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Just Another Manic Monday
Thanks for posting this. The magnificent failures found in the wrong answer that felt so right. What if the students who make teachers laugh like this, were given bonus points with a blue pen? Does it take more wisdom to have the right answer, or to laugh at the question when you don’t? Maybe they actually knew the right answer……
25 Genius Test Answers These Clever Kids Wrote
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Fun Weekdays Everyone!
mmwahhh!
Related articles
- Lavender (Manics who can’t sleep revisited) by Jason Wright (oddballmagazine.com)
- Just Another Manic Monday (humaninrecovery.wordpress.com)
- Manic – A poem. (timebush.com)
Your butter, my bacon:
What Oversharing Looks Like
I’m drinking the cheapest Coca Cola in the world, while quoting Jesus for your spiritual salvation: “Sober minded”, and worrying that by bid on Amazon isn’t high enough, because the antique McDonald’s flags, are what my customers like best for toilet paper.
To properly undershare:
Necesito escribir en Espanol. Yo se que tu no puedes entender Espanol, solo es que, me gusta mucho como las palabras crecen en mi mente. Son muy belleza, y forman delicioso con mis labios. Lo siento si hay errores con mi escrito, estoy aprendiendo como pensar, y tambien estoy perdiendo mucho de mi lengua Espanol, porque no estoy practicando lo bastante.
“I am a truthful man, and before dying I want to share these poems of my soul. My verses are light green, but also flaming crimson. My verses are like a wounded fawn seeking refuge…with the poor people of this earth, I want to share my fate.” -Jose Marti-
The other day I wrote an article titled: it-was-1600-words-you-can-have-300/, and I still have the other 1300 words in another article. I’m not sure if I’ll share it, not because your incapable of emotionally processing it, but because it took me all that effort, to get to the part that best reflected how I felt in regards to my goals with TATWIP.
Blog as you will, the internet is a social revolution, that is almost 20 years old. Blogging is the underdog. I don’t know you. You are a stranger in the dark. What are you selling yourself on? It tastes like free art to me, and I get to decide if it helps me or hurts me. Is it hurting you, or are you hurting?
Thanks for being willing to question the judgements found in the philosophy of western psychology. Everybody has a kid in their heart, and some of them are laughing.
Your butter, my bacon:
Is Awesome Just Healthy Insanity?
The correlation between play and production fascinates me.
How in the moment that I reach the focused state of most efficient production, I’m consumed by pleasure.
How the best paid artists in the world, play at work.
How synonymous words remind me of symbiotic relationships, whereas definitions remind me of territory that needs defense. When I page through a dictionary looking for meaning, the words are flat and seem unhealthy. It’s like the end of the road to thought is there, whoever wrote the book is in charge, and I’m going to be wrong soon.
On the other hand if I open a thesaurus and browse through the words, it takes me on an adventure of meaning, and who knows where I might end up. My curiosity is peaked. I get emotionally involved in the words. They take on a life of their own. They don’t shrivel into the cages of preconceived notion, and kill my sense of creativity.
“Work is not the opposite of play, depression is.” –Stuart Brown–
Your butter, my bacon:
I Like Beer, Especially Your Beer
At least somebody is laughing.
Your stoic stare is making me sick, and I can’t even see it.
I’m serious. Don’t smile. I mean it. Stop smiling. That shit is getting old. Like preschool, but I do like crayons. Literally. Crayons. On your face.
Your teeth are sharp and they make me nervous so seriously, stop smiling. The crayons are in the washer with your whites.
