You told me that because my nails were bitten and my hair was too short no one would ever love me. I remember that I spent all summer dipping my fingertips in lemon juice, and wrapping them in bandages. I remember how much money I spent on hair care products. I don’t think you ever noticed a thing. So when my hair grew out I cut it all off, and snapped each one of my fingernails off.
rating is like ranting? everybody pretends they hate it but secretly they love it. I rate you. you rate me. Oh for fucks sake lets be gone with this! I don’t want to rate you out of 10! I don’t understand the system of 10/10 rating. Rating is rats.
Seems to me all our decisions are based on what others think of things. Rate the food, rate the service, rate the room, rate the tits, rate them in bed. What if I enjoy shitty food and shitty service? What if sex is something that is completely different for me and that I cannot accept your ratings?
Sometimes all we care about is the rating. We want to be appreciated, considered and rated. We all want criticism but then only want compliments. Hypocrite much? Sad reality.
the movie was awful and got a really bad review. i knew i shouldn’t have seen it because the critics said it was bad, but my girlfriend wanted to see it so I said we would go. So much for a good valentines day. She had a nice one but mine was ruined by this terrible movie. Maybe next year valentines day will be better.
(I can’t believe I’m writing this this way)
Ratings.
Movie ratings, show ratings. They’re numbers that show how popular something is. And I’m desperate and a failure. Kthxbai
I rate her a 4. She is simple and plain, with not many words. She doesn’t greet you with a smile instead she sits with her arms folded looking at the ground. She does not look up. She is me.
Once great, I was. Whispered praises sounded through the streets. I was the top. They pulled me up like a a god. And a statue I became for their prying eyes, looking and looking for something wrong. Out of place, not quite right. But they’d never know, I willed, because they didn’t truly want to know. Inside I was twisted, all coils and springs. Oil and gases. I was on top, rated number one. But, slowly, ever so slowly, like a water to stone, I fell and became what I tried to hid.
Everywhere, it clung to the wood, the dolls, the books, the clothes. I scrubbed away with tissues, a useless solvent to a vast problem. Two a.m. But I still reached for every corner, every cobweb, to remind the house that I wasn’t dead, that I wasn’t downgrading the rating of the room that rocked me to technicolor dreams before my innocence ripped off like a soggy band-aid.
They lined up as stagnant, yet poised, as paper in a wind. The sulphuric odour, the putrid eyes and the bleeding wrinkled hands. Iron fangs sank into their ankles and wrists and flat, wooden babes hung from their necks like string, all bearing the same word: Slave.
John observed the rating stats and i could almost feel his heart sinking. He had lived his life for that show. He had suffered, avoided sleep, cried himself out of everything to finish that program. Yet it just didn’t work.
And it happens.
Things sometimes look magnificent and awesomely possible from some points of view.
But maybe when you actually look at them…
they just don’t work.
There are days when all he can think about are the confines of his house. Like it’s an aquarium, and he is just a dead fish, floating insignificant and belly-up at the top of the murky water. His parents are on the outside, a distorted babble of angry voices and loud, urgent thumps–the sound of eager fingers on a tank.
He’s tired. If he could, he’d lay all day long on his bed. He’d drown in the sheets and never have to worry about coming up for air again. He’s tired of having to hide when they fight. He’s tired of all the fighting and paperwork, the choice of whom he’d rather have as parent. He’d like to launch his bed out to sea and simply drift away into peaceful oblivion.
That is what it always is. Just a rating of who is popular. Who is slutty. A rating where people either make it or they don’t. One where they are hot or they aren’t. It is where little girls dreams are crushed and little boys just aren’t good enough.
the ratings go up and my insecurity increases. with every step i take i wonder who all will see. the moments collide and i crash. the ratings they dive. rating looks. rating colors. rating hairstyles. rating everything from tip to top. when will this motion be carried. when will the ratings and judgements stop.
I had higher ratings for Noah. But as Kasen drew closer, and he placed his hand on the back of my neck, something between us vibrated. A sensation neither of us could have explained. His lips were so close to mine, and in the dark, he whispered two, sweet words.
“Kiss me.”
Every part of me screamed yes and yet I yelled back no. But our lips connected, like a plug into a socket. My decision was sealed. Noah was out of the picture. Kasen was the main priority.
average.
Do you feel average now?
“I hope so,” said the insecure teenager.
“I hope not,” said the college student padding her resume.
“It really doesn’t matter,” said the true adult.
Rating isn’t entirely fair. I have noticed that I always seem to like things with bad ratings. Including girls. I think it’s cruel to rate a human being. I think all of you 3’s are beautiful. I accidentally pushed back and I guess I get another 60 seconds…I don’t know what to do with it.
rating one two three, four stars, three hollow, rate, base rate, basedow six minute abs, forty-nine fifty, rate, cheap rent, an envelope with no postage, that’s on you, all on you, with handwritten names.
Rating isn’t entirely fair. I have noticed that I always seem to like things with bad ratings. Including girls. I think it’s cruel to rate a human being. I think all of you 3’s are beautiful. I guess that is all. Yeah.
What does it mean to rate? Well, there are many ratings. Ratings for restaurants, places, movies, universities, etc. It is all about giving a grade to something, or stars, based on how much we like it or think it is great. Sometimes rating is pretty inaccurate and makes people get wrong ideas so don’t let yourself be guided so much by these.
I will never be the kind that draws your eyes in the street
Never the kind of girl whose mere stare feels like heat
Who manages to enchant you even when she’s fast asleep
Steals your heart in seconds; now it’s hers to keep.
ratings are everywhere. what was meant first as a mean to locate and place objects within a scale has now become a means to not only rate objects but humas beings as well. I guess that’s why from time to time I still think of myself as a the fat girl who will never be loved.
The ratings were huge. Astronomical, golden. They would never have to worry about filling the houses again, about empty blackness yawning at them on Friday nights and cleaning up at eleven to drink the money they didn’t have away in the costumes they made themselves at the bar where everyone knew them and how badly they were failing.
People rate each other all the time in their minds. They compare themselves to the people around them to make themselves feel better. If they feel fat, they will make sure to notice someone fatter than them so that their rating of their own weight goes down. They know it doesn’t matter and yet they focus so much on making themselves feel acceptable.
There was a system of rating each performer, based on their appearance and the customer’s comments. None of the girls knew this though, they only thought they were serving coffee.
The film’s rating wasn’t what bothered her, she’d seen plenty of x rated films. It was the fact that he actually thought it was ok to see that kind of film on their first date.
I stared in disbelief at the rating she gave me. How dare she value me at such a low rating! I wanted to yell, I wanted to scream. I can’t deal with this kind of stress. This rating is going to make or break how others will see me.
the rate at which people fall in love varies from person to person. Some people all at once. Some people, over a long period of time. But what is the rate at which someone has fallen in love with me? certainly not all at once. Possibly over a period of time. A long period of time. I believe for some reason, that the rate at which someone could fall in love with me doesn’t really exist. There is no rate because i was not created to share my life with someone. I was made to help others know how much they are able to be fallen in love with. I fall in love with their shine. The way they read a sentence. They way their breath tangles with the scent of coffee and books, and the way their eyes glisten when they talk about the one they themselves fallen in love with. I fall in love with the rate at which they fall in love with themselves and others.
What’s your rating? On a scale from 1-10, 50-100? Are 11 out of 10? Or -2 out of 3? Are you extremely good, or extremely bad? Everyone has a rating. What’s yours?
All I can think of is financing. All those rating agencies that look at the budget of States and companies to see how you could rate them internationally to then evaluate how they stand compared to their competition. Rating is also about competing against each other and getting better ratings. Whatever you associate with it it has kind of a bad connotation as it is combined with pressure and thus limits you.
tv stars. magazines. where do we fall, in the grand scheme of things? am i better or worse than everybody or nobody? who is doing the rating? you. me. i rate you and put you somewhere I think you belong. i might be right, people might agree with me, but they might not. and they might put you somewhere else. and that’s okay. nobody has to follow anyone else’s rating, we can all do it for ourselves. but you could choose to follow, and that’s okay too. it takes too much work to think about everything’s rating by yourself anyway.
You told me that because my nails were bitten and my hair was too short no one would ever love me. I remember that I spent all summer dipping my fingertips in lemon juice, and wrapping them in bandages. I remember how much money I spent on hair care products. I don’t think you ever noticed a thing. So when my hair grew out I cut it all off, and snapped each one of my fingernails off.
rating is like ranting? everybody pretends they hate it but secretly they love it. I rate you. you rate me. Oh for fucks sake lets be gone with this! I don’t want to rate you out of 10! I don’t understand the system of 10/10 rating. Rating is rats.
Seems to me all our decisions are based on what others think of things. Rate the food, rate the service, rate the room, rate the tits, rate them in bed. What if I enjoy shitty food and shitty service? What if sex is something that is completely different for me and that I cannot accept your ratings?
A word I often apply to cities.
Thought about something I wrote a long time ago. Wonder if it still holds true.
Sometimes all we care about is the rating. We want to be appreciated, considered and rated. We all want criticism but then only want compliments. Hypocrite much? Sad reality.
the movie was awful and got a really bad review. i knew i shouldn’t have seen it because the critics said it was bad, but my girlfriend wanted to see it so I said we would go. So much for a good valentines day. She had a nice one but mine was ruined by this terrible movie. Maybe next year valentines day will be better.
If you asked me to rate my happiness on a scale from one to ten
you’d have to clarify on which specific time of the day
(I can’t believe I’m writing this this way)
Ratings.
Movie ratings, show ratings. They’re numbers that show how popular something is. And I’m desperate and a failure. Kthxbai
I rate her a 4. She is simple and plain, with not many words. She doesn’t greet you with a smile instead she sits with her arms folded looking at the ground. She does not look up. She is me.
Once great, I was. Whispered praises sounded through the streets. I was the top. They pulled me up like a a god. And a statue I became for their prying eyes, looking and looking for something wrong. Out of place, not quite right. But they’d never know, I willed, because they didn’t truly want to know. Inside I was twisted, all coils and springs. Oil and gases. I was on top, rated number one. But, slowly, ever so slowly, like a water to stone, I fell and became what I tried to hid.
Dust.
Everywhere, it clung to the wood, the dolls, the books, the clothes. I scrubbed away with tissues, a useless solvent to a vast problem. Two a.m. But I still reached for every corner, every cobweb, to remind the house that I wasn’t dead, that I wasn’t downgrading the rating of the room that rocked me to technicolor dreams before my innocence ripped off like a soggy band-aid.
They lined up as stagnant, yet poised, as paper in a wind. The sulphuric odour, the putrid eyes and the bleeding wrinkled hands. Iron fangs sank into their ankles and wrists and flat, wooden babes hung from their necks like string, all bearing the same word: Slave.
John observed the rating stats and i could almost feel his heart sinking. He had lived his life for that show. He had suffered, avoided sleep, cried himself out of everything to finish that program. Yet it just didn’t work.
And it happens.
Things sometimes look magnificent and awesomely possible from some points of view.
But maybe when you actually look at them…
they just don’t work.
There are days when all he can think about are the confines of his house. Like it’s an aquarium, and he is just a dead fish, floating insignificant and belly-up at the top of the murky water. His parents are on the outside, a distorted babble of angry voices and loud, urgent thumps–the sound of eager fingers on a tank.
He’s tired. If he could, he’d lay all day long on his bed. He’d drown in the sheets and never have to worry about coming up for air again. He’s tired of having to hide when they fight. He’s tired of all the fighting and paperwork, the choice of whom he’d rather have as parent. He’d like to launch his bed out to sea and simply drift away into peaceful oblivion.
Do you prescribe to rating at first sight? Aim for love or hate? Or you prefer to get to know someone first before you hate or love them? Both?
That is what it always is. Just a rating of who is popular. Who is slutty. A rating where people either make it or they don’t. One where they are hot or they aren’t. It is where little girls dreams are crushed and little boys just aren’t good enough.
the ratings go up and my insecurity increases. with every step i take i wonder who all will see. the moments collide and i crash. the ratings they dive. rating looks. rating colors. rating hairstyles. rating everything from tip to top. when will this motion be carried. when will the ratings and judgements stop.
I had higher ratings for Noah. But as Kasen drew closer, and he placed his hand on the back of my neck, something between us vibrated. A sensation neither of us could have explained. His lips were so close to mine, and in the dark, he whispered two, sweet words.
“Kiss me.”
Every part of me screamed yes and yet I yelled back no. But our lips connected, like a plug into a socket. My decision was sealed. Noah was out of the picture. Kasen was the main priority.
average.
Do you feel average now?
“I hope so,” said the insecure teenager.
“I hope not,” said the college student padding her resume.
“It really doesn’t matter,” said the true adult.
Music. How do you rate it, when it’s so subjective? Everyone likes something different, in some way.
Rating isn’t entirely fair. I have noticed that I always seem to like things with bad ratings. Including girls. I think it’s cruel to rate a human being. I think all of you 3’s are beautiful. I accidentally pushed back and I guess I get another 60 seconds…I don’t know what to do with it.
rating one two three, four stars, three hollow, rate, base rate, basedow six minute abs, forty-nine fifty, rate, cheap rent, an envelope with no postage, that’s on you, all on you, with handwritten names.
Rating isn’t entirely fair. I have noticed that I always seem to like things with bad ratings. Including girls. I think it’s cruel to rate a human being. I think all of you 3’s are beautiful. I guess that is all. Yeah.
What does it mean to rate? Well, there are many ratings. Ratings for restaurants, places, movies, universities, etc. It is all about giving a grade to something, or stars, based on how much we like it or think it is great. Sometimes rating is pretty inaccurate and makes people get wrong ideas so don’t let yourself be guided so much by these.
I will never be the kind that draws your eyes in the street
Never the kind of girl whose mere stare feels like heat
Who manages to enchant you even when she’s fast asleep
Steals your heart in seconds; now it’s hers to keep.
ratings are everywhere. what was meant first as a mean to locate and place objects within a scale has now become a means to not only rate objects but humas beings as well. I guess that’s why from time to time I still think of myself as a the fat girl who will never be loved.
The ratings were huge. Astronomical, golden. They would never have to worry about filling the houses again, about empty blackness yawning at them on Friday nights and cleaning up at eleven to drink the money they didn’t have away in the costumes they made themselves at the bar where everyone knew them and how badly they were failing.
People rate each other all the time in their minds. They compare themselves to the people around them to make themselves feel better. If they feel fat, they will make sure to notice someone fatter than them so that their rating of their own weight goes down. They know it doesn’t matter and yet they focus so much on making themselves feel acceptable.
One world is the the world that we live in, we love and we belong. With the variety externally, there is consistency within.
There was a system of rating each performer, based on their appearance and the customer’s comments. None of the girls knew this though, they only thought they were serving coffee.
The film’s rating wasn’t what bothered her, she’d seen plenty of x rated films. It was the fact that he actually thought it was ok to see that kind of film on their first date.
who are you to judge?
a sliding scale?
just give me a simple answer from 1 to 10
we’ll see if I accept your rating then
I stared in disbelief at the rating she gave me. How dare she value me at such a low rating! I wanted to yell, I wanted to scream. I can’t deal with this kind of stress. This rating is going to make or break how others will see me.
the rate at which people fall in love varies from person to person. Some people all at once. Some people, over a long period of time. But what is the rate at which someone has fallen in love with me? certainly not all at once. Possibly over a period of time. A long period of time. I believe for some reason, that the rate at which someone could fall in love with me doesn’t really exist. There is no rate because i was not created to share my life with someone. I was made to help others know how much they are able to be fallen in love with. I fall in love with their shine. The way they read a sentence. They way their breath tangles with the scent of coffee and books, and the way their eyes glisten when they talk about the one they themselves fallen in love with. I fall in love with the rate at which they fall in love with themselves and others.
What’s your rating? On a scale from 1-10, 50-100? Are 11 out of 10? Or -2 out of 3? Are you extremely good, or extremely bad? Everyone has a rating. What’s yours?
Boo hoo,
what do I do,
life’s a 2.
All I can think of is financing. All those rating agencies that look at the budget of States and companies to see how you could rate them internationally to then evaluate how they stand compared to their competition. Rating is also about competing against each other and getting better ratings. Whatever you associate with it it has kind of a bad connotation as it is combined with pressure and thus limits you.
She holds up her sign and the corners of her lips turn down.
Okay thanks.
“What rating did they give your movie?”
Theodore puffed out vapor from his electronic cigarette and sighed. “R.”
“Not PG-13?”
“Too much gore, they said.”
“No kidding.” I passed him a glass of wine. “So much for the marketing scheme.”
“I’m fighting it, though. All the way up to the top. What’s a little decapitation gonna do to hurt the boys, huh?”
I wasn’t going to dignify his comments for a response. I was just there for the chit-chat.
tv stars. magazines. where do we fall, in the grand scheme of things? am i better or worse than everybody or nobody? who is doing the rating? you. me. i rate you and put you somewhere I think you belong. i might be right, people might agree with me, but they might not. and they might put you somewhere else. and that’s okay. nobody has to follow anyone else’s rating, we can all do it for ourselves. but you could choose to follow, and that’s okay too. it takes too much work to think about everything’s rating by yourself anyway.