MIKROKOSMOS

  I'm personally a big believer that everyone needs to know how to cook before they finish schooling because c'mon folks.. you need food to survive! But in life, there is at least one thing that each person is horrible at, and for some, this may be that niche. That's okay, it really is. Today I will be writing about three extremely simple dishes ANYONE can make without messing up, recipes which are so flexible and forgiving that you can switch up and substitute many ingredients and quantities and still have a great dinner! 01. CHEAT NOODLES Ingredients: One packet of maggi (any flavour) One egg Any type of chopped veggies (carrots, beans, cabbage, zuccini, mushrooms.. the choices are endless) A little bit of oil, chillie flakes and sugar Preparation: Cook the maggi the way you usually do (maggi is probably the only thing everyone commonly knows how to make, innit?) and set it aside Heat up a pan, add the oil and crack an egg into it. leave for a minute and add your veggies,

 Two teenage cancer kids.  One tragic love story. Hazel Grace Lancaster meets Augustus 'Gus' Waters at cancer support group in a church basement, talks about how Gus shouldn't be afraid of oblivion, how his pack of cigarettes' is a metaphor, and watches a movie. “ May I see you again?” he asked. There was an endearing nervousness in his voice. I smiled. “Sure.” “Tomorrow?” he asked. “Patience, grasshopper,” I counseled. “You don’t want to seem overeager. “Right, that’s why I said tomorrow,” he said. “I want to see you again tonight. But I’m willing to wait all night and much of tomorrow.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m serious,” he said. “You don’t even know me,” I said. I grabbed the book from the center console. “How about I call you when I finish this?” “But you don’t even have my phone number,” he said. “I strongly suspect you wrote it in this book.” He broke out into that goofy smile. “And you say we don’t know each other.” ~John Green, The Fault in Our Stars, Pages 36, 37

Dispatcher: 911, what's the location of your emergency? Caller: 4748, Franz Court Apartment 3 Dispatcher: 4748.. what's the street name? Caller: Franz F-R-A-N-Z Court  Dispatcher: And the apartment number? Caller: 3 Dispatcher: Is this police or medical? Caller: My boyfriend is dead.  *** On the 25th of January 2020, the Orange County Police received a rather bizarre 911 call from a 42-year-old woman named Sarah Boone. She claimed that she and her boyfriend Jorge Torres Jr., also 42, were playing hide and seek the night before while being allegedly tipsy, border lining on being drunk. She reportedly put her boyfriend inside a suitcase, went upstairs and passed out on the bed. Reportedly, she woke up to her phone ringing in the morning and went downstairs to find her boyfriend dead inside the suitcase, whereas then she called 911 and reported the incident to the police. "Uh my boyfriend and I were playing last night and.. I put him in a suitcase and we were playing" &q

 Hey little me, I remember being Ten very well. You've just started vocal lessons, you're learning to be a leader, have you figured out that math isn't that hard yet? Your teachers have high hopes on you, little one. So ambitious, responds well to her peers, GREAT at teamwork, enjoys singing and dancing, could reach much better heights if she paid more attention in class.. you've heard it all. You're going to get better at all that. You're going to be an excellent leader, make people proud of you. You're going to be your dad's biggest pride and mom's greatest joy. You're going to have it all.  But one thing you're not yet prepared for is the aftermath. There's going to be a time where you don't want to sing or dance anymore. People are going to put so much expectations on you that you will crumble under the pressure. You're going to get tired of being a social butterfly, but people won't understand that you now enjoy your own

My therapist said to me: "Write letters about life, then burn them down, Write them again, and read it once more" And that is the greatest piece of advice  I've been given this year, She says I need to get my life Back on track and straightened again, But with nightmares I don't chose to have, and  Monsters I can't help but hate, Self-care is a word I've come to loathe, The four walls of my room is all I have. I'm never hungry, almost always sad, My blinded eyes, a haunting past, Lengths of rope in my hand I yield, Control and chaos- I crave. So I started writing about everything I feel, Burnt them down, and started again. Took time to myself and got ignored for it- But pray tell me, how can I work when my head's a mess? Home doesn't feel like home anymore, But maybe that's just me, my wounded core, But just like my therapist told me that day, I'll keep on writing, and burning again.

  I vaguely remember A promise I made To the world, to all around To join heaven side  Sober as the day I came  But like everything else in life "Easier said than done" Watching everyone around  Seek peace in a pint I think to myself In childlike wonder What would it be like to let go for a day? Will my soul be mine, will it  be part of the devil I swore not to be? "A pint, or five, it doesn't matter anyway" As I seek peace in a source within To let go of moral Of life and of soul I'll be honest with you I'm not sober anymore Drunk in this ecstasy, I know That no man will ever love me like I do meself But is it really worth all this pain? I do not know Yet I pour Another little piece of heaven and hell  With me trapped under  That wickedly spell.  ~Chenu