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Life is a valuable and unique opportunity to discover who you are. But it seems as soon as you near answering that age-old question, something unexpected always happens to alter your course. And who it is you thought you were suddenly changes. Then comes the frustrating realization that no matter how long life endures, no matter how many experiences are muddled through in this existence, you may never really be able to answer the question….. Who am I? Because the answer, like the seasons, constantly, subtly, inevitably changes. And who it is you are today, is not the same person you will be tomorrow. ↗
Life shows us all colours, some bright and some shades of grey, Some accept with a smile, while some frown in every way Thoughts and memories never end but life does one day. Whole age passes by in wait of that old time to return, But those old days once gone, will never come back again, Rather we can just cherish them in the memories that burn, In the back of our mind and make us remember, How we used to be so crazy, In those old days… ↗
Yet the laboriously sought musical epiphany rarely compares to the unsought, even unwanted tune whose ambush is violent and sudden: the song the cab driver was tuned to, the song rumbling from the speaker wedged against the fire-escape railing, the song tingling from the transistor on the beach blanket. To locate those songs again can become, with age, something like a religious quest, as suggested by the frequent use of the phrase "Holy Grail" to describe hard-to-find tracks. The collector is haunted by the knowledge that somewhere on the planet an intact chunk of his past still exists, uncorrupted by time or circumstance. ↗
Clinicians have told me that our emotional is arrested at the age that an eating disorder takes control of our lives. After we recover, we pick up emotionally where we left off at that age. ↗
Before I love you can come out of my mouth again, the front door swings open and Julia walks outside. "We're going to have to set some ground rules," she says. There's more amusement in her voice than anger or annoyance. "Sorry, Julia," I yell over my shoulder. I turn back to Lake and kiss her one last time, then take a step away from her. "It's just that I'm madly in love with your daughter!" "Yeah." Julia laughs. "I can see that. ↗
Am I ever angry or frustrated? I only feel angry sometimes when I see waste, when things that we waste are what people need, things that would save them from dying. Frustrated? No, never. ↗
In the silence that followed, violent anger hit Blay from out of nowhere. Now his hands shook for a different reason. “So,” Saxton said hoarsely. “How was your night?” “What the hell happened down there?” Saxton loosened his tie. Unbuttoned his collar. Took yet another deep breath. “Family tiff, as it were.” “Bullsh*t.” Saxton shifted exhausted eyes over. “Must we do this?” “What happened—” “I think you and Qhuinn need to talk. And once you do, I won’t have to worry about being jumped like a felon again.” Blay frowned. “He and I have nothing to say to each other—” “With all due respect, the ligature marks around my neck would suggest otherwise.” -Lover at Last, pg. 188 of the galleys ↗
...patriarchy, hierarchy, and capitalism create, encourage, maintain, and perpetuate addiction and dependency. Patriarchy and hierarchy are based on domination and subordination, which result in fear. This fear is expressed by the dominators through control and violence, and in subordinated people through passivity and repression of anger. The external conflict of hierarchy between dominants and subordinates becomes internalized in individuals, creating personal inner chaos, anxiety and duality. To quell the inner conflict people resort to addictive substances and behavior. ↗
