A wise person loses its honour when a challenge of intellectuality is provoked by them. (As you are supposed to be the most calm individual to be a wise person and I think they all need to fall under the category of complying to the conditions that arise against them.) Also there is this fact that they understand the uniqueness of one's character to be not always comprehensible. Upto the present discoveries that has been achieved by the humankind, the amount of inteligence that is within and is being cultivated is still miniscule compared to the knowledge that is present actually (that is what we presume as we can't actually estimate how much there is to be discovered). If they boast about being wise they are committing that they are not entitled to the discoveries made and yet to happen. So the most appropriate designation by default one is suitable to, is the word idiot.
And anyone who confronts an idiot to test their strengths or to show-off is, well they are voluntarily accepting that they are not wise person to begin with.
(So much for gathering knowledge)
Speaking of knowledge, I think a lot of us have read, listened or heard that "The world is fake" or "The world is full of fake people".
If we are supposed to believe that, which part of the information which is being received by you is not fake.
Then the language that you speak, the books which you learn from, the friends that you make, the understandings you encounter; all compared with the vast domain of fakeness they are from are not pure.
And if you belong to the world that is being mentioned above then you are not real as well.
I am not against any beliefs or culture. I am just putting forward all the overheard gossips that I have been exposed to.
So now the question is, whether all discoveries are real or not?
Hello everyone. Hope you are all doing great during this time that is existing with us.
Today my first born turned 24 and so we sat comfortably with each other's company his girl by his side and his loyal dog curled up beside him as we played old country tunes and I regaled him with tales about his hillbilly granddaddy who came to Australia as a young man from Tennessee. I talked of his intrepid adventures and daring escapades as I drank whiskey from an old Nutella jar and the grand old gentlemen of the Grand Old Opry Johnny Cash Willie Nelson John Denver and Tom T Hall sang about Sunday mornings country roads highwaymen and watermelon wine, the ghost of my father sat beside me strumming his guitar and singing off key with the certainty that Hank Williams was sat right there with him. My boy listened to my stories unspoken of until now and I could see the faces of generations of kin right there in his handsome smile as we laughed and sang drinking spirits with the spirits on this Friday night full of birthday cheer nostalgia and reminiscences and the beauty of this night is not lost on me, it will be carried in my heart until such time that I join the family circle and my boy will tell his tall tales about his crazy poet mother to his own children as she sips her whiskey from an old jam jar from her perch somewhere in between heaven and hell heart bursting with love at the fine young man she managed to raise part Aussie, part Hillbilly and one hundred per cent bloody awesome bloke.
I walked past you again today like I do most days in the corridor at work and as is customary you averted your gaze to my good morning. You, highly educated and highly esteemed a boss man and me, a very small cog in a very big machine. We have never formally met yet I know who you are, however I wonder what I am to you as we rush past each other each on our individual missions as we go about our jobs each equally important, yet without people like me there are no people like you dressed for success in your business attire with impressive Jags and BMWs in the reserved parking spaces by the front door of the building. Did you know I have a 10 minute walk from the common staff car park? You live nearby in an affluent suburb whilst I live on the outskirts of the city on the wrong side of the tracks commuting in daily congestion that sees my panic levels rise as the traffic crawls at an ever increasing rate until the highway resembles a shopping centre carpark on Christmas Eve. I arrive to work frazzled before I even begin. I'm not a corporate type but I love what I do and take my job very seriously. I work my backside off! I dress to be comfortable but my sense of style is quirky. Do my tattoos bother you? If you were to ask me about them I would tell you that my mother's name was Joyce so the Joy is for her and the words inscribed in the branches of the tree are lines from a poem I wrote when she passed away. The tattoo of the mother swinging her little girl around reminds me of my childhood, and the song lyrics that form the shape of a heart are my favourite lyrics from my favourite song by my favourite singer and it was because of this passion for this favourite singer of mine that I happened to meet my man, who happens to be the best man a girl could ever hope to meet. So the next time you round a corner almost knocking me down and I laugh and say good morning how about shaking things up a little, try making eye contact throw me a smile and a nod say good morning in return, because you know what? That little tiny thread of human connection will not only lighten your step but also brighten your day. It's a soul revival, guaranteed! Kindest regards The little fish from the big pond.
Radio is a medium of mass communication catering to a vast population across the globe but writing script for radio is very different from writing for any other medium. This is particularly because the content is heard rather than read. Therefore, a radio script must be engaging and should be written without using complex sentences.