… But if you describe yourself as a “bad person” or a “horrible person”, you shouldn’t reproduce. That is irresponsible. You should sterilize yourself in order to be removed from the gene pool.
Darling (noun): a clumsy, cliche and often poorly placed line in a poem which is only there because of the sentimental value it holds for the writer.
E.g. Kill your darlings.
(Also known as babies. Mine commonly materialise in guitar playing imagery and/or blue eyes and/or other such drivel)
I’ll take all the memories
and package them like boiled sweets,
twisted at each end so we can get at them
and I will save them for winter
and for everything else
because we need them more than we think we do.
And as much as we’ve right and reason to hope
we’re entitled to what we once had
just as much
if not more.
When women get with a guy, they expect he will change.
When guys get with a woman, they expect that she won’t.
I think when it comes to hating people – once you’ve got past the initial and slightly perverse horror of admitting you are capable of hatred – we’re all flawed. When you hate someone, you’re engaged in a battle with them. You might be battling for something specific, perhaps being able to walk away with a victory in an argument tucked under your belt. Sometimes it’s more general – you want, need, feel entitled to be happier than them. Always.
I think it’s bullshit. Hate is bullshit. To expect a person to always occupy a slightly lower position than you in the scale of emotional fulfilment, to rejoice when they suffer and curse when they’re ecstatic, it’s a never ending tyrant. And it’s never going to happen the way you wish. You’re going to get on with your life and they with theirs, you are going to experience pain and happiness that they will never be aware of, and they the same. That is life. And life will take you away from the person you hate.
In the long run, it will affect you more than it will ever affect them. So smile at them. Make sure your thoughts about how they have a crooked nose or an annoying laugh never graduate into poison dart insults, go home, do something that makes you happy and forget them.
I met Kristen when I was out in San Diego years ago. We instantly hit it off and her bright personality was just like her smile, warmly ubiquitous. Her charming attitude made an instant impression on me, and we remained close friends up to her untimely passing on November 23, 2011. Kristen, I love and miss you. I wish you would have told me what was going on during the last days of your life. If only you could see the outpouring of support from everyone that knew and loved you. The world is lesser of a place without you because of how much better you made it while you were here. I hope you understand the impact you made on not only my life but on everybody’s lives of those that knew you. I’m lucky to have had a great friend like you. I just selfishly wish that you were still here.
I wrote this post because Kristen’s birthday is coming up on March 2nd. She would have been 22-years-old. To everyone reading, please please please be kind and considerate of others. We don’t know how the smallest deed or misdeed toward someone or kind or unkind words can have on a person. Before you want to pass judgment on another person, take an honest look at yourself and ask yourself, what makes you think you have the right to judge anybody.
If I could take away the pain that your family feels, I would. Your mother is an amazing, strong woman. We all love you Kristen.
Just go away and shut up already. You have done more than enough damage. Just fuck off. Everybody is tired of your BS. Just go. We know you don’t mean what you say. We know you’re just a liar who kept lying right up until the entire house of cards was pulled down, torn up and set on fire. I know this because I was a similar person the last few years, lying to and cheating on and not appreciating the man that loved me unconditionally. I was not a tad bit remorseful, contrite or altruistic about it at all until the ultimate realization of all the pain I had caused him and the awareness that I had let go of somebody that I was important to, a once in a lifetime thing, hit me in the face.
Here we are now, almost six months after all the evidence was laid on the table and just now you’re deciding that maybe a ‘confession of sorts’ will lead to a lifting of the ban on triathlons so you can get back to doing what you care about most, making shit-tons of money at the expense of naive suckers.
Just go away already. Your whole confession is very calculated.
Speaking of Paco Rabanne, I wish more guys wore Black XS! Every guy I encounter (around here, anyway) reeks of Aqua di Gio or Cool Water! Yes, it has the uber-synthetic dry strawberry note that feminizes the scent, but if a man has the confidence to pull it off, it becomes a sexy scent! I bought a bottle for one of my ex-boyfriends and he became VERY cuddly with it (not that he wasn’t before). It was hard to stop myself from sniffing him! Ahhh! 😛
I love this fragrance! I bought a bottle yesterday. I don’t care that it’s marketed towards men since I wear what I like and have had a much easier time finding something I like in the men’s perfume section.
The bottle is unique and classy, and really a very clever idea, but I’m surprised at how many people don’t realize that it is an imitation of a gold bar like the kind that was used in banks during the gold standard time before President Richard Nixon ended it for good. So, 1 Million in a gold bar is perfect. Except I absolutely hate the sprayer button. It’s very poorly designed and not the easiest to use, I can see why so many have had it die on them.
I first gained interest in this after smelling the female version, Lady Million and not liking it at all. This however, won me over instantly. It’s warm, but not overly so, making it tasteful for any time of the day. In the opening, I get a good deal of citrus and amber-like sweetness with a synthetic quality. It’s quickly followed by a blend of warm spice (mainly cinnamon), leather and just a hint of wood. As it dries down the synthetic quality thankfully goes away. The sweet note still remains, but it’s a very masculine and refined kind of sweetness, turning into a more boozy, almost creamy vanilla. It’s not loud and obnoxious like many women’s perfumes that scream cake and candy and girly flowers. I tend to hate sweet notes on myself, but this works with the spice and leather, and I really appreciate it. It just goes to show that sweet does not always equal feminine. The patchouli is definitely there as well and it adds a nice, crisp, overall sharpness.
This is also the strongest EDT I have ever come across. 1-3 sprays is really all you should go for. Even when I just wear one spray someone sitting a little ways away from me can easily smell it. It also lasts incredibly well; sometimes I can still smell it on my skin the next morning.
I absolutely adore spicy, masculine scents, and this spicy, musky, sharp, sweet fragrance is my new current favorite. It’s refreshing to have something spicy but not girly sweet and florally for a change, and I am so happy this works well with my skin. Oh, and another plus? I’m not going to smell like every other girl or woman! 🙂
‘You never really understand a person until . . . you climb into his skin and walk around in it.’ Harper Lee
Empathy is an almost forgotten art. I call it art because it’s a skill, and any skill performed well can become art. It’s a skill because it takes practice, and sensitivity, and thought, and instinct.
It’s almost forgotten because so few people practice it. It’s rare to hear someone take the time to say, ‘Well, let’s think about it from their point of view.’ It’s rare to hear anyone try and rationalise what their opponent or peer is thinking, or what motives lie behind their behaviour.
It’s hard to do. We all have a certain appearance on the outside, but we’re trapped inside our own minds, and obsessed with our own experience. Events around us, people’s behaviour and things that are said come to us through a thick filter, arriving at a wholly self-centred ego which interprets everything through its own needs. It’s hard to forcibly step outside of that, and to make our minds imagine the thought patterns of others. Even more difficult is the process of feeling as others feel – putting aside our own ME ME ME experience for a moment, and climbing into another person’s skin.
Literature is one vehicle by which we access empathy. A story takes us away from ourselves, and allows us to look into someone else’s experience. It’s easier when it’s done for us – when a writer takes us by the hand, and shows us how that someone else feels. Atticus teaches Finch about empathy, and by doing so Harper Lee teaches us, too.
It frightens me that To Kill A Mockingbird was published in 1960, and today, in 2013, fifty-three years later, we still have a lot to learn about empathy. One novel certainly doesn’t change the world, of course; but we understand the universal truth Lee spoke. We understood it then, and we understand it now. Believing in the power of empathy or optimism is often seen as naive, but cynicism is dangerous.