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I might be guilty of stalking instagrams of people whose moments make me warm and fluffy when I’m feeling shitty days.
And by stalking I mean going years back and actually saving staff to my phone.

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I’m thinking about nature vs. intelligence in human beings
whether the ‘nature’ part in each human is a part of, connected to, the planet and life on it as a whole
and how humanity does receive signals from it, how to regulate and keep the balance,
but the intelligence and those parts of human minds that stand further from nature block those signals,
which leads to destruction of… pretty much everything. Individual humans and the world.

sunday thoughts… I guess?

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Started reading medieval history books and now I want to have a book on every person (ok, every monarch, I can be reasonable) I’m interested in and can’t believe they don’t exist.
If I can have a great book on Edward I, why can’t I have a similarly detailed on his failure of a son (Edward II) or the French king if the same age (Philip IV the Fair (a.k.a. the Iron King)? 
Once you read 400 pages of witty and clever tale in tiny font, encyclopaedia articles just don’t do it anymore… 

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It would be a lie to imply that I do not feel envy
towards people so easily touching and being touched.
So easily welcoming each other
and being comfortable in each other’s light.
It would be a lie to say I do not wish 
I could try being a part of it too.
Yet, to say that I believe myself able,
would be an even bigger untruth.

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Please let me know if you have ant questions.

(No bee or spider questions, please)

Kind retards,
K

…. normal day at work.

Which reminds me, I also dreamt of killing roaches with freezing spray. 
It sucked.

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Imagine how cool it would be if the time would stop for reading. 
And you could read as much as you want and it just would not count as ‘spending time’.

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Eternally recurring thoughts:
“I want to go home. (I don’t have one)”
“Is it(I am) really that bad?…”
“I need a dog in my life.”
“What if “giving up and killing off a half of myself” is the way to go?..”

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I don’t change my bags to match my shoes.
I don’t change them to match my outfit or weather.
I even rarely change them to match the occasion… unless it’s a very special one.

What I do match them to is the size of the book I need to carry.

… which really only matters enough to mention because my shoulders and neck are a mess, and I always wish I could carry a smaller and lighter bag, 
but can’t actually make myself carry a smaller book.

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You either care enough to do something about it. 
Or you don’t and you go on with with your own life. 
And, objectively speaking, there is always something you can do. 
If you get up and change your focus from yourself on to something else. 
And there are plenty of people who actually do. 
Who leave what they know and go out there to do anything they can to help.
With their own hands.
Lets not pretend that we care just as much as they do, 
when in fact our ‘caring’ doesn’t outweigh the desire to stick to our own comfort. 
I can cry watching the news, 
but I’m not going to lie to myself to make myself feel better, 
if all I’m going to do is look away and carry on.

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There are two types of horrors.
And I do not like horrors made for the sake of creating a horror. 
I only like horrors created for the sake of showing how to defeat them.