#uncontemplated

[m78vvrmmlvpfbn]

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#anticonfederationism #swy #kadehsenvegece #blackfish #protense #Hoxsie #disgavelled #origami #sune #uncontemplated #miracidium #unself #Heraclea #Hunts #significations #rock-covered #molybdomenite #unyoung #pumpable #rabot

[taniushka12]

protip: shipping your favorite character w/ a character you dislike / hate to activate Forbidden Emotions 👍

#yes this Is abt martin and elias #im 12k into this fic and it gets progressively more bloody its insane this is SUCH a criminalminds season 7 plot #its so funny #you literally COULD make a criminalminds episode out of this!!!! lmfao!!! #tani's personal shit #but also ive been contemplating stuff the entire day which sucked. stuff should stay uncontemplated :/ hence forbidden emotions

[bfmkketurs]

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#entirely #ass-chewing #butler's #loupe #drier-down #becobweb #updraft #angiotrophic #accomplisht #outtowers #chits #dwaekki #uncontemplativeness #Pandich #shins #postmillenarian #Courtelle #lacunulose #albumoid #Prestige

[tnjgmh2je]

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#reinhardt #paraplasis #instilment #mandarinize #swimmer #greening #fan-light #redecorating #nitrometric #tonia #reasonedly #bosky #clientele #uncontemplatively #moxa #viridaria #polygynoecial #headrace #Pirtleville #universalisties

[rkndjzjxmk]

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#unrebuttableness #fricandeaus #unattentive #whosoever #Batocrinus #quartering #epicalyces #irredenta #beutiful #foot-wall #cyanuric #shippen #moxiety #airbrushing #clusterfist #quarter-finalist #murraro #otoconial #Procellariidae #uncontemplable

[prokopetz]

I’m not interested in transhumanism because I want to transform the human body into a perfect, immortal vessel. I’m interested in transhumanism because I want to let the human body be weird and gross in heretofore uncontemplated ways.

#life #philosophy #transhumanism #and only SOME of those ways involve supernumerary schlongs #penis mention in tags

[piosplayhouse]

I feel as though the scum villain fandom sometimes underplays how absolutely horrific and gutwrenching the vs bingge extra is.

Imagine, you've spent decades surrounding yourself with all the superficialities you were told would make you happy, falling into a deeper hole of self-delusion and uncontemplated dissatisfaction with every new acquisition. You believe you are happy. You wish you were happy. And you continue on, until you slip into a world where another man wears your face. This man has your blood, has your image, has your power, and more. He is open about your most hated features, displaying them in a way you only grew to when you had sharpened your fear of them into a point to project it onto others. He is settled, surviving without the wealth of materials you stack your facsimile of happiness onto. And most importantly, most confoundingly, he is loved.

And you come to wonder:

How? Why? Why is he alone worthy of this?

And, as they always do, your thoughts spiral into actions, reasoning, blame-- what could I have done to be born worthy of love?

And never do you learn that every child is and has always been worthy of love, including you.

#ill say it. bingge extra had a better multiver plot than the *** #sorry if rhis sucks im half asleep #svsss #SVSSS meta #luo bingge #luo binghe #lbh #the scum villain's self saving system #scumbag self saving system #long posts

[poorshadowspaintedqueens]

WIP Wednesday: More CSI: King’s Landing

From Chapter 4 of This Palpable Device, dropping on Sunday night:

“You wouldn’t treat a woman that way, would you, dear Breakbones?”

 Harwin had to shake that rather vivid image out of his head before it led down paths best left uncontemplated. “What happened then? What did she do?”

 “Left, of course,” said Jonquil, slipping into her bedrobe. “Just ran. No hat, no cloak, that hair shining like a torch.”

 “Gods be good.” Harwin pressed his fingers to his temples. Walking along the Street of the Sisters at that time of night wasn’t without risk for an armed man on his own, let alone a young girl. Let alone a Targaryen princess, heiress to the Iron Throne, a beauty beyond compare. Prince Daemon’s sudden exile made far more sense now.

 As though reading his thoughts, Jonquil tilted his chin upward till his eyes met hers. “There were eyes on her from here to the gates of the Red Keep. The White Worm takes care of her patrons. She wouldn’t let a princess be despoiled in her royal father’s own capital.”

 “And yet Prince Daemon did so under her roof.”

  “It’s hardly despoiling when the maid’s willing, is it?”

That was a thornier question, and one Harwin couldn’t answer.

#wip wednesday #fanfiction #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #harwin strong #csi: king's landing #fic: this palpable device

[boyd-seabiscuit]

I love you so much: the most uncontemplated expression there is

#i love you #critical thinking #expression #moi #lie

[tattooed-alchemist]

In 1961, The New Yorker commissioned Arendt to cover the trial of Adolf Eichmann, a Nazi SS officer who helped to orchestrate the Holocaust. How could anyone, she wanted to know, perpetrate such evil? Surely only a wicked sociopath could participate in the Shoah. But Arendt was surprised by Eichmann’s lack of imagination, his consummate conventionality. She argued that while Eichmann’s actions were evil, Eichmann himself – the person – ‘was quite ordinary, commonplace, and neither demonic nor monstrous. There was no sign in him of firm ideological convictions.’ She attributed his immorality – his capacity, even his eagerness, to commit crimes – to his ‘thoughtlessness’. It was his inability to stop and think that permitted Eichmann to participate in mass murder.

Just as Poe suspected that something sinister lurked deep within the man of the crowd, Arendt recognised that: ‘A person who does not know that silent intercourse (in which we examine what we say and what we do) will not mind contradicting himself, and this means he will never be either able or willing to account for what he says or does; nor will he mind committing any crime, since he can count on its being forgotten the next moment.’ Eichmann had shunned Socratic self-reflection. He had failed to return home to himself, to a state of solitude. He had discarded the vita contemplativa, and thus he had failed to embark upon the essential question-and-answering process that would have allowed him to examine the meaning of things, to distinguish between fact and fiction, truth and falsehood, good and evil.

‘It is better to suffer wrong than to do wrong,’ Arendt wrote, ‘because you can remain the friend of the sufferer; who would want to be the friend of and have to live together with a murderer? Not even another murderer.’ It is not that unthinking men are monsters, that the sad sleepwalkers of the world would sooner commit murder than face themselves in solitude. What Eichmann showed Arendt was that society could function freely and democratically only if it were made up of individuals engaged in the thinking activity – an activity that required solitude. Arendt believed that ‘living together with others begins with living together with oneself’.

#immorality #thoughtlessness #unthinking #uncontemplative #he won't mind committing crime since he can count on its being forgotten the next moment

[aulblack]

UNCONTEMPLATE (at Dallas, Texas) https://www.instagram.com/p/CF3iKV8BOCZ/?igshid=oiie6bj2fko4

[hmklifegoeson]

Who’s person is that?

She held up a really grainy photograph. "Who's person is that?" asked my sister. 

What a strange way to put it, I thought...

Oh. It's none of us but a someone in our garden, someone standing proud in the snow. I looked harder. My person? How rare is it that it's my person? 

It’s so hard to see a face, but you are my person.

My heart hurts because just like looking at the photograph your face is truly out of sight. It’s laughable; just how I can miss you, just like that! ...out of nowhere.

This photo is like trying face down the memory of you in my own heart. I know that loss, and the pain is my own shortcoming. That's what being broken hearted is. You don't do anything about it and you can't change anything about it. It just is. So I say nothing at all, hand the photograph back and my little sister just accepts that I don’t want to answer.

The photograph was of our back garden. Maybe 2007? We'd been 'playing' in the snow all evening until dusk. I guess the phone might have been one of the kids’ ones because the camera was remarkably bad with the low light. You're standing pin straight. You're a proud, happy, blackened silhouette with a striking white line between your silly knees where they refuse to meet. The snowman standing by your side is so adorably stupid. Everything is sepia toned because of the quality rather than any filter. What a strange photo. So much has changed. So much time has passed. I feel old.

I guess that's why we were looking at school time photos, for the nostalgia. But I'm not involved like the younger ones, I wasn't really paying attention until then. Now I’m thinking; how many other people could have been that grainy figure?

Did you ever know how precious you were? I guess it's hard to know that at the time. It was so carefree, so easy, so natural. We never questioned anything. I guess that’s beautiful. That’s youth. I’m saddened because I believe maybe you don't know you were precious even now. I’m saddened that I can’t tell you.

What would make you look back? How would you know that it's been hard for me. That I don't bring anyone home, anymore. No one else could be the way you were in my life. You are irreplaceable, unstoppable and brilliant. Not unvalued, but also somehow uncontemplated? Maybe because you’re perfectly in place in the past; you’re a cornerstone. You're so so so strange. Who even are you? Who else even comes close to being as weird as you? Do you ever, even for the briefest moments stop and think of me? In all the years we’ve been apart, did anyone hold up a photo of me and ask you "who's this?"

Who is this magical person? Who exists so imperfectly by not really existing at all? Not real because they're just a memory, a best friend shaped hole in the heart, that made you who you are.

#lost in time #creativewriting #magical person #hole in my heart #losing someone #who'spersonisthat #familyphotos #thinking of you #bestfriend #loss #growingup #without you #creative writing #hmklifegoeson #nostalgia

[limetrails]

As I sat pondering on where to begin, it stuck me that commencing my own 'Moving to the Mountains' story would be the perfect start. So here goes... . I'm a Tam-Bram born in Kerala and brought up in the steel city, Jamshedpur. After my 12th, thanks to the non-existent college scenario in Bihar, I was parceled off to my aunt's place in Pune. I wrapped up the next 5 years with an MBA and a M.com with distinction. My career graph soared right after the campus placements. I initially dabbled in telecom and IT before finally finding my niche in business research. My corporate stint culminated as GM with a fortune 500 company. Now I'm specifically mentioning this because giving up a 7 figure salary is hell not easy. Our marathi mulga, Prashant, in the meantime had completed his engineering in Pune & ventured into the IT sector. How we got together is saved for another time😉. . During these 30 hour days consumed by projects and slaughtering timelines, we started turning to travel as our only respite. It was enough that it took us away from the strappings of our cubicles. We began traveling incessantly; every weekend, every SL, CL, PL put together; Goa, Khandala, Mahabaleshwar, Daman; every beach from Kashid to Tarkarli, every fort that Shivaji built, we reached everywhere. We were beginning to have fun. It was during this time that we traveled to Ladakh twice via Manali. And that actually did it. My creative right brain has been the originating point for most adventitious propositions. When I mentioned my fanatical idea to Prashant, he had just 1 question...when do you want to leave? The decision was completely impulsive and totally uncontemplated. We were so done with the cubicle life. We were so done living Friday to Sunday. The remedy was right in front and we grabbed it in desperation. I'm blessed in this that I share my life with a bigger nut than me! So we quit our jobs the next day, served the 2 months notice period, packed our bags, fueled up the car, turned up the music and hit the highway to Chandigarh. This was to be our base for the next few weeks till we explored the mountains and found the destination of our dreams. . Continued in the next post... (at Sangla, Himachal Pradesh, India) https://www.instagram.com/p/CCBGEUeMIeQ/?igshid=1kzkgt2kkkn2h

[northernwinedregs]

1302

hell-on, lads // crucible in the making of a crucifix // tempered by the expectations we learn to levitate // slow, strings // we have drums to summon us on // into unforgiving night: into uncontemplated morning: into breathless midnight // your sweat is my sweat, your breath is my breath, your heart is my heart // in silence: in moments: in rapture // all that goes unstraightened // all that comes apart at the seams in messy vibrato // before the end: before the closening circle of it all: before the climb-axe

#poetry #writing #spilledink #twc #february

[lokiasodinsuggestion]

@icarusbrucevalsson I hear you’re being repressed/oppressed/suppressed. Something about trying to save the world and being stopped by some grumpy boring guy’s straight-laced uncontemplated views of “morality” that he swallowed from his culture without a moment’s thought?

I think technically you’re my... alternate universe step-grandchild... So know that if you ever need anything - a weapon, a place to stay where people don’t vaguely but alarmingly threaten you for trying to save your family, etcetera - know that I’m only a raven away.

[trilobiter]

I think a misconception a lot of centrist types have is that people on the left and on the right want everything to be one certain way, and that conflict arises because of a disagreement over what that one certain way is. I don't think that's the case. It may be for the conservative right, but even that might be an exaggerated distortion of what they actually want. Maybe it is for some on the left too, but again I think it's probably a distortion produced by apocalyptic thinking.

(In my mind, I distinguish centrists from moderates; a centrist is some one who seeks an imaginary midpoint between dominant ideological positions, while a moderate is some one who may be committed to an ideology, but for temperamental or practical reasons is loath to embrace a radical approach. The merits and demerits of moderation are relative to the circumstances; centrism is just a failure of imagination, or maybe just the misapplication of it).

Speaking as a leftish sort of person, what I want is not necessarily for the world to be a certain way, but for the world to continually change in a certain way. That is, I want to see each generation freer than the one that came before, and for human freedom to expand in directions hitherto uncontemplated.

I think often of Ambrose Bierce's ironic definition for Conservative: "A statesman who is enamored of existing evils, as distinguished from the Liberal, who wishes to replace them with others." If these were my only two choices, I'd gladly pick the second, because I'd rather the next generation be confronted with new problems to solve, rather than beat hopelessly against the same miseries that defined our time.

There is no political program or revolution that will ever create a perpetual, universal human utopia. If I wanted to describe one, I could only describe it in terms of its values and aspirations, not specific and immutable policies.

#trilobiter #politics