Who talks in riddles, who talks in reasons?

3.5x2.5inches

( 2 more )

http://postsecret.blogspot.com/2009/11/sunday-secrets_29.html

PostSecret is an ongoing community art project where people
mail in their secrets anonymously on one side of a postcard.








HopeLine Fundraiser on twitter this Thursday. Tell
your friends & follow @postsecret for more details.



















-----Email Message-----

Dear Frank,

Sunday I was with my boyfriend (we are both young Christians). I grabbed his laptop to go to the postsecret website. As I typed in the postsecret address the computer filled in the url with a pornography website.

I used my boyfriend's laptop again to look up postsecret and the computer filled in the url with recently visited sites about pre and post nuptial agreements.

In my attempts to read other people's secrets, I discovered his.

















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http://postsecret.blogspot.com/2009/11/postsecret-events-incomplete.html

11-30-90
DeNaples Center
Scranton, PA
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12-4-09
Michigan Theater
Ann Arbor, MI
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1-10-10
New World Stage
Manhattan, NY
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I've been undecided whether to post here or in applyingtograd for some time now, but I think this would be the more appropriate venue. However! If this is inappropriate please let me know and I'll get rid of it right away :)

Does anyone have insight as to the level of formality between grad student and professor at Hong Kong University?

( More details behind cut. )

Hello
this is my first time post on niceboots :)


Asos,Vivienne westwood,adidas,cute socks,bow dress




( under here... )

~5" x 9". pencil.

Ok. I have now featured in FIVE people's dreams. I really like the idea that there's a subliminal me, going around and invading your heads at whim, having strangely chaste sex in the bath with you, working with you and kicking ass, or throwing fabulous parties! Subliminal me is a lot cooler than real me. I am in favour of all this.

Had a lovely night. Coming back along Mortimer Street / Goodge Street, where I used to work and where my XH and I used to sneak off for drinks togehter at lunchtime because he worked over in Cavendish Square. What was Nice Irmas is now re-zoned as a pizza place. The world's best greasy spoon is now a "sushi/fusion" bar; and the cheese shop you had to cross the street to pass in the summer is gone completely. On the train, there was a gaggle of 20-somethings on the tube all dressed up for an 80s night. And Trio's "Da Da Da" comes on my iPod and I suddenly had one of those moments where you feel all happily smug and cognoscenti-y, because that track - any 80s track - for me feels as fresh as those little green leaves you find curled all innocent inside a cauliflower before you cut it. The ones that have never seen sunlight yet, and that squeak when you snap them.

Out of the train like I used to: like a greyhound from a trap, picked the right doors to get up the stairs ahead of the crowd which means I can see all the adverts on the walls instead of having to catch snatches of them between other people's bags and coats and build an understanding of each one in instalments. Up the escalator without breaking stride. All that walking's paying dividends.

I don't know if I get a week like this, or if this is the last day for a month or three. It doesn't matter. For one day I get to hit my normal pace. It's good enough.

I read a lot of posts and comments, on Pagan forums, about not discouraging people from finding their true paths. This is generally an admonishment not to argue too much, or not to use harsh words, or not to tell seekers they're wrong about something, but instead to be gentle and welcoming to them. Elders and mentors, we are told, should not be causing them to doubt, not be dissuading seekers during their time of confusion and need.

I am baffled by this notion. My husband is baffled by it. My mentors are baffled by it. My friends are baffled by it. We are all horrifically confused at the idea that we have even the smallest capacity to turn someone away from her "true path."

( Your true path doesn't require external validation )

- I prefer paypal
- I will happily ship anywhere!
- I cannot accept trades for now, sorry
- I will be leaving the UK soon, so all of this has to go!!


( >>>>>>> Dresses, Shirt, Skirt - make an offer!! >>>>>>> )

• 19:54 conclusion: mysterious allergic reactions suck. Garh. OTOH, museums, bowling and random happiness are ace. #

Loudtwittered from twitter.com/fayroberts.

( ministry tedium, preaching in Nazareth, demonology )

( More fabric: Care Bears, Barbie, florals, fish, 80s, vintage kids... )

Before I had children - and until Linnea was walking, even - I thought that insisting that children say "sorry" was pointless, at best, and completely devaluing the concept of apology, at worst. I've changed my mind.

I really, really value an apology. Which is not to be confused with the attempts they make to get out of jail free by doing something dreadful and chirping "I sorry now!" with a beaming smile.

So now I make my kids say sorry.

It started with me apologising to them, and on their behalf, a lot. Then I started instructing them to say sorry (I don't ask them unless I'm willing to cheerfully accept a "No," it's bad for my blood pressure to shoot myself in the foot that way). At some point I started adding a sorry-for-what? which means they don't just say Sorry, they say "Sorry, Name, for doing the whatever it was."

If they're not ready to say sorry, they have to go somewhere else until they are ready. Sometimes, they are not ready to accept each others' apologies. That's ok. Saying sorry doesn't make everything better, and it's not supposed to. It's just a first step.

I think arming them with the ability to make a prompt and sincere apology (which is often a difficult thing to do) is a good thing for the rest of their lives. And it makes it much, much easier to live with them. We all apologise a lot. I like that.

This one is from our shoot up at Church Fenton Manor. Click through to the flickr page to see a high res. version. comments are, as always, most welcome.

Author: me V.Valevsky
Heroes of original comics-book


Timur and his Commandos by *AceKomiks on deviantART

I love my new shoes. I love my new shoes. *heavy breathing* I LOVE MY NEW SHOES. I LOVE MY NEW SHOES.

***

Ok: I declare an amnesty. How many of y'all are dreaming about me? Eh? Come on, out with it. I've had three people admit as much in the last 36 hours, two directly to me and one anonymously on someone else's LJ.

It's the wind. It gets inside your head on these cold nights, and you end up dreaming someone else's dreams, stuff that's blown in from the north. There are polar bears up there right now who are normally plagued by terrible nightmares of me, who are currently dreaming about toucans and half coconuts full of punch with tiny umbrellas sticking out of the top. I blame climate change.

Anyway, if you must dream about me, please make it something insanely exciting, involving - oh, I don't know - dinosaurs! Aston Martins! Giant diamonds! Undersea robots! And a very intelligent sidekick parrot! Ok?

Good.

***

I just had one of those very specifically London un-language exchanges with my local shopkeep:

Him: Ayyy!
Me: Hooo!
Him: Fnuh?
Me: Eh ... *flaps hand*
Him: Ah!
Me: Ta.

***

There is a very small mostly-grey cat mostly stuffed up my left trouserleg. She crawled up there while I was writing this. She isn't moving, and her toenails are digging uncomfortably into the arch of my foot, but this is perfectly offset by the feeling of her warm tummy pressed against the inside of my ankle, which is almost unbearably pleasant and makes me want to bite something.

Yay, I am singing in a concert tonight in Amersham. It is going to be great. :-)

		Rachmaninov and Bach The Indulgence Consort, directed by Mark Johnstone Saturday 28th November 2009, 7.30pm St Mary's Church, Amersham Tickets £10 (£6 for children under 16) From 07720 508988 or on the door Rachmaninov's Vespers and Bach's Jesu Meine Freude

There are some more concerts for Christmas - see here.