so,off she went to a function. It was quite a swish affair. Black tie, no less.
And at this function, she watched people function.
Or dys-function.
and she thought about words.
Dys-function,
dat-function.
Everything has its function. At least this is what most scientist thinks. They believe that everything exists for a reason, to have certain function. This is why many of them are so devoted to find out how the universe begins…etc. For example, they may say an animal exists to compensate the food chain in the nature. Even an excretion has its own function.
However, humans are special. We can choose to give what kind of function we want to give or as some of us, we give explanations about other creatures or objects’ function. But then, why are we so special, what’s the function of having free function? Well I guess it is another philosophy question.
i hate the word function because it always, always shows up in business documents i translate day after day. seems like this is a pet word for businesses. but if i can function as a writer…the word will sound lovely.
To byla má funkce. Musel jsem dělat naprosto příšerné věci, ale bylo mi to nařízeno. Pokusy. Pokusy na lidech! Něco tak příšerného. Kdyby má matka věděla u čeho asistuji, nejspíš by se mě zřekla. Měl jsem strach, že se to někdo z rodiny dozví, ale potřeboval jsem peníze, a tady mi platili opravdu dobře.
function. Macanical.. cars… broom broom … lol. .. broom the car! Weeee… neee norr neee nooorr :) what the hell am i supposed to write about function i mean function is just a boring word.
“Orange is not what you wear to a function. Can’t you just be like other people? Why are you always the one who stands out and falls flat on your face?”
It felt like a slap in the face. “I thought it was nice. At least it is bright, and better still, it is not black or beige,” I said. Her expression did not change. It was liking watching a force of nature as she swept my clothes on the bed to the floor, kicked them into the corner, and sat down with perfect posture, surrounded by the chaos she had created.
Lily stared at the piece of paper in front of her, her eyes bursting at the seams with tears she refused to let fall. “What is the function of tears anyways?” she thought to herself as she held them back. She didn’t want to cry, didn’t think it would do any good. The paper in her hands held the truth and crying was not going to change that.
The function of a spoon is to get 20 servings, or rather one large jar of Nutella from the jar to my mouth. The function of my mouth is to enjoy the hell out of said nutella. The function of my digestive tract is to break down carbohydrates and fats, absorb nutrients, and try desperately to prevent the explosive sugar shits that will result from such a diet.
perfunctory prose bores me
to the point where I want to write on walls
and ask the uninspired if they’re capable of being different
eccentric and unique
I want read words that have been arranged in such a way
they can’t be traced
like a tributary to river
I want to read from the wellspring that pops up out of nowhere
like an oasis in desert
I thought I understood, but it’s obvious I don’t. At the beginning, I thought I knew you didn’t like me like that, that we would be eternal “Just Friends”. That Lexy and Jayden were the types of girls you liked, and that the love I had for you would be kept inside. But then my secret got out and it all fell into place. “It’s okay, I like you too” And now I can function again.
For some reason, functioning normally is absolutely impossible without you. You calm me down, give me something steady, something reliable. Something that I know (or at least hope) won’t change any time soon. Now if only if only I could do that by myself. But I guess everyone needs something to believe in.
It’s really a sad function of society when someone can go to school, at a state school no less, and spend thousands of dollars in money on a degree(s) and make next to nothing when they get out. At least I didn’t need to be certified in anything. Although I need to open the letter with my “exit materials” and all that jazz.
A fancy looking f and a few squiggles, letter and number and signs. And somehow, if you know what to do, it all works out in a beautiful sequence. Sometimes, he thinks, it’s like watching a dance, a gorgeous interaction that you get to see as it unfolds. Just because you know the steps, doesn’t mean that you can’t appreciate the way that different dancers infuse them with soul.
The cogs spin, whirring in their endless circles. The air around them hums with activity, every wheel a small yet vital piece in the workings of other small yet vital things in our world. Watch all the levers move, each gear turning its own revolution. We each have our own revolution.
We cannot function without each other. It’s a sad realization that is difficult to come by, and even more difficult to completely understand. Just like a function cannot be continuous unless all the points are where they should be; we, as humans, cannot function unless everyone is where they should be, playing the role they were assigned.
“Function? How on earth can I function after something like this? You were supposed to tell me! To trust me! Not just stand there and wait, wait for my entire world to collapse and come crashing down on my ears?”
“I-I wasn’t waiting for it to be something like-”
“Shut up! I don’t want to hear it!”
“You don’t want to hear it, or you don’t want to hear it from me? I’m not dense-”
“Shut up. Just shut up. I don’t want to hear it from anyone. I can’t…you don’t know anything! You broke me! I’m broken. I’m worthless now. Just a piece of junk. I’ll never function properly again.”
What is function? Do I function well? I feel not of late. I wish that I were functioning as I should. Is it my function that my Lord is evaluating, or something else? Should I compare my function to others? I will not worry so much about functioning well as following well.
The mere function of our relationship was for me to be the bystander while he held the jar of my emotions, tightly sealed and well contained without him even needing to do anything to attain it.
I am unable to function when I have a headache. It’s amazing how much it takes out of me. I just want to curl up in a dark warm space and close my eyes.
my function is through color. I move throughout my day being persuaded by it. It distracts me from any deserving conversation, and pulls my soul into thin air.
On any given day, the combination of blue, orange and white, makes me feel like running for president, or opening a bakery shop.
Isn’t it interesting the way things work? We spend so much time over the course of our lives attempting to discover how things function.
Wouldn’t it be nice to just accept the fact that they do, and be grateful?
Function…the ability to act in some sort of way. Believing that function then allows you to truly be useful and effection. Does everything truly have a function? Do we know what those functions are? Who determines the functions of things? Sometimes I’m not sure how I’m functioning at a normal rate given the amount of stress in my life. The fatigue of what I feel is sometimes too much. But I know I must keep pushing and keep going. I must have a function…to do more…be more…I must…at least I believe I must. So I’ll think about what my function is in life, how I function on a daily basis, and if function is truly necessary. We shall see how this happens.
I was so tired, I couldn’t function. My eyes threatened to close every other second, against my will and I could smell smoke. My legs would barely hold me up anymore and I stumbled against the brick as I made my way to the counter. The woman behind the counter took a step back as I approached, fear in her wide brown eyes. She made me think of a cow.
You are the shadow dancing on my walls at night. You said you don’t sing or dance, that nothing functions the way it should. Tell me then how it is that after every dance I end up twirling under your arm, how do you do that without song?
y = mx + b. Put something in, get something out, go somewhere always. The graph doens’t have to end. Change the equation. Put something in, get more out than you were expecting, more than you understood. Put something in, learn.
Functional fixedness. I can’t see past the use of this. Everything’s so tired. It will all wear itself out and fall apart into pieces that form less than the sum of its parts. You’re only good for one thing, and that’s the thing you’ll never find.
Now you’re the shadow dancing on my wall at night. You said you dont sing or dance, but it turns out your a music man. Nothing with you functions so you say, but I end every dance in your arms. Tell me how you do that without song.
i can’t function unless i’m at the gym.
eating anything makes me feel like a failure.
looking in the mirror makes me feel like a failure.
nothing i do is making me beautiful.
i can’t function with this body.
How am I to function with things pulling me every which way? A girl at work asked me to join a writers group but it starts tonight. I couldn’t commit, as much as I wanted to. I have to move beyond simply functioning and do some things that I love to do.
so,off she went to a function. It was quite a swish affair. Black tie, no less.
And at this function, she watched people function.
Or dys-function.
and she thought about words.
Dys-function,
dat-function.
Interesting. Function.
Everything has its function. At least this is what most scientist thinks. They believe that everything exists for a reason, to have certain function. This is why many of them are so devoted to find out how the universe begins…etc. For example, they may say an animal exists to compensate the food chain in the nature. Even an excretion has its own function.
However, humans are special. We can choose to give what kind of function we want to give or as some of us, we give explanations about other creatures or objects’ function. But then, why are we so special, what’s the function of having free function? Well I guess it is another philosophy question.
i hate the word function because it always, always shows up in business documents i translate day after day. seems like this is a pet word for businesses. but if i can function as a writer…the word will sound lovely.
To byla má funkce. Musel jsem dělat naprosto příšerné věci, ale bylo mi to nařízeno. Pokusy. Pokusy na lidech! Něco tak příšerného. Kdyby má matka věděla u čeho asistuji, nejspíš by se mě zřekla. Měl jsem strach, že se to někdo z rodiny dozví, ale potřeboval jsem peníze, a tady mi platili opravdu dobře.
a subroutine defined to accomplish a specific task, independent of its environment, dependent on arguments. It may or may not return a value.
n
affiliate
function. Macanical.. cars… broom broom … lol. .. broom the car! Weeee… neee norr neee nooorr :) what the hell am i supposed to write about function i mean function is just a boring word.
“Orange is not what you wear to a function. Can’t you just be like other people? Why are you always the one who stands out and falls flat on your face?”
It felt like a slap in the face. “I thought it was nice. At least it is bright, and better still, it is not black or beige,” I said. Her expression did not change. It was liking watching a force of nature as she swept my clothes on the bed to the floor, kicked them into the corner, and sat down with perfect posture, surrounded by the chaos she had created.
the way an object is used.
how you use something.
what something can do.
I DONT KNOW.
URRR…
ALMOST RUNNING OUT OF TIME.. :'(
BYE, 5 4 3 2 1
Lily stared at the piece of paper in front of her, her eyes bursting at the seams with tears she refused to let fall. “What is the function of tears anyways?” she thought to herself as she held them back. She didn’t want to cry, didn’t think it would do any good. The paper in her hands held the truth and crying was not going to change that.
The function of a spoon is to get 20 servings, or rather one large jar of Nutella from the jar to my mouth. The function of my mouth is to enjoy the hell out of said nutella. The function of my digestive tract is to break down carbohydrates and fats, absorb nutrients, and try desperately to prevent the explosive sugar shits that will result from such a diet.
What function does “Let’s talk” perform? Is there some kind of magic here? Is all going to be better? It anything going to move forward?
perfunctory prose bores me
to the point where I want to write on walls
and ask the uninspired if they’re capable of being different
eccentric and unique
I want read words that have been arranged in such a way
they can’t be traced
like a tributary to river
I want to read from the wellspring that pops up out of nowhere
like an oasis in desert
I thought I understood, but it’s obvious I don’t. At the beginning, I thought I knew you didn’t like me like that, that we would be eternal “Just Friends”. That Lexy and Jayden were the types of girls you liked, and that the love I had for you would be kept inside. But then my secret got out and it all fell into place. “It’s okay, I like you too” And now I can function again.
For some reason, functioning normally is absolutely impossible without you. You calm me down, give me something steady, something reliable. Something that I know (or at least hope) won’t change any time soon. Now if only if only I could do that by myself. But I guess everyone needs something to believe in.
It’s really a sad function of society when someone can go to school, at a state school no less, and spend thousands of dollars in money on a degree(s) and make next to nothing when they get out. At least I didn’t need to be certified in anything. Although I need to open the letter with my “exit materials” and all that jazz.
A fancy looking f and a few squiggles, letter and number and signs. And somehow, if you know what to do, it all works out in a beautiful sequence. Sometimes, he thinks, it’s like watching a dance, a gorgeous interaction that you get to see as it unfolds. Just because you know the steps, doesn’t mean that you can’t appreciate the way that different dancers infuse them with soul.
So we argued poetry and it’s function. Is it more the expression of feelings or the solicitation of emotions?
The cogs spin, whirring in their endless circles. The air around them hums with activity, every wheel a small yet vital piece in the workings of other small yet vital things in our world. Watch all the levers move, each gear turning its own revolution. We each have our own revolution.
The word “Function” reminds me of ceremonies. As in a ‘Marriage Function’. In scientific terms it could mean “what something is used for.”
We cannot function without each other. It’s a sad realization that is difficult to come by, and even more difficult to completely understand. Just like a function cannot be continuous unless all the points are where they should be; we, as humans, cannot function unless everyone is where they should be, playing the role they were assigned.
There is a function at the junction. Should be the best luncheon in years.
“Function? How on earth can I function after something like this? You were supposed to tell me! To trust me! Not just stand there and wait, wait for my entire world to collapse and come crashing down on my ears?”
“I-I wasn’t waiting for it to be something like-”
“Shut up! I don’t want to hear it!”
“You don’t want to hear it, or you don’t want to hear it from me? I’m not dense-”
“Shut up. Just shut up. I don’t want to hear it from anyone. I can’t…you don’t know anything! You broke me! I’m broken. I’m worthless now. Just a piece of junk. I’ll never function properly again.”
What is function? Do I function well? I feel not of late. I wish that I were functioning as I should. Is it my function that my Lord is evaluating, or something else? Should I compare my function to others? I will not worry so much about functioning well as following well.
The mere function of our relationship was for me to be the bystander while he held the jar of my emotions, tightly sealed and well contained without him even needing to do anything to attain it.
I am unable to function when I have a headache. It’s amazing how much it takes out of me. I just want to curl up in a dark warm space and close my eyes.
my function is through color. I move throughout my day being persuaded by it. It distracts me from any deserving conversation, and pulls my soul into thin air.
On any given day, the combination of blue, orange and white, makes me feel like running for president, or opening a bakery shop.
Clearly, my ‘function’ as a singer can’t be to think. God forbid.
Jesus, Tash, I’m your manager, I’m only protecting you from…
What? Being helped
Isn’t it interesting the way things work? We spend so much time over the course of our lives attempting to discover how things function.
Wouldn’t it be nice to just accept the fact that they do, and be grateful?
the function of the junction is no tool but the munchkin is bunchkin of the whole family
Function…the ability to act in some sort of way. Believing that function then allows you to truly be useful and effection. Does everything truly have a function? Do we know what those functions are? Who determines the functions of things? Sometimes I’m not sure how I’m functioning at a normal rate given the amount of stress in my life. The fatigue of what I feel is sometimes too much. But I know I must keep pushing and keep going. I must have a function…to do more…be more…I must…at least I believe I must. So I’ll think about what my function is in life, how I function on a daily basis, and if function is truly necessary. We shall see how this happens.
dysfunction.period.
Function.
Done!
Times up.
I was so tired, I couldn’t function. My eyes threatened to close every other second, against my will and I could smell smoke. My legs would barely hold me up anymore and I stumbled against the brick as I made my way to the counter. The woman behind the counter took a step back as I approached, fear in her wide brown eyes. She made me think of a cow.
You are the shadow dancing on my walls at night. You said you don’t sing or dance, that nothing functions the way it should. Tell me then how it is that after every dance I end up twirling under your arm, how do you do that without song?
y = mx + b. Put something in, get something out, go somewhere always. The graph doens’t have to end. Change the equation. Put something in, get more out than you were expecting, more than you understood. Put something in, learn.
Functional fixedness. I can’t see past the use of this. Everything’s so tired. It will all wear itself out and fall apart into pieces that form less than the sum of its parts. You’re only good for one thing, and that’s the thing you’ll never find.
Now you’re the shadow dancing on my wall at night. You said you dont sing or dance, but it turns out your a music man. Nothing with you functions so you say, but I end every dance in your arms. Tell me how you do that without song.
i can’t function unless i’m at the gym.
eating anything makes me feel like a failure.
looking in the mirror makes me feel like a failure.
nothing i do is making me beautiful.
i can’t function with this body.
How am I to function with things pulling me every which way? A girl at work asked me to join a writers group but it starts tonight. I couldn’t commit, as much as I wanted to. I have to move beyond simply functioning and do some things that I love to do.