1001 Ways to Embarrass Yourself While Avoiding Injuries

I'm so indescribably happy; it's as if someone has put me on the highest cloud and allowed me to glimpse upon humanity. Somehow, from up here, I can only feel tenderness for how frail and fragile we humans are, and ebullience at how perfect we are. How we can FEEL, and love and hurt and anger and sadden and then gladden our hearts again and again. I can feel the connection between my soul and whoever I am meant to meet, their happiness pumping vibrantly into my own bloodstream. How red and beautiful the union; and suddenly I am aware. Hyperaware of the world. I can almost see the light rays split into the spectrum, is he listening too? Can he hear my heart beating up-down-up-down like I can feel his? A breathtaking moment suspended in time and space, and all the anguish is gone. I love you, I whisper into the air, and I know the wind is carrying these soft words of love to his ears somewhere in the distance. The human heart has felt all this before, and still, every t...

Erasmus knocks on the door, three knocks, each loud and resonant. The insistence is clear- he is here for business. Inside the darkened room, she is waiting nervously chewing her pale, off-purple blanched nails. "I want you to tell me what's going on," he states in a calm voice, the tenors in his throat quivering only slightly. "I don't know, E. I don't understand why the program doesn't work." The ends of her sentences lift up as if in a question, even though it is not. She is telling him clearly, succinctly, confusedly. But honestly. "Come outside please," he says, patiently. She has a feeling that he's checking his watch, or tapping his foot. She imagines that it is the left one, going up down up down tap tap tap on the shiny waxed floor.  She opens the door, and discovers she's wrong. "Oh, I thought you. You brought the-" He raises a sparse eyebrow. She shakes her head, never mind. He's thumbing throu...

Her dreams were beautiful, they were solid and coloured vividly, as if carefully drawn by an artistic hand on the whitest, purest canvas. And they were always about America. Umrika. Oh, America. Land of Milk and Honey Freedom God Guns Bible thumpers Immigrants Emigrants Hollywood Burgers New York honey You Gotta Say it like Ya mean It Ellis Island Democrats Republicans Trump Clinton Obama You Gotta Vote Are Ya kidding' me? How d'ya werk this damn thing Eileen? Collard Greens Black Lives Matter The Latino Vote Catholics Muslims Christians Sikhs Hindus Jews Buddhists I can't say I guess I'm atheist Wow that's progressive. Umrika. The Real America was hidden somewhere outside her small bubble of posters, irascible like a fever itch in the dark nights. Sometimes the itch was so strong even after she'd thrown off blankets she'd toss and turn , slapping at the slippery sheen of sweaty skin the damp heat swelling everywhere. The Real America was not POS...

Ertika, Pahel. "I used to be darker, see. Do you see, Ertika? Then, I started staying indoors and reading about the Party. Kauben Wrinfida says I look much better. She says the Party really is doing me good." Ertika yawns absentmindedly. She feels vaguely disturbed by her friend's words, like something inside her is dislodged a little but she cannot reach inside her heart and place exactly what is wrong. "I really liked your colour, Pahel. You looked like my mother when she was younger and everyone said she was pretty." Pahel squirms at the compliment, both pleased and annoyed. She has always been slightly under the shadow of Ertika's goodness, Ertika's selflessness, Ertika's studiousness without her even trying. She hates the thought that Ertika is so politically correct without even meaning to be. She, the child of exiled rightists, she must try so hard to erase her father and mother's harmful legacy and prove her devotion to the Pa...

*Note: This is a fictionalised account of events. Any resemblance to any living persons, animals, things etc are purely coincidental. The long drag of a cigarette brings some brief respite from the swirling thoughts in her head. What did it all mean? The anger, the joy, the pain, the depression? Surely, it must have had some significance? There must have been some difference from her actions to the actions of the many, many middle class maniacs before her who'd have done the same things? Look, she types, banging it out on the keyboard. Look, you idiot. The key to being profound is to be depressed. Not sad, but depressed which is essentially being sad with the flab cut out. No crap. You look the world in its eyes through your tears. Being deep, her fingers spell, being deep is . She doesn't know. Everytime she tries, she is told to stop lying. Her mother has read her work, the work she is proud of having created, from veiny hands and sallow skin, but her moth...

" There is only the State. If you remember nothing else, remember that. The State, the State, the State." POLITICO revolves around two friends who grow up in the future, a dystopian totalitarian state called Malistan founded by General Kristang Malistan, who was Premier when the country was created in 2084. Malistan is officially ruled by the “Official Communist Party Of Former Independent Southeast Asian Republics”, known in short as “Stagov” or the “State Government”,  the only party allowed to exist and it has complete power. STAGOV consisted of 2 representatives from each former republic. It was made up of 5 ministries, Education, Welfare (religion, housing, healthcare, pleasure etc), Industry , Innovation and Bureaucracy. At the age of 18, the children will be given the chance to choose which industry they work in, and thus become a party member. If they choose not to become a party member, they will be forced to live on the outskirts of Malistan, amongst the 'ri...

New Girl This quote is actual goals. Nick is me.

" L 'enfer, c'est les autres"- Sartre The camera pans in, on an eye. (the eye is black irised, as opaque as possible) I want the eye to blink; sounds of footsteps , high heels.  Cut to a woman walking the empty corridor (front view)then cut to her walking from side view. Her phones bleeps, she draws it from her side pocket and breaks into a run.  *Full Moon - The Black Ghosts*/ 'let me know-silver swans' the camera follows her , alternating between angles. She reaches the hill outside dorm house.  It's raining, and she sits down on the hill. Pulls out a map. *Camera sees the red line she draws on the map. Map labelled with 'dreams' untidy writing' Zoom on her smile  her bag, the grass.  -she throws out all the things that have held her back.  *books *glasses *picture of her boyfriend *money *lithium looks up at sky, bites lip. turns to the sky, camera does 360 around her. she says silent prayer. Mouths the wordS ...

Tariffs can be considered the economic buzzword of the 21st century. Thus, it should come as no surprise that Donald Trump claimed that tariffs and free trade were perfectly compactible, after condemning Chinese steel producers for 'dumping' cheap, excess, subsidised steel in the market. While this statement was politically genius (we hate China but trade is good), it is an excellent example of how tariffs are often misunderstood in the name of poor economics. First, let us define what tariffs are; tariffs, often called import duties, are taxes on imports. 'Dumping' simply means to sell a good for less than the cost of production. Therein lies the problem; does Trump have a legitimate point? Should China be condemned for essentially fully supporting and subsidising its relatively infantile but no doubt burgeoning steel industry? Some might argue that it is totally within a country's sovereignty to help its country's industry; but then again isn't it...

 "Do it for the LOLZ"/"SAME".- UNKNOWN_GIRL2345 STORY OF MY LIFE “The rate at which a person can mature is directly proportional to the embarrassment he can tolerate.” – Douglas Engelbart If I had a penny for the times I embarrassed myself or my friends, I think I'd be as rich as ...Donald Trump is likely to be voted Feminist of the Year. I mean, seriously, guys, it's a penny!  Then again, it is me! *que the dramatic music* Rightyho, now onto the serious talk! Ugh, I so do dread the serious talks in life. I have no ability to separate my emotions from topics which I talk endlessly about, and if I am coincidentally emotionally distraught about something, then you can be sure that I'll be nattering about it endlessly. The major party pooper of recent has been education. I have decided to pursue an Economics-related degree at university, preferably in the UK. My AS levels are Maths, Further Maths, Economics and History. *there, feels like a ...