The timing of this is all off. When we talk about timing, we have to talk about preparation. I know I’m not prepared for this. This is the restlessness you feel at night and the kind of silence that makes you shiver. The timing of this is all off.
Oh timing is everything. Asking for more money at work, asking for less hours, trying to keep the house clean, trying to just get you life together. Timing. So difficult to get right – there is so little time anyway! The time is now to make some decisions. So I guess I better do that.
was it just my gracelessness that made way for your leave?
or was it everything presented on the table, like a feast for a king.
too many questions, tainting our stance.
and I’m tired all the time, who will take the blame?
you were one of my best friends, and then it was ripped away like a violent tide.
and maybe its the form that escapes me now;
it absconds with my heart, and hitches my walls to its tow,
and I am here, like an tooth without veneer.
you used to ebb and flow with me, but now, i think of you in passing, windy thoughts.
maybe it was all of my poems with inconsistent rhyming?
or maybe it was just my fortune, and all of its chthonic timing.
timing is all; its the very essence of life.
A watch’s hands are omnivorous magets clawing for
inimical door knobs where ears suckle against wooden barriers.
Debride from looking at the watch’s slow, yet fast paced movements
glare back around at how a watch, watches you!
Through the wet lenses of my glasses, I watched him pull open his blue umbrella.
“You’re going to get wet standing out here like that.”
I pulled an awkward but grateful smile. “You have excellent timing.”
My timing was perfect. I had worked hard to get ready on-time and be here when I was supposed to. It was exactly 7:00, when I was told to arrive. The only thing that ruined my happiness and pride was the fact that nobody was there. The door was locked and the lights were off. I wasn’t sure what to do. Go back home? But, what if someone else came and found the same thing? Or what if my manager arrived later, thinking that no one would arrive at exactly 7:00? I stood there puzzling until I finally decided to leave. I would call my manager later to clarify. I just hated to think that my hard work all went to waste.
The world had been a difference place when he was smaller. Cars had been big, rumbling monsters of a machine; music came through now-vintage records or the local diner’s jukebox. Clothes actually covered your skin; the collars were always upright and suits were a near necessity.
He watched as his youngest daughter giggled at her older brother’s music.
It was all just timing, he supposed.
The world had been a difference place when he was smaller. Cars had been big, rumbling monsters of a machine; music came through now-vintage records or the local diner’s jukebox. Clothes actually covered your skin; the collars were alrights upright and suits were a near necessity.
He watched as his youngest daughter giggled at her older brother’s music.
It was all just timing, he supposed.
She closed her eyes. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.” She opened them. She didn’t feel better. She counted again. And again. And somehow in the midst of counting she lost track of the number of times she had tried this method to get over it.
Timing can be everything, it can be perfect or disastrously wrong. It can be irrelevant. There is never a right time for some things: Having children, getting a dog, starting a new job. Some things seem to be in pre-destined timing way out of your control.
The funny thing about serendipity is that you never see it coming. It is as if you are walking around to corner and as you turn, you run right in to it. It slams into you like ice to the face.
One thing I know for sure: My timing is not God’s timing. That story, though, is for another time. Looking back, I was never good at keeping time. When playing piano, I wanted to follow my own rhythm–not my mother’s, not my piano teacher’s, not the stupid metronome’s. I am not the Keeper of Time. I’m always rebelling against it.
The timing was all wrong. I saw the car, it looked so far away I thought I could make it across the road. Turns out I was wrong the car was a lot closer than I thought it was. Thank goodness I didn’t actually cross the road I thought as I popped back into reality.
the timing was great. it was a perfect chance for me to ask her to marry her. I hope she will say yes. i picked out the perfect ring for her, i know she would love it. im so ready for it but is she?
Everything in life is about timing. Whether it’s good or bad timing, your life still consists of it. Whether it’s timing yourself for a speech or finding the time to do the other five crazy homework assignments your teachers give you.
Well, it’s everything. As I learned the other day down at the deli. I’m standing there waiting for a sandwich (can’t remember what kind now) when a man wearing a ski mask walks in and tells us all to get down on the floor. This is an easy thing for a lot of people, but I have a bad back and if you want me on the floor, you’re going to have to wait for it. So there I am, trying to get my ass (or some part of my anatomy) down on the floor, when this guy starts yelling at me that if I don’t get on the floor in the next 3 seconds, I’m dead. Let me tell you, he picked the perfect time to say that; don’t ask me why it set me off, but at this point, I’d had enough of doctors and bullshit and pills and trying to get back to a normal life. So I yelled back at the SOB. “Look, you motherfucker, (first time I’ve ever said that word, maybe the second) I’m getting my sore ass and aching back on this floor as fast as this body will let me, do you get that? I’ve been to a hundred doctors and taken a shitload of pills, but none of that is helping me get to where you think you need me to get right now, okay? So you want to shoot my ass, go ahead. You’re doing me a favor. What does he say to that? “I got a bad back myself.” Then he took our money and left. And it took me about half an hour to get my sorry ass up off the deli floor. How about that for timing?
That’s what I need; a schedule. If I could just learn to squeeze the minutes. I mean, there are so many of them. It’s a shame to waste them. Line it all up, and then knock it down. No more wasted time. Start the day off properly. First the OneWord entry, and then we go run.
Timing is everything, without the proper timing your heartbeat would kill you, your car engine would shoot pistons all over the landscape and the jokes you tell would fall flat, although truth be told my jokes always have that problem
So much of what we achieve depends on timing. Successful people don’t give a lot of importance to it. Self-aware successful people, however, do. Timing is the basis for failure or success for a large number of startups. Timing is what differentiates a good joke from a bad one.
I’m absolutely exhausted this morning, so I suppose you could say the timing of this prompt is pretty poor. You could also say my timing is pretty poor too, since I’m the one who stayed up late. Although there’s not much else to say, I’m gonna keep typing because these prompts are always a good way to wake my brain up in the mornings.
“Honestly, kid,” Seth murmured, checking the thermometer. “You have the worst timing.”
Takumi groaned, burrowed deeper into his blankets and coughing wetly.
Between how many frames does it determine or begin? Again or with contempt for its place before the preferred? I can’t all over know which is best or if I reclaim much of a moment and smell its meaning detached.
timing is the Game.. it matters a lot when you are to make an impact.. if you loose the moment, its not coming back.. wait it sounds like opportunity.. don’t miss it, go for it.. get it
it can never be perfect, grab it when its still there
The timing was all wrong, and had been for her entire life. When she was most involved in the relationship and she loved him the most, he turned a cold should. When she finally got married and moved away, he called her every night to cry about how she left him. When she had gotten divorced and had returned to her home town with her two children, he was now married and after a tearful reunion in a coffee shop, he told her he couldn’t leave his wife.
“It’s all about timing though, isn’t it?”
She said this to me as we lie together in bed.
Her smiling. Me, looking away.
I couldn’t believe what we’d just done.
Yesterday I wouldn’t have believed there was ever an appropriate time for this.
Now.
I’m not so sure.
I turned back toward her and returned the smile.
No. It couldn’t be. The timing was too perfect. Way too perfect. I stood frozen with my beer growing warm in my clammy hand. Sylvain walked over to us in a short red dress and a heavy chain of pearls around her neck. She smiled a scarlet smile.
“Heya, tootsie roll pop,” she crooned. “Miss me?”
“You, maybe,” Chester grinned, “but not that nickname.”
glitching can take proper timing
timing is a word with a meaning like other words and a perspet
The timing that those two cars smashed into each other was insane
The timing of this is all off. When we talk about timing, we have to talk about preparation. I know I’m not prepared for this. This is the restlessness you feel at night and the kind of silence that makes you shiver. The timing of this is all off.
Oh timing is everything. Asking for more money at work, asking for less hours, trying to keep the house clean, trying to just get you life together. Timing. So difficult to get right – there is so little time anyway! The time is now to make some decisions. So I guess I better do that.
the timing was perfect the setting was great so i saw him get down on one knee and then say the magical words will you marry me!!!
we have to get the timing right we have to get there before him!!!! And if not th we lose!!!
he got the timing right he arrived at the same time we did perfect timing we said at the same time!!!!
his shot release timing was perfect and it lit up green on nba 2k16 and the perfect shot timing went in!!!!
was it just my gracelessness that made way for your leave?
or was it everything presented on the table, like a feast for a king.
too many questions, tainting our stance.
and I’m tired all the time, who will take the blame?
you were one of my best friends, and then it was ripped away like a violent tide.
and maybe its the form that escapes me now;
it absconds with my heart, and hitches my walls to its tow,
and I am here, like an tooth without veneer.
you used to ebb and flow with me, but now, i think of you in passing, windy thoughts.
maybe it was all of my poems with inconsistent rhyming?
or maybe it was just my fortune, and all of its chthonic timing.
timing is all; its the very essence of life.
A watch’s hands are omnivorous magets clawing for
inimical door knobs where ears suckle against wooden barriers.
Debride from looking at the watch’s slow, yet fast paced movements
glare back around at how a watch, watches you!
Through the wet lenses of my glasses, I watched him pull open his blue umbrella.
“You’re going to get wet standing out here like that.”
I pulled an awkward but grateful smile. “You have excellent timing.”
My timing was perfect. I had worked hard to get ready on-time and be here when I was supposed to. It was exactly 7:00, when I was told to arrive. The only thing that ruined my happiness and pride was the fact that nobody was there. The door was locked and the lights were off. I wasn’t sure what to do. Go back home? But, what if someone else came and found the same thing? Or what if my manager arrived later, thinking that no one would arrive at exactly 7:00? I stood there puzzling until I finally decided to leave. I would call my manager later to clarify. I just hated to think that my hard work all went to waste.
The world had been a difference place when he was smaller. Cars had been big, rumbling monsters of a machine; music came through now-vintage records or the local diner’s jukebox. Clothes actually covered your skin; the collars were always upright and suits were a near necessity.
He watched as his youngest daughter giggled at her older brother’s music.
It was all just timing, he supposed.
(typos are killer, fff)
The world had been a difference place when he was smaller. Cars had been big, rumbling monsters of a machine; music came through now-vintage records or the local diner’s jukebox. Clothes actually covered your skin; the collars were alrights upright and suits were a near necessity.
He watched as his youngest daughter giggled at her older brother’s music.
It was all just timing, he supposed.
She closed her eyes. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.” She opened them. She didn’t feel better. She counted again. And again. And somehow in the midst of counting she lost track of the number of times she had tried this method to get over it.
Timing can be everything, it can be perfect or disastrously wrong. It can be irrelevant. There is never a right time for some things: Having children, getting a dog, starting a new job. Some things seem to be in pre-destined timing way out of your control.
I am timing myself to see how many hot dogs I can eat in one minute.
“Perfect timing!” cries X. She launches herself into Y’s arms. “You’re amazing. How did you know?”
Y stares at her blankly. What is it that I’m supposed to know? He wonders.
timing is a word with a meaning and a perspective and a wonderful meanin
The funny thing about serendipity is that you never see it coming. It is as if you are walking around to corner and as you turn, you run right in to it. It slams into you like ice to the face.
the choice, judgment, or control of when something should be done.
One thing I know for sure: My timing is not God’s timing. That story, though, is for another time. Looking back, I was never good at keeping time. When playing piano, I wanted to follow my own rhythm–not my mother’s, not my piano teacher’s, not the stupid metronome’s. I am not the Keeper of Time. I’m always rebelling against it.
The timing was all wrong. I saw the car, it looked so far away I thought I could make it across the road. Turns out I was wrong the car was a lot closer than I thought it was. Thank goodness I didn’t actually cross the road I thought as I popped back into reality.
the timing was great. it was a perfect chance for me to ask her to marry her. I hope she will say yes. i picked out the perfect ring for her, i know she would love it. im so ready for it but is she?
Everything in life is about timing. Whether it’s good or bad timing, your life still consists of it. Whether it’s timing yourself for a speech or finding the time to do the other five crazy homework assignments your teachers give you.
Timing. Time doesn’t exist. Nothing is on time then. Timing doesn’t exist either. Hours and minutes are just numbers through the air. Air of nothing.
School days are best with precise timing in the morning none of this chatting to a friend on the phone. As I found out this morning late.
Well, it’s everything. As I learned the other day down at the deli. I’m standing there waiting for a sandwich (can’t remember what kind now) when a man wearing a ski mask walks in and tells us all to get down on the floor. This is an easy thing for a lot of people, but I have a bad back and if you want me on the floor, you’re going to have to wait for it. So there I am, trying to get my ass (or some part of my anatomy) down on the floor, when this guy starts yelling at me that if I don’t get on the floor in the next 3 seconds, I’m dead. Let me tell you, he picked the perfect time to say that; don’t ask me why it set me off, but at this point, I’d had enough of doctors and bullshit and pills and trying to get back to a normal life. So I yelled back at the SOB. “Look, you motherfucker, (first time I’ve ever said that word, maybe the second) I’m getting my sore ass and aching back on this floor as fast as this body will let me, do you get that? I’ve been to a hundred doctors and taken a shitload of pills, but none of that is helping me get to where you think you need me to get right now, okay? So you want to shoot my ass, go ahead. You’re doing me a favor. What does he say to that? “I got a bad back myself.” Then he took our money and left. And it took me about half an hour to get my sorry ass up off the deli floor. How about that for timing?
That’s what I need; a schedule. If I could just learn to squeeze the minutes. I mean, there are so many of them. It’s a shame to waste them. Line it all up, and then knock it down. No more wasted time. Start the day off properly. First the OneWord entry, and then we go run.
Timing is everything, without the proper timing your heartbeat would kill you, your car engine would shoot pistons all over the landscape and the jokes you tell would fall flat, although truth be told my jokes always have that problem
So much of what we achieve depends on timing. Successful people don’t give a lot of importance to it. Self-aware successful people, however, do. Timing is the basis for failure or success for a large number of startups. Timing is what differentiates a good joke from a bad one.
Timing was everything. It wasn’t enough that I desired him, and he desired me. He was in a different city and I focused on my career.
Sometimes love is just not enough.
I’m absolutely exhausted this morning, so I suppose you could say the timing of this prompt is pretty poor. You could also say my timing is pretty poor too, since I’m the one who stayed up late. Although there’s not much else to say, I’m gonna keep typing because these prompts are always a good way to wake my brain up in the mornings.
“Honestly, kid,” Seth murmured, checking the thermometer. “You have the worst timing.”
Takumi groaned, burrowed deeper into his blankets and coughing wetly.
Between how many frames does it determine or begin? Again or with contempt for its place before the preferred? I can’t all over know which is best or if I reclaim much of a moment and smell its meaning detached.
timing is the Game.. it matters a lot when you are to make an impact.. if you loose the moment, its not coming back.. wait it sounds like opportunity.. don’t miss it, go for it.. get it
it can never be perfect, grab it when its still there
The timing was all wrong, and had been for her entire life. When she was most involved in the relationship and she loved him the most, he turned a cold should. When she finally got married and moved away, he called her every night to cry about how she left him. When she had gotten divorced and had returned to her home town with her two children, he was now married and after a tearful reunion in a coffee shop, he told her he couldn’t leave his wife.
And so it went through the years.
“It’s all about timing though, isn’t it?”
She said this to me as we lie together in bed.
Her smiling. Me, looking away.
I couldn’t believe what we’d just done.
Yesterday I wouldn’t have believed there was ever an appropriate time for this.
Now.
I’m not so sure.
I turned back toward her and returned the smile.
“Hey, is that Sylvain?”
No. It couldn’t be. The timing was too perfect. Way too perfect. I stood frozen with my beer growing warm in my clammy hand. Sylvain walked over to us in a short red dress and a heavy chain of pearls around her neck. She smiled a scarlet smile.
“Heya, tootsie roll pop,” she crooned. “Miss me?”
“You, maybe,” Chester grinned, “but not that nickname.”