Originally posted on ritaLOVEStoWRITE:
If you aren’t already enjoying Kate Shrewsday‘s blog on a regular basis you don’t know what you are missing. Do yourself a favor and click HERE to sample her lovely writing, then hit the follow button so you can enjoy Kate’s view of the world in the future.
Here’s a little something she wrote for 12 Days of Christmas STORIES (thanks Kate!!!)…
Stars of Wonder
So Christmas wears on, and the presents are all open, the last vestiges of the turkey are finished, and this time two odd thousand years ago the smallest wise man would be asking asking the other two, “Are we nearly there yet?”
The question would not help matters. The charm of trekking across the desert after stars would have largely worn off, and the other two would scowl and hug their cloaks to them in the chill of the desert night.
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Experienceing the line between reality and fiction tastes indescribable, feels reality bending.
Reality, sometimes fluid often pliable can be the original awsome, even creepy, depending on the cultural vocabulary of images you can reach for when you attempt to describe what the hell just happend, or didn’t, either way, to yourself.
The universe isn’t so dull, is it, that each experiancer, always gets the same “unimaginable” experiance, always clearly describable in no uncertain terms, predictable, always positive or always negative or always neutral?
The boring-est movie ever is just like that. Zero ratings is just like the way I notice expecting my reality to behave: bland, unsurprising, predicable, all done before then institutionalized in some Bible or other. The terms, the code rules my experience snuggles under, folds into and creates itself by must be wearing a mass uniform.
My expectations must be so I can pass the boring enough test, sane enough test, scientific enough test, has it happened before enough test.
Then, if it happens to pass those tests, these ones will weed it out: The is it possible? imaginable? repeatable? duplicatable? Even the just credible tests I lay on myself cuz I sorta want to fit in turn my world pink and elephantine.
Does my world exsist?
Squishing this me into a tiny cell I give myself as a sanity challenge doesn’t only look weird.
Squashes brain, constricts heart, deflates lungs, feet and hands cramp and tingle, tucked in tight.
I am gonna fit in. I wanna live in the world.
To live in here, is to fit in here.
Toes can’t even wiggle.
Wooooot! I am sane!
That and love began to exist the precise instant science figured out how to prove it does.
Before that, it didn’t exsist.
a storm of wonder
tripped angling twirls asunder
drank two into three
gives away four
has five more than just before
of six impossible things
I am on savasana. George isn’t, but we are wondering about the same things.
Originally posted on Otrazhenie:
“It is not enough for journalists to see themselves as mere messengers without understanding the hidden agendas of the message and myths that surround it.”
Defining propaganda has always been a problem. The main difficulties have involved differentiating propaganda from other types of persuasion, and avoiding an “if they do it then that’s propaganda, while if we do it then that’s information and education” biased approach. Personally I prefer the following definition provided by Garth Jowett and Victoria O’Donnell: “Propaganda is the deliberate, systematic attempt to shape perceptions, manipulate cognitions, and direct behavior to achieve a response that furthers the desired intent of the propagandist.”
What is modern propaganda? For many, it is the lies of a totalitarian state usually associated with Nazis and Communism.
Today, we prefer to believe that there is no submissive void in our…
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Let the will of the Lord be done unto me…
Don’t bother sweetheart, you don’t have a choice.