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""Well that fucking hurt!", I shouted after awakening. Feeling myself being dragged by two people by my arms and seeing the surrounding area that once was covered in dust. No Walker to be found as my last seen memory had seen, but more importantly, where the hell is Maddie. Still groggy from being smacked in the back of my head with a gun and a bit nervous, though I won't admit that to these men dragging me along this beaten path. Weak, tired and so damn confused " She is going to kill you all.", I say with a delightful smile on my face. Was only then one of the men dragging me responded " You are right Nick, she is going to kill us all, but not just her as she is not the only one of her kind infected, which is why we are taking shelter underground." With him telling me some of what I already knew " So what is your intent with me?" I asked while trying to regain my balance on my weakend knees. Wanting so badly to strike at these men dragging me underground and also wanting to reach for my gun, but realized it had been taken away "Good luck on finding her dip shits and if you were even capable of, you can't harm her." Then the man on the right of me started to become a familiar face as my eye site started to clear up some "Nick, had we retained her while you both came back to the facility, we would have ended her life as her powers she has of destruction is neutral underground of here. Why did you of all people not think of that idiot?" Calling me an idiot just really pisses me off! "Is that you Agent Jarvis?" Son of a bitch! A once close friend of mine and he is the one calling me an idiot. He was fast to acknowledge that it was in fact him and that I was not going to like the questioning session that was going to be taking place. I myself know what that is like as I have witnessed many sessions before in my time working as an agent myself. 'Fuck!', I would say to myself while my heart started to race faster. Having to plan something quickly and trying to decipher

""Well that fucking hurt!", I shouted after awakening. Feeling myself being dragged by two people by my arms and seeing the surrounding area that once was covered in dust. No Walker to be found as my last seen memory had seen, but more importantly, where the hell is Maddie. Still groggy from being smacked in the back of my head with a gun and a bit nervous, though I won't admit that to these men dragging me along this beaten path. Weak, tired and so damn confused " She is going to kill you all.", I say with a delightful smile on my face. Was only then one of the men dragging me responded " You are right Nick, she is going to kill us all, but not just her as she is not the only one of her kind infected, which is why we are taking shelter underground." With him telling me some of what I already knew " So what is your intent with me?" I asked while trying to regain my balance on my weakend knees. Wanting so badly to strike at these men dragging me underground and also wanting to reach for my gun, but realized it had been taken away "Good luck on finding her dip shits and if you were even capable of, you can't harm her." Then the man on the right of me started to become a familiar face as my eye site started to clear up some "Nick, had we retained her while you both came back to the facility, we would have ended her life as her powers she has of destruction is neutral underground of here. Why did you of all people not think of that idiot?" Calling me an idiot just really pisses me off! "Is that you Agent Jarvis?" Son of a bitch! A once close friend of mine and he is the one calling me an idiot. He was fast to acknowledge that it was in fact him and that I was not going to like the questioning session that was going to be taking place. I myself know what that is like as I have witnessed many sessions before in my time working as an agent myself. 'Fuck!', I would say to myself while my heart started to race faster. Having to plan something quickly and trying to decipher

* Explores the lifestyle of indigenous peoples of the world who exist in complete harmony with the natural world and with each other.* Reveals a model of a society built on trust, patience, and joy rather than anxiety, hurry, and acquisition.* Shows how we can reconnect with the ancient intuitive awareness of the world's original people. Deep in the mountainous jungle of Malaysia the aboriginal Sng'oi exist on the edge of extinction, though their way of living may ultimately be the kind of existence that will allow us all to survive. The Sng'oi - pre-industrial, pre-agricultural, semi-nomadic - live without cars or cell phones, without clocks or schedules in a lush green place where worry and hurry, competition and suspicion are not known. Yet these indigenous people - as do many other aboriginal groups - possess an acute and uncanny sense of the energies, emotions, and intentions of their place and the living beings who populate it, and trustingly follow this intuition, using it to make decisions about their actions each day. Psychologist Robert Wolff  lived with the Sng'oi, learned their language, shared their food, slept in their huts, and came to love and admire these people who respect silence, trust time to reveal and heal, and live entirely in the present with a sense of  joy. Even more, he came to recognize the depth of our alienation from these basic qualities of life. Much more than a document of a disappearing people, Original Wisdom: Stories of an Ancient Way of Knowing holds a mirror to our own existence, allowing us to see how far we have wandered from the ways of the intuitive and trusting Sng'oi, and challenges us, in our fragmented world, to rediscover this humanity within ourselves.

yes, Everything We Know Has an Expiration Date. :D

"Dear friend, I am writing to you because she said you listen and understand and didn't try to sleep with that person at that party even though you could have. Please don't try to figure out who she is because then you might figure out who I am, and I really don't want you to do that. I will call people by different names or generic names because I don't want you to find me. I didn't enclose a return address for the same reason. I mean nothing bad by this. Honest. I just need to know that someone out there listens and understands and doesn't try to sleep with people even if they could have. I need to know that these people exist." - The Perks of Being a Wallflower. The film is out soon.

"Stanley Swanson-Breed of a Werewolf" I've lived an extraordinary life to say the least. I started out in journalism and found myself located in Kansas City, KS working for the largest output of the newspaper known as the Kansas City Star. Born in 1974 and currently living in Stull, KS is where I have ended up and have retired at a young age of almost forty years old. I retired because I happen to be paralyzed from the waist down as a drunk person who ran a red light had t-boned me while on my motorcycle on my way home from work. That happened only a few years ago. I am not here to write about my life, but let me introduce myself. My name is Kain Edward. There were many things I wrote about in my time as a journalist, but found the most intriguing to me was that of paranormal existence, sightings, vampires and werewolves. Something I found I could exaggerate in my mind freely and always wanted to believe in them. During my life as a young boy, I loved anything to do with 'mythology' or those creatures that had certain powers. I grew up watching a lot of movies that involved Vampires and Werewolves and I believe that is why I had grown to be so time consumed in the research of such. One thing that always stood out to me was the fact that there never really ever seemed like there was a book or movie that gave great details of 'Werewolves', which would become more fascinating to me as I began to lose a slight interest in Vampires. "Surely there has to be more to Werewolves then just being some hideous beast that kills humans?" I would say to myself many times over. I had to do a lot of traveling and research as one might imagine. I had spoken to so many people from all parts of the world that claimed to have seen such subjects of interest or heard of someone who had. It only grew my interest that much more. Unfortunately, nothing ever turned out as a positive result as I often ran into dead ends. I soon became a laughing stock to co-workers and even

One of our most innovative, popular thinkers takes on-in exhilarating style-one of our key questions: Where do good ideas come from? With Where Good Ideas Come From, Steven Johnson pairs the insight of his bestselling Everything Bad Is Good for You and the dazzling erudition of The Ghost Map and The Invention of Air to address an urgent and universal question: What sparks the flash of brilliance? How does groundbreaking innovation happen? Answering in his infectious, culturally omnivorous style, using his fluency in fields from neurobiology to popular culture, Johnson provides the complete, exciting, and encouraging story of how we generate the ideas that push our careers, our lives, our society, and our culture forward. Beginning with Charles Darwin's first encounter with the teeming ecosystem of the coral reef and drawing connections to the intellectual hyperproductivity of modern megacities and to the instant success of YouTube, Johnson shows us that the question we need to ask is, What kind of environment fosters the development of good ideas? His answers are never less than revelatory, convincing, and inspiring as Johnson identifies the seven key principles to the genesis of such ideas, and traces them across time and disciplines. Most exhilarating is Johnson's conclusion that with today's tools and environment, radical innovation is extraordinarily accessible to those who know how to cultivate it. Where Good Ideas Come From is essential reading for anyone who wants to know how to come up with tomorrow's great ideas.

"Linda, dozing in the light of the campfire, jolted awake. She sat up, stretched, willed herself to wakefulness. It was her first duty on watch-she'd insisted on a stint-and she'd dozed. How reliable of her. She peered into the woods, listening, wondering why she'd awoken. The campfire crackled and whispered. A spark popped. She thumbed open the cylinder release of her revolver and counted bullets. The gun looked ancient, like a long-barreled cowboy weapon. As if she would know. She eased the cylinder shut with a click. She settled back again, grateful she hadn't shot anyone. Something rustled in the darkness of the nearby forest. She should be accustomed to this by now. Rainforest nights were deathly quiet in comparison to Boston nights, but that was just the problem. It would take a gunshot or a siren to jar her awake back home, but mere whispers did the trick here. They signaled movement. The jungle was alive, teeming. Jaguars would be about, prowling. The big cats had killed and eaten grown men on occasion. Man-eating jaguars. Nice. No chance of sleep now. Grant slumped in his chair opposite the fire, sound asleep, snoring softly, reassuringly. Not quite enough to set her at ease. The others had gone to bed. He preferred to stay with the watch, a visible, armed backup. What would be more comforting than Indiana Jones sound asleep would be Indiana Jones wide awake. She coughed, gently. Grant slept on. "Grant," she said. No response. "Hey, Grant!" He stirred and rubbed his eyes. "What?" "I didn't say anything." "Hm. Okay." Linda glanced about. "I'm hearing things in the woods. Maybe those sounds woke you." Grant sat up. "What kind of sounds?" He picked up his rifle. "Something moving." They sat in silence for long moments, listening. At last, Grant said, "The alarms haven't tripped. That's a good sign. Anything big would have set them off." He looked at his watch. "Why don't you get some sleep? You've only g

"Linda, dozing in the light of the campfire, jolted awake. She sat up, stretched, willed herself to wakefulness. It was her first duty on watch-she'd insisted on a stint-and she'd dozed. How reliable of her. She peered into the woods, listening, wondering why she'd awoken. The campfire crackled and whispered. A spark popped. She thumbed open the cylinder release of her revolver and counted bullets. The gun looked ancient, like a long-barreled cowboy weapon. As if she would know. She eased the cylinder shut with a click. She settled back again, grateful she hadn't shot anyone. Something rustled in the darkness of the nearby forest. She should be accustomed to this by now. Rainforest nights were deathly quiet in comparison to Boston nights, but that was just the problem. It would take a gunshot or a siren to jar her awake back home, but mere whispers did the trick here. They signaled movement. The jungle was alive, teeming. Jaguars would be about, prowling. The big cats had killed and eaten grown men on occasion. Man-eating jaguars. Nice. No chance of sleep now. Grant slumped in his chair opposite the fire, sound asleep, snoring softly, reassuringly. Not quite enough to set her at ease. The others had gone to bed. He preferred to stay with the watch, a visible, armed backup. What would be more comforting than Indiana Jones sound asleep would be Indiana Jones wide awake. She coughed, gently. Grant slept on. "Grant," she said. No response. "Hey, Grant!" He stirred and rubbed his eyes. "What?" "I didn't say anything." "Hm. Okay." Linda glanced about. "I'm hearing things in the woods. Maybe those sounds woke you." Grant sat up. "What kind of sounds?" He picked up his rifle. "Something moving." They sat in silence for long moments, listening. At last, Grant said, "The alarms haven't tripped. That's a good sign. Anything big would have set them off." He looked at his watch. "Why don't you get some sleep? You've only g

Today, influencing is very important skill that everyone needs for the success. In the book "How to Win Friends and Influence People" by Megan Colter, you will get to know about your own style and will be able to learn skills to influence others and the people you work with.

You can feel it. Or maybe you can't. It doesn't matter whether you feel it or not. It's happening. The story of the United States of America as we know it -- not merely as the world's dominant superpower, but as a discrete political, economic, and geographic entity -- is drawing to a close due to a convergence of emerging economic, environmental, and political crises. Nothing lasts forever, empires least of all. And this one, which only began to expand in earnest circa the year 1900, doesn't feel like it has the staying power of ancient Rome. Not at all.

Have you ever desperately wanted to end it all, but stopped short because you still had that final message to the world? A last screw-you to you-know-who?

Have you ever desperately wanted to end it all, but stopped short because you still had that final message to the world? A last screw-you to you-know-who?

Almost. Historian David Goldfield exposes how evangelical Protestants turned a conflict into a bloody conflagration

Time isn't what it used to be  TIME is not what it used to be. Once a flowing river whose current we passively monitored, time is now more properly understood as something constructed by the brain and personalised by culture. We have relationships with time; we fight it and manipulate it. Into this arena steps Eva Hoffman with her poetically scientific and austerely titled Time. Hoffman is on an exploration to become intimate with time, motivated by her sense that our interaction with time has changed. Our societies have become obsessed with time and timekeeping, both in the workplace and at home. Jet travel manipulates our experience of day-night cycles and seasons, while biomedical science races to increase our lifespan yet further. At the other end of the spectrum, new technologies adapt our minds to the ever-briefer scales of micro and nano. Hoffman covers a lot of ground, from physics (why time flows in only one direction) to biology (the circadian rhythm and sleep) to neuroscience (how temporality is constructed by the brain). She addresses questions of time and consciousness, including the uniquely human ability to envision large vistas of past or future. Perceived time is illuminated by disease states such as Alzheimer's disease or Korsakoff's syndrome, in which one's time narrative becomes disorganised, and by fantasies and dreams, in which the unconscious brain does not necessarily commit to a temporal narrative at all. Hoffman also investigates individual differences in how people treat time (those who leave parties early versus those who have to be shooed out at the end) as well as cultural differences (communities in which haste amounts to a breach of ethics, for instance). A recurring theme is that the human capacity to manipulate our environment ushers in new complexities to the basic biology of time. For example, while other animals age and die on a strict schedule, humans do everything in their power to control that timing. And the book is full of

Are you using social media in your business? How are you using it? You know you're doing it. There's a Facebook fan page, a Twitter account, Linkedin account and a business blog.

You can continue on this path, but you will never achieve your goals because you do not know the answer to the question:

"Why can't you achieve what is really important to you; eating what you want while looking your best and feeling wonderful? "

On the other hand, you can continue

One last full moon - then it will all be over. Jacob Marlowe has lost the will to live. For two hundred years he has wandered the world, enslaved by his lunatic appetites and tormented by the memory of his first and most monstrous crime. Now, the last of his kind, he knows he cannot go on. But as Jake counts down a violent murder and an extraordinary meeting plunge him straight back into the desperate pursuit of life - and love. An intelligent and literate addition to the genre.

Everyone thinks that talent and creativity are the first determinants of a writer's success, but people who have actually made an attempt in writing, know that there is much more to it. The greatest struggle that writers face is their inability to manage their time and find the energy to stick to the given schedule.