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I am currently reading Nassim I am currently reading Nassim Nicholas Taleb's "The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbably."
The term comes from the European belief that all swans are white since that's the only kind they had ever seen. Then the British began exploring Australia and what do they find?
Taleb refers to Black Swan Events. An event that is so improbable that it can't be fit in the traditional Bell Shaped Curved. I'm just getting a good start into his work, but he's a good read. So far, he is making the argument that these BSEs...to create my own acronym...are the driving force behind history. That human history doesn't just roll along nice and smooth with one event being caused by preceeding events and then, when it has happed becomes the cause of other events.
He rather argues that history does not grow logically and rationally, but rather is a sequence of unpredictable leaps caused by unpredicatable events: Black Swans.
He uses 9/11 as an example as well as the emergence of the In
Fred died tonight. We rescuedFred died tonight.
We rescued him from a family that was calling him Bocephus...Hank Williams Jr...of course, we took one look at him and said there is no way this bassett hound....this big lumbering short legged hound dog with ears that hadn't gotten the memo yet and were still long enough to stir the dust and waft the scent up to that CSI Superfly Noze of his. You see, bassetts are according to legend bred from full sized blue tic hound with a Dachsund or some dog with short legs. They are short, but still are classified with the big dogs.
We both took one look at him and as soon as we drove away from the family that had to get rid of him because of a landlord we looked at each other and said, "There is no way in hell this dog is going to be able to pull off Bosephus. I can't remember which one of us came up with it but the name, once spoken aloud was his and his forever and that was...
We brought him home seven or eight years ago and we weren't sure how ol
from karl marx to pale jesus from karl marx to pale jesus
i don’t want you to
accept my beliefs
i want you to question your own
why should i care
if here and there
there were little phil jarrett clones?
make up your mind
but not like you make
the bed in the morning you leave
all tightly tucked corners
with no room for doubt
is no way for a man to believe
furl flags on the ramparts
paste poems on your prius
and blog till your bloggin’ content
these words that you mutter
you might as well utter
so pull up your thesaurus and vent
from riots to revolution
there’s no easy solution
left untried then put up on the shelf
from karl marx to pale jesus
there’s a repeating thesis
the only change you can make is yourself
in the air
this one here
just disappeared with a pop
and this one is dripping
some sort of soap snot
let’s be real
it’s not soap that you feel!
it’s the Hollowness in your Heart
There is so much that cannot bThere is so much that cannot be explained. You want it to be simple. This happened, then this, then this and finally this. But life never falls in straight lines. Life is a maze the solution to which is never revealed until the last turn is taken, the last line is drawn. People demand of you what you cannot give. They want to know the solution before you have plotted the course. They want the security of knowing that the writer, the author, knows the ending and is guiding them, step by step, through the process that will eventually lead to this ending.
They don't know you. They see you as some guide, some leader they can follow. But you aren't a leader. You are struggling to keep up with the images, the ideals, that pour into your brain unbidden. They want to believe in you and when they discover they cannot they blame you. You are at fault because you cannot give them the reassurance they are so desperatly seeking
Is it all right to do nothingIs it all right to do nothing with you life?
Simple question. What harm would come if you simply woke up in the morning and went to work then came home at night and enjoyed yourself? Working, of course, is an essential aspect of living. If you want to have a place to come home to that is your own, where you can be alone, then you have to work to make the money necessary to sustain you own life. You may not want to, you may find ways of getting around working. But experience has taught me that living off other people in some way, shape or form is always more complicated than simply working. I call this the 168/40 ratio. There are 168 hours in a week. If you work 40 of those hours, then you are left with 128 hours to do with as you please. It isn't a bad deal, when you think of it in those terms. In order to make this 168/40 ratio work, you need to get your self-esteem needs met in the 128 hours you have to yourself. If your sel
Can Your Parents Relate?You, the girl in the corner of your bedroom
That with each passing year since birth
Has had her confidence sold to those that stare
For so much less than it is worth
When it should be a priceless commodity
Especially to a doting dad
Is he not supposed to give to his child
All the things that he never had?
You, the girl in the corner of the classroom
That has forgotten how to smile
Are you tired of being told it’s just a phase
And you’ll snap out of it in a while?
It should be obvious that you are struggling
Especially to a loving mum
As she's already lived through those tearful days
That for you have yet to come
You, the girl hiding in the shadow you cast
Please accept your parent’s flaws
No matter what success or failure you taste
Do not let them be the cause
They created a life in love or in lust
Now nurturing has turned to neglect
A bird feeds her young till the day they can fly
So maybe now you should leave the nest
Beware Of The Bad BoySo he touches you in all of the right places
But with a clenched fist and not a gentle hand
By ‘right places’ I mean those easily hidden
By the latest expensive designer brand
Which he buys you to either keep your silence
Or to beg and to plead for your forgiveness
Is this where the attraction of a bad boy lies?
Please explain where is the excitement in this?
So he kisses you with a so-called passion
His hands round your neck steal a two letter word
It seems that he cannot feel satisfaction
Unless you show him signs that his dominance hurts
Which he tightens each time to keep your silence
Or maybe he just enjoys hearing you moan
Is this the deed of some stalker, some stranger?
No, this is your husband and this is your home
So he lays you out on the living room floor
I wonder what will fall down to the carpet first
The drops of blood from between your legs
Or the tears flowing between his regretful words
Which he whispers in your ear as you lay silent
It’s safe to say
BirdsThe birds are flaunting their wings by me
Knowing I can't fly.
What a joyful, blissful gift it is
To soar in the sky –
Racing softly through the winds
Up to touch the clouds.
That's the place to look for peace,
More is to be found.
The birds keep piercing through the morning streets
Free of people's vibes.
Reveling in the river's peaceful breeze
I'm only standing by.
Chirping merrily above
They must see best of life,
Making me, the wingless one,
Be glad that I'm alive.
The birds will always frisk across this scene,
Even when I die.
And ungodly hour colors bring
Enlightening sense of life.
No matter what may be,
Birds will be around.
Long as they are here to sing,
You'll be safe and sound.
Schrodinger's CatAm I alive? Or am I dead?
Have I just purred? Or have I bled?
Being locked in that dreadful box,
I have become a paradox.
A flask of poison on the floor,
A radioactive source in store,
And a hammer to judge my fate -
Try and define my doubtful state -
Am I alive? Or am I dead?
Have I just purred? Or have I bled?
Where are you? (poem)<3
Just us two,
Walking beyond the avenue,
Admiring the beautiful nature view,
Spending a moment only with you,
Is like.. a dream come true,
You're a friend worth holding onto,
O but there's one question;
Where are you?
Introspection in a Pale Moon LightAm I a dream of the universe?
A microcosm of the cosmos
A transient flash of memory
Soon forgotten for eternity
Am I a conscious collection of atoms?
Converging together at random
An essence in constant motion
Like a ripple upon the ocean
We are all made of star dust
Born when giant gas clouds combust
In a symphony of the spheres
Free from anxiety and of fears
We are never ending energy
Dancing across the galaxy
From Andromeda to the Milky Way
Like a ballerina in a ballet
Sleepy Summer EveningLate swallows swoop and pipistrelles skitter
To and fro across the house, skimming the eaves.
Against a soft darkening sky streaked with red
Gulls return to the bosom of mother sea.
The smell of grass rises sweet on the damp air.
While daisies quietly close their eyes in sleep
The blackbird sweetly sings a lullaby
And I to bed until his reveille.
DethronedDelicate fingertips were once against my cheek,
as were the smiles that you so affectionately cast towards me.
But then you tossed me into the gaping sea,
and I am no longer a beloved queen to thee.
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