pockets of freshness

In these still moments, everything seems to stand still
Like a stalemate, nothing ever moves Every non-move frustrates, every minute stretches into
What seem like eternity, with no sign of progression
But beneath the surface, pockets of freshness lies
Waiting to be released, to mingle to mix to bring new life
When the wind starts to blow again

nozy

a stray of vision,
a sliver of memory,
a streak of anonymity,
a shoulder of woes.

a tap of keys,
a tinge of frantic,
a tomb unburied,
a twinge of sad.

an unheard-of tale,
an untold resolution,
an unmentionable feeling,
an undertaking of one.

vunerable,
wriggling,
xeromorphing yealings.

thinking and writing

is such a pleasure that i had lost, once ago, and is now on the path of re-discovery.

TIL about performance and mastery orientation

http://www.pixelpoppers.com/2009/11/awesome-by-proxy-addicted-to-fake.html

in short (pretty post short already), put in effort into the things i am doing/supposed to do!

edit: context http://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/b8xvb/how_many_of_you_are_considered_unusually_smart/

もう学生じゃない

悲しい現実だ。
今は働く人の考え方しかできない。もちろん勤務時間中にだけだ。