I just signed an urgent petition calling on the Chinese government to respect human rights in Tibet and dialogue with the Dalai Lama. This is really important, and I thought you might want to take action. Please reblog if you think other people would like to take part in this too.
By posting pictures of myself, I am also broadcasting the message, “It’s ok to be photographed even if you are not a model.” This may subtly influence people to post their own pictures; as a result, they will become more aware of their own image. As a result of that, they may learn to accept their unique physical traits as just that — unique traits — instead of flaws to be hidden.
This I can agreed with; it has already influenced my blogging. I just don;t think I’ll be doing bare-chested any time soon.
please post in my comments section or re-blog this message.
if you are interested, i require you to send me a full picture or two of yourself (so that i can check out your cute butt) and/or have a conversation with me. i like to get to know people a little bit before i try to figure out what looks best on them. style is such a personal thing and a person only wears clothing in which they feel most comfortable.
PS: This phrase is very similar to Nietzsche’s ”What does not kill me, makes me stronger,” but the truth is that (to my knowledge) it is not a translation. I’ve heard it for ever and I just thought that (coincidently) perhaps the idea was the same. Who know maybe it is a translation and adaptation after all of Nietzsche phrase.
"According to quantum mechanics, nothing at the subatomic scale can really be said to exist until it is observed. Until then, particles occupy nebulous "superposition" states, in which they can have simultaneous "up" and "down" spins, or appear to be in different places at the same time.
Observation appears to “nail down” a particular state of reality, in the same way as a spinning coin can only be said to be in a “heads” or “tails” state once it is caught.”
Now I was fuming. Squiggly lines were coming up out of my head. I was a half hour late to work and had to go to the locksmith for a third time. I was tempted just to give up on him. But I decided to give this loser one more chance.
I stomped into the store, ready to unleash my fury.
“It still doesn’t work?” he asked. “Let me see.”
He looked at it.
I was sputtering, trying to figure out how best to express my rage at being forced to spend the morning going back and forth.
“Ah. It’s my fault,” he said.
And suddenly, I wasn’t mad at all.
Mysteriously, the words “it’s my fault” completely defused me. That was all it took.
He made the key a third time. I wasn’t mad any more. The key worked.
And, here I was, on this planet for forty years, and I couldn’t believe how much the three words “it’s my fault” had completely changed my emotions in a matter of seconds.
Most locksmiths in New York are not the kinds of guys to admit that they’re wrong. Saying “it’s my fault” was completely out of character. But he did it anyway.
Wow. No God. If Mum had lied to me about God, had she also lied to me about Santa? yes, but who cares? The gifts keep coming. And so did the gifts of my newfound atheism. The gifts of truth, science, nature. The real beauty of this world. Not a world by design, but one by chance. I learned of evolution—a theory so simple and obvious that only England’s greatest genius could have come up with it. Evolution of plants, animals, and us—with imagination, free will, love and humor. I no longer needed a reason for my existence, just a reason to live. And imagination, free will, love, humor, fun, music, sports, beer, and pizza are all good enough reasons for living.
But living an honest life—for that you need the truth. That’s the other thing I learned that day, that the truth, however shocking or uncomfortable, in the end leads to liberation and dignity.