im not very good at punishing the kids where i work. i work with mostly six year olds, who have no idea what they’re doing half the time. whenever i feel they have said something inappropriate, it’s usually because they haven’t had the experience to understand that what they said was hurtful. but when they are mean for the hell of it, i can’t tolerate that, then i crack the whip. children.
Your punishment is a time-out in the Twilight corner of your local Borders bookstore. You must stare at the posters/cardboard stands for over an hour until Kristen Stewart’s inability to act leaves you biting your own lips in an act of desperate recompense.
Don’t steal my oreos.
Came the blow across her exposed buttocks, her lips clamping shut in order to prevent herself from crying out. She knew that if she cried out if would only make everything worse; she wasn’t allowed to make any noise, not when she was being reprimanded. Tears budded at her eyes and her chest swelled, constricting the small amount of oxygen she was taking in.
Punishment. I couldn’t really call it punishment, though. The way he was holding my face and whispering my name against my cheek. I supposed that some could have called it punishment, as I would never see him again. I just enjoyed the moment.
A toddler is beating his fists against the door, crying to be let out of his room. But he has been bad today. He must sit in his room and think about what he has done. He cannot have fun or play and laugh… No, he must endure this torture, because he is still learning about the unfairness and injustices of the world. But when this toddler grows up, he will do the same to his toddler. The cycle of punishment never ends.
I like punishments. I like the fact that sometimes its easy to get away and at other times its difficult. The fear of punishments is what makes life exciting. every thing is a reward and a punishment in itself.
Is something that doesn’t necessarily stop wrongdoing. It brings so much more shame than healing, in my opinion. And isn’t healing what we want? Not shame? shame breeds hate.
And somehow, I felt like I was the one being punished. Granted, I didn’t know their inner thoughts and feelings, but they were the ones making loads of hollow friends and attending big parties. I was the one stuck home alone in the rain. I was the one crying outside at night so no one would hear. I was the one cut off from everybody. And it was all because I chose to do what was right, not what was easy.
Why is this happening to me, thought Jensen tiredly. Is this some kind of punishment? For what? What in hell’s name did I ever do but be an honest man? And Who on earth unleashed those nukes? For what? Brriinng! Jensen’s eyes opened in surprise at the sound of the phone ringing. Wonder if it’s for me, he thought sheepishly.
I know what I’ve done isn’t my fault, it’s something in my head, something I can’t fix, I have no control. I hear the voices, they tell me what to do. Don’t eat, hurt yourself, kill your mom, they scream. What am I to do? I can’t help it, why am I being punished.
He sat in the gray corner of the jail cell, feeling the slimy mold run down his back as he made himself comfortable. The dank murkiness covered the whole black room like a cast shadow, covering the room with a layer of darkness. “What had I done to deserve this?” He called out.
No one answered.
Punishment for a crime, perhaps a crime i committed perhaps not. when I was young I was suffered through punishment a lot. There were seven of us and my head was in a cloudy dreamland so when something was wrong I was the last to know about it and hence, the last kid standing. I got the blame and I got the punishment.
The punishment was crucial to make a point. If he didn’t listen, then there would be consequences. It was that simple. That’s the way life works. His actions would cause things to happen, and not all of those reactions would be good. It was his choice to do this.
He didn’t know what to do. His parents told him that he had to pay for what he’d done, but he wasn’t sure how to pay. He made no money of his own, he had no goods, and he had no skills. In fact, as far as most of the authority figures in his life were concerned, he was of no real worth at all. The lowest scum of the earth. And now he’d gone and crossed a line that he wasn’t sure how to fix.
I have punished me many too many times ..some people really get off on punishment..gettitng off on a good way ..there is all kinds of punishements that is a very broad topic …i am usually choosing if i would like to be punished or not …it is all in my mind …there will always be outer influenced but really i am the final decider if i shall be punished or not….
Somehow humans,over the course of 1,000s of years,came to believe that punishment teaches us to do as we’re told but ,if you think about it, all it really does is squash our spirit and keep us from becoming the beautiful people that we actually are.
It´s a punishment for my soul and mind to be over it so soon. You know, I´ve learned from all these books and movies that I should be moping for at least six months, and not quit the moping out of boredom after one month and move on after two.
Cruel and unusual. This was the manner in which she exacted her punishment. What sequence of events could have triggered such vengeance? Only she knows. This is where her story begins.
Over to her right, two frat boys were talking animatedly, using their arms to add emphasis to their vivid conversation. On her left, there was a group of hipsters, looking around but not talking to each other. She wished she could get to know them like she used to, but now she had a nagging feeling that she would never see beyond their stereotypes.
The punishment for not eating a bucket pf ice cream in the land of never mind the gap, was travelling to the forest of forgiveness and taking a dive in the lake of sorrow
Standing in the corner
a thin white line
I press my nose against
the smooth cold wall
time drips
my toe pushes against a hole in my shoe
I hear the clock whisper
silence. nothing stirred. my mind is eroding. what is going on? is this some sort of divine intervention? did i do something wrong? i’m being punished. i will be isolated forever and no one will save me. no one cares. this is my punishment for being insolent and ignorant.
Resting in the moment after, I saw the color of my thoughts as they lingered in the air around her as she lay naked beside me, dreaming. Her perfume married with the spectacle of lights, enticing even the most strong-willed spirits to come through into reality to absorb her bliss.
Punishment is what happens as a consequence of one’s actions. Sometimes. Only if you’re caught… and punished.
Sometimes punishment can also be something kinky.
I wonder if this whole thing will lead to one giant punishment. If so, I hope it’s not a severe one. And I hope this entire thing we have going on will be worth it because if not, I’d rather stop right now.
The punishment our brains give us after we’ve done soemthing wrong is probably one of the worst forms of mental torture you can ever be given. Your mind just keeps coming up with hurtful things and horrible scenarios and never lets you forget the smallest mistake you make, the tiniest of social embarrassments. Or at least, that’s how it is with me.
The state of mind that I am in is like punishment. As I ponder the past and try to predict the future, agony fills my mind as I recall every single detail. Fault, blame, purpose, reality, necessity, lust, those are just a few things that cross me as I try to make sense of my actions.
She was sick of the compliments, of the insincere commentaries of her behavior. She didn’t want to be her mother’s daughter, and Poppa was almost never around ever since Jean-Claude started to visit with Mother. She didn’t want this, she thought. How could Mother do such a thing to Poppa? Doesn’t she know how it hurts?
Punishment. Something that almost everyone tries to avoid. I mean… Who really wants to be punished? It’s something that is almost inherently bad. But whether or not it is bad in and of itself, we’re taught that it is bad. Because it happens when we do bad things.
So why is punishment so important? Because it helps discipline everyone no matter their age? I don’t know. And I sure as hell don’t think that it’s something drastically important, as it is made out to be.
i get this pain in my stomachs pit, its what i get, im convinced its my punishment
for those nights, i got drunk and let go at a bar with some people i dont know.- slug.
A slap on the wrist. That’s all it was. A simple reminder at what she should keep her attentions focused towards. But oh, the dreams. She’d always run to him.
It’s what we didn’t want but we feel the hurt of it everyday. we made these choices, we can’t go back now, and what decisions were made in good conscious and right judgement have turned into feelings of anguish, of punish. we’ll make it through, but still we feel the hurt of our decisions each day.
We punish ourselves for things we cannon control. When we should be punished for things we’ve done, we don’t want to take responsibly for our actions. As a society we are punished by the choices of others but unable to punish them for their bad choices.
Having a difficult time approaching the less then kind father of time gave me the idea that sometimes all words can be deceived by a simple glance in another direction. An instance of action has no common goal to what or who it appeals to only to how it appeals.
He was writing about punishment, and she was watching him do it. This was the opposite, because it was always a joy to see his brow furrowed and his eyes on the screen. He could do things instantly. Focus. Fall Asleep. Respond.
im not very good at punishing the kids where i work. i work with mostly six year olds, who have no idea what they’re doing half the time. whenever i feel they have said something inappropriate, it’s usually because they haven’t had the experience to understand that what they said was hurtful. but when they are mean for the hell of it, i can’t tolerate that, then i crack the whip. children.
Your punishment is a time-out in the Twilight corner of your local Borders bookstore. You must stare at the posters/cardboard stands for over an hour until Kristen Stewart’s inability to act leaves you biting your own lips in an act of desperate recompense.
Don’t steal my oreos.
STRIKE!
Came the blow across her exposed buttocks, her lips clamping shut in order to prevent herself from crying out. She knew that if she cried out if would only make everything worse; she wasn’t allowed to make any noise, not when she was being reprimanded. Tears budded at her eyes and her chest swelled, constricting the small amount of oxygen she was taking in.
It was her fault, for leaving.
This was her punishment.
Punishment. I couldn’t really call it punishment, though. The way he was holding my face and whispering my name against my cheek. I supposed that some could have called it punishment, as I would never see him again. I just enjoyed the moment.
A toddler is beating his fists against the door, crying to be let out of his room. But he has been bad today. He must sit in his room and think about what he has done. He cannot have fun or play and laugh… No, he must endure this torture, because he is still learning about the unfairness and injustices of the world. But when this toddler grows up, he will do the same to his toddler. The cycle of punishment never ends.
I like punishments. I like the fact that sometimes its easy to get away and at other times its difficult. The fear of punishments is what makes life exciting. every thing is a reward and a punishment in itself.
Is something that doesn’t necessarily stop wrongdoing. It brings so much more shame than healing, in my opinion. And isn’t healing what we want? Not shame? shame breeds hate.
And somehow, I felt like I was the one being punished. Granted, I didn’t know their inner thoughts and feelings, but they were the ones making loads of hollow friends and attending big parties. I was the one stuck home alone in the rain. I was the one crying outside at night so no one would hear. I was the one cut off from everybody. And it was all because I chose to do what was right, not what was easy.
Why is this happening to me, thought Jensen tiredly. Is this some kind of punishment? For what? What in hell’s name did I ever do but be an honest man? And Who on earth unleashed those nukes? For what? Brriinng! Jensen’s eyes opened in surprise at the sound of the phone ringing. Wonder if it’s for me, he thought sheepishly.
I know what I’ve done isn’t my fault, it’s something in my head, something I can’t fix, I have no control. I hear the voices, they tell me what to do. Don’t eat, hurt yourself, kill your mom, they scream. What am I to do? I can’t help it, why am I being punished.
He sat in the gray corner of the jail cell, feeling the slimy mold run down his back as he made himself comfortable. The dank murkiness covered the whole black room like a cast shadow, covering the room with a layer of darkness. “What had I done to deserve this?” He called out.
No one answered.
Punishment for a crime, perhaps a crime i committed perhaps not. when I was young I was suffered through punishment a lot. There were seven of us and my head was in a cloudy dreamland so when something was wrong I was the last to know about it and hence, the last kid standing. I got the blame and I got the punishment.
The punishment was crucial to make a point. If he didn’t listen, then there would be consequences. It was that simple. That’s the way life works. His actions would cause things to happen, and not all of those reactions would be good. It was his choice to do this.
He didn’t know what to do. His parents told him that he had to pay for what he’d done, but he wasn’t sure how to pay. He made no money of his own, he had no goods, and he had no skills. In fact, as far as most of the authority figures in his life were concerned, he was of no real worth at all. The lowest scum of the earth. And now he’d gone and crossed a line that he wasn’t sure how to fix.
I have punished me many too many times ..some people really get off on punishment..gettitng off on a good way ..there is all kinds of punishements that is a very broad topic …i am usually choosing if i would like to be punished or not …it is all in my mind …there will always be outer influenced but really i am the final decider if i shall be punished or not….
Joe looked over to see the straight-from-Austen young man staring at the t.v. with an open mouth.
“What is this show entitled again?” asked Dunsten.
I hate punishment but sometimes it is goOd. Not all people like this treatment.
Somehow humans,over the course of 1,000s of years,came to believe that punishment teaches us to do as we’re told but ,if you think about it, all it really does is squash our spirit and keep us from becoming the beautiful people that we actually are.
It´s a punishment for my soul and mind to be over it so soon. You know, I´ve learned from all these books and movies that I should be moping for at least six months, and not quit the moping out of boredom after one month and move on after two.
Cruel and unusual. This was the manner in which she exacted her punishment. What sequence of events could have triggered such vengeance? Only she knows. This is where her story begins.
Over to her right, two frat boys were talking animatedly, using their arms to add emphasis to their vivid conversation. On her left, there was a group of hipsters, looking around but not talking to each other. She wished she could get to know them like she used to, but now she had a nagging feeling that she would never see beyond their stereotypes.
The punishment for not eating a bucket pf ice cream in the land of never mind the gap, was travelling to the forest of forgiveness and taking a dive in the lake of sorrow
Standing in the corner
a thin white line
I press my nose against
the smooth cold wall
time drips
my toe pushes against a hole in my shoe
I hear the clock whisper
silence. nothing stirred. my mind is eroding. what is going on? is this some sort of divine intervention? did i do something wrong? i’m being punished. i will be isolated forever and no one will save me. no one cares. this is my punishment for being insolent and ignorant.
Resting in the moment after, I saw the color of my thoughts as they lingered in the air around her as she lay naked beside me, dreaming. Her perfume married with the spectacle of lights, enticing even the most strong-willed spirits to come through into reality to absorb her bliss.
Punishment is what happens as a consequence of one’s actions. Sometimes. Only if you’re caught… and punished.
Sometimes punishment can also be something kinky.
what happens when people misbehave.
I wonder if this whole thing will lead to one giant punishment. If so, I hope it’s not a severe one. And I hope this entire thing we have going on will be worth it because if not, I’d rather stop right now.
The punishment our brains give us after we’ve done soemthing wrong is probably one of the worst forms of mental torture you can ever be given. Your mind just keeps coming up with hurtful things and horrible scenarios and never lets you forget the smallest mistake you make, the tiniest of social embarrassments. Or at least, that’s how it is with me.
The state of mind that I am in is like punishment. As I ponder the past and try to predict the future, agony fills my mind as I recall every single detail. Fault, blame, purpose, reality, necessity, lust, those are just a few things that cross me as I try to make sense of my actions.
there’s nothing as unpleasant as knowing that the punishment you are receiving is deserved
good boy.
done rightly you’ve wronged everyone and yourself.
go quickly to your open space and run around until you’ve blistered your feet…
She was sick of the compliments, of the insincere commentaries of her behavior. She didn’t want to be her mother’s daughter, and Poppa was almost never around ever since Jean-Claude started to visit with Mother. She didn’t want this, she thought. How could Mother do such a thing to Poppa? Doesn’t she know how it hurts?
Punishment. Something that almost everyone tries to avoid. I mean… Who really wants to be punished? It’s something that is almost inherently bad. But whether or not it is bad in and of itself, we’re taught that it is bad. Because it happens when we do bad things.
So why is punishment so important? Because it helps discipline everyone no matter their age? I don’t know. And I sure as hell don’t think that it’s something drastically important, as it is made out to be.
i get this pain in my stomachs pit, its what i get, im convinced its my punishment
for those nights, i got drunk and let go at a bar with some people i dont know.- slug.
A slap on the wrist. That’s all it was. A simple reminder at what she should keep her attentions focused towards. But oh, the dreams. She’d always run to him.
It’s what we didn’t want but we feel the hurt of it everyday. we made these choices, we can’t go back now, and what decisions were made in good conscious and right judgement have turned into feelings of anguish, of punish. we’ll make it through, but still we feel the hurt of our decisions each day.
We punish ourselves for things we cannon control. When we should be punished for things we’ve done, we don’t want to take responsibly for our actions. As a society we are punished by the choices of others but unable to punish them for their bad choices.
Having a difficult time approaching the less then kind father of time gave me the idea that sometimes all words can be deceived by a simple glance in another direction. An instance of action has no common goal to what or who it appeals to only to how it appeals.
He was writing about punishment, and she was watching him do it. This was the opposite, because it was always a joy to see his brow furrowed and his eyes on the screen. He could do things instantly. Focus. Fall Asleep. Respond.