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Construction Paper HeartIn all my life, there are many things my brothers taught me. Very few of them were taken seriously, and I can only remember a handful.
And so, rule number four was as follows: If you're ever on your first date with a guy in a restaurant and your date orders a lemon margarita, dump him. Immediately. Just end it right there.
Rule number six was to never, ever feed a stray cat tuna, for then, they will become tuna junkies.
Yes, I know, they're both very important life lessons; I agree. However, there's a deeper meaning in both of them. ...Well, alright, maybe there isn't.
But they did teach me this, and it's more than enough to make it throu
I am a womanI am not an object.
You cannot use me.
I was not made simply for your pleasure.
I am not a pretty picture to be used and thrown away.
I have a heart, feelings, dreams….
I have a purpose here.
I am a human being, a person like you.
And it hurts me when you treat me as less than human.
It hurts me when I become less than a whole,
And just the sum of my parts.
It hurts me when I become just something to please you.
It hurts me when you strip away my humanity,
Even if just with your eyes and mind.
You cannot stare at me in longing.
You cannot undress me with your eyes.
You cannot force me to kiss you.
You cannot grope me as you see fit.
You cannot take advantage of me.
You cannot have your way with me.
I am not to be dominated.
I am not to be violated.
When I say no, I do NOT mean yes.
When I te
Things About Me 1Well. Let me start off by saying this is just a list explaining a few things plus some random shit about me.
I don't like ignoring people. I do read everything someone sends me, but I honestly feel uncomfortable talking to people sometimes. I would love to but it's like...Like I feel like somewhere along the lines I'll seriously piss off someone on accident or make them hate me because of my opinions. I dunno.
I have no confidence in myself at all. Usually people think I say "I'm fat" or "I wish I was beautiful" for attention. But it's not. I honestly feel that way. I think I'm hideous.
I want to be a writer but I feel like my writing is t
Dreams: I Want To Hold Your Hand... i had a dream last night. i do not remember what it all entailed, i rarely ever do..., but most of my dreams are nightmares at best. Ever since You left, i have been nothing but sad and depressed. i always wake up crying or not even breathing from my dreams...
But this dream was different. The part that i remember the most and which was the best part, was only a few seconds long... And it was something so simple, but brought such happiness. And most people will laugh or raise an eyebrow, thinking me totally crazy. Which they're probably right... You, on the other hand, will probably just roll Your beautiful eyes as You normally do
R-P-A-C BIO SHEETRPAC Bio Sheet
*dA name:* LUVthatSTUFF
*dA home page: http://luvthatstuff.deviantart.com/
*Real name: Just ask if you really wantto know
*Nicknames: Judge,Blood,Nagi,Clue,Spell ( depends on who you want to role-play with ) Or if you want me to role-play as myslf L-kun or Onion-kun will do
*Public email to contact: thatSTUFFLuv@yahoo.com
*Yahoo Messenger ID: thatSTUFFLuv@yahoo.com
*MSN: Can't use on my Mac, Buyt will use if needed
*AIM: Can't use on my Mac, But will use if needed
*Skype: Can't use on my Mac, But will use if needed
*ICQ: Don't know what that is...
*Best time to contact you? Throughout the week,Pretty much as ealy or as late as you want,though will tell you if otherwise
*Preferred RP method: I 'm an adapter, I will try what ever. Love new things~
Even Action and Adenture or more serious type things~
*Vore preferences / Pregnan
WatchersFake journal n° fhsgfasgasfasjgahhjf
I'll stick with that random number thing, yeh -u-
Maybe no one gives a frog but...
I felt like...
That I'm gaining a lot of watchers lately ;A; ...
I LOVE YOU ALL >w<
No I'm not on drugs, just I'm on a good mood today -u-
Prosperity and Harm
As I gaze at this photo, I realize how strange it must look to some people, a waist high blue tub, papers lined on the edge, and two men holding a dripping wet child. It was my baptism, I was 10 years old. A year prior I had asked Jesus into my heart and this baptism was the moment when I became a “born-again,” Christian. I was raised in the evangelical protestant Christian Church of the Nazarene, a denomination that came out of the Holiness movement of 19th century America. This denomination believes strongly in “believer’s baptism,” meaning you are baptized after you have accepted Jesus’ salvation
Opera, uh? 'Alors, voilà une liste des genres de musique' said the teacher, running her finger down the plastic page, and the paper squealed. Oh why these hateful pastic pages? And I thought about paper and its epic journey as I stared at the pale ceiling, with dusty cracks.
However, I landed on my feet on time to hear the French vocabulary my teacher now read with a lurching accent.'Et aprés la musique classique, ah! L'opera! Are there any opera fans here?'
The mumbling classroom halted, looking around in smart silence.
'Hah!', said a boy who had been forced to sit in the front, hunched over in his thin and uncomfortable
Julie Boots aka Boots.
My stepfather gave me this nickname when I was a little girl. At every family gathering, it was a “Hi Boots” here and a “Hey Boots” there.
Circa the third grade, I had this pair of cherry red patent leather go-go boots. Sure, odds are I rocked them. But, is this reason enough to be linked to a pair of boots much like Lizzy Borden was to that axe?
Okay, not exactly the same thing. But, you have to admit that there is something peculiar about being nicknamed after a pair of cherry red patent leather go-go boots.
I’m pretty sure it was the least interesting thing about me at the time. At t
Povesti de adormit copiiCopil pierdut intr-un colt de azil, o camera goala in care si tapetul tipa de durere smuls de timp; inca viu si lasat sa putrezeasca ca si podeaua ce misuna de praf si foi rupte din reviste si carti vechi. Covor de coperti rupte de vise, dintr-o lume de basm. O lume libera, unde numai unu are acces. Unde si timpul tace in fata dumnezeului sine. Melodie cantata de vantul tomnatic prin geamul azi spart acompaniat de ceasul pe hol uitat. Dulce melodie a nebuniei, aplaudata de ploaia ce cade prin acoperisul spart. Dulce melodie.
Azil de nebuni. Oameni plini de zambete pe fete triste, pierduti de mult, pierduti de ei.
Inchisi, nu de piatra sau lem
Oh Sommer, where art thou gone?Then there was Sommer. The girl I fell madly in love with. She let me be the person I always wanted to be... Carefree and happy, and I was. She was beautiful. She looked similar to me, had a lot of the same taste as me, and cared so much. The one thing I hated was that when I met her, she was innocent... by the time I lost my car and my ability to see her, she lost it. I ruined her. She had black hair, silky and a smile that lit up my world. She could do no wrong in my light. She loved doing my hair and putting make up on me, and I loved her doing it for me. She was always there for me, to listen when I needed her, and I the same. One of the
HejterzyCzemu sie odwracacie??
Czemu mnie oczerniacie??
Czemu nie odpowiadacie??
Czemu mnie obrażacie??
Kto Wam to wszystko gada,
że odezwać chce się nawet lada??
O czym te wszystkie plotki,
o których gadają nawet lotki??
Po co te wszystkie kłamstwa
i ta cała obudowa chamska??
To naprawdę niepotrzebna,
aby mieć zachowanie chwalebne.
Uwierzcie mi na słowo,
to nie jest już oldskulowo.
Szanujcie mnie, proszę,
właśnie do Was się odnoszę,
moi drodzy hejterzy,
pewnie ciężar na Was leży.
Confessions by a Soldier's Sister"There’s just something about a man in a uniform."
Is there now? What is it about a man in a uniform? How does a simple uniform change a person? Why not say there’s something about a man in a fedora? But that’s just me. The truth is, as cliché and ambiguous as the phrase is, it’s also so darn true. There is something about a man in a uniform. On Friday night, for me, it was a slap in the face.
I don’t dislike men in uniform. I think a uniform makes a man look respectable and well put together. I come from a family of men in uniform. They are proud, strong, and dependable. I love men in uniform. So of all people,
My love of Martial arts: by DMy love of Martial arts: by David C West.
My name is David C West I am originally from Chicago. I move to Des Moines over 5 or more years ago. I live here with friends and work at the store up the street (Hy Vee). I have love of Martial Arts of all kinds no matter style. My love of the martial art stems from my love of comic book and the Kung fu flicks. In the marvel comic world there was/is Shang Chi “master of kung fu” So skilled was the he would fight foes with super power and/or power armor. There was/is Iron Fist, able focus his chi in to a devastating strikes. Then in DC comics’ there was Karate kid, known for be
New York StoryNovember 3, 2005
I'm a square.
I thought I was cool. I thought I was cool, hip, wicked, tight, dope, and down with it. But I'm not. I'm square, boxy, L 7, un-cool, lame, un-hip -- hopelessly square.
I came to this realization at six o'clock last Monday morning -- Halloween morning -- on the fifteenth floor of the Paramount Hotel in New York City. I woke, sat up, put my feet on the floor, and reflected on how I had spent the past eighteen hours of my life.
I had checked into the hotel around 3:00 PM on Sunday. The Paramount Hotel is right in the thick of things -- two blocks from Broadway on 46th street. After getting my bags to the room
A Love StoryA Love Story
I was stretched out on the couch, zoning out on a Saturday afternoon watching TV. My wife, Bee, came in from working in the yard and asked, "How does Outback sound for supper?"
"Sounds good," I supposed.
"You want to go pick it up?"
"Ummmm..." It's a thirty minute drive, each way, to Outback. I had done an "all-nighter" Friday, working until around 6 AM. I wasn't sure I could muster up the energy to make the trip.
Bee didn't offer to go herself, but headed for the shower. When she came out I kept waiting, hoping that she would volunteer go to pick up supper. Instead, she went to the kitchen and started puttng together
Mother's Final Gift
Mother's Final Gift
The last few years of my mother's life were tough ones. Beginning in 1985, when she underwent bypass surgery, she suffered a series of ailments that surely called on all the strength and courage she could muster.
Not that her life had ever been easy. She was born in 1910 in Concord, North Carolina -- the second of six daughters – to a family that would soon find itself in the middle of the Great Depression. By the time she was twenty-one she was married, had given birth to three sons, the first dying as an infant, and had lost her father.
Most of her married life had been dedicated to being a wife and mother. Until
Keep in Touch!
`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More