend the rest of their few hours enjoying themselves and relaxing. Sadly this didn't apply to the three chunnin ladies that were assigned a mission that involved leaving for a couple of days.
The female in the middle had pink short hair and bright green eyes, she wore a red sleeveless shirt with a zipper from the top to bottom and light pink skirt with a open crease on both sides of the hips showing a dark green stretch short.
The girl on the left had shinning blue eyes and blonde long hair tied up in a ponytail with bangs covering her right eye. She wore a small purple sleeves shirt and a mini purple shirt that opened in the front with short leggings made with bandages and nets around the knees.
The one on the right had memorizing lavender eyes
my chemical romance bibleYou know you're a My Chemical Romance Freak when
1. Your carpet is soaked with drool after watching them play on TV
2. You cry when u hear them play your favorite song live
3. You hear someone say My Chemical Romance and you snap to attention
4. You stand your ground and defend them when someone tries to criticize them
5. You feel like burning the TRL building down
6. You read a story and claim you saw one of the band members names, though its not there
7. You have a MCR song for every point in your day
8. You lick the TV when there on it, Mmm..MCR
9. You recite the words to the song when someone even mutters just a word of it.
10. You Live by the words of My Chemical Romance
11. You've asked your parents millions of times if you could make MCR your religion!!
12. You lick pictures of Gerard, or any of the band members for that matter ( This was mentioned by ~that-girl-24 and was happily posted to the bible.)
MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE BIBLE
Gerard Way puts the "laughter