(...) kahkahaları kesildi, şarkılar sustu, oyunlar yarım bırakıldı. Yüzlerinde hüzünden çol korku vardı.
-Sence en büyük zaman kaybı nedir ?
+ Kendini başkalarıyla karşılaştırmak.
Hep kendimi kıyaslamak, okulda, kolejde, büyürken kendimi bir başkasıyla ölçmek üzere eğitildim. O zaman kendime şunu soruyorum; neden ölçüyorum ki?
Enerciiii :)Alıntı
Bir de sosyal medya var,herkes mükemmel görünüyor ve herkesin ilişkisi kusursuzmuş gibi gösteriliyor. "Instagram çiftleri" diye bir kavram var artık; yemekte bile fotoğraf çekmeden yenmiyor ki.Siz de haliyle diyorsunuz ki: "Ben de böyle olmalıyım!" Ama gerçek hayatta kimse sabah kalktığında kusursuz görünmüyor.O yüzden kendinize fazla yüklenmeyin.
Destek yayınları
Jim not that way Jim. That's no way to treat a garage door, bending stiffly down at the waist and yanking at the handle so the door jerks up and out jerky and hard and you crack your shins and my ruined knees, son. Let's see you bend at the healthy knees. Let's see you hook a soft hand lightly over the handle feeling its subtle grain and pull just as exactly gently as will make it come to you. Experiment, Jim. See just how much force you need to start the door easy, let it roll up out open on its hidden greasy rollers and pulleys in the ceiling's set of spiderwebbed beams. Think of all garage doors as the well-oiled open-out door of a broiler with hot meat in, heat roiling out, hot. Needless and dangerous ever to yank, pull, shove, thrust. Your mother is a shover and a thruster, son. She treats bodies outside herself without respect or due care. She's never learned that treating things in the gentlest most relaxed way is also treating them and your own body in the most efficient way. It's Marlon Brando's fault, Jim. Your mother back in California before you were born, before she became a devoted mother and long-suffering wife and breadwinner, son, your mother had a bit part in a Marlon Brando movie. Her big moment. Had to stand there in saddle shoes and bobby sox and ponytail and put her hands over her ears as really loud motorbikes roared by. A major thespian moment, believe you me. She was in love from afar with this fellow Marlon Brando, son. Who? Who. Jim, Marlon Brando was the archetypal new-type actor who ruined it looks like two whole generations' relations with their own bodies and the everyday objects and bodies around them. No? Well it was because of Brando you were opening that garage door like that, Jimbo. The disrespect gets learned and passed on. Passed
The Door Opened
Evangeline pulled out her dagger, a jewel-hilted blade with a few
missing gems. It was actually Jacks’s—the same one he’d tossed at her the
night they’d spent in the crypt. He’d left it behind in the morning, and she
still wasn’t sure why she’d picked it up. She didn’t want to keep it—not
anymore—but she hadn’t had time to replace it yet, and it was the sharpest
thing she owned.
One prick of the dagger and her blood welled red. She pressed it to the
door and whispered the words “Please open.”
The lock instantly clicked. The knob easily twisted.
For the first time in centuries, the door swung open.
And Evangeline understood why Jacks had been laughing.
Suddenly, the breath whooshed from her lungs as the thought triggered
the warning Apollo’s younger brother, Tiberius, had given her: You were
meant to open it. Magic things always do that which they were created to
do.
And Tiberius believed that Evangeline was created to unlock the
Valory Arch.
She staggered back, hearing the memory of Jacks’s laugh again. This
time it didn’t sound dark at all. It sounded amused, entertained, happy.
“No,” she whispered.
The stones still gleamed with gold threads that wove around the
columns. She watched as they spread across the top, lighting up a series of
curving words that had not been visible before.
Conceived in the north, and born in the south, you will know this key,
because she will be crowned in rose gold.
She will be both peasant and princess, a fugitive wrongly accused, and
only her willing blood will open this arch.
Evangeline’s blood ran cold.
These were not just words. This was—she didn’t even want to think it.
But pretending would not erase or change anything. This was the Valory
