Sigh* I'm torn between T'Pol, 7 of 9, or any woman from the Orion Syndicate as the hottest female in any Star Trek.
pompous pseudophilosophy time: we are all thieves, attempting to steal time from others with which to drape our lives. moments of friendship and love are simply when strands are willingly exchanged and mutually woven into something sublime. /corny ... i was bored. don't judge me.
Mr. Poet today eh? Here's some more cynical stuff, a rebuttal to the common "don't worry about what other people think about you and do what you want that makes you happy" malarky: The opinion you have of the person staring back at you in the mirror is rooted in the social norms agreed upon by the human collective you call yourself a part of. You are nothing but the opinion of all those around you.
meh, we're all deterministic subatomic flow anyway plus, i don't worry about what others think, i plan according to what i predict they might DO because of what they think.
I think Ero you need to explain that one to me, the picture is awesome though (and frightening, obviously)
There was this show called "Street Sharks" back in the 90's that I watched when I was younger. I started off seeing an advert. for Shark Week, looked up 'shark memes,' then saw a Street Sharks character, then searched that, and then that guy popped up!
I wish there was a "tag" button next to the "quote" and "thanks" button. That way if you posted something that mentions another user or you want them to see it you don't have to fill your PM box up with pointless "hey, take a look man!"
doggy!!! http://www.incrediblethings.com/web/sir-fancy-pup-dog-born-with-a-mustache/ also, vapour cookers are made of win and i just wolfed down almost 800g of steamed ground beef and spinach, literally made right next to me as i looked at silly crap on the internet .
you want a thought of the day? here's a thought of the day: The backlit LCD screen is fast becoming one of my favourite devices, more specifically the one on my tablet, which I use to read. Currently, I am going through winter vacations, and am greatly enjoying being the laziest person I can possibly be, doing almost nothing but eating, sleeping, reading and occasionally lifting weights (Which I do for fun). Last night, it was sleeping and reading's turn to shine. I have a very particular fondness for literature, which I've come to attribute to my instinctively picturing everything I read, as soon as I read it, in a most peculiar half-abstract, half-concrete way that is constantly updated as I take in sentences while I go through the book. This is particularly pleasing to me, partly due to the fact that, while imaginative, I've never been appreciably capable of capturing my ideas in an external medium (Neither literature nor the visual arts have been pursuits in which I've ever had any particular skill), so reading and imagining is the last creative outlet left to me, even if the output doesn't really externalize and can't be manifested towards other people in any way. I create something that is directed to myself, and confined inside myself, and is thus uniquely mine. I effectively shut out a fair amount of the outside world when engrossed in reading a book, and create with my mind using the raw materials that the book provides me. Last night, being able to read in bed on a backlit screen, with the rest of the room in the dark, reading a book series that I hadn't read before (And that I'd been owing to myself for a very long time and now curse myself for not reading sooner), I was , for several hours, able to make the world stop existing. For those hours, punctuated only by small bouts of sleep when my eyes tired, there was nothing except me, the warmth of my blanket, the dog curled up against me, and the screen which I used as a window into another existence. While I was awake, I peered through that window and saw wonders. While I slept, my mind had enough material from both life and book to create endlessly, and so when I dreamt, I saw wonders too. Would that dreams were easier to remember, and that I had not this frustrating inability to build stories, for dreams (Both the wonderful and the terrible) are fountains of stories that are certainly worth telling. I am not a great appreciator of the sublime (In fact, I tend to dislike what many other people would consider such), but if I ever had a moment when I came particularly close to it, this was it.
i have a bad tendency to not retain the names of people i interact with on a regular basis (incl. in university classes and martial arts schools)
