Form follows function. So the professors kept saying. The thing was, a bottle had such a basic function that the form was destined to be boring. Kelis sighed and picked up the bottle on her workbench. There was no way she could sell it.
She glanced over her shoulder, checked no one was looking, and scooped up a handful of sand. Then she took a deep breath, deep past her lungs, and exhaled.
There was a string of text sectioned off in the suspended liquid of the air, spelling out the weather for the weekend in a small town through the blurred yellow windows of an evening train.
I can barely function. I don’t even know who I am anymore. What’s wrong with me? I’m slowly losing grip on reality. I wish someone could help me. But I’m alone. I’m all alone.
The day after, fittingly, it rains. The clouds pour down their tears in a weary, drizzling sort of way. The sky is painted a tired shade of grey; the few birds that leave thier shivering branches to brave the chilly wind stand out like oil spills on canvas. I wake up around noon to find the mansion as huge and empty as ever. The house is cold; I conclude that the heat has sputtered for it’s last time during the night. The luke warm coffee i manage to produce leaves an ugly taste in my mouth. Nothing seems able to function this morning, for even my body betrays me. I constantly hear the sound of his footsteps crossing the threshold; everytime i turn around i spot his brown eyes blinking in a corner.
She had “Mr Bill” from School House Rock tattooed on her side. He wanted to look at her tattoo, which she deemed inappropriate as he was a black bus driver and she was a white student. Of course, she wasn’t consciously thinking about race when he asked, but unconsciously she had been socialized to see black men as dangerous, and definitely men who asked such inappropriate things were especially dangerous.
I had no idea what it was for, its function a mystery. But I knew that it had been his, so long ago, and that he had loved it immensly. People will ask what it is while it sits upon it’s shelf, and I won’t be able to answer them. All I can say is that he made it for a purpose.
To be able to function is to fulfill a purpose; and Demitri’s failures were a function of his extensive past of violence. He was entirely dysfunctional, and therefore without purpose.
function- imi aduce aminte de programare, de ciuca. o functie e foarte folositoare pt ca te ajuta sa organizezi lucrurile intr-un cod. alta semnificatie… functie ocupata intr-o sucursala
I think in most things function is more important than looks. – Eric
I always choose my shoes based on fashion, rather than function. It seldom works out in my favor. -Blair.
functioning rapidly like a golden cog in a wheel of honey, buzzing bees whizzing by in their various roles of mutually supportive functionality. Believe it or not, we all have our place, and were born where and when we were for a reason: we have something to give to this time and place.
She could barely function as the weekend passed her by. The sky changed from blue to black in what seemed like an instant and the clouds moved as if they were racing away. The world was moving by as she watched it.
Functions are one thing that everyone has. No matter their race, skin color, background, or age. We all have functions. We function every day in our lives. If it be school, or work. Even retirement. We function as one huge society, we are human.
“It has no function, no substance, no chutzpah!” He had no interest in his little brothers inventions. Even into his own 30s and his brother’s late 20s, John was very hesitant to give the ventures of his brother Andrew any credit; in the past twenty-plus years, he couldn’t find it in himself to give up the sibling rivalry.
my brain is functioning-and i can feel the pulsating of the blood and guts running through that gross red thing in my chest that controls my feeling. My-One-Feeling. its the only one i have. i’m not allowed to have more than one, you see. i would spontaneously combust. All One can have room for, is one-and that one small feeling, controls everything.
The function of life is to live to the fullest and be happy. It doesn’t matter how bad life might get but you gotta live it to the fullest. You might end up in a slum or a rut. But there is always a way out of said rut.
The world spun like gears grinding their grooves against laziness. The business men, arms in perfect right angles, trotted like trained horses from perfectly paneled building to perfectly paneled building.
Me dijo que no funcionaba para absolutamente nada, y supe en lo más hondo de mi ser que había decepcionado a mi madre. No sólo no había decidido convertirme en artista en vez de médico, sino que era homosexual, y no le daría nietos ni alegría nunca. No funciono porque no soy el hijo que ella quiere.
I was dealing with functions today in math class, I dislike them. They are so confusing, they make me mad. Speaking of making me mad, My brother is making me mad today, he does all the things I hate just to make me mad, and he does them on purpose.
Someday I’ll discover my function. So far, everyone tells me that my function, my purpose, my raison d’etre, is to draw. I’m not so sure. I only draw because I feel like I have to, like I need something to justify the way that I am. I only draw because I need something to differentiate me from all the rest. That, and nothing more.
Knowing other languages changes the way you think about things.
Functionar means ‘to work’ in Spanish.
I tend to yell ‘function!’ at inanimate objects that aren’t working now.
Then I remember we don’t say that in English.
Mierda.
life’s purpose. the reason I exist. to work and accomplish great things in life. working correctly. role, job, part. belonging. the reason i keep going at it everyday. work, school, and writing. Invisible Children.
My brain can’t function to a full extent at the moment. I feel really effing annoyed and it won’t go away cause I haven’t written in a year and don’t plan to, cause honestly I’m about to effing die. Soon, anyway. What the eff do you do in this situation? DIE DIE DIE. Ba ba ba ba aba aba badad dada dadaaaaa.
How do we know? An elevator rises at a rate of too many miles an hour and a few stories up isn’t enough time to sing something real, or pinch yourself and everyone around you, or finish the last wave of tears you can keep to yourself. How do we function when it’s so hard to be alone when you’re trapped in public?
Oh, I know how this works. I say I love you too when you say I love you. Happily ever after we’ll be. But, only if, every morning we fuck without speaking and every night I hug you to avoid looking at you with loving eyes. And, in a word, we will function.
i’m finding it harder and harder to function without her. ever since the accident, nothing in life has been important. i’m not myself anymore, and i want to die. i want to be with her, she was everything. i miss her. i need her back. i’m going to die, i have to. it’s the only way.
Sometimes I imagine life without you. Without your touch, your conversations, the happiness you bring and I can’t believe how horrible it would be. I can’t imagine how I would ever function without you, a constant person in my life, around. Although I get upset thinking like this, I do it a lot because it reminds me of what I love about how and how much I love you.
His only function was to protect her. Zacharius sat back, watching as his Crystal laughed in the sunlight. She was beautiful and cheerful and compassionate and everything he had ever wanted. It didn’t matter if she loved him in return or not. Nothing so angelic should ever be in danger, particularly not something that was his. Zacharius knew that his function in life was to protect her. No matter what danger she came into, or the danger she was already in, he was there to protect her.
Mathematical, logical, the purpose of a thing. What is the function of animals? To keep reproducing and keep the other animals alive and well. To what end? My guess is to none. That idea terrifies many, but I think it’s freeing.
Function. How do you expect me to do such a thing in this society. You want me to work, to succeed, to show initiative, yet you won’t let me in. You won’t let me in. I’m not good enough, too young for your taste. You don’t know me, you can’t generalize about me because of something so insignificant as age.
I’d like to think everything has a specific function; that all the gears in the clockwork are irreplaceable or maybe we all have a purpose for living. But there are times when the black, enveloping darkness swallows the light and I am left helpless and grasping at air.
Form follows function. So the professors kept saying. The thing was, a bottle had such a basic function that the form was destined to be boring. Kelis sighed and picked up the bottle on her workbench. There was no way she could sell it.
She glanced over her shoulder, checked no one was looking, and scooped up a handful of sand. Then she took a deep breath, deep past her lungs, and exhaled.
She breathed fire.
And the sand turned to glass.
She started shaping it in her hands.
There was a string of text sectioned off in the suspended liquid of the air, spelling out the weather for the weekend in a small town through the blurred yellow windows of an evening train.
without these sunsets I couldn’t function. sometimes sunsets are the only way I get through the day. God knew I needed one today.
I can barely function. I don’t even know who I am anymore. What’s wrong with me? I’m slowly losing grip on reality. I wish someone could help me. But I’m alone. I’m all alone.
Listening to you take a shit.. what euphonious function.
“Not another one of these drab functions,” he said and took to my side, raising his brow to glance up at me. “Julian, I don’t know why you bother.”
“For looks,” I replied, and took the mimosa from his hand. Downing it quickly, I smiled to placate him. “Always for looks, you know that.”
“I wish you cared about something more than that,” he sighed, looking in the glass before drifting away.
The day after, fittingly, it rains. The clouds pour down their tears in a weary, drizzling sort of way. The sky is painted a tired shade of grey; the few birds that leave thier shivering branches to brave the chilly wind stand out like oil spills on canvas. I wake up around noon to find the mansion as huge and empty as ever. The house is cold; I conclude that the heat has sputtered for it’s last time during the night. The luke warm coffee i manage to produce leaves an ugly taste in my mouth. Nothing seems able to function this morning, for even my body betrays me. I constantly hear the sound of his footsteps crossing the threshold; everytime i turn around i spot his brown eyes blinking in a corner.
She had “Mr Bill” from School House Rock tattooed on her side. He wanted to look at her tattoo, which she deemed inappropriate as he was a black bus driver and she was a white student. Of course, she wasn’t consciously thinking about race when he asked, but unconsciously she had been socialized to see black men as dangerous, and definitely men who asked such inappropriate things were especially dangerous.
I had no idea what it was for, its function a mystery. But I knew that it had been his, so long ago, and that he had loved it immensly. People will ask what it is while it sits upon it’s shelf, and I won’t be able to answer them. All I can say is that he made it for a purpose.
To be able to function is to fulfill a purpose; and Demitri’s failures were a function of his extensive past of violence. He was entirely dysfunctional, and therefore without purpose.
function- imi aduce aminte de programare, de ciuca. o functie e foarte folositoare pt ca te ajuta sa organizezi lucrurile intr-un cod. alta semnificatie… functie ocupata intr-o sucursala
I think in most things function is more important than looks. – Eric
I always choose my shoes based on fashion, rather than function. It seldom works out in my favor. -Blair.
functioning rapidly like a golden cog in a wheel of honey, buzzing bees whizzing by in their various roles of mutually supportive functionality. Believe it or not, we all have our place, and were born where and when we were for a reason: we have something to give to this time and place.
She could barely function as the weekend passed her by. The sky changed from blue to black in what seemed like an instant and the clouds moved as if they were racing away. The world was moving by as she watched it.
“How is this stupid thing supposed to function?” He shouted as he poured helplessly over the poorly translated instructional manual.
Functions are one thing that everyone has. No matter their race, skin color, background, or age. We all have functions. We function every day in our lives. If it be school, or work. Even retirement. We function as one huge society, we are human.
“It has no function, no substance, no chutzpah!” He had no interest in his little brothers inventions. Even into his own 30s and his brother’s late 20s, John was very hesitant to give the ventures of his brother Andrew any credit; in the past twenty-plus years, he couldn’t find it in himself to give up the sibling rivalry.
Does form follow function? Or does function follow form? What is my function? Why does it sometimes seem that my form and my function are at odds?
my brain is functioning-and i can feel the pulsating of the blood and guts running through that gross red thing in my chest that controls my feeling. My-One-Feeling. its the only one i have. i’m not allowed to have more than one, you see. i would spontaneously combust. All One can have room for, is one-and that one small feeling, controls everything.
The function of life is to live to the fullest and be happy. It doesn’t matter how bad life might get but you gotta live it to the fullest. You might end up in a slum or a rut. But there is always a way out of said rut.
The world spun like gears grinding their grooves against laziness. The business men, arms in perfect right angles, trotted like trained horses from perfectly paneled building to perfectly paneled building.
Me dijo que no funcionaba para absolutamente nada, y supe en lo más hondo de mi ser que había decepcionado a mi madre. No sólo no había decidido convertirme en artista en vez de médico, sino que era homosexual, y no le daría nietos ni alegría nunca. No funciono porque no soy el hijo que ella quiere.
I was dealing with functions today in math class, I dislike them. They are so confusing, they make me mad. Speaking of making me mad, My brother is making me mad today, he does all the things I hate just to make me mad, and he does them on purpose.
Someday I’ll discover my function. So far, everyone tells me that my function, my purpose, my raison d’etre, is to draw. I’m not so sure. I only draw because I feel like I have to, like I need something to justify the way that I am. I only draw because I need something to differentiate me from all the rest. That, and nothing more.
Knowing other languages changes the way you think about things.
Functionar means ‘to work’ in Spanish.
I tend to yell ‘function!’ at inanimate objects that aren’t working now.
Then I remember we don’t say that in English.
Mierda.
something working. f1 f2 f3 f4 f5 f6 f7 f8 f9 f10 f11 f12 f u n c t i o n Fungus Fungi Mushrooms Fiction False Free Funions O________o
he had the function. To live. But he didn’t know how.
The function of his life was to be there for those who had nothing. no one. And then he had to disappear.
the function conjunction luncheon was crunching the trusting singing dinging acrobats to bat the black cats.
life’s purpose. the reason I exist. to work and accomplish great things in life. working correctly. role, job, part. belonging. the reason i keep going at it everyday. work, school, and writing. Invisible Children.
My brain can’t function to a full extent at the moment. I feel really effing annoyed and it won’t go away cause I haven’t written in a year and don’t plan to, cause honestly I’m about to effing die. Soon, anyway. What the eff do you do in this situation? DIE DIE DIE. Ba ba ba ba aba aba badad dada dadaaaaa.
How do we know? An elevator rises at a rate of too many miles an hour and a few stories up isn’t enough time to sing something real, or pinch yourself and everyone around you, or finish the last wave of tears you can keep to yourself. How do we function when it’s so hard to be alone when you’re trapped in public?
i cant function without you i love you so much i miss you want you come back to me i need you come back i cant live without you !!
Oh, I know how this works. I say I love you too when you say I love you. Happily ever after we’ll be. But, only if, every morning we fuck without speaking and every night I hug you to avoid looking at you with loving eyes. And, in a word, we will function.
i’m finding it harder and harder to function without her. ever since the accident, nothing in life has been important. i’m not myself anymore, and i want to die. i want to be with her, she was everything. i miss her. i need her back. i’m going to die, i have to. it’s the only way.
Sometimes I imagine life without you. Without your touch, your conversations, the happiness you bring and I can’t believe how horrible it would be. I can’t imagine how I would ever function without you, a constant person in my life, around. Although I get upset thinking like this, I do it a lot because it reminds me of what I love about how and how much I love you.
His only function was to protect her. Zacharius sat back, watching as his Crystal laughed in the sunlight. She was beautiful and cheerful and compassionate and everything he had ever wanted. It didn’t matter if she loved him in return or not. Nothing so angelic should ever be in danger, particularly not something that was his. Zacharius knew that his function in life was to protect her. No matter what danger she came into, or the danger she was already in, he was there to protect her.
Mathematical, logical, the purpose of a thing. What is the function of animals? To keep reproducing and keep the other animals alive and well. To what end? My guess is to none. That idea terrifies many, but I think it’s freeing.
Function. How do you expect me to do such a thing in this society. You want me to work, to succeed, to show initiative, yet you won’t let me in. You won’t let me in. I’m not good enough, too young for your taste. You don’t know me, you can’t generalize about me because of something so insignificant as age.
I’d like to think everything has a specific function; that all the gears in the clockwork are irreplaceable or maybe we all have a purpose for living. But there are times when the black, enveloping darkness swallows the light and I am left helpless and grasping at air.