Cervical Mucus Leading Up To Period

Dresden (Letter enclosed)

Introduction:

Ok, Happiness has given me encouragement. I explain.

I have a story, and those who already know the blog, know that you can find it on the right side of the blog. It's called "Valerio". The chapter name in parentheses. That story is crazy, but sometimes I'm inspired and will add another chapter. Well

. With this post inaugurated another story. It's called "Dresden." The procedure is the same, the name of the chapter is in parentheses and will soon appear on the right leg as well as "Valerie."

In this chapter:

will not understand much, but do not despair, the next installment will clarify many things. Yes, as I said in my previous post, those who know me know who I grabbed OBVIOUSLY Protagonist. (Sorry: it was the only German I had on hand). But hey, c'est la vie!

addition, while the de facto still in the States United States Valerio, me I have no other models to look storytelling on the other side. So we look forward to Valerio, because his story is already too surreal.

If anyone is interested, the protagonist of this story Otilia is called. And yes, studying philosophy, and yes ... ahem ... and more example ... but left to Assa Larsson.

Ah ... otherwise. Obviously Albert the Great and the damn optical Pseudo Alhazen and Euclid and Dinato David heretic (and Umberto Eco) have left me no end to read the small library on World War I crazy bookish agency gave me when he was still scholarship. So any advice or correction is received warmly. There

I leave. I return to the catoptrics and lux-lumen ... and send him a big hug to my heart.

Oh, I forgot: we see in a week. Tuesday publication. I'm sorry, really the Lauingen Albert brings me one day short, short and restricted publications. Ciaus ...

Opened Story ... (* Here is cut a red ribbon with a tijerotas and heard applause *)

***************************

Dresden (Letter enclosed)

Remember?

What did you do in Dresden?

Nothing, I guess it makes more sense to me that question myself.

You, this time, born in Dresden. Just understand you. We talked in French. Now I do not understand a damn French. It means nothing to me except for two or three words caught on the fly.

cost us so much trouble understanding each other. You French was difficult for me, my French was confusing to you. But I could not explain what was the difficulty.

I do not know French.

O

correct thing to say: I do not know French.

I've never known and yet, so it was the only route left to us. I hated Thus you know? I found a language concerned, on vowels, pronounced with the nose or is that just seems to me now? Perhaps some of that past that is not mine and I hated. And in that time did not want to speak it better for me to understand. " Then he wanted to think and feel on your tongue, whatever. Maybe your desire was greater than mine, so he was born in my mind was you. But what's the point? That past is not my past or your past. This, in which I write, is your language as much as mine. Perhaps, then, I was awarded as is, and who thinks I am yours.

La pregunta más bien es ¿qué hacía yo en Dresde? No lo he podido averiguar. Lo único cierto es que estaba de paso, como por accidente. ¿Qué asunto tenía yo ahí, en esa ciudad asediada y en peligro? O quizás llegué ahí como todo aquél mar de gente llegamos: veníamos huyendo de todas partes, de todos los aviones y todas las tropas.

Y… ¿qué hacías en Dresde?

¡¿Qué más da qué hayas nacido en Dresde?! No eras un ciudadano ahí, nada más, como todos aquellos invadidos por las hordas de gente huyendo de todos lados, creyendo que jamás bombs would fall on their own cathedrals.

remember-these memories that are not mine, remember that in a fit of rage you hit the wall with his fist and shouted something in German. Finally you turned and looked at me scared and then I translated it into language that was so difficult for both. Something you said I do not remember the French but the meaning, "something like that if you were born again would you do as far as possible in Germany. I guess now you would not believe. I also suppose that it was a desire so great that you met in the end. But you do not comply you anything, because this is not your past, and those are memories you mine. I assume that it was not we were born together in the same land or in the same time. Maybe just enough to say goodbye, because this time we are not allowed.

Dresden

You left three days before the bombing. I vowed never wait and not move from there to see you again. Or perhaps it is that my French was difficult and awkward and poorly drafted promise. And perhaps just became clear that I would move to wait to see you again. But I missed where. And maybe that's why it was you who came out here, where I have not moved.

********

Everything is confusing. Information arrives as if they were memories. But not my memories. They are not your memories. If I told you this all seem unlikely. What is the point to find out who I was and who you were? Just know that you were born in Dresden, this time there were born-just know that we were not lovers, or family, however, we only shared a deep affection. But who were you? What about me? And where was I born?

I remember your eyes, eyes that you are not your past. Were as they are now, between brown and green, and I remember that once caught me trying to find out and you stared at me and then smiled at me and smiled and then thought that neither death nor time would be sufficient for our smile. And perhaps it has.

The flames swept Dresden, that I read. But I know and then suddenly remember sweltering darkness filled the corridors where we took refuge, and the shelter was my grave. I remember the incredible certainty that he would return to see you. And even before the imminence of death, certainly would not leave me. I closed my fist what kept there? : An amulet a ring, what was it? Does not the symbol of your promise? How much longer I survive? Did you hear about how he was devastated Florence on the Elbe?

The Elba.

pledged then return to the riverside walk together as that afternoon. Something had to tell a story that left half. I would be waiting only for enterame of its outcome. Pity, then, that these are neither yours nor my memories, because they never happen!

Why I tell stories? Why take me by the hand along the banks of the river while telling me about stories? Why guiabas I felt like I was a girl and you my guide?

Then comes another picture: you are young, have perhaps twenty-five years or less. Black hair tousled rebel with the summer wind. But ... wait ... is that you are too high ... or I'm too small. I remember then that you take me by the hand and go with the other playing with my hair. How old do I have? You have kids and tell me about them. I'll submit the to play with them ... I'm a girl.

And so my French is so difficult. If you speak it perfectly! Just for once, to know, do not hate the hated French lessons, do not hate the dog days afternoons at home Mayte, my piano teacher back in my country. Because I talk about music, because you were a musician ... and I get along with your long fingers of porcelain by the banks of the Elbe as I teach a song in German.

I want to show a little song in Castilian. I laugh at your "Rs", I laugh and throw me on the grass and do not stop laughing. And you look at me very seriously and get angry and you challenge me I pronounce the "r" in your language. And I try to try "Berlin" and then you laugh at me, and I eagerly and me endeavors. And then some time later, a Samaritan who listens to me, I explained that in "Berlin" sounds not erre. And then I very angry to reclaim and then, I remember sitting under a tree erre rehearsing and rehearsing the shot ... and I keep silent so they do not look at me and I'm on the other side of the tree a long time hearing you. It was a picnic.

But this story is so unlikely that I'd better put it away. Why accuse me of dualistic or, worse still, Pythagorean. And then I would have Mentioning the confusing Thomas to prove that something endures but not memory then you would answer me. And what I could answer, helpless, without any argument to answer? Because emotions are worn on the body and mine was evaporated under attack by the Allies. But what about yours? What happened to you then? What happened to those eyes, neither green nor brown, so like that now bears live in the river, looking at me from time to time?

on the banks of the river, I promised to tell the end of the story. I swore and gave me something as collateral. And here I am without the symbol of promise and you without the outcome of the story.

I-catcher Console Full

difficult thing to be sponge

Ok. There is a thing called sponges. Discourse is one thing. Has no existence that what you read and what I write. But that bloody and battered as "yo" (say, by Hume) What is it?

There is a physical reality: the extra weight of matter, molecular cluster, the open thermodynamic system, to be seen wandering, is denoted under the name "Dove."

hypothesize that "Paloma" has a mind. That generates speech and mind one is sponge. Sponge, then, is a discursive entity, but its ontological background if possible here to talk about ontologies, is the mind of "Paloma". And what is that mind?.

for "Paloma" is a series of phenomena. And it can not be otherwise because Paloma is phenomenologist and his religion is "geniomalignesco solipsism." Paloma "dreams", "envisions", "runs" and, in general, is a conglomeration of mental states. It has a kind of paranoia, since he was eight years has plunged in many scenarios such as "the brain in a vat." And if Putnam has shown that it is a statement that is self-refuting, then it will appeal to Plotinus and Hegel and the Matrix-like system that we are, the reality does not have to go assuming realism and conditions of satisfaction ... is, in essence, the intent to Paloma is a very difficult issue because for her entry, no "outside" to where, or about which y. ..

You see how difficult it is to be a sponge?

And to top it off, but in the background to it all is a great delusion, suffers from hallucinations, do not know how to behave with them, which should not be jealous (because the damn jealous over being morally wrong, emotionally tortuous sample emotionally insecure and socially unfit, are intentional states, which refutes his own religion).

and sponges, which negates the meaning of "physical world" as referring to something external, and believes that it is simply a name for one of his many states of mind, she takes "Epicureín (Eudaimonina nitrate) because More on the bottom yet, that substance is confident that the highly ordered physical neurotransmitters of your brain very physical and chemical. And worse still, gets up at half past six to run in the median of Plutarco Elias Calles, and worries about whether IMECA uploads will be very very physical and lungs (which are much too physical physical tar cigarettes because smoking ), will lead poisoning neurons and red blood cells ... very physical all of them. And all that you do because you are concerned about their physical good physical ... Sponge is inconsistent with their religious beliefs.

sponges began to write his story (or wharever that is) on Dresden. And I would post here. But pits (or cracked) because he thought what if you think that what are those projections and the sublimation of higuiatra warned that much? And then he thought of taking clear pictures of the real world (but what fucking sponge pictures if not aware of Dresden?) And just the he borrowed but the story was not about the bearers of those images (the cause in the brain spongy the images, since the carrier is it) ... and then thought that anyone with a little insight would think: "Explanations are not ordered ..." and better and published nothing. Poor sponge.

Poor sponge. Today we heard of Grice and Austin, and soon put them in your reading list. Has yet to finish Putnam (which fell better than the former continental thought sponge) and realize how ignorant he is ... Poor sponge!. For this to be ex-continental power arriving at the analytical field is very poor sufferer for a sponge that in the Associated Student seminars, speaking on scholastic and just needs to apologize and ask three propositions if they are understanding.

Poor

sponge. And then I realized how rare it is to assist student-listener in the UAM-I and his dad asked him if he came up with better search work there, and sponge it clear which of course, obvious that here reviewed each quarter and each semester at the UNAM and the Pardinho and told him to leave without Ibero Masters or sponge Acatlán remember who resigned and is given bumping into the wall y. ..

And to top it off, sponge self-commiseration and suffers a lot by car and auto commiserate commiseration commiserations car that y. .. and smoke another cigarette.

All I am happy today sponge is already figured out how to get home at the UAM, and it was easy ... even though the Metro and Bus are fast and straightforward, the minibus that goes on Rojo Gomez ago turns and stops so rare, that he was identified sponge: his puns and turns of mind are as a way of bus or, in other times, truck-pueblero smuggler (although no one keeps chickens in minibuses).

sponge

expected to understand and they do not get bored a lot this post. I will check my story and published it. It's nice. It is very Pythagorean: the protagonist, who has no name, has discovered that reincarnated. Or rather, has found that, at one time, she had lived. And of course! This is the key! Grabbed sponge model for the protagonist. JURA sponge to stop reading and other Åsa Larsson Self-protagonists. No. I think I know who to grab a model. But we have to wait some weeks to see if the "model" is adapted to the conditions of satisfaction of his character. Ahem! and what would Priani: the IIFs hurt me.

Anyway.

Greetings spongy and very discursive.

Money Cheat Emerald Vba Mac

De Visu and other issues

puppy ever been

You know, two mussels:

1 .- Situation

2 .- Philosophical.

1 .-

muuuuuuuuuy

I live far from the UAM. My mom lives very close to the UAM but it is forbidden to smoke in your home. Take a class twice a week UAM. Or find out how to leave my house in less than an hour at the UAM or stop smoking ... I do not think anybody wants to support my withdrawal (except me), which includes two bags of popcorn and a can of tuna ... and any food that gets in my way. And as my mom has the refrigerator in a much healthier state than mine, my greed limit nicotine abstemious respects neither the volume of my stomach ... or ... received advice.

(and strange my cats)

Is there something faster than the subway stop at UAM, before the Immaculate?

Anyway. First things first ... and that's the theory ...

the thesis ...

"I tell them what's going on?

(here was a long explanation of my thesis, but I decided to save them because I was sorry .... Soon promise to post something more fun. And I miss my cats

!!!!!)

Black And White Damask Wrapping Paper - Cheap

St. Mary Shelley

Dr. Albertus Magnus was reading Frankenstein. Well, ahem. That would be the famita was loaded to Mary Shelley placed it on the shelves of the library of Dr. Frank. And just look: the last time I looked in the mirror I noticed the look cloudy and the sculpture that was causing static in my hair.

Abur ...

PD:

obviously this step, my chapter is being more or less like this:

course, which will hopefully leave us nice:

Fred Meyer Apllication Online

Phew! Mirrors

I swear I'm going to wear well.

really ...

Orn Star With Butterfly Tatoo

animated

(update: remember that in the last post I was chasing a Paleolithic character with a mallet? Here is a picture to make a dangerous idea of \u200b\u200bwhat I saw and why customers sangrona's almost faint. In other news, chapter, 10 pages, measures 1.5 in Times New Roman. By the end of the day I hope Measure 30, and all places where it says there (Quote) rather happy event.

Atte: a sponge that has overcome the mental constipation)

Pray together: this is the original post yesterday:

Last week I wrote this story ... while I igniting candles at St. Albert the Great, patron of scientists and alumnitas desperate, they share them.

Do you return mirrors their own odor to cats? Only then would understand the nature of reflection. The small Kualia librarian (as I have already told of his skills as an archivist) has the gift to accommodate books, but lacks the ability to understand the emptiness of the mirrors. Thus, desperate not to cross that threshold and sends meows when desist daunting at times, to find the hole in that glass could be preventing you from crossing the other side. Because for this, cats understand the nature of transparency and windows. Otherwise, do not walk about safely on glass tables.

I had to lower the mirror on the wall because of little lay down. After many attempts to convince the cat that crossed invested by the window, tried to atravezarlo behind the mirror, and did so graciously wobble until one night I awoke to the chirping between the wall and two-dimensional plate glass. Before the glass fell on my head, I decided to place the mirror on the floor. After placing the threshold into the world invested in the ground, Kualia stood over him and called, again, the head cat that lives under it. It was, perhaps, when he began to suspect something was wrong: her brother cat violated the basic laws of gravity.

now goes by the suspicious window header anything else that is displayed behind glass. A few days ago met the cat's front window, a cat of small size and occasionally inaudible answers with meows. Contrary to what I expected, soon lost interest Kualia-to discouragement of the kitten. So I think, sadly, now all cats living behind glass for him silent reflection is insensitive to their calls. Damn time that soulless mirror came to break his heart ...

Can You Get Herpes From Tight Pants

sorrajar how do you write?

Ok. I bring the emotions in the throat ... it should be.

while ago I came to sangrona's because they did not know the question many virus-spameros had decided to write today. And here I have: the same lifetime. The fact is that I fled from my cell-cat lair, where cats chase each other and stopped looking at me as if to say: ok love sponge, we understand what the divitio vel compositio ... and that what is related to intentionality? (Short Kualia Perler directly quoted in the post-past of the last name Perlman, because he was thinking of Salvatore, Ron Perlman and the name of the Rose .... Bogomils !!!!)...

Hui. The inquisitive eyes of the cats was too much. Worse was to meet an old story about Valerio unfinished ... too good. Is it then was 28 and my neurons were at its pinnacle? But now, not stories or argument or anything ... neurons are down.

No, do not bring emotions into the throat, all crowded together trying to build a coherent discourse about Alberto is making the sign for a theory devoid of intellectual faculties. That's all he does ... or at least only intention. And what? Is it so easy? Surely everyone already had realized and that no one has published anything about it. I say no one has even deigned to challenge assumptions so bright ... and opaque.

and heme here, fleeing from the self-imposed seclusion. Fleeing the self-imposed timetable to deliver something decent counselor and begin to build the road to "be somebody." And when I find this post .... (Number \u0026lt;\u0026lt;Previous here.) And I think that the higuiatra that referred to "the meaning of life." And I read the anger of the girl of twenty many years and I know a little ways to write in it. Or at least the flame printed on the paper product of an avalanche of emotions in his throat.

I want to be somebody?

came the Archangel weekend my guard. And here I am, with my nonsense in the future, children, common life. And no sooner had he left when I hit my head repeatedly against the wall muttering the incessant mantra "stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid ..." and wondering where the fuck did that monster that was already well doped in the basement of my consciousness. Doping

, there, little calm, shackled with leather straps, in the basement of my consciousness. Padded walls for the poor will not hurt. There might be released and take five thousand years of women fem-ism the surface of my thoughts. Be someone, be someone, be someone. Ande you (mutters the monster), you must be someone for recognition. Recognition is power. Power is the fuel that keeps the balance against the entropic forces of life. Power, power, power. Earlier, in a Paleolithic cave, meant to shelter, sustenance and satisfaction of other basic needs and instinctual (stupid monster Marcusian-scientific structuralist-dialectic). But then everything was sublimated into categorical imperatives and became part of an unconscious superego, to achieve freedom (power, power, power, power) did nothing but satisfy the ego means that recognition.

and be somebody. Someone ...

A common means of survival because it gives the two basic things of human existence: power and freedom. And there are those who sacrifice for one another. Stupid. The two are the same thing.

Stupid.

Stupid.

And then a monster comes out of the nineteenth Paleolithic cadalzo I do about cutting off his head, and shouts, you woman! Require husband! Phallus can only provide you with all the recognition you need! Power and freedom! Yes, female freedom ... but finally released.

And I pursue with a mallet in hand around the house, throwing books and booksellers and hot on the tail twice the cat. Away from home and runs down the sidewalk east of Tlalpan ... Going towards the center! You should go faster than him, with the hammer ... must go faster than him and I climb the subway ... not well spent by the sangrona's of Xola Ladin gets and seeks to hide in self-help section. Low Xola and run to the sangrona's What the monster is still there?

Customers me look pale with fright, the security people are willing to me about kicking me out - and I am but clientísima client for thousands of years! You would do better helping to hunt down that damn monster with apron Paleolithic squares, pregnant for the umpteenth time-

One of them grabs a braid.

grabbed his shoulders and the monster hang over his head to see the deck, moaning and begging me see:

- Do not you recognize me? I'm all your dolls, Mafalda instinct takes her out from time to time, the hierarchy of the whole society, your desire for someone to do things for you, all phallic phallus who have gone through your mind as people who are, they are somebodies. Do not you recognize me? Can not you see I am the personification of the scale of single values \u200b\u200bof the entire universe? Who will guide you if you give my account? Who will teach to find you the power and freedom crouching all under the justification of what should be and I do good? You lack imagination, meant to invent another scale of values. And what have I blame me if yours is as Paleolithic and despicable in your eyes? "Neglect your mother for not realizing that Japanese cartoons have the same values \u200b\u200bas infamous banned soap operas? Do I zorrajarás their necks even knowing you will not know where to go, or how many drives decently powdered death and power that you invade?

But the gavel fell on his head. For now I wanted silence. Silence. Do not listen to anything more than Albert the Great, my advisor, secondary literature, the meowing of cats, and another chapter of Eco .. for now.

Gmail Print Without Logo 2010

German, the former, the thesis

1.-Although occasionally come to trash the Germanic language, I make some clarifications ... is not going to offend the language and become even more impenetrable ... juar juar ... no, not true: just that is what I have come. To say that the German-German-Deutsch-Tedesco is Wunderbar. And if someone wants to come and laugh at how it sounds, read aloud the Greek and that does not sound beaten, it sounds ridiculous ... (Lit: small produce giggles), but that does not detract from the beauty. Also: the entire German Bétofen is like symphony. Goes from whisper to scream angry melancholy. And that's good for a language that makes metaphysics.

2 .- I've had two boyfriends. And I can say, keeping the proportions of each story, which both have been, each, the love of my life. And I wonder if by now, too old to love first, not too young to love again, if at this stage of life, I wonder, maybe the miracle will be repeated a third time ... or rather it is time to keep quiet and stop thinking about that.

From all this, just something I'm clear. May change, maybe in 10 or 15 years back to find them. Then may be you forget your face, the shape of your face has changed, that the statue are representing something else. But never, never shall I forget the texture of marble that is.

(the sailor goes back to the boat and I stopped by the immensity of the sea, I begin to entertain the uncomfortable feeling of being a woman waiting in its own port)

3 .- Perler. Yes, Perler. For research Perler intentionality is not the "map phenomenological" simply, but to find the processes that make effective relating to the world of this map. Well, for now all I have is the map. And it's a slightly different map to a certain article that yesterday I revisited carefully, where not only intentio sister with Avicenna (subject already discussed), but a bit confused (in my humble opinion) and ignores the fact that, in Indeed, its function is similar to the kind of Thomas, so it is different than the form. The form is not a sign of the compound, it could be because a party! How could mean the component being made? Intentio But it does mean the whole. Now, here's the answer I looked at Nuchelmans: to be a sign of all is the product intentio what? compound ... or rather, of the active activity of the soul that makes up and divide. And again Perler: Chapter 1 of De Interpretatione where passione animae is also translated by intentioned, creates a bond that, in fact, it is not obvious ... Finally, the analogy of the intellect with the senses and makes it famous and Aristotle. Now, Albert, I believe, uses the analogy in reverse, and instead of explaining the intellect in terms of the passivity of the sensitive soul, explains sensory perception in terms of intellectual operations. So far

phenomenological map. Where things will get difficult is in De homine ... because there the ontological question (the ontological nature of esse esse naturale et spirituale vel intentional) is different from De anima handles, toooooooodo deserves a separate chapter: the speculum in the De anima animatum irrelevant because Alberto, for some unknown reason (to me), go down the path Avicenna ... Why?

Sponge drafted in fuck ...

(sponge, secretly wants to invite a course at UAM I on intentionality. He secretly prays every night at St. Albert the Great, patron of natural scientists, for the invite)

How Can I Diminish Red

Yesterday Manzanares embroidered bullfighting!

Caresses, caresses sweet, long and slow was the recipe he found José María Samper Dols, "Manzanares " to stand up to the onslaughts of those good Cuvillo Nunez. Bullfighting

long, deep, hardened and sense, all very meaningless. Soon the bullfighter was delivered to the work he was creating. A server for a long time not so thrilled with a chore, I found myself alone in my house still standing and clapping with tears trying not to get out of my eyes.

I will not come to assess whether the bull had to be pardoned or not, is up to the farmer if you check the cows, with the magic experienced at that time did not get any but the matter. Art is about feelings, is measured by the heart not the head ...

I'll take a few days to see bulls, I have even recorded the slaughter in the head and I enjoy his memory. Yesterday

Manzanares embroidered bullfighting!