It wasn’t long before they found shortcuts, the tendency was to bypass the rules and constraints and get right to the meat and potatoes. No-one wanted to step-by-step record details, confirm their agreement, agree to comply with the rules: this had all been done before and forgotten. They just wanted to get to the end and then have fun. The bypass was a small checkbox hidden in the far left bottom corner: they ticked and the flashing lights started, the endlessly repeating phrases of music began, the counter at the top of the screen started to increment and the players felt happy.
At first you think bypass surgery, maybe because that is becoming so common these days. But then you might think about all the times and was people bypass each other. In cars, in stores, in life. We are always trying to find ways to bypass anything to get ahead.
I wanted to bypass the instructions. I wanted to throw them to the wind. Heck, I didn’t even want them to exist, they were so domineering, and powerful, and frustrating! But I read them anyways. I read them, practically memorized them, and hated myself because of it. And I followed them, too. I followed them to the T, to every letter, to every specific stupid detail.
I ran as best as I could to get away from him. This was not his normal jokey self. This time he was serious. what would he do to me if he caught up? I bypassed the restaurant down the road, now running down its alley, I knew I could jump the fence, and lose him. I glanced behind me. Still there. As usual, we would not give up, neither would I. I wouldn’t withstand his icy grip any longer.
few days back iiwas taling about this to fred. the one i ws mentioning to him was about bypass surgery. lets make it interesting and say iw as talking in a trail under a bypass.
What was in your mind when you bypassed me? She said we had a “brush,” “Maybe it’s just me, y’all had a brush.” Now it feels good to be free of you, but I keep imagining you’re in this city, that you’ll show up from some other part of the state.
To bypass her feelings would be to deny who she was. Neglecting her inner self-was an area she had worked on for years. No longer could she be anyone else but who she was. Yet, now she was being asked to be less than that. To pretend she wasn’t feeling the pain of the loss so that others would not be disturbed by her emotions. How could they ask that of her? Who did they think they were? She had given ten years of her life to helping them turn their company around and now this. She felt the anxiety ball up in her chest just like the old days when she kept her mouth shut and her emotions locked up. No, she decided, she could not do what they asked, even if it cost her her job.
At first, I thought the way around meant more to me than it did. But that;s one of the misconceptions that I lost real quick as I stared into the abyss that was my soul. Or maybe it was the dark behind my eyes as I waited for the doctor to fix my heart. Who knows? I sure don’t.
Because the storm knocked down a tree,
You took a detour to come meet me.
Because the road was long and winding,
You didn’t see the turn it was hiding.
Because you didn’t see this sudden curve,
There are still tire skids from where you swerved.
Because those marks lead straight to a tree,
There is another detour with no you for me.
How could he bypass the code in time? His hands shook – he had never done anything of the sort before. He had always been most comfortable behind his desk, signing papers, regardless of what he may have said.
So what could he possibly do? He hadn’t been trained for this, hadn’t…
Another hold up, another waste of time. She could see the delivery van blocking the high street. It was about time this village got a bypass, she would be faster home and faster at work and she hated this zero effective time.
the alarm rang and the voice flooded the site -alarm bypass, shutting down all emergency exits.
They were close, just a little more and they would be out and safe.
A man finds a bypass route to avoid the 5 o’clock traffic on a Friday afternoon. But instead of going around the busy freeway like he wanted, he finds himself reversed and winds up across the bridge in a tiny town called Port Ridgedale. There’s a bar nearby called The Sick Bastard, and he’s really not in the mood for a beer; he just wants to go home. But then he remembers that his wife has been mad at him ever since he got passed over for a promotion, so maybe a White Russian or a screwdriver would be really good right now.
He was doing 90 mph down the freeway at this point, he had never been late for an interview in his life and he had no intention of starting now. He only wished he had time to enjoy the scenery around him. This was his first time in the Smokey Mountains of the American South East and it figures he would be in a rush.
As he rounded the bend on his way up the next mountain he slammed on his brakes so hard he thought the wheels might rip off. “FUCK” he shouted out loud as he stared at the car sitting still in front of him, the first in what was like hundreds of cars in this traffic jam. He was gonna miss the most important job opportunity of his life if he couldn’t bypass this traffic. It was now 2 AM and he still had several hours to go if he was going to make his 6 AM meeting, and that was if the road HAD been open. He started to panic and he did the one thing he always hated seeing others do. He pulled onto the right shoulder and used it as an express lane, he felt like an asshole, but at least he would be a punctual asshole.
As he sped forward down the shoulder he started to realize just how far up the mountains when and his maneuver meant he driving quite literally along the edge of the mountain side. The farther along he drove the higher and steeper it got and the narrower the space available became. Guard rails were only in place around turns so the strait-aways had nothing between his car and a meeting with Jesus. He hated heights and even though the ravine to his right was likely hundreds of feet straight down he never would have known given how dark it was, he only knew it was high up because he could feel it in his ears as the elevation increased. Distracted by the dark and infinite chasm to his right he failed to notice the pickup flick on its hazards pull out to the shoulder. He looked back just in time to react rather than think and he jerked the wheel to the right and no guard rail was there to save him.
A loud and painful chaos ensued before it all went dark. He awoke sometime later in utter silence. He was still in his car and every inch of his body felt broken. He could hear the sound of running water nearby, a creek perhaps. I was still so dark he might as well have been blind. His one bit of luck was that his car landed up right. Something was blocking the driver side door so he went for the passenger side. Immediately up leaving the vehicle the true state of his body was revealed to him. Both legs were definitely broken and one of them felt almost as it the bone had exited his skin, he couldn’t see it very well with only his cell phone. Feeling on the verge of vomiting he began to dial 911 when he heard the low muffled growl. He paused eyes still fixed on the phone and held his breath. He looked up to see three pairs of shiney silver eyes floating in the darkness…
She was intrigued by dreams. The mind can do amazing things without our awareness, and she believed your subconscious can use dreams to help guide your ignorant consciousness. Dreams can make some things clear to you even if it’s just a feeling and not a completely thought-out concept. She believed a person’s subconscious sometimes tries to bypass making mistakes in the real world by offering wisdom through dreams. Dreams can feel so real. It can give you a very real idea of how you would feel in certain situations.
sick and tired of all the jealousy
raining courageous inside of me
bypass buy me
a few more days
of apathy
remind me that there is a better outlook
where scales are not zero sum games
where a success isn’t my failure
forgetting the praise
you heard so many times
1bybass=Before’-‘ Yank Preventing Another Sessasion Succintly
It wasn’t long before they found shortcuts, the tendency was to bypass the rules and constraints and get right to the meat and potatoes. No-one wanted to step-by-step record details, confirm their agreement, agree to comply with the rules: this had all been done before and forgotten. They just wanted to get to the end and then have fun. The bypass was a small checkbox hidden in the far left bottom corner: they ticked and the flashing lights started, the endlessly repeating phrases of music began, the counter at the top of the screen started to increment and the players felt happy.
At first you think bypass surgery, maybe because that is becoming so common these days. But then you might think about all the times and was people bypass each other. In cars, in stores, in life. We are always trying to find ways to bypass anything to get ahead.
I wanted to bypass the instructions. I wanted to throw them to the wind. Heck, I didn’t even want them to exist, they were so domineering, and powerful, and frustrating! But I read them anyways. I read them, practically memorized them, and hated myself because of it. And I followed them, too. I followed them to the T, to every letter, to every specific stupid detail.
I ran as best as I could to get away from him. This was not his normal jokey self. This time he was serious. what would he do to me if he caught up? I bypassed the restaurant down the road, now running down its alley, I knew I could jump the fence, and lose him. I glanced behind me. Still there. As usual, we would not give up, neither would I. I wouldn’t withstand his icy grip any longer.
few days back iiwas taling about this to fred. the one i ws mentioning to him was about bypass surgery. lets make it interesting and say iw as talking in a trail under a bypass.
What was in your mind when you bypassed me? She said we had a “brush,” “Maybe it’s just me, y’all had a brush.” Now it feels good to be free of you, but I keep imagining you’re in this city, that you’ll show up from some other part of the state.
To bypass her feelings would be to deny who she was. Neglecting her inner self-was an area she had worked on for years. No longer could she be anyone else but who she was. Yet, now she was being asked to be less than that. To pretend she wasn’t feeling the pain of the loss so that others would not be disturbed by her emotions. How could they ask that of her? Who did they think they were? She had given ten years of her life to helping them turn their company around and now this. She felt the anxiety ball up in her chest just like the old days when she kept her mouth shut and her emotions locked up. No, she decided, she could not do what they asked, even if it cost her her job.
At first, I thought the way around meant more to me than it did. But that;s one of the misconceptions that I lost real quick as I stared into the abyss that was my soul. Or maybe it was the dark behind my eyes as I waited for the doctor to fix my heart. Who knows? I sure don’t.
Because the storm knocked down a tree,
You took a detour to come meet me.
Because the road was long and winding,
You didn’t see the turn it was hiding.
Because you didn’t see this sudden curve,
There are still tire skids from where you swerved.
Because those marks lead straight to a tree,
There is another detour with no you for me.
bypass the law. loiter at its doorstep, and when it comes out, catch it with a right hook
How could he bypass the code in time? His hands shook – he had never done anything of the sort before. He had always been most comfortable behind his desk, signing papers, regardless of what he may have said.
So what could he possibly do? He hadn’t been trained for this, hadn’t…
Another hold up, another waste of time. She could see the delivery van blocking the high street. It was about time this village got a bypass, she would be faster home and faster at work and she hated this zero effective time.
the alarm rang and the voice flooded the site -alarm bypass, shutting down all emergency exits.
They were close, just a little more and they would be out and safe.
A man finds a bypass route to avoid the 5 o’clock traffic on a Friday afternoon. But instead of going around the busy freeway like he wanted, he finds himself reversed and winds up across the bridge in a tiny town called Port Ridgedale. There’s a bar nearby called The Sick Bastard, and he’s really not in the mood for a beer; he just wants to go home. But then he remembers that his wife has been mad at him ever since he got passed over for a promotion, so maybe a White Russian or a screwdriver would be really good right now.
He was doing 90 mph down the freeway at this point, he had never been late for an interview in his life and he had no intention of starting now. He only wished he had time to enjoy the scenery around him. This was his first time in the Smokey Mountains of the American South East and it figures he would be in a rush.
As he rounded the bend on his way up the next mountain he slammed on his brakes so hard he thought the wheels might rip off. “FUCK” he shouted out loud as he stared at the car sitting still in front of him, the first in what was like hundreds of cars in this traffic jam. He was gonna miss the most important job opportunity of his life if he couldn’t bypass this traffic. It was now 2 AM and he still had several hours to go if he was going to make his 6 AM meeting, and that was if the road HAD been open. He started to panic and he did the one thing he always hated seeing others do. He pulled onto the right shoulder and used it as an express lane, he felt like an asshole, but at least he would be a punctual asshole.
As he sped forward down the shoulder he started to realize just how far up the mountains when and his maneuver meant he driving quite literally along the edge of the mountain side. The farther along he drove the higher and steeper it got and the narrower the space available became. Guard rails were only in place around turns so the strait-aways had nothing between his car and a meeting with Jesus. He hated heights and even though the ravine to his right was likely hundreds of feet straight down he never would have known given how dark it was, he only knew it was high up because he could feel it in his ears as the elevation increased. Distracted by the dark and infinite chasm to his right he failed to notice the pickup flick on its hazards pull out to the shoulder. He looked back just in time to react rather than think and he jerked the wheel to the right and no guard rail was there to save him.
A loud and painful chaos ensued before it all went dark. He awoke sometime later in utter silence. He was still in his car and every inch of his body felt broken. He could hear the sound of running water nearby, a creek perhaps. I was still so dark he might as well have been blind. His one bit of luck was that his car landed up right. Something was blocking the driver side door so he went for the passenger side. Immediately up leaving the vehicle the true state of his body was revealed to him. Both legs were definitely broken and one of them felt almost as it the bone had exited his skin, he couldn’t see it very well with only his cell phone. Feeling on the verge of vomiting he began to dial 911 when he heard the low muffled growl. He paused eyes still fixed on the phone and held his breath. He looked up to see three pairs of shiney silver eyes floating in the darkness…
She was intrigued by dreams. The mind can do amazing things without our awareness, and she believed your subconscious can use dreams to help guide your ignorant consciousness. Dreams can make some things clear to you even if it’s just a feeling and not a completely thought-out concept. She believed a person’s subconscious sometimes tries to bypass making mistakes in the real world by offering wisdom through dreams. Dreams can feel so real. It can give you a very real idea of how you would feel in certain situations.
sick and tired of all the jealousy
raining courageous inside of me
bypass buy me
a few more days
of apathy
remind me that there is a better outlook
where scales are not zero sum games
where a success isn’t my failure
forgetting the praise
you heard so many times