Reading or Writing?

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Yes, I am guilty. I promised myself that I would write as much as possible. I would post something on my blog almost every day (well, really, I had promised every day…but that’s neither here nor there) but I have been failing. I could blame work. Sitting at my desk all day, typing out things to do with my public health project, takes a lot out of me. I even pack my laptop and head home hours after the office staff have left, with the insane idea that I shall ‘work from home’. Instead, what happens is that I usually get home, drape myself on the couch and proceed to snack and watch some telly. I touch my laptop only if the lights have gone out, and I need to Continue reading →

The Mosquito Lay Dead In My Cup

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How beautifully written. Definitely my new BlogCrush…

edrevets's avatarSnotting black

(after preliminary words, the trial begins)

“I will tell the whole truth, not part of it, and nothing else besides it, truth.”

Prosecutor: Where were you and what were you doing on the night of September 13, 2011?

Arabic student: It’s hard to say exactly….yesterday seems so long ago. I think I was at home, probably working on the balcony or something like that.

Prosecutor: What do you mean by working? Were you doing your “Arabic homework?” Is that right?

Arabic student: Well, yes…..when I come home from classes sometimes I take a nap but then usually I go outside and do homework and watch the bats flap around the tree that encroaches upon…

Prosecutor: That’s quite enough! So you were doing homework. Was there anything unusual about that night?

Arabic student: No, I don’t think so….I think I remember being stressed out by how much homework I had. I…

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The Meaning of Happiness Changes Over Your Lifetime

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Happiness over the years. Found this. Loved it. Reblogged it.

advancedhindsight's avatarCenter for Advanced Hindsight

Swinging Happiness for BlogThe following is a scientific and personal article written by CAH member Troy Campbell about happiness.

One lovely afternoon, I began chatting to my grandpa. I was completely unaware he was about to say something that would change my view of happiness forever.

In the middle of our conversation, I felt a lull so I pulled out the classic question. “If you could have dinner with one person, living or dead, who would it be?” I couldn’t wait to talk about my long list of dead presidents, dead Beatles, dead scientists, and a really cute living movie star. But I was also really eager to hear what he’d say.

Then he simply answered, “My wife.”

I immediately assured him it’s not necessary for him to answer like that. We all knew he loves his wife, whom he eats dinner with every night and was currently over in the other room…

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Call Back

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The search seems never-ending,
with a thousand arrows, it seems,
flung into a dark unknown,
with the hope that at least one
shall return with a sign of life.
Difficult cannot begin to describe it,
and every person whispers at you
to have patience and to wait.
Well, waiting is killing,
and the noose is tightening slowly
as the day’s light fades away,
as one waits and stares into the abyss,
for the return of just one arrow.
The darkness beyond seems to mock,
swallowing all that one throws at it,
with no hope of a regurgitated flicker
of life-blood.
Plenty have thrown arrows at it,
and received a haloed punt
and so one waits, wringing fingers,
dabbing sweat off the forehead,
and hoping, praying, pleading
for a call back…