A shallow look at my everyday perspective on life. A question with an answer that is 42.

Combat

William Shanks once counted Pi to 707 places, but messed up the last 180. This proved to be a colossal waste of time. I find this relatable when looking at some of the things I have spent my own time on in retrospect. I have observed others doing much the same or worse. When you look at the big picture of life, wasting our time may be our greatest crime.

Shanks' Last 180

Sitting in traffic and fuming from a long day of office politics, Bob heard the all to familiar ding of his iphone. An email reply marked as urgent had just made its way to his inbox. Upon further investigation he recalled the email he had sent at 11am to his coworker asking a detailed question for a client which required a detailed response. The reply simply stated, "Great! Thanks Bob.". Bob's head filled with a cacophony of thoughts that sounded almost exactly like this song.

I Don't Need 37 Pieces Of Flair To Do It

Accute anxiety sucks

"Counting signs and crooked lines in a celtic
Got no time here, don't you mind dear I'm at a loss
Shake my head and break the bed to kill the thoughts
There's the memory all glass and emry
I've had enough

Pickin through flaws like records again
Gotta tens my jaw till inderol hits
Need to slow down count my blessing again
Can't tell my feels from counterfits
Fuck this shit fuck my whits need ta freeze my dreams and scream till the mind submits I need to catch my breath and then I need to catch my breath again

(why won't you just be on my side) 
Such a disruptive convention leads to this ghastly dessention
Please grace I need liberation fixation has lead to damnation
Wake up wake up let go
All I was is just so indrawn
Wake up wake up let go
I just want to sleep till it's gone

Fighting my body and burning bridges
I've been contimplating finding religion
But so scared of life and so if it was endless I might just give up on the holy forgiveness
I been on the pills and my will survive
Often is lacking just like good advice
The words I don't speak to myself are unkind
But you shouldn't say nothing if it isn't nice
A subtle smell familiar light this memory is Killin mine
Amygdala 'll get ta ya
Hijacked now it's fight flight
Deep breath it'll be alright

Calm down when you're already calm and you can come"

Intramurral Contention

I knew someone that couldn't be in the room when they were putting their dog down. I couldn't help but fear the worst, that the poor thing was scared and alone with strangers in it's final moments. I thought about my dogs and in particular my best girl Paola. When the time comes I will be there, even if it's the last thing I do. The dog featured in the photo is Esmeralda. She was my soul mate and has since departed this world. I miss her always. This is dedicated to the best ladies I have ever had in my life.

Intramurral Contention

Feverish Culture

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