YUI-LIFE

Reflections, by Martin Fransson

Halcyon, by Arif Tanju Korkmaz

Reflections, by Martin Eliassen

Global Warming, by Salih Guler

Five years ago I saw the majestic space opera Crest of the Stars and decided to build a space elevator. Three years ago I changed my mind when I saw My Sassy Girl and said to myself, “space is cold, but Jeon Ji Hyun is hot.” Twice today I was left utterly speechless by extreme prettiness in unexpected places (Hana Yori Dango 2, ep10.)

Aesthetics is a drug, powerful and threshold-raising. An encounter of ten seconds can shock me out of a three-month blogging lull. Yet, for finding and reveling in paragons of human radiance, I am doomed to lonely heights. Desirous of improvement, devoid of contentment, the antithesis of naivete.

I think it’s inaccurate to say that I have lived. Like animals, insects and plants, I have existed, but I have never once lived. In the past, if you had asked me, I would have told you that life is the condition of having living cells. Cold and scientific, to be sure. Like a logical robot with some instinctual and emotional programming thrown in. Now, I’ll tell you that you haven’t lived until you’ve realized you were once part of the living dead. Indeed, for nineteen years of existence, I was a zombie.

Every creature is born into simple and pointless existence, but only humans have the potential to transcend it. Whether doing so is meaningful or meaningless is a point of contention. After all, don’t pointless things have a place, too, in this far-from perfect world?

“Remove everything pointless from an imperfect life, and it’d lose even its imperfection.”

In 2006, instead of living, I watched as others lived. I straddled the twilight between life and existence. I saw insignificance in homogeneity.

These are the kinds of ideas I had running through my head last year.

photographer unknown

Forest Fire, photographer unknown

Danae, by Floriana Barbu

Greensward Grey -Natalie Shau

Open Mouth in Open Beak -Ilia Shalamaev

Stillness of Sea -ssilence

Ladies of London -enayla

Reprise of Autumn Sun -ssilence

Where does skill come from?
(Is “natural talent” real?)
Why do beginners learn fastest? Does experience transfer?
(Why.. am I so bad at this?)
How can I improve?

Introducing the article with all of the answers - The Expert Mind

Experts are made, not born.

This is a urinal in a trendy bar. Freedom is being at the top of the world, looking down into the cityscape of Kowloon, and urinating above its inhabitants (only men can be free in this way.)

“When Felix first opened, the men’s washroom was different. The urinal was in the same place as it is now but there were no urinals to speak of. Let me explain… The floor to ceiling glass wall was the urinal.”

“I question this. If one was to urinate against the windows, they would be difficult to clean and there is an inherent draining problem.”

“You see, along the top edge of the huge glass pane are water outlets, and along the bottom edge of the glass is a drain. Along the left and right edges of the glass are sensors. When one pees on the glass, the sensors send a signal to the water outlets which shoot out water, flushing away the urine, and all is drained away at the bottom. I am actually a girl, so have not been in the men’s room. But I was there for the opening and many times thereafter I was told by my brother and friends that one just urinates directly against the wall. In fact, many of them said when they first went into the men’s room, they had no idea where to urinate because there were no urinals and the sensors and drain were very subtle with the water sprinklers hidden from view. Took them awhile to figure out they were supposed to urinate against the wall.”

Returning from the restroom, working at Microsoft is liberating if wealth is your freedom.

“I choose when I show up for work and when I leave, and what to wear while I’m there. I determine what I work on and when I will get it done. Some employees forget that most of the world doesn’t have broadband wireless networking, high-end consumer electronics, luxury vehicles, and enough money that they don’t need to live on a budget.”

Living in a free country does not make one free.
What freedom do you strive for? How will you achieve it?

behold. this is cascadilla place, the annual mansion. annual how, you ask? every year, the sky overhead turns grey. the shrubs die, and dewey delusions collect on our windowpanes. it’s that time of year.

Here is a magical place, and the babble of flowing magic is complacency. Almost four-hundred nest here, and I am one of them. The anomie lifts as I move in. There are rules. Here, we are welcome guests for a stay of exactly two semesters. Here, reality is a dream, and we dream an illusive purpose: the harvesting of bittersweet academic honey. Curb your aspirations, student; we live well, we work hard for the harvest, and that is noble enough. When we awaken, society will surely accept us with open arms.

The gorge that obscures is also beautiful. Few guests walk down these steps during their stay at the Cascadilla. Sometimes, when I look over the rocky railing while rushing to class, I find a friend in the rushing waters. We have much in common with each other. We flow down channels carved by homogeneity. “Today, as every day, we learn to embrace mediocrity.“

But we part here, friend, because our broken friendship must end.

The Elements, by Wojtek Kwiatkowski

Flamingo, by Max Billder

Otra del Remo, by Jon Saul Santos Diaz