calling my name. my true caling. i wind is calling me towards a future i am uncertain of. who invented the telephone? alexander grahm bell? were there other inventors woring with him or other invntor accsross the world ho cam up with the design at the same time? innovative ideas usally occu in more than one brain.
I will keep calling you to see if you’re sleeping or you’re dreaming; if you’re dreaming, are you dreaming of me? I can’t believe you actually picked me.
Calling this morning never seemed to be a difficult thing. It was almost routine–with the exception, of course, that I knew the person on the other line was not going to pick up.
It was hard to accept at first. A person doesn’t really know his or her purpose right away. But after years of struggling, and many years of fighting and denying and searching, I finally know where I belong; what it is I’m supposed to be doing. I am called to live– I am called to love.
So I was calling my friend the other day. She’s weird. I’m not sure if she knows it though. Very weird. Enough said. Wow. Sixty seconds is longer than I thought it would be. I’m wasting a minute of my life typing this crap.
This was my calling. I don’t know what they thought I was doing, why they were pulling so hard; dragging me away from what I loved. But it was all I could do. How could they not see that?
Who is it? I can hear them, desperate, calling to me. My name; my name over and over again. What’s wrong? What have i done? Is someone hurt? Have i hurt someone? Myself? Am i in danger? I don’t know – i can’t see. My eyes, they won’t open. Black, all i see is black – all i hear is my name. I don’t remember. My mind is as black as the worrld around me. I see nothing, I remember nothing, I am nothing, I hear my name. My name. I do remember – i can remember my name. It’s being called, over and over again.
here is my voice and listen closely. im calling for you to come to me. i want you emotionally. here is my call and answer it honestly with your heart and warmth.
It’s not always there, or is it? A slow, soft beckoning to come within…”I’ve been waiting,” it says. It’s has always been moving and growing, even when I turn to mortar and stick..Slowly it turns and turns, awaiting me to heed it’s calling. So I enter without knowing. And when I leave, unwillingly, my spine weeps in sorrow of loss. But this is a sign that I have not left, only thought about doing so. There is no separating. Only the confused concept that it is possible to do so. Always, everything, it is all pointing to the brilliance and pure life..living and calling…from the inside. (inspired by lovelyannie79.)
I have a calling to teach. I have a calling to reach into the hearts of others and pull stuff out, to take stuff from my heart and offer it up without concern for pain or hording. I love to tell stories and hear stories and notice things that others leave unwitnessed. I love
The phone is ringing, the phone is ringing, I’m being called, I’m being called. Everyone wants a piece of me. I’m being pulled in ever-changing directions. My mind is breaking, I am quaking. I need a break, my phone is ringing.
London calling to the faraway towns
Now that war is declared-and battle come down
London calling to the underworld
Come out of the cupboard, all you boys and girls…
I ran through the shadows, wisps of memories brushing against my mind, silent screams from yesteryear banging on my ears. Calling out to the darkness, I surrender to the pain, I surrender to the march of nightmares assaulting my tender soul.
I was calling to you, but you never answered. I just don’t give a damn… please, what can i say more, just stay with me and everything will be okay. or at least i think so. we can be happy, I know we will. i love you.
darkness and she’s breathing something familiar there are lights up the hill and i’m praying they never go out and faces never see us once they do the moment ends and i’m irresponsibility personified.
אופס, לא שמתי לב שאני צריך להתחיל לכתוב!
אז, Calling…
אני מרגיש שאתה צריך להתקשר יותר, או פחות, אני לא בטוח, אבל כך או כך, הכמות כרגע היא בלתי נסבלת. זה כאילוא נחנו על הסף של משהו, והמשהו הזה הוא משהו טוב, אבל אנחנו לא מגיעים לשם כי אתה לא מתקשר, או כי אתה מתקשר יותר מדי.
The phone had been ringing continually for the past eight hours. Maria sat stiff in her bed, eyes wide open, staring dazedly out the window. She hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. Every time she picked up the phone, there would be the same guy who had been calling her every night since Tuesday, asking her in a flat, nasal voice: Can we be friends? Can we be friends? Can we be friends?…
Maria had spent the evening subtly showing off her engagement ring to each person at the party. Everyone had eventually seen and admired it except Rachel. When Rachel saw the lovely diamond on Maria’s fourth finger, she murmured a “Nice ring,” and continued on. Five minutes later, the cry reverberated throughout the party. “Oh no! It’s the clue phone calling and it’s for me.”
I heard you – last night – through the trees
silently stalking me as prey
distance closing as the humidity pressed me wetly to my sheets
fear soaked – I waited
I heard you calling dear reaper
in the dark dead of night
I was calling Lene when i suddenly figured that she dosen’t have ha phone. That was kind of weird, but i just had to try. But no one was answering. Good times.
which one’s gonna call? who’s on the other end? who’s gonna call the most number of times? what time is which one gonna call?
polyamorous people play guessing games with the telephone a lot.
One of the most intrusive activities anyone can take part in. Fun for the family and friends (literally)!
Answer me now, pay attention to me now, now, now, now!
It was her calling, her destiny to become the princess of the land. She didn’t want it. She wanted absolutely nothing to do with the palace, with the diplomats, with the law books, with the subjects. She wanted to live on her own, in a straw hut by the river with her loving woodsman husband. But it was not a fairy tale, and it was her calling to be princess.
I spent jours calling for him. I was beyond worried and heading into panic. He was so little to be lost so far from home. My heart ached to hold him. And there, behind the window of a tall Victorian I saw him peeking from the window.
Something you have to do, no matter what.
Go out there and pour your heart out.
But never let your emotions escape you.
Keep yourself in check and do what you have to do.
Be special and be unique.
Be yourself.
what’s going on? i’d just like to say hello. what are you calling about? oh nothing, just becuase i’m bored. i wish that i had someone to come over and hang out with. are you crazy it’s 3:18 am.. its to late/early for company. well what do you expect?
un edificio altonel mezzo, una strada trafficata davanti . qualcno stara chiamando, li al secondo piano, dietro i vetri che riflettono il sole, e non ti fanno vedere chi è .
calling my name. my true caling. i wind is calling me towards a future i am uncertain of. who invented the telephone? alexander grahm bell? were there other inventors woring with him or other invntor accsross the world ho cam up with the design at the same time? innovative ideas usally occu in more than one brain.
I will keep calling you to see if you’re sleeping or you’re dreaming; if you’re dreaming, are you dreaming of me? I can’t believe you actually picked me.
Sometimes I hear them calling in the night. It’s like a forgotten echo, a whisper that has been blown away by the wind…
“This is United States calling. Are we reaching?”
Calling this morning never seemed to be a difficult thing. It was almost routine–with the exception, of course, that I knew the person on the other line was not going to pick up.
It was hard to accept at first. A person doesn’t really know his or her purpose right away. But after years of struggling, and many years of fighting and denying and searching, I finally know where I belong; what it is I’m supposed to be doing. I am called to live– I am called to love.
So I was calling my friend the other day. She’s weird. I’m not sure if she knows it though. Very weird. Enough said. Wow. Sixty seconds is longer than I thought it would be. I’m wasting a minute of my life typing this crap.
This was my calling. I don’t know what they thought I was doing, why they were pulling so hard; dragging me away from what I loved. But it was all I could do. How could they not see that?
Who is it? I can hear them, desperate, calling to me. My name; my name over and over again. What’s wrong? What have i done? Is someone hurt? Have i hurt someone? Myself? Am i in danger? I don’t know – i can’t see. My eyes, they won’t open. Black, all i see is black – all i hear is my name. I don’t remember. My mind is as black as the worrld around me. I see nothing, I remember nothing, I am nothing, I hear my name. My name. I do remember – i can remember my name. It’s being called, over and over again.
here is my voice and listen closely. im calling for you to come to me. i want you emotionally. here is my call and answer it honestly with your heart and warmth.
He’s calling……again. But this time I won’t bite, I won’t bite.
It’s not always there, or is it? A slow, soft beckoning to come within…”I’ve been waiting,” it says. It’s has always been moving and growing, even when I turn to mortar and stick..Slowly it turns and turns, awaiting me to heed it’s calling. So I enter without knowing. And when I leave, unwillingly, my spine weeps in sorrow of loss. But this is a sign that I have not left, only thought about doing so. There is no separating. Only the confused concept that it is possible to do so. Always, everything, it is all pointing to the brilliance and pure life..living and calling…from the inside. (inspired by lovelyannie79.)
I have a calling to teach. I have a calling to reach into the hearts of others and pull stuff out, to take stuff from my heart and offer it up without concern for pain or hording. I love to tell stories and hear stories and notice things that others leave unwitnessed. I love
The phone is ringing, the phone is ringing, I’m being called, I’m being called. Everyone wants a piece of me. I’m being pulled in ever-changing directions. My mind is breaking, I am quaking. I need a break, my phone is ringing.
Will never forgive Brendan for calling the police at four in the morning, two weekends ago.
“Quit calling.” she mumbled half asleep in to the phone before throwing it on the floor.
It rang again. “Quit calling!” she yelled into it!
“I will.” he said. “When you stop answering.”
Ring ring ring. The manila phone with newspaper ink fingerprint smudges sat on the counter top. Ring ring ring .
London calling to the faraway towns
Now that war is declared-and battle come down
London calling to the underworld
Come out of the cupboard, all you boys and girls…
I ran through the shadows, wisps of memories brushing against my mind, silent screams from yesteryear banging on my ears. Calling out to the darkness, I surrender to the pain, I surrender to the march of nightmares assaulting my tender soul.
High above the alcove echoed, segments of plaster falling all around in the reverberation.
I was calling to you, but you never answered. I just don’t give a damn… please, what can i say more, just stay with me and everything will be okay. or at least i think so. we can be happy, I know we will. i love you.
darkness and she’s breathing something familiar there are lights up the hill and i’m praying they never go out and faces never see us once they do the moment ends and i’m irresponsibility personified.
אופס, לא שמתי לב שאני צריך להתחיל לכתוב!
אז, Calling…
אני מרגיש שאתה צריך להתקשר יותר, או פחות, אני לא בטוח, אבל כך או כך, הכמות כרגע היא בלתי נסבלת. זה כאילוא נחנו על הסף של משהו, והמשהו הזה הוא משהו טוב, אבל אנחנו לא מגיעים לשם כי אתה לא מתקשר, או כי אתה מתקשר יותר מדי.
יודע צה? זו אשמתי
i heard her in the distance. i watched her fade as we pulled away from the shoreline. “come back,” i whispered. i miss home.
The phone had been ringing continually for the past eight hours. Maria sat stiff in her bed, eyes wide open, staring dazedly out the window. She hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. Every time she picked up the phone, there would be the same guy who had been calling her every night since Tuesday, asking her in a flat, nasal voice: Can we be friends? Can we be friends? Can we be friends?…
Maria had spent the evening subtly showing off her engagement ring to each person at the party. Everyone had eventually seen and admired it except Rachel. When Rachel saw the lovely diamond on Maria’s fourth finger, she murmured a “Nice ring,” and continued on. Five minutes later, the cry reverberated throughout the party. “Oh no! It’s the clue phone calling and it’s for me.”
I wait to hear the phone ring. I know you will be calling soon. I wait and wait and wait… to hear your voice say ‘I love you darling’
I heard you – last night – through the trees
silently stalking me as prey
distance closing as the humidity pressed me wetly to my sheets
fear soaked – I waited
I heard you calling dear reaper
in the dark dead of night
I was calling Lene when i suddenly figured that she dosen’t have ha phone. That was kind of weird, but i just had to try. But no one was answering. Good times.
Who the hell is that calling?
I’d been on the phone all morning
And with no warning
It started to ring again.
Damn this modern communication
With all its interruptions
which one’s gonna call? who’s on the other end? who’s gonna call the most number of times? what time is which one gonna call?
polyamorous people play guessing games with the telephone a lot.
One of the most intrusive activities anyone can take part in. Fun for the family and friends (literally)!
Answer me now, pay attention to me now, now, now, now!
The coyotes were calling their mates all through the night, telling of watermelons they had tasted.
It was her calling, her destiny to become the princess of the land. She didn’t want it. She wanted absolutely nothing to do with the palace, with the diplomats, with the law books, with the subjects. She wanted to live on her own, in a straw hut by the river with her loving woodsman husband. But it was not a fairy tale, and it was her calling to be princess.
I called my brother yesterday, he was so busy and he didn’t pick up the phone. My mother rang me yesterday. My father call his brother “Jone”
I spent jours calling for him. I was beyond worried and heading into panic. He was so little to be lost so far from home. My heart ached to hold him. And there, behind the window of a tall Victorian I saw him peeking from the window.
Something you have to do, no matter what.
Go out there and pour your heart out.
But never let your emotions escape you.
Keep yourself in check and do what you have to do.
Be special and be unique.
Be yourself.
what’s going on? i’d just like to say hello. what are you calling about? oh nothing, just becuase i’m bored. i wish that i had someone to come over and hang out with. are you crazy it’s 3:18 am.. its to late/early for company. well what do you expect?
Calling. Calling us back. Snapping to what is tangable and out of the clouds, away from the edge. the call that comes through.
un edificio altonel mezzo, una strada trafficata davanti . qualcno stara chiamando, li al secondo piano, dietro i vetri che riflettono il sole, e non ti fanno vedere chi è .