Wow. I Wow. This is hilariously juvenile. Tell you what, everyone in this thread can suck my dick, excuse me for commenting, ever. Won't happen again suh. Have fun with your shouting match.
>It occurs to me per your frequent outbursts that you may find yourself upset by my behavior, confirm or deny if/when prudent? Also your shitty format vanishes when I quote you.
run *
r34 seems pretty settled on the issue-*brick'd*
>do >you >bite <your ^thumb >>at <^>me ^^vv<><>sir
It's hard to look at people economically when you're already attuned to their emotions, their insecurities, what they feel and what they fear. When someone comes to you for help, they come to you vulnerable; they trust you, even if only slightly, even if only for a moment. At that point it seems cruel to cut them off. That said... Fuck 'em. There are billions of people in the world. Millions who don't drink or smoke, who don't make light of their sexuality, who live muted, simple lives and with whom you'd probably click a lot better. And I'll wager there are plenty of them who, if they come to you for help one day, won't violate you the next. You're under no obligation to lift those people up when all they do is put you down. You deserve better. Something about you is wonderful and unique, and they're stifling it. Perhaps they don't realize it. Perhaps they're not evil, just ignorant. So? Let them learn from their ignorance. If you want to help them, cut them off. Teach them that what they're doing is not ok. Remember also that you'll lose your capacity to help others if you don't help yourself. You'll become cold, embittered, even jaded; and words of kindness will turn to venom on your tongue. You need to be in good spirits too, and sometimes that means having someone of your own to turn to. The greatest friends are the ones who'll return the favor. You can find them. You deserve them. You don't have to settle for anything less. It's gonna take some thick skin. Not only will you have to sever those ties, but you'll have to take time to make new ones. It could be a little lonely. But you did say you have some stable friends to help you through it. You'll come out of that mire, and doubtless you'll be happier once you are.
>Proper spelling is in the image >Still spells it "Tarlock"
Wow, it took me a second to put all that together. T|-|3 1337 ;5 5T|20|\|G \/\/;T|-| T|-|;5 0|\|3
I feel awkward just looking at this thread.
1) It requires you to download a package of other Windows Live Essential programs, whereas previous versions would let you download just MSN. 2) Many features and plugins do not work, as aforementioned. 3) Messenger now requires you to use your Hotmail account's listed name as your screen name. This is a serious privacy issue for some; I for one intend to keep my real name from most people I know solely through the internet. Of course, forcing you to use this name also means that many MSN Plus codes no longer work, which is a major minus for some. Not only that, but it seems that anyone running 2011 but chatting with someone using an older version will still see their account name and not their personally chosen user name! Now it's a breach of privacy you're not even aware of until someone brings it up. As the Germans say, what the moist glistening f#%k are you THINKING, Microsoft?! And that's just for starters. I might have discovered a whole mess of other stupid crap they loaded on to 2011 if I'd kept it for longer than it took me to cuss violently at the screen, immediately sign back off and uninstall.
None of that remotely touches what I'm talking about. Regardless, the only thing mentioned in that video is a lack of evidence. That does not tip the scale. Supposing about the unknown, whether you say there's something there or nothing at all, is a leap. A guess. I'm not turning this into a science-vs.-religion debate because my opinion is unorthodox, and frankly I'm very stuck-up and condescending in that arena. So let's just say that's not what I'm talking about and leave it at that.
You thought the war was over? We just won a battle. Hell, even the article talks about SOPA and PIPA like they're gone. They just come back in different forms. Sneakier forms, progressively lesser-known forms. Everyone's so busy celebrating one victory that they invite later defeat. And then there's the fact that the rest of the world has to deal with this, too; and in a lot of places they're even worse off. It's really depressing. Sometimes it seems like the best we can do is to spread the word. But I guess people don't learn otherwise.
Not enough for me. As I said, my perception is limited; I am not the ash in my bones and the soil in my skin, but the wondrous something-or-other that animates them all. For that to simply terminate is unacceptable to me. Thankfully, I am not so much rejected on these grounds as I am denied an answer; if such a thing were to continue on, doubtful it would leave a trace. So we are left wondering. Ah, but that's my point. The only way to explain it leaves me open to defeat: that if we, humans as a collective, do not last eternally in some way, in the end our exploits are swallowed by time. We are worthless. Purposeless. But then the question arises: Whence comes that worth? that purpose? And I know what my answer is. We make it. If we make it, then we have all the purpose in the world; purpose dies with us. And now I arrive at my conclusion: Either I don't truly believe in that answer, which I find unlikely, or the question is merely a shallow doubt. That, or the beginning of a contradiction. And I don't fear those, I celebrate them. "How wonderful that we have met with a paradox. Now we have some hope of making progress." ~Niels Bohr
lJ C4|\| |\|3\/3R |-|4\/3 T00 |\/|lJC|-| 1337
I like how the fandom's headcanon of Bolin is EVEN MORE like me.
Well I'm not disputing that point at all, but I guess that contributes to your not liking the conclusion. I just split it into pieces. I always think of things like that, but especially anything to do with writing.
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Yes. Emphatically yes. And I don't just fear death; I hate it. The only time I've successfully confronted and discarded the fear of death is when I would despair at living further, and those times are rare and fleeting. What I fear about death isn't the thing itself, but the notion of it being an end which yields no new beginnings. It makes no sense to me. It frays my understanding. I don't believe that there is nothing afterward, but doubt seizes me on occasion—I think of it often when I lay down to sleep, and I'm faced with the blackness behind my own eyes. I wonder if, some day, that'll be all there is to the world. No sense. Just void. The thought terrifies me, makes me restless, always keeps me from sleeping, and on occasion drives me to tears. When I confront the death of others, I am fearful and frustrated. I would war with death if I could. I believe it's primal. A combination of facing the unknown, the limitations of my perception (Despite believing to some degree that we're all connected, I remain aware only of myself), and the sadness in the thought that I or anyone else might leave no real, lasting impression. Once more, something I don't believe continues to prod me: If a life ends, if it is fleeting, does it have any worth? My doubts would say not. That thought is staggering. I fear and despise my own death, and from there the deaths of others. But even then, I know something about that just isn't right. In the times that I fear living further, I recognize that it is due to the limits of my perception. I've only lived about a fifth of a life; enough time to establish a pattern, perhaps, but leaving plenty of time to break it. An incomplete work is not ready to be judged; nor shall my life be truly analyzable until it is over. If I would rather die, it's because I'm missing something. But if I'd rather live... would the same not hold true? After much reflection, I've decided that my fear of death is a falsity; my fears cannot be that abstract, because the human mind does not work that way. If I truly understood death, I am forced to conclude, I would not fear it; I might still loathe it, but I would know the place and purpose of that loathing. But I don't. I am gripped by an unnameable something, and no epiphany comes; only a chill of fear. A pang of fury. A mark of weakness. If all were well, I would be free to choose whether life has worth or is worthless. I would not be paralyzed by fear, because that does not help me either way. So something must be wrong with me. When the doubt eats at me, I try to redirect my thoughts to striking down that weakness. I treat my fear of death as an illusion, a distraction—or, perhaps, a lesson. Something to teach fear, and to nurture the fearful until they find courage. Something which will crumble away once the lesson is taught. I despise death, thus it aims to teach me something; I fear it because I do not yet understand. That is my conclusion. It may be that this is the lesson I will never learn. I only hope that there will be summer classes when the semester ends, if you catch my drift.
Why am I the only one who ever provides links I've only heard "No Church in the Wild" but I LOVE it. I still need to hear the rest.
