Cost To Remove A Tumor

(A last look just moved past year, and who we have seen, we have seen.)

It 's rare that I talk about me in a post on this blog. But it's been a long time, and this is the hundredth post I write here, and it is strange. A hundred thoughts, beds or less, a hundred times I beat these letters, a hundred times I have transcribed.
Somehow, a hundred different parts of me will remain linked to this average, one hundred parts of me that will be etched here before this post, and I hope that after so many they arise, and beyond.
This is a special time. He is finishing a year, a year like any other for many, especially for others, including me. It 'been a hard year, full of dangers, sufferings, surprises, victories but also defeats, reverse, change, for better or worse.
It 'been a year of experience, but most of all losses.
During this year I was in the order: exploited, disappointment, stress, brakes, mocked, robbed, deceived, hurt, abandoned. Perhaps there are still, of those lovely participles, but not remember them all. It 'been a heavy year, but is not a tirade in 2008 that I want to do here, but not because they deserve it: he has only done his duty.
Soon things will change, indeed has already changed, and the perspective has been altered, such as a Zeiss lens that is turned the wrong way, or maybe the right one. The crux of the matter is that the vision of things has changed drastically.
sound foundation that will crumble, as it is rare to hear, is always a terrible sound, majestic, that terrifies. Maybe it's something that, as a disaster, be heard and tried at least once in their lifetime. I've tried too often, unfortunately.
Sometimes I seem to be finished in a Monty Python sketch - which still are a true reflection of a bitter reality, our own - to be precise as that of the Borghese Idiot of the Year. We always do the same things, we live in the same way, let us always meet in the usual places, we always use the same words, we drink the same stuff, mixed with other stuff they are always the same. If by chance we can go beyond our small, comfortable but dreary conventions, it is only because something terrible has happened, which gave us a slap in the face, and he did move his head in another direction. But then snaps his neck, and back to look at the same point. It 's like if we were on rails, in addition to us to suffer the monotony of the predetermined path, sometimes even lead us to a dead end. But perhaps, after that dead end, there is a precipice, and after that you begin to live precipice.
Yeah, I can not be sad about anything now. It 's like the measure, now filled, he filled that jar of a incompressible fluid. Sure, you can be alone, betrayed, deceived, can be all those heavy evidence from life, like living away from someone who loves you, work never see the end of your day or the actual benefit on your life, losing precious years were behind evanescent illusion of being happy , listen to words unpronounceable sign undeserved convictions.
Yet I can not think about it sadly. Someone invented the resignation, in a long time ago, perhaps when it was realized that the man, instead of flying, was expected to fall. I am so convinced that I feel to sing "Always Look At The Bright Side of Life", although not yet fully crucified, but, as in this case is completely surrounded by sadness. Stay aware of having done good, and not to have been wrong, or rather, did not properly looked neither to do nor not to do so in good faith. The resignation, having thus become a kick up the backside, and pushes you in the right direction. It's called taking a decision, like it or not, a wonderful possibility that the man, but not many want to exploit.
closed a door you open a door, and closed the door well, well, you see that there was current, probably. I'm happy again to a small door for cats, however, that at least, remains open. So
childbirth
Leaving, finally I know where we finally know why. Not a simple, boring holiday, and not a superficial knowledge of a people, the duration of the second page of yet another sheet of printed travel guide from those who have never seen anything of what he writes. Not a futile throw money into a machine-produce souvenirs and are proud to show to anyone who wants to touch the result of our desire for exoticism useless. Nothing to put in a frame, nothing to say "been there", because who wants to be there through it, but there remains.
Leaving, finally, why so you can close the old road, put on a great sign of ongoing work that, like good Italians, we know most will never end, and begin to beat the new road. Leave behind suffering, lies and deceit, it is something that satisfies, and is the third sense, after the resignation, and the decision. Why are those dark things in the world of those who bear those burdens with a smile unconsciously looking for an empty happiness, while not realizing that his pace is slow not because the others are fast, but just because you drag behind a mountain.
Whistling, I discover that there is more melancholy in my heart, and nostalgia as ash has settled somewhere else, far away. It 's the first time in my life that I do not regret anything, not even for a moment, even if I wonder why. A big part of my life has been cut, but it is as if the two ends of that wire will be reunited without that piece, making me start over from where I left off. And when they give you such a possibility, I say, it would just be stupid not being able to grasp the wonder.
calm down last year at a party, formless, empty and futile, like many others, a year that started on a street in the company of people who are gone, and others that are no longer the same. In the midst of joy and laughter of those senseless stupor, I will find my questions wandering and picking just me, amid dancing and dancing, smile.
A moment just to make everyone understand that I will never be one of anything, and then try to remember where I parked the car.

Elsewhere
(lyrics and music by Morgan)

But (what it means though)
I wake up with his left foot
The right one

perhaps already you know
that sometimes madness
seems the only way
To the delight

There once was a boy
called crazy
and said I'm better in a well
that on a pedestal

Today
wearing the jacket last year
so I recognize that
and go

After flowers planted
those collected
the monarchy
those withered

I decided
to lose in the world
although sink
I let things
take me elsewhere
no matter where
no matter where

I was once simple
but I wasted the whole 'energy
for the return

I leave the words unsaid
and take the whole cosmogony
and throw it away
and I threw it too 'I

Under the covers
that there are bombs
is like a bad dream
come true

I decided
get lost in the world
although sink

apply to life
ellipsis
What the unconscious
there is no denial

(one last look moved furnishings
and who we have seen, we have seen)

break free from the belief
the poses and positions

I let things
take me elsewhere
elsewhere
elsewhere

break free from the belief
the poses and positions

break free from the belief
the poses and positions

Homemade Christmas Advent Wreath

I realized how rewarding it can be walking around at night by car, and comes out the speakers' View to a Kill "by Duran Duran, and try to sing it well (" Dance into the fire ! The fatal kiss, is all we need! "), dressed in black evening gown, burgundy tie, the only note of color in almost eight years of my life. You go to take the other half of his heart, waiting somewhere, she dressed elegantly, for a Saturday night after the first lot, a long time. It feels as elegant as Roger Moore, perhaps less with Aston Martin, and more than fantasy and lightness.

Then we wonder why no one remember that song, nor of those who sang.

Everyone should know Duran Duran.

But it is already too late, because it comes "Hungry Like the Wolf", and blends in perfectly with the burning desire of the moment ... and everything is put aside for a verse, which alone makes the blood pulsing in his veins.

One is probably blood burgundy, the same color of the tie.

Can I Have Primary Hiv Infection Without Rash

Bordeaux by night A new order?

words, visions of a possible near future, namely, the crisis that we will pay. From

repartee of the previous post, I started to think. Thus, the capitalist system has been squeezed the world. We have reached a point where everything is saturated, and this crisis can hardly pass without leaving a trace. Needless to say also that the planet's resources are under constant milking. Poverty is increasing, while wealth remains the prerogative of the usual. At this point the number of possible landscapes in our future, and a futurist surely shake your head with the mouth corners folded down. Trying to imagine a possible scenario, an alternative system, I can not think of communism, and its immense failure. The doctrine of Marx was probably winning on paper, but as I said elsewhere, even Bakunin became aware of the risks inherent in that system, a possible generator dictatorships, as is the case then. Communism has created monsters whose bodies fell to the ground and rotting infested nations, dragging those ruinous effects so far. No one will ever believe in such a way of managing a society and economy.

If the antagonist of capitalism par excellence has been deleted from the list, and capitalism, alone and lonely, left alone as the only option, and he himself is profoundly undermined by now, then what is left?

I thought so, and I thought, not a solution to philosophical, historical, scientific, but risky, as always happens when you think about the future. I wondered whether, in broad terms, there was a kind of prediction that until now had not been expelled from almost never true, or at least not so much as to become heavily inaccurate. Taking advantage of that source, I fantasized, reaching certain milestones in my vision of the future, maybe not immediately, but at least near future.

The rusting wreckage of capitalism could be providing its distorted version, in a world consumed and looted. The progress of poverty, the budget in red, the spectrum of popular revolts, and the shadow of the few rich landowners and financiers that they, alone, pulling the strings of the plot in the world, could lead to a point where our current values \u200b\u200bnot only lose validity, but it also makes sense. The extremes of capitalism, rather than its opposite or a pale substitute, a system that takes advantage until the end that feeds on itself, that is not afraid of producing heavy waste. The concept of state deteriorated until it was lost in a sea fruitless for him to privatization, where a nation is no longer able to guarantee its citizens basic rights, or protect it with the police, nor to support it in any way . The loss of the myth of the nation, the cornerstone of the global system.

The multinational corporations are the only islands tax sources of wealth and resources, are determined from state control, became ipso facto non-partisan institutions, above everything and everyone, but this time publicly and without restrictions. While a nation in its poorest parts diveranno wasteland, with riots and sinking in a modern Middle Ages, the parties will become more industrialized and fruitful autonomous entities, which probably will exploit the land above to their own ends.

The real power, since the flow of money, it will be manifest in the form of chi, the flow of money, directed him where he wants at will, similar to what happens now, but with every kind of freedom and unrestricted by legislatures and antitrust systems. By replacing the old state, they will enter into a ruthless corporate war with each other, each contending minimum resource world, even the smallest market share, any new opportunities.

Law enforcement will be a 'private entity that will provide protection only against payment; health care will become the same way a service so unique as to suggest the abolition of the Hippocratic Oath, without control units with higher powers, corporations are free to pollute and exploit the resources of the planet in the wild and reckless, not caring for nothing but the profit of the current fiscal.

My sources are named William Gibson, Bruce Sterling, as well as the illustrious predecessors in the literary movement that made them famous, such as Philip K. Dick, Robert Heinlein.

What I just described is a typical scenario cyberpunk classic, stereotypical at best, I dare say. Yet, thinking back to what I wrote, I do not wonder that I got there step by step, integrating what I know with what is fiction. We will not replicants, artificial intelligence conceited, cybernetic implants, perhaps, but the scenery of the background is terribly plausible.

will be a professional bias, but I can not think of it, this crisis that unfortunately we will pay until the last piece of ourselves.