
Ideas que dan vueltas en mi cabeza, no voy a discutir sobre lo que se, eso sería una estupidez, en cambio, voy a exponerme sobre lo que no sé o al menos no estoy seguro, leer primer post: Escribimos para ser leidos?
Pornografía: en su origen, el término remite a todo discurso que se interesa en la prostitución y el amor venal. En la actualidad significa todo aquello que, en las diversas representaciones del acto sexual, está destinado a escandalizar, a provocar, a herir, a horrorizar.
if you had one shot, one opportunity, to seize everything you ever wanted, one moment, would you capture it or just let it slip? --Eminem
Una de las peores sensaciones es pensar que se hizo todo mal y que necesitamos volver a vivir un momento para decidir o actuar mejor.
"If you have been rejected many times in your life, then one more rejection isn't going to make much difference. If you're rejected, don't automatically assume it's your fault. The other person may have several reasons for not doing what you are asking her to do: none of it may have anything to do with you. Perhaps the person is busy or not feeling well or genuinely not interested in spending time with you. Rejections are part of everyday life. Don't let them bother you. Keep reaching out to others. When you begin to receive positive responses then you are on the right track. It's all a matter of numbers. Count the positive responses and forget about the rejections."
"Si fuiste rechazado muchas veces en tu vida, un rechazo más no va a hacer demasiada diferencia. Si sos rechazado, no asumas automaticamente que es tu culpa. La otra persona, puede tener muchas razones para no querer hacer lo que le estás proponiendo que haga: tal vez ninguna de ellas tenga nada que ver con vos. Quizás esa persona está ocupada, no se siente bien o genuinamente no está interesada en pasar tiempo con vos. Seguí buscando acercarte a otros. Cuando empieces a recibir respuestas positivas, entonces estás por el buen camino. Es todo una cuestión de números. Contá las respuestas positivas y olvidate de los rechazos"
0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, ...


Cierto hombre tenía una pareja de conejos juntos en un lugar cerrado y uno desea saber cuántos son creados a partir de este par en un año cuando es su naturaleza parir otro par en un simple mes, y en el segundo mes los nacidos parir también

"you will someday."
"I had always heard your entire life flashes in front of your eyes the second before you die. First of all, that one second isn't a second at all, it stretches on forever, like an ocean of time... For me, it was lying on my back at Boy Scout camp, watching falling stars... And yellow leaves, from the maple trees, that lined my street... Or my grandmother's hands, and the way her skin seemed like paper... And the first time I saw my cousin Tony's brand new Firebird... And Janie... And Janie... And... Carolyn. I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me... but it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life... You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry... you will someday."
[...]
“Who are you?” said the Caterpillar.
This was not an encouraging opening for a conversa-
tion. Alice replied, rather shyly, “I—I hardly know, sir, just
at present—at least I know who I was when I got up this
morning, but I think I must have been changed several
times since then.”
“What do you mean by that?” said the Caterpillar
sternly. “Explain yourself!”
“I can’t explain myself I’m afraid, sir” said Alice,
“because I’m not myself, you see.”
“I don’t see,” said the Caterpillar.
“I’m afraid I can’t put it more clearly,” Alice replied
very politely, “for I can’t understand it myself to begin
with; and being so many different sizes in a day is very
confusing.”
“It isn’t,” said the Caterpillar.
“Well, perhaps you haven’t found it so yet,” said Alice;
“but when you have to turn into a chrysalis—you will
some day, you know—and then after that into a butterfly,
I should think you’ll feel it a little queer, won’t you?”
[...]