Monday, May 25, 2009

Como Fazer Poster A3 Em Power Point








... the problem of the stories you read in novels and you also see on the screen is that they are shit. The 'source of the problem is the lack of realism. Realism. Have you ever stopped to think that every story, however absurd, has its own reason for being? An inner order? The world does not work as mica. The world does not work for reasons of being and internal orders. If abbandonaste to himself, would plunge the world you live in the most absolute mess. It would be so even for the world where you live. Everything tends to disorder, is a law of nature. Take yourself for example. You live. It 's a fact. You can not deny it. Nevertheless, it is not unusual. Compared to what happens in thousands of other galaxies and hundreds of thousands of other planets, nothing is more unlikely and statistically improbable that you live. Say it like it is, you should not be alive. On the other hand, it is very likely that you do not you see it the same way because you are the kind of people capable of thinking that they have every right to be alive. This makes you suspicious, as well as improbable and unlikely. There is indeed something more than suspicion of improbability that claim rights? Why would you live?, I wonder. What can you do, you, in this world, with your will to live? Because they give you to disturb the general chaos? What you have in mind? What is your plan? You must admit that to consider the question with a bit of realism, with a bit of realism that is true, there's not much you can trust. You want to be free, aspire to happiness, you do not even know what to look for. Things you can not have, you know very well that things could never have. But not only. You refuse as well. In the sense that you refuse yourself. Act against your interest. We do not panic, dates and nuts, are you able to fuck up everything for nothing. And since you are also hopeless morons, like blind moles and stubborn mules, make sure to give a semblance of rule. You rely on inventions that are not in heaven or on earth. Abstract stuff that was never seen in nature. Laws, rule of law, constitutional order. Codes of conduct and moral codes. Common sense and meaning. The market economy.

A look here, look alike, more or less, to a girl for some time that goes around the streets of the country complaining that this world is a madhouse and that can not be real. Maybe some of you will ever meet. Usually wears a shirt that strange geometries fluorescent colors, a skirt to carnal sin, and a small ankle right ankle. Always has an air scoglionata or distracted, as appropriate. He has brown hair silky translucent, eyes of the snake and the deer and a body that hovers. Does not go unnoticed. The type that if you see her, fall in love like nothing. His name is called ... ... is obviously not able to say how you really call what this reality nor from which it claims to be surfaced at. Do not you remember most. Just remember to have thrown away everything that has ever been. As you can see there is every reason to assert that his nature is very much akin to madness. Perhaps it is a kind of alien from outer space fall, who knows. Crazy alien or it may be, the fact remains that the similarities you, and you know why? Why has thrown herself to the wind fear of fading into the habit of a normal life, would not become an unhappy woman with protruding veins in the legs, the hips are heavy and the regret of not being crazy enough when he was still young and could. Because he wanted a life exciting, different. Because you only live once. For your will to live fuck. He wanted a different life now and complain about losing the one he had. He wanted to run away from home and now crying because they do not know how to come back. Your spitting image. Never that something does go wrong. When will you tell us that the Karma must be taken for what it is? Why learn to walk on when to go across the lake you can take a comfortable boat? You believe not to be like her ... you think you are people with a head on his shoulders. Believe. But in reality you are just like her. You are not you. You should not even be alive, let alone if you are.

... oh yes .. and always on her, one she any one that she might be you, fuck do I know ... well certainly not my am0 her that with all my being and hovering above even at this moment ... but ... she was probably one of those girls who fall in love with those who do not love them, those connoisseurs of the female who can only worthy of a look when they have abused or give the bitch ? And she had never broken my heart to someone? He hated the accident that touched her armpits? He kept a diary? She liked to do weird tricks or was instead an incurable romantic which eluded all of hand because he spent a life dream? And if he was a dreamer, dreaming of what? To be as small as a bacterium or to live a simple life like sex, drugs and rock & roll? And speaking of guys, she was like? An aspiring depressed or solar-type? What was his status in the world? He believed in the work? He felt made? He had ambitions, or enough to stay behind the desk of an office? It was a maneater freelance? Model, full-time cashier or bitch? What more saddened? The zoo or circus animals? Distances or phone bills? The narrow-mindedness or canaries cage? The things I did not know or understand those too? The people or parking meters? All or nothing? And what was he doing in your spare time? How much he loved the unexpected moments of silence? He had never stuck a vibrator in her pussy? How many times he had fucked? How many had fucked? Who gave it the first time? At what age? And how old she now? It was his mother? It was his father? He had never molested? What made her lose her head? A beautiful voice? The sweet nothings? The smell of sweat? A kiss on the neck at the right time? Scars? The strange places? The skinheads? Players of frisbee? And since the scombussolavano those five days per month when she had to bleed? And as for the disorientated life as a whole in the days when nothing special about the image of herself that she happened to meet was staring at her reflection in a window with a look full of unknowns?

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Is Toilet Paper Size Girth Good?

Post No. 14: The Genius (Part Two)

You can be assured: the genius is not difficult to externalize their shining superiority. The Genius always amazes. His semi-axis have an infinite and endless sleeves from which to escape.

Surprise: The genius is not content to create, and basically is not satisfied either of the doubt. Seems satisfied not to be satisfied, it is his game. Played. Again.

Think about it: the Genius has created, justified, he demystified. What remains then? The peaks have been reached, amounts creations already stored. What is left now? The banality perhaps? Sleep on their spines? Check on the truths that shine and fresh invention?

No.

Genius is much more than that. The true genius was born here. Why the Genius, my dear, is not content to win. The victory is for tired men, is a top from which you can not go up or down, is a limit.

Here the genius shines, here goes beyond the Genie: Vince, and then gives in to defeat. It 's a tactic, I swear, is not a random choice. Believe me, the Genie does to try all possibilities. It is not idiocy, is that he loves and overstepping shine. About everything. Upon himself.

is now Genius breathe deep, true: the Genius has created, justified, he demystified, has reached the heights, he filed the sums creations. And now he still enjoys, enjoys most: the Genius is now subjected, is losing, is defeated by the Genius himself, a self that comes to life at hand, which came into being to win again, this time forever.

Look at him now: the Genius of notes from the top down, which has climbed to the top creating it. Look at him now, the Genius dominated by the peak that gives his own thought baby, immature. Look at the defeat of voluntary engineering. Do not ask why. Do not ask for Why, he follows the thought and immature newborn, the Genie is laughing. It 's easy, it is clear: the Genius is happy. Even more. Forward one step further: a new level of happiness. It is not the last.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Columbus Labeled Ships

Assignment # 8: Assessment Course

It was late.
Behold the end to give my opinion on the course of Informatics: I'll try to go straight to the point. First of all I owe to this course the discovery of the Blog as a direct and practical form of personal expression on any level. It was an experience I had never even considered taking, but which proved to be a enjoyable outlet that presumably will continue to use, in the manner and time that I will be permitted. Secondly, the blog has had the great honor to put us all in contact, thus allowing us to know different sides of people with whom we were (and unfortunately we are still in good part) used to share only the big air of the classroom of the Cube, or maximum CuBar. Thirdly, the reflection. I admit that in some cases having to write a post about something that you never smell a bit concerned 'constraint. is the idea of \u200b\u200bhaving to write forcefully. Rationally speaking, however, I realize that there would be other ways to actually think the people on the Copyright or other issues difficulty with which you are in contact, but which are part of a reality not really as happy as ours.
say that in general, this course was almost the opposite of what I could expect, and it was a pleasant surprise, because it could not weigh on the shoulders of us poor sperandio Medical already facing trillion notions store, and at the same time be much more engaging and useful than any test crosses using Word or Excel, using the right blend of practical use and capabilities of the PC to range beyond the actual teaching, in addition to knowledge, but something more real and realistic.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Is It Ok To Put A Cough Drop In Tea

Post # 13: The Genius

It 's pure genius. We simply create. We like to create. Man has always created and will not stop. It 's pure genius the man who creates endless trails around himself and others, the man who created man and the monster, the man who then runs away from their creations and genius itself. He creates and then punishes, punishing you for having created or have not created enough. Walk the world and crush the man, crushing and replaces what is explained by what is vague enough to be regarded as human, as comes from the human and the human is trapped. It 's the same trap that the Genius regurgitates dreams and horrors, which falls, in which the cradle and the cradle other men who spit dreams and horrors like him and like many others.

When God created man he did not need to speak or give the signal, we thought the genius to write and interpret his own words, follow them, betraying them, punish or absolve. And 'Genius, have faith, this is pure genius. Creating the world and acting is genius. The genie is not clear where necessary even himself, because at the end of the Genie uses what has always been known to create new puzzles to solve which will not ever know, so as to render unnecessary the presence, useless man, the actor who mixes the stand. And it is this genius?

When man created himself came to understand each other well enough to get in doubt for fun: it is the epitome of elegance of Engineers. Even in the game, the genius is genius.

Genius does not want answers, rather it feeds the Genius of questions, and gold, and happiness, the real one, who understands the splendor of the tear and enjoys it as it goes, as he dies. The Genius is nourished and looks to suffer in the cage. And enjoy. Infinitely enjoys. While enjoying the Genius creates the prison where he died of a doubt.

has come from the man who will not be created by the Engineers and that genius does not die. Not be born. But do not tell the Genius, we do not believe it.