D Soup Kitchen

Hocus pocus. The idea that you can learn from your mistakes is like being a pro at Marco Polo (a game where one person closes his eyes whilst another gets as far away as possible, then the blind person shouts “marco!” and the other shouts “polo!”, and the blind person is to find the other using sound alone). Problem is this hide and seek game is played in the swimming pool. Same game, same water but I bet the variables will change in the sea in the midst of a storm, or in a lake in the midst of swans, or in a river in the midst of rocks. I don’t know, maybe you’re like me, maybe you haven’t lived long enough for life to repeat old questions, and as long as that is the case, you’re going to need a whole lot more than just learning from your mistakes. Life is exactly like the math teacher who gives the simple questions out as examples whilst the more complex ones come out in the test. You find yourself unprepared for the X’s and Y’s, the variables that turn your examples ups

Hocus pocus. The idea that you can learn from your mistakes is like being a pro at Marco Polo (a game where one person closes his eyes whilst another gets as far away as possible, then the blind person shouts “marco!” and the other shouts “polo!”, and the blind person is to find the other using sound alone). Problem is this hide and seek game is played in the swimming pool. Same game, same water but I bet the variables will change in the sea in the midst of a storm, or in a lake in the midst of swans, or in a river in the midst of rocks. I don’t know, maybe you’re like me, maybe you haven’t lived long enough for life to repeat old questions, and as long as that is the case, you’re going to need a whole lot more than just learning from your mistakes. Life is exactly like the math teacher who gives the simple questions out as examples whilst the more complex ones come out in the test. You find yourself unprepared for the X’s and Y’s, the variables that turn your examples upside

Hocus pocus. The idea that you can learn from your mistakes is like being a pro at Marco Polo (a game where one person closes his eyes whilst another gets as far away as possible, then the blind person shouts “marco!” and the other shouts “polo!”, and the blind person is to find the other using sound alone). Problem is this hide and seek game is played in the swimming pool. Same game, same water but I bet the variables will change in the sea in the midst of a storm, or in a lake in the midst of swans, or in a river in the midst of rocks. I don’t know, maybe you’re like me, maybe you haven’t lived long enough for life to repeat old questions, and as long as that is the case, you’re going to need a whole lot more than just learning from your mistakes. Life is exactly like the math teacher who gives the simple questions out as examples whilst the more complex ones come out in the test. You find yourself unprepared for the X’s and Y’s, the variables that turn your examples upside d

Hocus pocus. The idea that you can learn from your mistakes is like being a pro at Marco Polo (a game where one person closes his eyes whilst another gets as far away as possible, then the blind person shouts “marco!” and the other shouts “polo!”, and the blind person is to find the other using sound alone). Problem is this hide and seek game is played in the swimming pool. Same game, same water but I bet the variables will change in the sea in the midst of a storm, or in a lake in the midst of swans, or in a river in the midst of rocks. I don’t know, maybe you’re like me, maybe you haven’t lived long enough for life to repeat old questions, and as long as that is the case, you’re going to need a whole lot more than just learning from your mistakes. Life is exactly like the math teacher who gives the simple questions out as examples whilst the more complex ones come out in the test. You find yourself unprepared for the X’s and Y’s, the variables that turn your examples upside down.

Growing up there was an evil I witnessed under the sun. It occurred whenever my mother would decide to arrange the house. Now you must understand that I arranged the house basically every day, but in that blue moon that my mother decided to do so herself, I was subjected to more toil and rigor than when I did it myself. My mother’s method was to arrange the house by first of all scattering it even more. She scattered our stacks of CDs on the floor, threw documents into the air like graduation hats, she brought out dishes and pots long since condemned, and no stone was left unturned. Neatness was Humpty Dumpty, and whilst I was content to simply polish his fragile shell, my mother would push him over the wall, have him shatter to a billion different pieces, and then enjoin me in the tedious task of putting him back together again. Years later, today I stared at a pile of books, handouts and documents in a corner of my room. They were there because I needed them for an exam. B