Talk that talk?No, thanks.

WanderingViolet

I hate small talk.
I wanna talk about important stuff. Shit which just might actually matter. I wanna talk about death. And life. I wanna talk about aliens and magic and vampires. And are werewolves real?I wanna talk about neutrons and protons and atoms and molecules. I wanna discuss the meaning of life and my role in this universe. I wanna talk about the faraway galaxies and the billions of stars. I wanna know what’s your poison,what music makes you wanna stand up and dance. And which songs make you wanna curl into a fatal ball and protect yourself from it all. I wanna talk about memories. I wanna know about the lies you have woven so effortlessly and your thoughts which come unbidden. Your flaws, your ticks, your happiness triggers, your favorite scents, food you love, genres you dig…I wanna know it all. I wanna know all about your…

View original post 125 more words

A leading scientist warns about the climate: “The time for debate has ended. Action is urgently needed.”

Fabius Maximus website

Summary: The science establishment is betting its credibility, going all in on extreme climate in preparation for November’s United Nations Climate Change Conference in Paris.  The pretense of professional objectivity has been abandoned. The role of science in our society and the political Left — allies in this project — might depend on the weather of the next few years. Have they weighed the stakes vs. the risks?  {2nd of 2 posts today.}

Today’s astounding example of science at work is this editorial by Marcia McNutt — editor-in-Chief of Science and next President of the National Academy of Sciences — in the July 3 issue of Science: “The beyond-two-degree inferno“. Please read it in full, for you’ll see many more such statements this year. I’ll cite a few of its strange elements.

The coming inferno

“Let’s act now, to save the next generations from the consequences…

View original post 1,182 more words

Transformations.

WanderingViolet

Ailing body
Troubled soul
Flapping limbs
Mind,old.
Happy moments
Far and few
Rare smiles
Call to you.
Thoughts unhindered
Talks uncomplicated
Bruised spirit
Walls agitated.
Won’t move,
Golden hooves
Like an animal
Unexpected cues.
Unsolicited dances
Running free
Uncaring,
Talking to thee…

Toodles!
~A♥~

View original post

Photo101: Architecture and Monochrome

This is Another Story

I was actually dreading this assignment because there are really not much architecture around here that’s worth showing in color let alone in black and white. Now that the project at my other job complete, I just have to go to work once a week to update the inventory and I never bring my camera for that. Then this morning, as I was digging around in search of some landscape pictures, I came across these. They aren’t much but I’m sure they belong in the category of some sort of architecture.

This is a custom home built right next to the neighborhood park. It’s the largest, most unique, and beautiful in the neighborhood. Everyone call this “The Round House” because a large portion of the house is round. A hard-working elderly lady lives there. She is incredibly hard-working. Almost every time we go to the park, we would walk by…

View original post 92 more words

Tomorrow She is Never Again Four Years Old (Not Even One Dot)

jen groeber: mama art

I look at the clock and it’s 11:34 pm. I picture my newly minted five-year-old, asleep in her bed, covered with the Hello Kitty blanket I stayed up until past midnight last night to make, her hands curled under her ear, like the fiddlehead ferns she begged me to buy in the grocery store last week. I wonder, does she know that she has twenty-six minutes (now twenty) left of being in the in-between?

Because on her birthday this morning, she began as a four-year-old. And four-year-olds are young. They’re like babies. They go to pre-school. They say things like, “I liked it, but only one dot,” and everyone nods in wonderment. They are allowed to lisp. They always get right of way, whether on a bike or in a pool or playing Skipbo. Because they’re just four. And everyone else, at least everyone else in my house…

View original post 655 more words

Nine circles of hell

Strong Language

For all of its eternal damnation, hell can seem pretty weak when it comes to strong language. Fuck and bitch, say, can rain down some serious fire and brimstone, but hell? Religious-based swears may not bring the same heat they once did in English, but hell still hath a lot of fury if we look at the many ways it bedevils our tongue. From hell yes! to hell-to-the-no, let’s take a tour of some of the linguistic uses—er, circles—of hell. 

View original post 1,762 more words

Ramadan Reality Check: Burnout or Speed Up

Muslim Words

For me, the weeks and days leading up to Ramadan are filled with hope, enthusiasm and determination. I look forward to the days and nights of tranquility, and a sense of unity among the ummah, worldwide. I long for the shayateen to be locked up, so that I can begin my soul searching and be steadfast in my worship. Just the thought of having the chance to improve myself and gain both reward and forgiveness seems to relieve my heart and make me happy.

View original post 652 more words

Q&A: Alice Driver

WANDER HOME

Alice Driver is a writer, photographer, filmmaker and traveler. I first discovered her work when I read her piece, “My Own Trap,” a moving mediation on creativity, personal history and home. It spoke to me on every level and I’ve followed her work since, finding a kindred spirit of sorts. There’s so much to say about Alice, but she’s said it all better than I could in answer to my four questions below. The above photo was taken by photographer Rodrigo Jardón on Alice’s parents’ property in Arkansas, which was the subject of his photo essay, A Homeland: Arkansas.

***

Much of your work touches on or is centered around your childhood home in rural Arkansas where your artist parents bought land, built a house and raised you. Though you’ve chosen a different lifestyle, it seems like this unconventional sense of home informs a lot of your decisions and actions…

View original post 1,495 more words

This is my house.

The Bloggess

The greatest gift in the world is to grant a kindness to another. The amazing thing though is that the aforementioned gift is one you give yourself. It may be a small thing. Leaving a flower for the tired woman at the coffee shop. Telling a stranger that they have such kind eyes. Listening happily to a story told by an elderly friend or relative who has told you the same story a million times. Nodding in solidarity even when you don’t completely understand. Letting a friend or a stranger yell hurtful things at you because you hope it will help them let go of a small part of that anger…that it will open up room in them for the greater things that they deserve.

This is the way the world goes. Small, mean acts affect the next person who in turn amplify that anger or sadness and take it out on others who suffer…

View original post 2,646 more words