If you love someone and proclaim to the world their significance in your life, why would you neglect them when you have limited time to spend together?
I simply cannot comprehend this.
As temperatures begin to cool, a variation of colors occur. Different shades emerge from orange, red, brown, yellow leaves… and as a result I have always welcomed the season of change.
But change does not only apply to Autumn; it applys to all. Change is the basis of adaptation, of the survival of the fittest if you will. Change was the key ingredient to the idea of Darwinism, to the Declaration of Independence, to even Facebook and Instagram.
Having been a wonderful transition in my life, I have always embraced change. So why is it that now it has become my enemy?
Too much of a variation in such a rapid small time frame is the the culprit in all of this. Instigating the circumstance to which I am in currently with along with piling all the different events in my life that are altering themselves is tearing me down.
To those around me, keeping my composure is not only essential for my sake but for theirs as well. As a result of this, tension is rising at a rapid speed, both mentally and physically.
Physical pains daily, mental exhaustion along with a plastered smile on my face has come to be the norm these days.
In the imminent present the concept of change and the change itself have become impediments to my destination to success.
I simply do not know how much longer I can hold out for before I just crumble…
May 7, 2015
I admit it: I feel a bit nerdy confessing I collect stamps.
I’m not sure how it all started, but I think it’s my father’s fault. He used to travel a lot for work, so he had friends all over the planet. And occasionally these friends would send us a letter, like this one:
Within a few years I’d amassed maybe a dozen such first-day covers, and I’d saved several hundred stamps from my father’s correspondence. (I especially looked forward to Christmas each year.)
Before long I was saving my allowance for the local stamp-swaps and mail-order offers. I’m sure I got swindled a few times (I was only eight or nine). But still, it was fun.
Then my collection sat idle for a few years, largely forgotten while I attended college and married and started a career. It wasn’t until last year, in the aftermath of The Great Flood
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For ages, whenever the clock struck midnight on the 31st humanity celebrated the passing of another and made vows to better themselves as beings.
For years, I have been stuck in the same predicament when the minute hand landed on the 12.
An endless cycle of being forcefully abandoned by the society im in based on my immigration status. This resulting in no real goals for myself that following year.
A tormented soul shielded with a smile manifested by a deceptive mind.
At last that time has passed.. yet I feel even more remorseful that I have ever been.
I have come to realize why.. before I was chained by society, limiting myself to a bare minumium.. to enjoy the crumbs that the nation offered me.
Now my sadness comes from the fear of failing myself and others now that I have been approved of my rights as a human that everyone should entitled to.
Perplexed as I am, I have made it my resolution this year to resolve the following dilemma.
What do you do when so much is expected of you from everyone? How does one achieve greatness…
An exceptional piece about the misunderstood. ❤
I want to tell you a story about your dog, Zoe. We found her cowering at the pound. She wasn’t barking like the other dogs. She was simply laying there, looking up at us. The tag said, “lab mix” and she was slated to be killed in a week. We fell for it, thinking we were buying a lab.
She is not a lab. She is a pit bull.
As Zoe grew, we came to realize the pound had lied. I was scared. I felt irresponsible for letting this type of dog into my home. All of the stereotypes, preconceptions and worries filled my mind. Should I take her back? What would people think of us?
She is the definition of disenfranchised. When first time guests visit we lock her in her cage, not because she is dangerous, but because of unspoken fears. She receives wary glances from strangers as…
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I am a PhD student in a computing department, so I guess it’s not surprising that my social media feeds have been full of outrage over Barbie’s “computer engineering” skills. The blog post that originally went viral appears to be sporadically down due to heavy traffic, but The Daily Dot also has a good summary of the problematic book titled Barbie: I Can Be a Computer Engineer. The problematic part is that, as far as I can tell, the steps for becoming a computer engineer if you’re Barbie are:
- Design a videogame.
- Get a boy to code it for you.
- Accidentally infect your computer with a virus.
- Get a boy to fix it for you.
- Take all the credit for these things yourself.
And the problem isn’t even that Barbie isn’t a “real” computer scientist because she isn’t coding. (I am one of those mostly-non-coding computer scientists myself, though now…
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