If walls could talk.
If concrete could confess.
If soul could seep through cement.
If only one of those monochrome apparitions could reach out and take me by the hand, leading me into a world of smoke and ale and revelation. 344 more words
From editors' picks to community favorites: see what WordPress bloggers are saying.
In honor of the 2014-2015 competitive meet season beginning, twenty thoughts that go through your head before a gymnastics meet from the perspectives of a parent, a gymnast, a coach, a judge and a meet director: 1,049 more words
I haven’t had much to say about the Scottish independence referendum. I’ve never lived or worked in Scotland, and my family background has no relevant connections either, so whether a Yes or No outcome would be best for Scotland isn’t a debate I have much to contribute to. 2,466 more words
The other day, I did one of those “10 books that stayed with me” status updates on Facebook. It’s a thing that’s been going around for a while now. 874 more words
I just sent this to firstname.lastname@example.org, regarding episode 4 of The Walking Dead: Season Two. Massive spoilers for that episode within. 1,087 more words
I have something of a vested interest in researching how NHL teams view short players, and to what extent any height bias is warranted. In recent years, a number of the Winterhawks’ most prolific players have been on the shorter end of things when drafted. 1,886 more words
The following is a scientific and personal article written by CAH member Troy Campbell about happiness.
One lovely afternoon, I began chatting to my grandpa. I was completely unaware he was about to say something that would change my view of happiness forever. 837 more words
Child sex abuse is a terrible evil that we should devote countless resources and strategies to tackling, but the issue raised by the Telecom Ministry’s decision to… 1,155 more words
When I was 16, my high school boyfriend backhanded me across the face, with a beer bottle in his hand. We were in his baby blue car, on our way to his house, and his father was the first to look up from watching golf on TV and notice my newly forming bruise, the swelling next to my eye. 673 more words
by Allan Crosbie, PT English, Edinburgh
You won’t remember me but nearly 20 years ago we worked together briefly in a school in Edinburgh. 642 more words
Often mocked for its mysterious components, the hot dog is an institution even I can’t deny. Mind you, the idea of leathery dogs rolling repeatedly on a lamp-heated conveyor makes me sincrely nauseous (ie: on the verge of dry-heaving while typing), but the idea of a quality link, grilled to perfection, is garden party worthy! 395 more words
If I could ride in an elevator with anyone, either living or dead, I would most definitely pick Sigmund Freud.
Not because a 30-seconds-long vertical journey would be time enough to permit any kind of meaningful psychological exchange between the Good Herr Doktor and I – it’d be time enough to summon a pithy, off-cuff interpretation of last night’s bad dream, perhaps, or if he had his pocket watch on hand, to flirt with the stirrings of hypnotic stupor, but then it’d be time’s up. 1,684 more words