the things that are done by themselves n you dont need to work hard for it
or the machines now days are automatic they do their work themselves they just need to be instructed
automatic automatic automatic!!!!!!!!!!
It was automatic. I pounced. The rabbit squirmed and squealed – fragile like spun sugar – but my hands had found its neck and I squeezed.
That was my first mistake.
Within seconds – less – there was a crunch and the rabbit went limp. Eyes glazed. The warmth fled. I was left with a dead and useless thing, cold and hungry.
everything seems automatic- my car, the body, even my thoughts! but some others aren’t automatic like my feelings…come to think of it, they too are automatic, like I couldn’t help but feel absolutely happy while doing this, because well, it was automatic!
I think of that album, that so depressing time with only hints of pleasure and honey (though honey was actually from an earlier album). R.E.M. told me what people must do, and it is that drift; that sadness; that is saved only by momentary or length connections with others. Our life is.
Her response was automatic – an involuntary reaction to his body smashing against hers. “I thought you hated me,” he said, a smirk across his haughty face. “Yeah, I still do,” she replied. “A girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.”
This is what happens when you are told to just go with it. Go with it, the flow, just keep going. Don’t think, what are you doing? Is that thinking I hear? Stop that. No thinking. Fingers, mind of their own, no, that’s thinking. No minds, no minds, no minds. Thinking is bad, thinking is bad, no thinking. Fingers.
It was automatic. The way the pieces of the rifle fell into his hands, then into their rightful places along the stem. He smiled. Perfect. Seamless. An extension of his arm, his heartbeat.
There is an automatic reaction to something that shocks you. The way you had changed in the way you hadn’t startled me, and I begun to whirr my senses into that reaction. I closed my eyes delicately, but it made no effect to my thoughts.
Automatic refers to anything which happens on its own. there are many thing in the world which are automatic like car, stereo system, airplane etc. I think in the future everything would be automatic. things are getting automated with the technological improvements in the world.
I never thought the consequences. It just happened. It was a fire going off in my gut, no, more like a bomb, and I staggered at the that of what would happen. It was an automatic reflex to some perceived joy.
It’s funny how people do automatic stuff. We don’t think about it much, we just do it. I thinks that’s fascinating. I guess life is easier because of it. I don’t know, it’s something special for a human being.
It was automatic. She hadn’t even though about it. Like a well-choreographed dance, he made a move, she stepped back. He rejected her, she reached for him. They were magnets, pushing each other away instead of pulling the other nearer.
It was automatic. She hadn’t meant to. She’d give anything, in fact, to be able to reach for him as he reached for her.
The car was an automatic. In theory, that should be simpler, but as a lifelong driver of a standard I fumbled with the controls for several seconds. She laughed a little at me, slouching deeper in the passenger’s seat, fiddling with the radio. “Don’t,” I said, frustrated with my lack of competence. She stopped laughing and crossed her arms, looking out the window.
I dove to the floor automatically as the bullets shot past the top of my head. Rolling, I brought the gun up and fired. One down. As I moved to aim at the other one, I found myself staring straight into the barrel of his gun. Too late. Phew. Suddenly, the man fell down as a bullet shot through his head. Jenn stood calmly, her arm outstretched, rifle in hand. “Let’s move.”
sudden. uncontrolled. instantaneous. extempore. If I gave in to the automatic, I would not be here. I would have left and run and run and run into nothingness and freedom. Just be myself unedited, uncensored unheld. Sure simply because I could be.
Princesses have an automatic aversion to tadpoles, hairy spiders, but not, unfortunately, boys. Witchlings, on the other hand, love tadpoles and spiders and everything creepy and beautiful. It turned out, however, under the old oak tree, that witchlings also like boys. Selene watched Jenny’s blonde head duck to catch the kiss of Christopher, and her heart constricted.
In later years, she would find a way to stop the process: her own stilled, slowed, turned cold, while Christopher’s floated motionless in a jar.
Automatic, without thinking. We do lots of practice drills so that muscle responses are absolutely automatic. Routines need to be automatic to free our brains for thinking when thinking is needed, when automatic responses do not suffice.
writing writing writing, just letting it flow, letting it pour onto the page, no critic nibbling at your inner ear, just words, more words, as many words as you have, you will be surprised by what pops out, you will find out something about yourself and where you place yourself in the world, what your world is…and….
I went through the entire day on automatic pilot. Too shocked to have to think about anything, make any decisions, or take any actions. Coming home from an out of town sale trip to find John gone … that was an incredible shock.
It should be. It wasn’t. I had to stop, I had to think, I had to remember. What is automatic to me, anymore? It seems like everything is carefully planned, put in to place. I wish it would come more naturally. Like Julia Roberts smiling. Like love should be. But these days, even that takes so much thought. So much careful planning.
Automatic world has gone mad about nuts and strawberries. The strawberries are blue automatic robots. Oh no! Now what are we gonna do? Automatic world, I automatically wrote about strawberries.
I hadn’t thought far enough ahead and yet the words came tumbling out. Like I had become some auto pilot riving the words with an automatic devise in my mouth
You don’t think you just do. Like a reaction or an impulse. Not something you always want or need to do. Like a burst of anger or love. It just happens. Like the car, it just does whatever the hell it wants.
the Automatic car sped up giving me the rush of the wind in my face. THe speed kept increasig as it drove. It was going to fast! We are going to crash!
Swell the keypad didn’t come up automatically. Next time I will know better. My automatic response to living here is to buy a gun, but my doctor won’t fill my out the medical information for me… Two years of resisting the urge to buy a gun is taking it’s toll.
The doors locked as he begain to drive, instantly, without hesitattion. My arms were bound behind me with rope and my mouth, taped with duct tape. The glass on the windows are made to be bulletproof, so theres no way i could break myself out.. Where is he taking me?
it was automatic, to think like she did. always negative. especially when she looked at herself now in the mirror. how could anyone love her, how could he love her? what had she been thinking that night.
but it was over now. he was gone and she was left hoping for more. she would never be able to please him. she would never be good enough.
as she stood staring at her reflection in the mirror another thought had occurred to her. what had brought her here? why, on a whim, had she decided the only place she could truly find happiness was the one place that always brought her down?
“Go” I say and the car begins trundling along as I sit in the drivers seat rading a thrilling novel. I glance up. “Left!” I command, and automatically, the car turns left on to the motorway. “Fast” I say, and the car accelerates until I am speeding along the highway to work.
The elevator doors glide open. I press a button and we–the elevator and I–swoosh quietly up to the fifth floor. I scan my identification tag on the timekeeping machine, return to the elevator, and swoosh up to the eleventh floor. I scan my tag twice more, at two separate doors, to enter the office. This sounds like science fiction but I promise you: it is 2011 and this is my day-to-day life.
the things that are done by themselves n you dont need to work hard for it
or the machines now days are automatic they do their work themselves they just need to be instructed
automatic automatic automatic!!!!!!!!!!
By Aarushi on 10.25.2011
things done without thinking, by themselves. goes like a machine.
By Kristiane on 10.25.2011
It was automatic. I pounced. The rabbit squirmed and squealed – fragile like spun sugar – but my hands had found its neck and I squeezed.
That was my first mistake.
Within seconds – less – there was a crunch and the rabbit went limp. Eyes glazed. The warmth fled. I was left with a dead and useless thing, cold and hungry.
By Aly Blythe URL on 10.25.2011
everything seems automatic- my car, the body, even my thoughts! but some others aren’t automatic like my feelings…come to think of it, they too are automatic, like I couldn’t help but feel absolutely happy while doing this, because well, it was automatic!
By Aadya on 10.25.2011
I think of that album, that so depressing time with only hints of pleasure and honey (though honey was actually from an earlier album). R.E.M. told me what people must do, and it is that drift; that sadness; that is saved only by momentary or length connections with others. Our life is.
By qwyrxian URL on 10.25.2011
Her response was automatic – an involuntary reaction to his body smashing against hers. “I thought you hated me,” he said, a smirk across his haughty face. “Yeah, I still do,” she replied. “A girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.”
By kyna on 10.25.2011
ly, I responded with a demeaning tone. I wasn’t in a bad mood; my thoughts were wandering into darkness.
By DRB URL on 10.25.2011
an intuitive, automatic reaction, like the jerk of a knee under the hammer, i fight back. i didn’t see the knife until too late.
By biscuitmensch URL on 10.25.2011
This is what happens when you are told to just go with it. Go with it, the flow, just keep going. Don’t think, what are you doing? Is that thinking I hear? Stop that. No thinking. Fingers, mind of their own, no, that’s thinking. No minds, no minds, no minds. Thinking is bad, thinking is bad, no thinking. Fingers.
By Kayla URL on 10.25.2011
It wasn’t like she was planning it. It just happened. An instinct, really.
Most people wouldn’t have even realized they’d done it.
But she knew. She had to know. The repercussions of it would be dire, and painful, and rough. But she had chosen it, whether knowingly or not.
And now she would have to live it.
And so would the rest of them.
By Ashley URL on 10.25.2011
It was automatic. The way the pieces of the rifle fell into his hands, then into their rightful places along the stem. He smiled. Perfect. Seamless. An extension of his arm, his heartbeat.
By mattg76 URL on 10.25.2011
There is an automatic reaction to something that shocks you. The way you had changed in the way you hadn’t startled me, and I begun to whirr my senses into that reaction. I closed my eyes delicately, but it made no effect to my thoughts.
By Sherlock Holmes URL on 10.25.2011
Automatic refers to anything which happens on its own. there are many thing in the world which are automatic like car, stereo system, airplane etc. I think in the future everything would be automatic. things are getting automated with the technological improvements in the world.
By Chirag Sharma on 10.25.2011
I didn’t get to write anything.
By Elizabeth on 10.25.2011
I never thought the consequences. It just happened. It was a fire going off in my gut, no, more like a bomb, and I staggered at the that of what would happen. It was an automatic reflex to some perceived joy.
By Roy Cutler URL on 10.25.2011
It’s funny how people do automatic stuff. We don’t think about it much, we just do it. I thinks that’s fascinating. I guess life is easier because of it. I don’t know, it’s something special for a human being.
By Matea Fadiga on 10.25.2011
It was automatic. She hadn’t even though about it. Like a well-choreographed dance, he made a move, she stepped back. He rejected her, she reached for him. They were magnets, pushing each other away instead of pulling the other nearer.
It was automatic. She hadn’t meant to. She’d give anything, in fact, to be able to reach for him as he reached for her.
By Chelseyann URL on 10.25.2011
The car was an automatic. In theory, that should be simpler, but as a lifelong driver of a standard I fumbled with the controls for several seconds. She laughed a little at me, slouching deeper in the passenger’s seat, fiddling with the radio. “Don’t,” I said, frustrated with my lack of competence. She stopped laughing and crossed her arms, looking out the window.
By Anna URL on 10.25.2011
moon spontaneous well thought like i say whatever give it to me right now
no no no
By roma on 10.25.2011
I dove to the floor automatically as the bullets shot past the top of my head. Rolling, I brought the gun up and fired. One down. As I moved to aim at the other one, I found myself staring straight into the barrel of his gun. Too late. Phew. Suddenly, the man fell down as a bullet shot through his head. Jenn stood calmly, her arm outstretched, rifle in hand. “Let’s move.”
By VanessaTechlan URL on 10.25.2011
We move, we synchronize.
We drink, we eat, we sleep, we live.
We lock eyes, we kiss, we marry, and have kids.
We work, you die, I grieve.
I follow.
It’s automatic.
By Circinus URL on 10.25.2011
sudden. uncontrolled. instantaneous. extempore. If I gave in to the automatic, I would not be here. I would have left and run and run and run into nothingness and freedom. Just be myself unedited, uncensored unheld. Sure simply because I could be.
By Swati URL on 10.25.2011
automatic cars are for pussies
i thought as i shoved my stick
into the second position
of my shit-rag truck
By Andy URL on 10.25.2011
Princesses have an automatic aversion to tadpoles, hairy spiders, but not, unfortunately, boys. Witchlings, on the other hand, love tadpoles and spiders and everything creepy and beautiful. It turned out, however, under the old oak tree, that witchlings also like boys. Selene watched Jenny’s blonde head duck to catch the kiss of Christopher, and her heart constricted.
In later years, she would find a way to stop the process: her own stilled, slowed, turned cold, while Christopher’s floated motionless in a jar.
By RS Bohn URL on 10.25.2011
Automatic, without thinking. We do lots of practice drills so that muscle responses are absolutely automatic. Routines need to be automatic to free our brains for thinking when thinking is needed, when automatic responses do not suffice.
By elizabeth b URL on 10.25.2011
writing writing writing, just letting it flow, letting it pour onto the page, no critic nibbling at your inner ear, just words, more words, as many words as you have, you will be surprised by what pops out, you will find out something about yourself and where you place yourself in the world, what your world is…and….
By georgie on 10.25.2011
I went through the entire day on automatic pilot. Too shocked to have to think about anything, make any decisions, or take any actions. Coming home from an out of town sale trip to find John gone … that was an incredible shock.
By Bonnie Cehovet URL on 10.25.2011
It should be. It wasn’t. I had to stop, I had to think, I had to remember. What is automatic to me, anymore? It seems like everything is carefully planned, put in to place. I wish it would come more naturally. Like Julia Roberts smiling. Like love should be. But these days, even that takes so much thought. So much careful planning.
By monroe2go URL on 10.25.2011
Automatic world has gone mad about nuts and strawberries. The strawberries are blue automatic robots. Oh no! Now what are we gonna do? Automatic world, I automatically wrote about strawberries.
By isabela on 10.25.2011
I hadn’t thought far enough ahead and yet the words came tumbling out. Like I had become some auto pilot riving the words with an automatic devise in my mouth
By Amimee URL on 10.25.2011
You don’t think you just do. Like a reaction or an impulse. Not something you always want or need to do. Like a burst of anger or love. It just happens. Like the car, it just does whatever the hell it wants.
By Sadie on 10.25.2011
the Automatic car sped up giving me the rush of the wind in my face. THe speed kept increasig as it drove. It was going to fast! We are going to crash!
By Hannah URL on 10.25.2011
Swell the keypad didn’t come up automatically. Next time I will know better. My automatic response to living here is to buy a gun, but my doctor won’t fill my out the medical information for me… Two years of resisting the urge to buy a gun is taking it’s toll.
By Cathy Archer on 10.25.2011
car fast speed automobile future today machine convinient quick math airplane tomorrow
By Christa Douros on 10.25.2011
I’m definitely running on automatic today. Ugh no sleep at all. Thank you, creepy aura in my bedroom! Thank you so very much.
By Cordelia URL on 10.25.2011
The doors locked as he begain to drive, instantly, without hesitattion. My arms were bound behind me with rope and my mouth, taped with duct tape. The glass on the windows are made to be bulletproof, so theres no way i could break myself out.. Where is he taking me?
By Sierra Ann(: URL on 10.25.2011
it was automatic, to think like she did. always negative. especially when she looked at herself now in the mirror. how could anyone love her, how could he love her? what had she been thinking that night.
but it was over now. he was gone and she was left hoping for more. she would never be able to please him. she would never be good enough.
as she stood staring at her reflection in the mirror another thought had occurred to her. what had brought her here? why, on a whim, had she decided the only place she could truly find happiness was the one place that always brought her down?
By Helli URL on 10.25.2011
“Go” I say and the car begins trundling along as I sit in the drivers seat rading a thrilling novel. I glance up. “Left!” I command, and automatically, the car turns left on to the motorway. “Fast” I say, and the car accelerates until I am speeding along the highway to work.
By Antonia on 10.25.2011
no human electric car fast efficient complex simple truck
By Layla Rolfes on 10.25.2011
The elevator doors glide open. I press a button and we–the elevator and I–swoosh quietly up to the fifth floor. I scan my identification tag on the timekeeping machine, return to the elevator, and swoosh up to the eleventh floor. I scan my tag twice more, at two separate doors, to enter the office. This sounds like science fiction but I promise you: it is 2011 and this is my day-to-day life.
By Marie URL on 10.25.2011