Guide to the Papal Smoke Colors
As a new pope is being chosen, smoke billows from the Sistine Chapel in indicate whether the Roman Catholic cardinals have made a decision.
Here’s a handy guide to what each color means.
I respect Catholicism, I do, and I still consider myself a part of it. For this reason, I think it is just fine to put a little humor into this particular part of it.
youmightbeanengineeringstudentif:
After reading the first sentence:
Then the solutions manual’s like:
and I’m like:
Yes.
So glide away on soapy heels
And promise not to promise anymore
And if you come around again
Then I will take the chain from off the door
When I see this gif all I can think is
“All the single orcs, all the single orcs”
“If you like it shoulda put the One Ring on it”
OHMYGOD I CANT EVEN
(Source: spoon-party-of-bombur)
Some of my old, angsty poetry. So just a little window into my mind about three months ago!
The quadrilateral skeleton full of ghostly memories falls open.
Its arms support the basic needs, its legs provide diversity.
Years, mistakes, and tragedies serve their purposes
To expose the heart that was there all along.
Hidden away in the frantic shuffling of feet and papers is nestled
A quiet respite, a window to the bright beyond.
The whispers of Could Have and Should Have
bringing stinging regret and desire to change.
The end presents more questions than the start.
I don’t know when it happened or even how it started
One day all was as it was - the next it was upside down
It has taken hold of me and refuses to let go -
It ebbs and flows with the tides.
Unannounced, it washes over me
Seizes my heart with an icy hand
Fills me to bursting with tyrannical want -
The want to scream what I cannot say
The desire to leave a note telling too much
The need to be heard and understood.
It has cast a shadow over my thoughts
Always there, but never substantial
Present, but not concrete
Like a plant stretching toward the sunlight,
It leans toward the warm life-giving rays
Feeds on the simplest of conversations and smiles,
Starved for attention.
Fear stands guard at the door to my prison cell
Doubt and Impropriety are my shackles;
They chain me to the wall called Judgment
All this for my heinous crime -
possession of a new spectrum of love.
I serve an indefinite sentence.
I know not when it will end.
I have no remorse.
For through my days spent in these endless hallways
I encountered a new species of love.
A pair of cool blue mirrors with the ability
To reach out and offer me something extra, invasive
It dove off a cliff and into the depths of me
Settling in uncharted territory.
The nature of this new love is not lust or romance
- instead, an admiration, an appreciation
A desire for communication and an eventual friendship,
Afraid and analytical of its own existence.
I feel the tug towards the similarities,
the qualities I desire to develop
and for a moment I stand at the summit
The clarity surrounds me and I breathe easily - in and out
Another second and I return to the desk, the window, the classroom
I have had dreams of liberation
Of Courage and Individuality racing down the prison hall
Unlocking my cell, rending my chains
Leading me to the new road that awaits me.
Shh - wait just a second.
Do you hear it? - There.
Yes, it is indeed - the sound of frantic footsteps in the hall.
if it doesn’t come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don’t do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don’t…
…wow. Love.
There’s one part of me that’s like:
You should do your work, and then you wouldn’t be so stressed, and you would feel a great sense of accomplishment, and you’d have free time when you’re finished.
But then there’s this other part of me that’s like:
No.
They both make such good arguments.
#my life
(Source: twoboobsjohnson)
