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Homework help of a different variety

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  • S soap brain

    I beg to differ - as Henry Fowler[^] once said: That different can only be followed by 'from' and not by 'to' is a superstition. So there. ;P ;)

    D Offline
    D Offline
    Dalek Dave
    wrote on last edited by
    #39

    It works for me! :-D

    ------------------------------------ "I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy" - Bob Monkhouse

    1 Reply Last reply
    0
    • S soap brain

      For English. Basically we had to draw a basic plot out of a hat and write a short story based off it. I drew 'running away from home', and I've written some, but I have no idea where I'm going with it. I need some ideas for an ending, and of course the other bits I've left out. General criticism is certainly welcome too, as long as it's critical praise! :-D Anyway, here it is: **** I felt like I’d made the right choice, even though there was no choice. Not really. All I’d done was all I could do. I’d put some warm clothes on, stuffed my black backpack that was only three weeks old. And that was it. I was gone. Slinking through the darkness, caressed by the breath that crystallised in front of me. Only able to see a distance of mere inches, the air was so bad. I was lost, it seemed. Despite the purpose in my walk, despite the assuredness in my face. I was as transparent as glass, a little kid lost and scared. Maybe my eyes gave it away, the way I always looked away. My lips in a silent prayer to whoever would listen. I told them that I didn’t want to die here tonight. And I kept on telling them. I was on my way to see my friend. He was the loneliest kid I had ever seen, save for me. Lonelier, even, because he was strong and I was weak. I needed him, but he didn’t need me. Still, he agreed to come with me tonight. He knew he had to, too. He was going to our secret place, like I was. And after that, we’d get away. Just like we’d always dreamed. I found him, as I knew I would. Waiting for me. And I felt a tremendous rush of gratitude towards him, for being here. Reminding me that I am not alone. I wanted him to see how happy I was to see him, but his eyes were downcast. Like he didn’t even see me. Like he was vaguely someone else. And he muttered, more to himself than anything, that we should get going right away. And we did. We were quiet, because we had to be, at least at the moment. But, the quietude dripped from him, from those sad, dark eyes. I wished he would look at me, let me know that we were in it together. Instead, he breathed deeply and silently, and focused inwardly. Shutting out the world. Telling IT to keep away, rather than the other way around. We had to be careful that we weren’t seen. Because that would be it. And it couldn’t be it, not yet. Because we weren’t ready for it to be. I could feel the danger hanging off my nerve-endings, threatening to snap them. And our footsteps seemed inordinately loud. And I couldn’t stop my stupid body from trembling. But we weren’t going t

      D Offline
      D Offline
      Dalek Dave
      wrote on last edited by
      #40

      Needs more Dinosaurs. Perhaps an Alien Invasion. Shorter. Snappier. More Humour. Written in Gothic Script and in Virgin's Blood. Other than that ok

      S 1 Reply Last reply
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      • S soap brain

        For English. Basically we had to draw a basic plot out of a hat and write a short story based off it. I drew 'running away from home', and I've written some, but I have no idea where I'm going with it. I need some ideas for an ending, and of course the other bits I've left out. General criticism is certainly welcome too, as long as it's critical praise! :-D Anyway, here it is: **** I felt like I’d made the right choice, even though there was no choice. Not really. All I’d done was all I could do. I’d put some warm clothes on, stuffed my black backpack that was only three weeks old. And that was it. I was gone. Slinking through the darkness, caressed by the breath that crystallised in front of me. Only able to see a distance of mere inches, the air was so bad. I was lost, it seemed. Despite the purpose in my walk, despite the assuredness in my face. I was as transparent as glass, a little kid lost and scared. Maybe my eyes gave it away, the way I always looked away. My lips in a silent prayer to whoever would listen. I told them that I didn’t want to die here tonight. And I kept on telling them. I was on my way to see my friend. He was the loneliest kid I had ever seen, save for me. Lonelier, even, because he was strong and I was weak. I needed him, but he didn’t need me. Still, he agreed to come with me tonight. He knew he had to, too. He was going to our secret place, like I was. And after that, we’d get away. Just like we’d always dreamed. I found him, as I knew I would. Waiting for me. And I felt a tremendous rush of gratitude towards him, for being here. Reminding me that I am not alone. I wanted him to see how happy I was to see him, but his eyes were downcast. Like he didn’t even see me. Like he was vaguely someone else. And he muttered, more to himself than anything, that we should get going right away. And we did. We were quiet, because we had to be, at least at the moment. But, the quietude dripped from him, from those sad, dark eyes. I wished he would look at me, let me know that we were in it together. Instead, he breathed deeply and silently, and focused inwardly. Shutting out the world. Telling IT to keep away, rather than the other way around. We had to be careful that we weren’t seen. Because that would be it. And it couldn’t be it, not yet. Because we weren’t ready for it to be. I could feel the danger hanging off my nerve-endings, threatening to snap them. And our footsteps seemed inordinately loud. And I couldn’t stop my stupid body from trembling. But we weren’t going t

        C Offline
        C Offline
        Corinna John
        wrote on last edited by
        #41

        Ravel H. Joyce wrote:

        [insert ending here]

        You very are good at describing feelings! But I cannot see any story, yet. Well, let's try something...

        Ravel H. Joyce wrote:

        [insert story here]

        The first placeholder should be filled with some action, but not a catastrophe - we'll save the latter for later. I suppose it starts to rain and they hide in an abandoned building. Suddenly they hear steps and voices. From their hiding place, they observe a group of criminals making some deals. They are terribly afraid of being seen, but cannot leave without leaving the only dark corner of the building. But nobody takes any notice of them and finally they get out again. That's why they start feeling "invisible". You wonderfully described the resulting feelings...

        Ravel H. Joyce wrote:

        [insert story here]

        They silently wait for the train/bus/whatever and suddenly her friend tells her to go home. He say the trip is too dangerous for her, but she knows that he only wants to be alone. Now it is time to reveal the persons' backgrounds. Why are they running away, what has happened before? Insert an explaining memory flashback here.

        Ravel H. Joyce wrote:

        [insert ending here]

        The police is after them. She manages to run away, but her friend gets caught. Now she really is alone. Insert a monologue about all the terrible things that would happen if she gave up and went home. Then you can write an open ending: She spends her last cents on a ticket to a village where nobody knows her, finds work on a farm ... no, that's too cute. Maybe a drug dealer picks her up, she works for him for a while and then reports shim to the police ... no, that's boring. I like aliens, a spaceship could pick her up ... is that allowed in your story? If it is, she should find out that she's an alien herself and then fly home to her planet.

        This statement is false.

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        • C Corinna John

          Ravel H. Joyce wrote:

          [insert ending here]

          You very are good at describing feelings! But I cannot see any story, yet. Well, let's try something...

          Ravel H. Joyce wrote:

          [insert story here]

          The first placeholder should be filled with some action, but not a catastrophe - we'll save the latter for later. I suppose it starts to rain and they hide in an abandoned building. Suddenly they hear steps and voices. From their hiding place, they observe a group of criminals making some deals. They are terribly afraid of being seen, but cannot leave without leaving the only dark corner of the building. But nobody takes any notice of them and finally they get out again. That's why they start feeling "invisible". You wonderfully described the resulting feelings...

          Ravel H. Joyce wrote:

          [insert story here]

          They silently wait for the train/bus/whatever and suddenly her friend tells her to go home. He say the trip is too dangerous for her, but she knows that he only wants to be alone. Now it is time to reveal the persons' backgrounds. Why are they running away, what has happened before? Insert an explaining memory flashback here.

          Ravel H. Joyce wrote:

          [insert ending here]

          The police is after them. She manages to run away, but her friend gets caught. Now she really is alone. Insert a monologue about all the terrible things that would happen if she gave up and went home. Then you can write an open ending: She spends her last cents on a ticket to a village where nobody knows her, finds work on a farm ... no, that's too cute. Maybe a drug dealer picks her up, she works for him for a while and then reports shim to the police ... no, that's boring. I like aliens, a spaceship could pick her up ... is that allowed in your story? If it is, she should find out that she's an alien herself and then fly home to her planet.

          This statement is false.

          S Offline
          S Offline
          soap brain
          wrote on last edited by
          #42

          Corinna John wrote:

          But I cannot see any story, yet.

          Yeah, that was the problem. I thought that maybe if I kept writing the ideas would come...but no, they didn't. [The rest] Thank you for that! I'll save it somewhere and see what I can do with it. And definitely aliens are allowed. Definitely. :cool:

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          • D Dalek Dave

            Needs more Dinosaurs. Perhaps an Alien Invasion. Shorter. Snappier. More Humour. Written in Gothic Script and in Virgin's Blood. Other than that ok

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            S Offline
            soap brain
            wrote on last edited by
            #43

            Dalek Dave wrote:

            Needs more Dinosaurs.

            Yes.

            Dalek Dave wrote:

            Perhaps an Alien Invasion.

            Yes. With anal probing.

            Dalek Dave wrote:

            Shorter.

            No.

            Dalek Dave wrote:

            Snappier.

            No. Yes. Maybe. I'll have to figure out what that means.

            Dalek Dave wrote:

            More Humour.

            Very possibly. It's interesting, I normally use humour in everything except that for some reason I'm incapable of doing it in short stories! I dunno why.

            Dalek Dave wrote:

            Written in Gothic Script and in Virgin's Blood.

            OK, sounds easy. I can use my own blood. Yes, that's right, I'm not ashamed to admit it!

            Dalek Dave wrote:

            Other than that ok

            No.

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            • S soap brain

              El Corazon wrote:

              I have the most problem with this. Cold iron does not react to its environment, the analogy is already "off" because the people are reacting. Perhaps like the bonsai, twisted by the events of life, yet still surviving, still reaching for the sun's warm (still reaching for the same goal of light).

              I was thinking that they were trying to 'harden' themselves, even though I know that pure iron is probably quite soft!

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              E Offline
              El Corazon
              wrote on last edited by
              #44

              Ravel H. Joyce wrote:

              I was thinking that they were trying to 'harden' themselves

              perhaps, perhaps.... but the story doesn't seem that way. If they would be hardening themselves they would be holding back more so, holding each other at a distance, holding back the tears fearing the dam would break, or perhaps holding back to save the other from their pain... to be strong for the other person. But cold iron comes out too cold in the comparison. The secret to good writing is using the pain and conflict of your own life and repackaging it for the reader. The secret to really GREAT writing is to bring the reader close, drawing the reader in near the characters, without them drawing away from the pain and conflict. You want to be "real" without being to harsh. Or perhaps because I have been that person, walking with an old friend, sharing our pain to escape the pain of the world we experienced, I know how different that story is. It seems close to what you talk about, with the exception of the comparison to steel. If you have doubts about such a comparison, ask someone else. Ask someone what the first word they think of when they think about steel. First word because thought is reactive. When you illiterate in a story, you are using the "first thought" the emotional equivalence to that word. Most people when they think of steel they think of strength, of hardness, but it is an emotionless hardness. It doesn't quite fit in with the way the characters are acting. But generally when two people come together lke this, they reach to each other to hide from the pain. The harder the pain on the outside the stronger they tend to reach for each other, or hold back from each other. Cold steel is the latter, but then they would be saving each other from the tears, afraid to touch the other person for fear of letting down the guards. Walking inches from the other person without quit touching, but ever wanting to touch. That isn't how you portrayed them, although you don't break down the cage that separates them, the tears are allowed to flow, so something softer, something that can bend with the environment. This where you hear some writers talk about emotion rushing over a person like a river. A river is strength, but it bends and twists, it doesn't have the cold feeling of steel. The river illiteration is usually too often used so most teachers will recommend you avoid it, though at your age you are probably about 2+ years away from it being forbidden -- depend

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              • G GuyThiebaut

                A couple of suggestions: Get a copy of "Eat shoots and leaves" - as your use of punctuation gives a very staccato like feel to the writing; the words are good, there could just be more of a flowing feeling to the sentence structure. Also starting a sentence with "And" is generally to be avoided; this is because a full stop denotes the end of a sentence, whereas "and" is used for continuation(just like programming). Having said all of this I like what I see and like the use of similes. Good luck. ;)

                Continuous effort - not strength or intelligence - is the key to unlocking our potential.(Winston Churchill)
                S Offline
                S Offline
                soap brain
                wrote on last edited by
                #45

                I was going for kinda the opposite of what I usually do, which is that flowing style. Except that mine tends to flood and drown people with extreme pretentiousness. I find it funny.

                1 Reply Last reply
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                • E El Corazon

                  Ravel H. Joyce wrote:

                  I was thinking that they were trying to 'harden' themselves

                  perhaps, perhaps.... but the story doesn't seem that way. If they would be hardening themselves they would be holding back more so, holding each other at a distance, holding back the tears fearing the dam would break, or perhaps holding back to save the other from their pain... to be strong for the other person. But cold iron comes out too cold in the comparison. The secret to good writing is using the pain and conflict of your own life and repackaging it for the reader. The secret to really GREAT writing is to bring the reader close, drawing the reader in near the characters, without them drawing away from the pain and conflict. You want to be "real" without being to harsh. Or perhaps because I have been that person, walking with an old friend, sharing our pain to escape the pain of the world we experienced, I know how different that story is. It seems close to what you talk about, with the exception of the comparison to steel. If you have doubts about such a comparison, ask someone else. Ask someone what the first word they think of when they think about steel. First word because thought is reactive. When you illiterate in a story, you are using the "first thought" the emotional equivalence to that word. Most people when they think of steel they think of strength, of hardness, but it is an emotionless hardness. It doesn't quite fit in with the way the characters are acting. But generally when two people come together lke this, they reach to each other to hide from the pain. The harder the pain on the outside the stronger they tend to reach for each other, or hold back from each other. Cold steel is the latter, but then they would be saving each other from the tears, afraid to touch the other person for fear of letting down the guards. Walking inches from the other person without quit touching, but ever wanting to touch. That isn't how you portrayed them, although you don't break down the cage that separates them, the tears are allowed to flow, so something softer, something that can bend with the environment. This where you hear some writers talk about emotion rushing over a person like a river. A river is strength, but it bends and twists, it doesn't have the cold feeling of steel. The river illiteration is usually too often used so most teachers will recommend you avoid it, though at your age you are probably about 2+ years away from it being forbidden -- depend

                  S Offline
                  S Offline
                  soap brain
                  wrote on last edited by
                  #46

                  Wow, you're WAY too familiar with iron. ;) I can see what you mean, though. I admit: despite my cold, calculating demeanour, I'm really quite a warm, bubbly person. :) :rose: So I've never actually experienced this kind of situation. Sorry, I'll have to read it all properly later. I need to go to bed now. :( Goodnight!

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                  • S soap brain

                    Corinna John wrote:

                    But I cannot see any story, yet.

                    Yeah, that was the problem. I thought that maybe if I kept writing the ideas would come...but no, they didn't. [The rest] Thank you for that! I'll save it somewhere and see what I can do with it. And definitely aliens are allowed. Definitely. :cool:

                    D Offline
                    D Offline
                    Dalek Dave
                    wrote on last edited by
                    #47

                    Douglas Adams said that writing is easy. You get a piece of paper and stare at it until your forehead bleeds.

                    ------------------------------------ "I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy" - Bob Monkhouse

                    S 1 Reply Last reply
                    0
                    • D Dalek Dave

                      Douglas Adams said that writing is easy. You get a piece of paper and stare at it until your forehead bleeds.

                      ------------------------------------ "I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy" - Bob Monkhouse

                      S Offline
                      S Offline
                      soap brain
                      wrote on last edited by
                      #48

                      Dalek Dave wrote:

                      Douglas Adams said that writing is easy. You get a piece of paper and stare at it until your forehead bleeds.

                      Ooh, I'll have to try that! :cool:

                      E 1 Reply Last reply
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                      • S soap brain

                        Wow, you're WAY too familiar with iron. ;) I can see what you mean, though. I admit: despite my cold, calculating demeanour, I'm really quite a warm, bubbly person. :) :rose: So I've never actually experienced this kind of situation. Sorry, I'll have to read it all properly later. I need to go to bed now. :( Goodnight!

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                        E Offline
                        El Corazon
                        wrote on last edited by
                        #49

                        Ravel H. Joyce wrote:

                        Wow, you're WAY too familiar with iron.

                        True. My poetry was the story of my life, most of it is not that great. Though the better ones are the stories within the stories.... Some people miss them. In one of the poems, written from the point of view of my ex-wife (ahhh the mistakes I have made), tells a story.... Did you hate the cage I made? You should never look to the moon. Why even try such a charade? You aim too high, too soon. You should never look to the moon. Must I cover your cage now? You aim too high, too soon. Will this sillyness you disavow? Must I cover your cage now? Mockingbirds were not meant to sing. Will this sillyness you disavow? You have always been my plaything. obviously the song she wanted me to stop singing was my poetry. Though she always missed the message there, she still did not want others to know I was in pain at all. Cover it up, sweep it under the carpet, hang your head and keep quiet.... It was the cage she made for me and wanted me to stay in. The big question most people never ask.... who was the moon? :) Do you know what it is like to thirst? Not want or desire, everybody wants. . . A thirst comes from inside, Telling you that it is necessary For your very survival. A thirst tears at your sanity. A thirst tears at your soul, The very fabric of your being. Only the strongest of men Can survive a true thirst Without finding a way to quench it. Do you know what it is like to be lonely? Not the loneliness of one, It is easy to be lonely when you are one. True loneliness is the lonliness of many, The loneliness that strikes you in a crowd. True loneliness that invades your sleep. True loneliness that catches you at a party To tell you that you do not belong. True loneliness is an ache in your soul. True loneliness is NOT a desire. . . True loneliness is . . . a thirst.

                        _________________________ Asu no koto o ieba, tenjo de nezumi ga warau. Talk about things of tomorrow and the mice in the ceiling laugh. (Japanese Proverb) John Andrew Holmes "It is well to remember that the entire universe, with one trifling exception, is composed of others."

                        R 1 Reply Last reply
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                        • S soap brain

                          Corinna John wrote:

                          But I cannot see any story, yet.

                          Yeah, that was the problem. I thought that maybe if I kept writing the ideas would come...but no, they didn't. [The rest] Thank you for that! I'll save it somewhere and see what I can do with it. And definitely aliens are allowed. Definitely. :cool:

                          C Offline
                          C Offline
                          Corinna John
                          wrote on last edited by
                          #50

                          Alright, here is the ending: Just when she is sitting alone in the night at the edge of town and the police car with her friend is disappearing around a far away corner, a star begins to grow in the sky. The little spot of light cannot be a satellite or an airplane, because it becomes yellow and green while growing. She looks around but nobody else is there to see it. The colourful fireball slows down and lands softly, without any noise, on the meadow. She thinks that she should be afraid now, but she isn't. Something in the back of her mind tells her that everything is alright. Then the lights fade to a gentle pink-yellow glow and four persons step out of the sphere. They speak to her in a strange language that sounds like song. The girl begins to understand single words without knowing where on earth she has heard that language before. Totally fascinated, she follows the persons into the spaceship. Add a few paragraphs of alien-sightseeing here. In the end she turns out to be an alien who got lost on earth as a baby. Her alien family is waiting for her at home. The crew shows her old pictures. Then suddenly she remembers her planet and happily flies home with hyper warp speed.

                          This statement is false.

                          1 Reply Last reply
                          0
                          • S soap brain

                            Dalek Dave wrote:

                            Douglas Adams said that writing is easy. You get a piece of paper and stare at it until your forehead bleeds.

                            Ooh, I'll have to try that! :cool:

                            E Offline
                            E Offline
                            El Corazon
                            wrote on last edited by
                            #51

                            Ravel H. Joyce wrote:

                            Ooh, I'll have to try that!

                            it is .... painful. But I guess if you need a bit of pain to strengthen your stories.... this might be a safe way of getting it. :) It beats chalking up two ex's and a brother you avoid like the black-plague.... come to think of it... the black plague was nicer... hmmm....

                            _________________________ Asu no koto o ieba, tenjo de nezumi ga warau. Talk about things of tomorrow and the mice in the ceiling laugh. (Japanese Proverb) John Andrew Holmes "It is well to remember that the entire universe, with one trifling exception, is composed of others."

                            1 Reply Last reply
                            0
                            • S soap brain

                              The Developer wrote:

                              I didn't read what to post yet

                              What's your native language? :confused:

                              L Offline
                              L Offline
                              Lost User
                              wrote on last edited by
                              #52

                              Ravel H. Joyce wrote:

                              What's your native language?

                              :confused: ...wanker.

                              Michael Martin Australia "I controlled my laughter and simple said "No,I am very busy,so I can't write any code for you". The moment they heard this all the smiling face turned into a sad looking face and one of them farted. So I had to leave the place as soon as possible." - Mr.Prakash One Fine Saturday. 24/04/2004

                              1 Reply Last reply
                              0
                              • S soap brain

                                For English. Basically we had to draw a basic plot out of a hat and write a short story based off it. I drew 'running away from home', and I've written some, but I have no idea where I'm going with it. I need some ideas for an ending, and of course the other bits I've left out. General criticism is certainly welcome too, as long as it's critical praise! :-D Anyway, here it is: **** I felt like I’d made the right choice, even though there was no choice. Not really. All I’d done was all I could do. I’d put some warm clothes on, stuffed my black backpack that was only three weeks old. And that was it. I was gone. Slinking through the darkness, caressed by the breath that crystallised in front of me. Only able to see a distance of mere inches, the air was so bad. I was lost, it seemed. Despite the purpose in my walk, despite the assuredness in my face. I was as transparent as glass, a little kid lost and scared. Maybe my eyes gave it away, the way I always looked away. My lips in a silent prayer to whoever would listen. I told them that I didn’t want to die here tonight. And I kept on telling them. I was on my way to see my friend. He was the loneliest kid I had ever seen, save for me. Lonelier, even, because he was strong and I was weak. I needed him, but he didn’t need me. Still, he agreed to come with me tonight. He knew he had to, too. He was going to our secret place, like I was. And after that, we’d get away. Just like we’d always dreamed. I found him, as I knew I would. Waiting for me. And I felt a tremendous rush of gratitude towards him, for being here. Reminding me that I am not alone. I wanted him to see how happy I was to see him, but his eyes were downcast. Like he didn’t even see me. Like he was vaguely someone else. And he muttered, more to himself than anything, that we should get going right away. And we did. We were quiet, because we had to be, at least at the moment. But, the quietude dripped from him, from those sad, dark eyes. I wished he would look at me, let me know that we were in it together. Instead, he breathed deeply and silently, and focused inwardly. Shutting out the world. Telling IT to keep away, rather than the other way around. We had to be careful that we weren’t seen. Because that would be it. And it couldn’t be it, not yet. Because we weren’t ready for it to be. I could feel the danger hanging off my nerve-endings, threatening to snap them. And our footsteps seemed inordinately loud. And I couldn’t stop my stupid body from trembling. But we weren’t going t

                                realJSOPR Offline
                                realJSOPR Offline
                                realJSOP
                                wrote on last edited by
                                #53

                                Ravel H. Joyce wrote:

                                I drew 'running away from home', and I've written some, but I have no idea where I'm going with it.

                                That's the nature of running away from home. You don't really know where you're going. So, running away from home can't be a spur of the moment idea - it requires planning.

                                "Why don't you tie a kerosene-soaked rag around your ankles so the ants won't climb up and eat your candy ass..." - Dale Earnhardt, 1997
                                -----
                                "...the staggering layers of obscenity in your statement make it a work of art on so many levels." - Jason Jystad, 10/26/2001

                                1 Reply Last reply
                                0
                                • S soap brain

                                  The Developer wrote:

                                  I didn't read what to post yet

                                  What's your native language? :confused:

                                  P Offline
                                  P Offline
                                  psyched
                                  wrote on last edited by
                                  #54

                                  Ravel H. Joyce wrote:

                                  What's your native language?

                                  That would be "moron". I think it originates from "dimwit".

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                                  0
                                  • L Lost User

                                    :omg:

                                    Ravel H. Joyce wrote:

                                    The Developer wrote: I didn't read what to post yet

                                    from where did you get that. i didn't say that :wtf: :omg:

                                    The Developer - CEH

                                    M Offline
                                    M Offline
                                    Michael Schubert
                                    wrote on last edited by
                                    #55

                                    The Developer wrote:

                                    from where did you get that. i didn't say that

                                    So, you're not just an idiot, you're also on drugs? Is there a causality?

                                    1 Reply Last reply
                                    0
                                    • L Lost User

                                      you don't know me then. i'm the reason why leckey stoped posting

                                      The Developer - CEH

                                      F Offline
                                      F Offline
                                      ftw melvin
                                      wrote on last edited by
                                      #56

                                      Mr. Developer - you are, as those golf fans often say, THE MAN!!!!

                                      "If you reward everyone, there will not be enough to go around, so you offer a reward to one in order to encourage everyone." Mei Yaochen in the 'Doing Battle' section of Sun Tzu's: Art of War. .

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                                      0
                                      • E El Corazon

                                        Ravel H. Joyce wrote:

                                        Wow, you're WAY too familiar with iron.

                                        True. My poetry was the story of my life, most of it is not that great. Though the better ones are the stories within the stories.... Some people miss them. In one of the poems, written from the point of view of my ex-wife (ahhh the mistakes I have made), tells a story.... Did you hate the cage I made? You should never look to the moon. Why even try such a charade? You aim too high, too soon. You should never look to the moon. Must I cover your cage now? You aim too high, too soon. Will this sillyness you disavow? Must I cover your cage now? Mockingbirds were not meant to sing. Will this sillyness you disavow? You have always been my plaything. obviously the song she wanted me to stop singing was my poetry. Though she always missed the message there, she still did not want others to know I was in pain at all. Cover it up, sweep it under the carpet, hang your head and keep quiet.... It was the cage she made for me and wanted me to stay in. The big question most people never ask.... who was the moon? :) Do you know what it is like to thirst? Not want or desire, everybody wants. . . A thirst comes from inside, Telling you that it is necessary For your very survival. A thirst tears at your sanity. A thirst tears at your soul, The very fabric of your being. Only the strongest of men Can survive a true thirst Without finding a way to quench it. Do you know what it is like to be lonely? Not the loneliness of one, It is easy to be lonely when you are one. True loneliness is the lonliness of many, The loneliness that strikes you in a crowd. True loneliness that invades your sleep. True loneliness that catches you at a party To tell you that you do not belong. True loneliness is an ache in your soul. True loneliness is NOT a desire. . . True loneliness is . . . a thirst.

                                        _________________________ Asu no koto o ieba, tenjo de nezumi ga warau. Talk about things of tomorrow and the mice in the ceiling laugh. (Japanese Proverb) John Andrew Holmes "It is well to remember that the entire universe, with one trifling exception, is composed of others."

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                                        Robert Royall
                                        wrote on last edited by
                                        #57

                                        So what you're saying is... You need a beer?

                                        Imagine that you are hired to build a bridge over a river which gets slightly wider every day; sometimes it shrinks but nobody can predict when. Your client provides no concrete or steel, only timber and cut stone (but they won't tell you what kind). The coefficient of gravity changes randomly from hour to hour, as does the viscosity of air. Your only tools are a hacksaw, a chainsaw, a rubber mallet, and a length of rope. Welcome to my world. -Me explaining my job to an engineer

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