favorite words

Favorite words.
Literally- an actual inevitable reality.
Morose-Sad or depressed.
Epicosity- The most amazing thing ever.  I.E. It is filled with Epicosity.
Fail- If you do not know this definition then you ____
Redonculous-Absurd completely ridiculous. Removed from normality, a talking chihuahua, etc.

Robert's revision.

I would like to introduce to Robert, a man of many years and few experiences, accounting from his disabilities; Robert stands at six feet and four inches. However, he always feels as if he's the smallest in the room still dwarfed him in comparison, this feeling, due in part, to his nature as a shy, withdrawn person. , the chair Robert spends nearly all of his waking hours in. Robert survived a near-fatal car accident, accident, which in time, paralyzed him, making much of life difficult for him. Nevertheless, he remained studious and intelligent, always observant. Even though his mental fortitude remained stalwart, Robert's physique further diminished his appearance, small as could be imagined. He felt infinitesimal, spindly, as if his entire body featured wire, instead of bone. Taking away his chair in some ways made him even smaller. Robert might be a tall man, yet due to the intense nature of his acne scars, thin jaw and surprisingly large head. Robert remained the outcast he believed himself to be, picked on relentlessly, making him into an introvert to most of his peers. His best trait admirably stood out among his other features. That trait being his hair, long draping curls falling into a seemingly infinite twist of brown, black, and blonde coalescing into a cacophony of colorful hues, most would not be lucky enough to see this. Even so, for the few that did, it captivated their minds. . In the sunlight, it had often shown like a gem, turning more heads than the chrome wheels adorning his cursed chair. 

 

He spent most days in; He spent most days in the chair, he both hated and loved, pushing his extravagant hair out of his face and being nosy on social media web-sites. He may be nearing his forties, but it didn't stop Robert from doing what he wanted. He used to stray, shying away from people and enjoying almost no social contact, until the release of World of Warcraft, and soon after, Facebook. Robert found his place in his home, being nosy, and far too stuck-up to deal with normal people. He would much rather deal with mystical creatures while he is role-played as his Night Elf-Ranger.  

Robert, a character/mix.

I would like to introduce to Robert, He is a man of many years and few experiences, accounting from his disabilities, Robert stands at six feet and four inches. Yet he always feels as if he is the smallest in the room, part of this is due to his nature as a shy, withdrawn person. Part of this is also due to the chair, he spends his life in. Robert was paralyzed at a young age, making much of life difficult for him, yet he remained studious and intelligent, always observant. Even though he was filled with mental fortitude Robert was almost as wiry as you could imagine. Taking away his chair in some ways made him even smaller. He was tall, yes, but he was also incredibly thin, and small-framed. some would even call him petite, due to the intense nature of his acne scars, thin jaw and surprisingly large head. This made Robert an outcast of sorts, he was picked on relentlessly making him an introvert to most of his peers.s. His hair was almost always considered to be his best trait, near the top it was a light, dirty blonde. it cascaded down in thick curly loops, by the time his hair reached his shoulders it was very dark. This didn't have the effect you are thinking of, his hair was not two-toned, but instead a mix of extravagant browns, and dark blondes. In the sunlight it often shown like a gem, turning more heads than his chair.

 He spent most days in the chair he both hated and loved, pushing his extravagant hair out of his face and being nosy on social media web-sites. He may have been near his forties but it didn't stop Robert from doing what he wanted. He used to have almost no social contact, until World of Warcraft was released along with facebook. Robert found his place in his home, Being nosy, and far too stuck up to deal with normal people. He would much rather deal with mystical creatures while he role-played as his Night Elf-Ranger.

The pink rubber ball. (unfinished)

Let's begin our story with the pink rubber ball's creation. Created in a lovely rubber factory it came into being, not particularly prettier, or exceptionally bouncy or really special in any physical sense. it was small, close to the size of a golf ball, mainly pink the swirls of white whirled throughout it's mass like in in a water current. The pink rubber ball never minded the packaging, or the truck rides, it even began to enjoy it's stay in  the machine, watching the other balls go through the steel mechanics and vanish into the world beyond. What it truly loved was the people. Every day the ball watched as children and adults, men and women, girls and boys, and drooling dogs passed by. That's when the pink ball knew what it was meant for. Every time the sound was heard of a coin being placed in it's machine, the pink ball grew excited. It watched as the mechanics below turned and clicked until on of it's fellows were deposited into the waiting hands of an expecting child. The pink ball always loved to watch the face of the child as it started from subtle anticipation to an explosion of merriment and mirth.


Many days and many hours passed, the ball watched indifferently as people came and went, children got their very own rubber ball and they were so excite. Red ones, Blue one's Purple balls with pink swirls. Yet the pink ball sat quietly. Soon something happened the pink ball never expected. For the first time in the pink rubber ball's life it began to feel sadness, it was so lonesome it thought it would cry, if it could cry, or even had a face.

        Soon the rubber ball had given up hope many months went by with no hope for being free. Then one day a child stepped up to the machine place his coin inside and turned the handle and. Nothing happened it would not turn, a sense of dread soon filled the rubber ball as it knew any infinitesimal shred of hope had now diminished. The machine was broken. The rubber ball would never see the face of a child light up, would never feel the thrill of being bounced. The ball watched in horror as the sign hung on the machine it promtly read "OUT OF ORDER". That evening when the lights started to go down the owner of the toy store came up to the machine. He was a tall, dark skinned man, wearing a shirt with a cowboy painted on it.

    The words underneath the cowboy read "You're my favorite Deputy" This lightened the heart of the pink ball. The man bent down and patted the machine's glass dome with a solemn expression. "I will miss you old friend." He said to the machine. In the pink ball's mind he was talking to it, and this made the pink ball much sadder. The ball heard the tools working to open the steel top to the glass dome, where the pink ball, and the others were resting. Once open, the dome was lifted, tilted and out came the rubber balls, bouncy and festive. The pink ball was near the top of the machine so, naturally it ended u at the bottom of the box. Cramped and stuffed it hjated it's new home and an even new sadness spread throughout it's tiny sphere.

     No more children, no more smiles, no more men or women, no more boys or girls. No more silly drooling dogs. Just darkness, cramped spaces and dust.

Finally after years of waiting the ball woke with a start, the box was moving again!

           

Freewriting credo.

Do better than yesterday, this is the experience I choose to live. In this way I can never reach my best. Maybe my best today, but tomorrow I can do even better, a peak in performance is not acceptable it must always be improved. Like the gladiator in Rome I picture every task as a potential for being my last, in this way I should always be better than myself and in every way, if a gladiator had a bad Monday or an off Tuesday it would result in his death. If he was not always improving he would be beaten, a warrior defeated is a warrior dishonored. This is not acceptable. Now I stand in the sand of my personal arena, facing the demons and harbingers of failure, I must hone my sword and punish any error. Honing my mind and improving my abilities is the only option. If I make my best better, hold myself to a higher standard I can never be defeated. Each day is a battle and each victory a motivation for an even higher calling. Life as I see it is a constant practice of patience. Patience is an accomplice of sympathy one of the few great abilities of human nature. However arguably the best aspect of human emotion is compassion. The ability to see another’s suffering and relate it to one’s self. In this, I believe compassion is key to understanding. Had the gladiators shown compassion then perhaps the modern society would view them as more than murderers, perhaps even heroes.