Belief

We're too sacred to evolve, too intricate to simply exist. That's how we're so sure our creator evolved or existed first-Joshua Merrell

Everything you believe, you make it real. Nothings real to a person until its believed and we are the ones creating magic, life, miracles, with no ones help, its us so what we believe is real, who cares what others believe, its not their magic being done. It's not a matter of right or wrong, it's a matter of getting the task done a different way. I believe that coincidences, luck, karma, is all caused by us ourselves. I believe that if you believe a god is doing something for you, you are simply giving credit to yourself in another name.

‎"From the smallest necessity to the highest religious abstraction, from the wheel to the skyscraper, everything we are and everything we have comes from one attribute of man - the function of his reasoning mind. " -Ayn Rand

Backward Bill

Backward Bill, Backward Bill,
He lives way up on Backward Hill,
Which is really a hole in the sandy ground
(But that's a hill turned upside down),

Backward Bill's he rides like the wind
Don't know where he's going but sees where he's been.
His spurs they go "neigh" and his horse it goes "clang",
And his six-gun goes "gnab," it never goes "bang."

Backward Bill's got a backward pup,
They eat their supper when the sun comes up,
And he's got a wife named Backward Lil,
"She's my own true hate," says Backward Bill.

Backward Bill wears his hat on his toes
And puts on his underwear over his clothes.
And come every payday he pays his boss,
And rides off a-smilin' a-carryin' his hoss.


-Shel Silverstein
One of TNT's FAVORITE poems!!

Proposal

Sometimes I wish I was a guy. I have so many ideas of how to propose. Here's my favorite. Get a cabin, tent, or trailer in the mountains. Get up early and hike up to it with my woman. Spend the night there. Shoot rubber bands at the stars, swim in the creek (clothes optional) then eat steak for dinner. Handmade on a campfire. Either pop the question right before bed, or put it on a stick inside a marshmallow to be roasted and given to her...the latter is risky though.

Parrots eating bubblegum

I'm a parrot. My name is Flash and my brother here is Zip. We saved the rain forest. It was a dark, stormy night..no, actually, we were in the middle of a drought. Trees were dying and food was disappearing. Zip and I were flying through the heat one day, trying to find water for our family. We came across some sticky pink stuff on a tree. Hungry as we were, we tried it. The pink stuff never broke down. But Zip here noticed it was moist. So we spit it out. But the good stuck to my beak and when I spit, it blew air at the good and made it stretch. It got caught on a branch. Startled, we left. Some time later we went back and that whole tree was blooming. So, we spit the goo on all the trees. They bloomed with the good until the rain came back.

Model or Ballerina?

Young 18 year old Tessa Parkinson was just starting her life as the night cook at Steiny's Family Sports Grill when her dreams were cut short. Parkinson had modeled for her friends t-shirt company and another family friends photography business advertisement. Director of the Ballet Way magazine, Ryan Raal saw her while shopping for a humorous t-shirt for his own daughters christmas present. He remembered Parkinson's name from Imagine Ballet Theatre's World Premiere of the Secret Garden, and had noted she was a ballerina with excellent potential. He sought her out while she was working one night, and after eating the best pizza he'd tasted, Raal asked if she was interested in starting ballet again. Enthusiastically, Parkinson said yes. He hired her on for pointe shoe modeling in exchange for a position in Miami City Ballet. She has danced as the prima ballerina star roll in many new ballets that she was kind enough to provide a modernized twist for the shows to gather a larger variety of people. 

Secrets

A shadow came. He was tracking something, and came across footprints that led into an active volcano. Following them carefully down the inside of the volcano, he was never noticed, never burned. He found a pile of huge rocks. He studied them for awhile, realized one push of a soft spot would make them all come crashing down. He was being noticed now, and he had to hurry before he was overcome by the hot lava. The journey into the volcano and the riddle of the rocks had educated him enough that it only took three tries to open the vault under the rocks. He rushed in, closed the door. Everything was pitch black; another defense mechanism. He found a small lock box. The key had to be hidden around here. He searched and searched. Meanwhile he could hear the lava surrounding the vault and drowning it in hot liquid fire. It began to be hot and he fell to his knees and cried. He was never going to open the lock box and bring back his love what she needed most. His tears fell onto the box and ran into the lock. He heard a click as his tears unlocked the box. He slowly lifted the lid. Everything cooled. The lock box, the vault, the huge rocks and the volcano all disappeared. He was standing in the middle of a clearing with a map. A giant red X was upon a picture of a heart. He never let go of that map, and he protected it until it died.

Moon Clock

I had been given a gift a long time ago, and I was just now opening it. It was a clock, with the different phases of the moon on it instead of numbers. Not twelve moons though, no, there were many more. You could spin it like a top and see the moon wane and wax like a film cuz there were so many. I had never opened it.

I was 18, moved into my new apartment with my husband and I was unhappy. Arranged marriages were never the best. I was reminiscing with my box of old things that I had been forced to keep in the attic because he, Trace, thought they were childish. I pulled the weird clock out of its box and set it to the full moon, and that’s when I saw a place to set the clock to a four-digit number. I assumed it was for the year. I set it to 1999. That was my last year of freedom before I was married off to this man.

I was pulled back to memories of when I was 8, and my sister and I were running around chasing frogs with our brother and swimming in backyards. That’s when my parents walked up to me with him. “Dear daughter, you are going to marry this boy. His name is Trace.” They were so happy. I looked at the boy and wanted to cry. He was dirty, overweight, and wore glasses and braces. I was pretty, and I knew it. Four years later I was stronger, and when he realized I was his and he could do anything he wanted to me and wouldn’t get in trouble, he came onto me. Groping, stripping, kissing. I knew I shouldn’t fight back. I saw a vision of me letting him rape me, and I knew I had to fight back. I punched him in the nose and ran away. I was whipped later for it. He tried four more times and each time I hurt him badly. Kicked him, scratched him, punched him, and finally stabbed him. He died. My parents sentenced me to death for killing my fiancée.

My last night to be alive, I found a gift I had been given a long time ago, and I was just now opening it. It was a clock, with the different phases of the moon on it instead of numbers. Not twelve moons though, no, there were many more. You could spin it like a top and see the moon wane and wax like a film cuz there were so many. I was 12, sentenced to death for killing my fiancée, and I was never going to live again.

I pulled the moon clock out of its box and set it to the half moon, and that’s when I saw a place to set the clock to a four-digit number. I assumed it was for the year. I set it to 1999, the year I met my now-dead fiancée. I was pulled back to memories of when I was 8, and my sister and I were eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with our brother on a colorful play table in our front yard. My parents came up to us and told us they had decided we were moving away. Moving to Australia. So, we moved, unable to stay in America like we wanted to. We were raised there, and once I was in college I met a man. He was from America, the very city I was born. He introduced himself as Trace and I knew he was the one for me. We were married in Italy and I moved back to America with him.

I was going through my childhood possessions during the move, and I found a gift I had been given a long time ago, and I was just now opening it. It was a clock, with the different phases of the moon on it instead of numbers. Not twelve moons though, no, there were many more. You could spin it like a top and see the moon wane and wax like a film cuz there were so many. I was 23, married to the love of my life and never to be in anguish again because I had the arms of my man to go to. Why mess with history? I threw it in the trash.