Can’t Turn The Other Cheek For This One.

Sometimes I'm like a spinning top. I fall away; spinning out of control where I eventually pick myself up, only to fall again. But I've learned a valuable lesson being the spinning top. Eventually I'll settle and focus on my surroundings and know that it'll be okay.

Happy face!!

In all things of nature there is something of the marvelous. -Aristotle

Brings me joy.

Classic Hollywood Bloopers

Hahaha

I dig it.

Groovy. 1975

Criticism of Life

My suicide note, if I were ever to commit suicide, that is. But I don't like taking the easy way out. Behold, my poem. Criticism of Life To whom it may concern, and it may not concern anyone, not even you. I am alone in my madness, my thoughts give voice to my trigger finger, my aim is true. A pause before death, my escape from emotion, I have no doubts. I stare down the barrel of my .45, I have no means to go on living. I have no fear, I have no hesitation, I have no want for a memorable speech, I have no tears. This is no more philosophic than history, my life will not live on in books, I wish to not be remembered. My aim is true, it's my time, I am ready. My heart holds no fear, it too is ready. I give my last breath, a click, a shot, a smile, a moment in time. Pity to the one who finds me.

Traveling makes you open to new experiences.

Mark Twain loved to travel and once wrote, “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.” Source Source 2

Creative rings made by AlpacaBlue.They make wide smooth band ring made with preserved real dried red rose petals or moss.  Featured here is the moss ring, rose ring, and the amethyst gemstone ring, 

Friends, follow me on instagram as I’ll be posting more on there: instagram.com/sixpenceee

His eyes...

she thought, are beautiful. There is life in there far beyond her reach. Behind his eyes was freedom, far from the chains of his mind and the complex bondage he was held fast to. If only he could reach out. But he is left with a blank stare and various stimulation that were expressed with a flap of his arms, and twirling, his constant twirling around. She held fast though, returning each time to look into his eyes, because she knew, she knew there was freedom behind his eyes. A freedom that would break free for an instant, and he would focus and be free from the chains for but a moment, and stare back with recognition, with a single word on the tip of his tongue, but would never be uttered; "mom." His eyes, she thought, are beautiful. There is life in there, far beyond her reach.