The full spectrum of the situation cannot be understood by reading the outward dynamic alone. She looked at her pea coat. This must be what caused the whole thing. This stupid thrift store coat.
The longer I live, the more I realize that there are no absolutes. There are only spectrums. What does it mean to be a “real” man? That it could be just one thing is utter packaged bullshit. Instead, there is a spectrum, which accounts for, you know, individuality – that thing that so many people claim to be a fan of, that also simultaneously terrifies them.
There were just so many– all shapes, sizes, and colors. It was a sliding-scale of beauty, from the darkest to lightest, largest to smallest. Her eyes could barely take in the different spirits dancing around her, creatures of ethereal beauty, twirling and leaping on two legs thin and reedy yet strong.
The rain shone down on her windowsill, making a spectrum of colors dance at the foot of her bed. Time flowed on effortlessly and without thinking, the day passed. The rainbow sat on her lap, impatient. She merely smiled at it, knowing life would go one without her, but she was still a color in the world’s rainbow.
The spectrum of calm to anxious spans a vast amount of space, each bookended by a zone where nothing gets accomplished. Too calm and you have no sense of urgency, and too anxious you are frozen, unable to act.
it’s fun to see the whole color spectrum through a prism or a raindrop. It’s even more fun to see the wonder in your child’s eyes as they see these things for the first time. I almost hate explaining the science because it takes away the magic. And there’s not enough magic and wonder in the world.
I take a step back and try to see things from a broader spectrum. Am I in the wrong? Is it everybody else that has it wrong? What if everyone is wrong. And there really is no right. And we all live our lives according to different beliefs, different gods, different
the rainbow and its infinite possibilities
your eyes and your smile but your heart doesn’t belong to me
and neither do I belong here
Not with you,
not this time.
Maybe in another spectrum, another dimension, another space,
I’ll drive you as crazy as you drive me
The wide variety of faces and voices began to blur together in one indiscriminate bundle of chaos. There were too many of them. How was she supposed to remember it all?
She took a deep breath and stepped out of the kitchen for some air. The sticky floors of the restaurant followed her on the soles of her shoes. Always walking on the filth, even when she was gone.
the spectrum of money is a wide one
but we must narrow it down
without a frown
or a stroke in grief
its merely a game of ambitions–every
pawn, every eye-glint eggs on your interest
but, your own gushing soul that swirls in your heart
knows what glints to follow!
She pulled off her top and suddenly they were in his face. His mouth went dry and then his hands were palming them. They were soft, and nothing like those of his boyfriend. But he liked them. Not more, not less, but just the same. “Huh,” he laughed. “What?” she asked. “I guess I’m not totally gay?” he said in wonder. She smirked. “Only a halfway, then.”
A band of colors, as seen in a rainbow, produced by separation of the components of light by their different degrees of refraction according to wavelength.
The colors found their way into my skin. Piercing. Flowing. Dancing. The world took these colors, grasping all she could, and spread their beauty into the ground, soil, rivers, streams. Into the places that only the smallest creatures, the tiniest minds, could comprehend. And this spectrum of color absorbed any emotion that the Earth could offer.
She is standing there in front of the room, lined up with 6 or 7 of the other kids in class, and all of them, she thinks right now, are probably a lot smarter than she is. She wonders what word they’ll ask her to spell, and suddenly, she feels like she can’t breathe too good. Remember the last time, she thinks. It was such an easy work. An easy, stupid word. Laboratory. And if she’d just spelled that one word right, she would’ve won the spelling bee and the prize as the best speller in the whole 5th grade. What was the word going to be this time? And then they said to spell it. And she could feel see the trophy already, sitting up on the desk in her room, shiny, perfect. She took a deep breath. “Spectrum. S-P-E-C-T–uh, uh,–R-U-M. And that was when she learned that just because you lose sometimes, and just because even people in your own family don’t think you’re so smart, and just because other people are smarter than you too, that doesn’t mean that you can’t have a day as good and beautiful as this.
my therapist says that sexuality is a spectrum, and i fall right in the middle of it. mom says that she’s full of bullshit and that i shouldn’t go to her anymore because she’s a crazy liberal who’s going to send me to hell.
Where do I fit on the spectrum? That’s something I’ve considered a lot recently as my new diagnosis registers. High functioning? Moderate? Needing help? Who even wants to be on a spectrum?
“Don’t you go scientifical on me.”
“Scientific.”
“Scientransient, scientology, you get the point.”
“Religion.”
“Just stop.”
“Spectrum.”
“Can’t you speak more than a word or two?”
“Your dress. Colorful.”
Like, the autism spectrum? Or spectrum, like rainbows? Idk. Um. I don’t know, I kind of like the word spectrum. I think cause it’s reminds me of psychology stuff, and I think I really find hat interesting. :)
A chorus of sound filled my ears with a spectrum of joy, terror, melancholy, solemnity, angst. Dissonance, consonance, harmony. Gold across the western skies, maroon and silver intermingled. Light enters my eyes by way of music.
You live in a spectrum. It goes from mild to dangerous, this disease of the mind. Dis-ease of the spirit. Some days it is fear-mild. The shaky foundation, but firm ground kind. Some days you are wrapped up on the ground waiting for the world around you to please slow down so that you can breathe. Some days it is fear-dangerous. “They are watching. They are watching. They are watching. You are the only one who knows and they do not care. It is inside of you” These are the days your mother must hide the knives, must hide from you. These are the days you wish you were dead. You live in a spectrum, from mild to dangerous-but both sides can kill you.
My best friend from high school has a son named Milo. I’m not a mother. I cannot judge. I love this little boy. At first, he didn’t talk–instead, he chose American Sign Language to communicate. He’s 3 now? 4? Potty trained. Still lots of accidents. But it’s never an accident when he puts together thousand-piece puzzle by himself, when deliberately and confidently snaps each jagged edge into place. Sometimes, he doesn’t want me to look at him. Sometimes he screams. Sometimes he wants to wear only red or eat only a particular texture or color of food. He’s a genius. I tell him so every time he speaks in his high-pitched, almost inaudible tone on the phone. You’re a genius, Milo.
The full spectrum of the situation cannot be understood by reading the outward dynamic alone. She looked at her pea coat. This must be what caused the whole thing. This stupid thrift store coat.
The longer I live, the more I realize that there are no absolutes. There are only spectrums. What does it mean to be a “real” man? That it could be just one thing is utter packaged bullshit. Instead, there is a spectrum, which accounts for, you know, individuality – that thing that so many people claim to be a fan of, that also simultaneously terrifies them.
There were just so many– all shapes, sizes, and colors. It was a sliding-scale of beauty, from the darkest to lightest, largest to smallest. Her eyes could barely take in the different spirits dancing around her, creatures of ethereal beauty, twirling and leaping on two legs thin and reedy yet strong.
The rain shone down on her windowsill, making a spectrum of colors dance at the foot of her bed. Time flowed on effortlessly and without thinking, the day passed. The rainbow sat on her lap, impatient. She merely smiled at it, knowing life would go one without her, but she was still a color in the world’s rainbow.
I don’t know what spectrum means. ;-p
there is a spectrum of colors in the rainbows and they are beautiful and colorful and awesome, but i wonder why it has a bow.
The spectrum of calm to anxious spans a vast amount of space, each bookended by a zone where nothing gets accomplished. Too calm and you have no sense of urgency, and too anxious you are frozen, unable to act.
it’s fun to see the whole color spectrum through a prism or a raindrop. It’s even more fun to see the wonder in your child’s eyes as they see these things for the first time. I almost hate explaining the science because it takes away the magic. And there’s not enough magic and wonder in the world.
the spectrum is the resultant light ray after splitting of white light when passed through a glass prism
The Spectrum stood before me in a bright circle, swirling in round blue swirls.
The colors of the night went from one end to the other. I didn’t know if what I saw was real or imagined.
I take a step back and try to see things from a broader spectrum. Am I in the wrong? Is it everybody else that has it wrong? What if everyone is wrong. And there really is no right. And we all live our lives according to different beliefs, different gods, different
the rainbow and its infinite possibilities
your eyes and your smile but your heart doesn’t belong to me
and neither do I belong here
Not with you,
not this time.
Maybe in another spectrum, another dimension, another space,
I’ll drive you as crazy as you drive me
The wide variety of faces and voices began to blur together in one indiscriminate bundle of chaos. There were too many of them. How was she supposed to remember it all?
She took a deep breath and stepped out of the kitchen for some air. The sticky floors of the restaurant followed her on the soles of her shoes. Always walking on the filth, even when she was gone.
Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.
the spectrum of money is a wide one
but we must narrow it down
without a frown
or a stroke in grief
its merely a game of ambitions–every
pawn, every eye-glint eggs on your interest
but, your own gushing soul that swirls in your heart
knows what glints to follow!
Hilarious. The shadow laughted hard at the bodies, because they thought she was the shadow, but she knew it was otherwise.
She pulled off her top and suddenly they were in his face. His mouth went dry and then his hands were palming them. They were soft, and nothing like those of his boyfriend. But he liked them. Not more, not less, but just the same. “Huh,” he laughed. “What?” she asked. “I guess I’m not totally gay?” he said in wonder. She smirked. “Only a halfway, then.”
A band of colors, as seen in a rainbow, produced by separation of the components of light by their different degrees of refraction according to wavelength.
Okay so today I’m confused I don’t know what spectrum means I’m trying to understand but I’m confused.
The colors found their way into my skin. Piercing. Flowing. Dancing. The world took these colors, grasping all she could, and spread their beauty into the ground, soil, rivers, streams. Into the places that only the smallest creatures, the tiniest minds, could comprehend. And this spectrum of color absorbed any emotion that the Earth could offer.
She is standing there in front of the room, lined up with 6 or 7 of the other kids in class, and all of them, she thinks right now, are probably a lot smarter than she is. She wonders what word they’ll ask her to spell, and suddenly, she feels like she can’t breathe too good. Remember the last time, she thinks. It was such an easy work. An easy, stupid word. Laboratory. And if she’d just spelled that one word right, she would’ve won the spelling bee and the prize as the best speller in the whole 5th grade. What was the word going to be this time? And then they said to spell it. And she could feel see the trophy already, sitting up on the desk in her room, shiny, perfect. She took a deep breath. “Spectrum. S-P-E-C-T–uh, uh,–R-U-M. And that was when she learned that just because you lose sometimes, and just because even people in your own family don’t think you’re so smart, and just because other people are smarter than you too, that doesn’t mean that you can’t have a day as good and beautiful as this.
my therapist says that sexuality is a spectrum, and i fall right in the middle of it. mom says that she’s full of bullshit and that i shouldn’t go to her anymore because she’s a crazy liberal who’s going to send me to hell.
light spectrums are very hard to see like heat signutures or violet light theirs also a bunch of others.
different spectrums of light like infrared or violet or x_ray or even night vision I think
spectrum some kind of different way of seeing something. or something like that.
Some animals see on a different spectrum then humans do. Some can see in the dark or have the ability to see heat signitures.
I did this one already. That said, I’m looking at a prism right now. It being all sunny and unseasonably warm in New ENgland.
Where do I fit on the spectrum? That’s something I’ve considered a lot recently as my new diagnosis registers. High functioning? Moderate? Needing help? Who even wants to be on a spectrum?
“Don’t you go scientifical on me.”
“Scientific.”
“Scientransient, scientology, you get the point.”
“Religion.”
“Just stop.”
“Spectrum.”
“Can’t you speak more than a word or two?”
“Your dress. Colorful.”
spectrum health is a hospital for people who need special care for their bodies
Like, the autism spectrum? Or spectrum, like rainbows? Idk. Um. I don’t know, I kind of like the word spectrum. I think cause it’s reminds me of psychology stuff, and I think I really find hat interesting. :)
A chorus of sound filled my ears with a spectrum of joy, terror, melancholy, solemnity, angst. Dissonance, consonance, harmony. Gold across the western skies, maroon and silver intermingled. Light enters my eyes by way of music.
You live in a spectrum. It goes from mild to dangerous, this disease of the mind. Dis-ease of the spirit. Some days it is fear-mild. The shaky foundation, but firm ground kind. Some days you are wrapped up on the ground waiting for the world around you to please slow down so that you can breathe. Some days it is fear-dangerous. “They are watching. They are watching. They are watching. You are the only one who knows and they do not care. It is inside of you” These are the days your mother must hide the knives, must hide from you. These are the days you wish you were dead. You live in a spectrum, from mild to dangerous-but both sides can kill you.
My best friend from high school has a son named Milo. I’m not a mother. I cannot judge. I love this little boy. At first, he didn’t talk–instead, he chose American Sign Language to communicate. He’s 3 now? 4? Potty trained. Still lots of accidents. But it’s never an accident when he puts together thousand-piece puzzle by himself, when deliberately and confidently snaps each jagged edge into place. Sometimes, he doesn’t want me to look at him. Sometimes he screams. Sometimes he wants to wear only red or eat only a particular texture or color of food. He’s a genius. I tell him so every time he speaks in his high-pitched, almost inaudible tone on the phone. You’re a genius, Milo.