odds are I will finish my work by morning, and odds are I will probably be in this situation again, but I do feel I am learning and changing and making a concerted effort to develop plans and ideas that require more of students and less inefficient and ineffective work for me. One thing for sure is I need to do more w/ infocus and elmo. these will provide all group work instead of the million comments on every single paper.
The odds of us amounting to anything more than friends is very slim. Whenever we walk around campus together, people mistake us for a couple. It’s not as if we’re holding hands, or waking close to each other, I guess it’s the way that we talk, the way that we lock eyes, how we can’t wipe that smile off our faces. That doesn’t matter anymore though because you have a girlfriend. Even though my feelings for you have intensified, I can’t tell you.
Odds were against them, but then again they always were. Only one thing was different this time. They were looking up to him. His crew. His compatriots. Dare he say it? His friends. Perhaps even his family. Well, maybe not that far. After all, no one ever bothered to remember his birthday. But as they all looked up to him now, he could not deny the fact that somewhere inside of him a glimmer of hope was ignited.
The odds that they would meet on that dreary night were ten to one. One to one hundred. Yet there they were. The cold nipped at their feet but what did they care? Their breath swirled as they sighed heavily, light from a flickering lamp post illuminated the lines on the old man’s face. Laugh lines and wrinkles. What were the odds that they would meet after all this time? Ten to one… One to one hundred….
The odds were, he had swam out and disappeared into the murky waters. They had spent all night combing the waves with the beams of their flashlights. After the last week, I wasn’t sure what to think about his escape.
I think that love is odd.
I mean, if you actually think about it, being attracted to someone is so…odd. And liking them A LOT is odd. Especially if you are a girl. Who likes another girl. I feel odd whenever she is around me, even though she knows I’m gay.
Although, she doesn’t know I like her. A lot.
I wish I could tell her that I liked her, without it being awkward or anything. :(
Why can’t I just kiss her? It would be wonderfully odd.
Odd.
Odd.
Odd is a funny word.
What are the odds that someone start complaining right from his first post. But here I am I am writing here again, because whatever I have written earlier resulted in an error message. I was expecting a different word
the odds were against her. She shifted her gaze from one spot to another and felt the skin of her face turn bright red. She became worried sick that he might notice but he continued to gaze steadily into his empty glass.
She liked to play against the odds. The boys would laugh as she repeatedly bet the underdogs, the long shots. And every time there she was, smirking back at them as the drown their sorrows in liquor and paid her her dues. She knew the way luck worked, and it always worked in her advantage.
Everyone wants to beat the odds. and in general, people use the phrase in the most generic sense. “i’m going to beat the odds and graduate from college”, when in reality so many people graduate college. i don’t know. that phrase bothers me. it’s not about proving people wrong or proving “life” wrong. just work hard.
I am at odds with myself, fighting to make sense of life. What
plan has god made out for me? Will I live alone, have a wife
or still living woth my parents? Life is not for the weary.
What are the odds, after 17 years I saw him, in the place I fell madly, for you. His eyes wild, with memory erasing passion. They said “You can forget him now” that smile that crept from the side of his mouth, was more than I could stand, and concepts of love, and hate, hurt, and deceit dissolved without struggle. Leaving me free of your face forever.
Tasteless evens in broken sharps of tangible mixes with edges ripped up the ceilings. It was so beautiful to see them tanning in the wind, broken, tasteless, with sunglasses that could burn through a man’s heart. And then, then I came.
Count yourselves off, odds go in one line, even in the other. Face each other and gaze into the eyes of the person across from you. You see a tinier, fishier-eye you with a big baby head and glassy-shiny skin. You are less odd than you think. Count yourself in.
The odds of me coming out ok are stacked seven Godzilla stories high above me but the odds of me throwing it all down the toilet aren’t odd at all. They’re even-steven with my eye level.
They were at odds with one another. It was entirely Sherlock’s fault but he refused to admit even the slightest amount of error on his part. John knew though that it had been he who had burnt the toast. What am I writing?
At odds with myself about what I should do, I turned down the alley. I knew there was a chance I would never leave the alley, but I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care whether I saw another sunrise or got another piece of gum stuck to my shoes. I didn’t care as long as he was alive. So either he or I was not leaving that alley.
Oh, what are the odds anyway? It just doesn’t seem possible. Oh, I suppose it’s against all odds isn’t it?… Where am I even? Where does it feel a little more even? Who’s determining the odds? Maybe there’s a reason they feel so familiar…
i am at odds with the even things in life. when everything is even, i sail along but i don’t learn anything. it is when the odds are at odds that i learn the most about myself and what God’s plan is for me.
“may the odds be ever in your favor!” a line from the hunger games. what a joke. it’s a joke in the book, and it’s a joke in my life. the odds are never in my favor. if the odds were in my favor, everyone I love would be with me right now.
At odds with herself, she looked out over the wreckage. It was a mess that she had created. She didn’t like what she was doing, but oddly enough she couldn’t stop herself from twisting her fist around his heart. Trying to push her luck.
“The world is now at odds!” The announcer, obviously in pure fear for his life, dawned a brave face and fearless voice, announcing the impending intergalactic war between the two factions. Every kid in the arena showed fear in their eyes, recognizing the gravity that failed to run parallel to the Saturday Morning Space Wars they watch on Saturday morning basic cable over their bowl of Cap’n Crunch.
The odds were stacked against me. I’d sworn a thousand times before that I was going to lose the weight, I was going to go to the gym. He looked at me with that condescending smile, promising to go with me for as long as I kept it up, until I wanted to stop. I told him I wasn’t going to stop this time. He laughed. Seven months ago he and I went are separate ways. Forty pounds gone and single, I’m happy.
In school its the one man out
And outside its going against the flow
But just how far will I go
To do what I know
Is worth loving, living, being, seeing, telling, laughing, caring, crying, trying, sharing, daring,
Odds are that you won’t win the lottery,
That the only people who read your blog are your mother and her few internet-literate friends,
That you’ll swallow eight spiders in your lifetime,
And that your eggs don’t have salmonella.
I must’ve been a pretty lucky guy to end up in the emergency room on New Year’s Day with a fever and abdominal pain.
What are the odds that our future is already set in stone? Maybe what we dreamed was meant to be, maybe not. Could our lives be predetermined? And if so, does this mean we have no free will?
She is, by far, one of the best things to happen to me. I mean, who I am now (and for always) is completely myself, but when we were kids, she was the archetype of who I was going to be. And in that venture, I created “me.” Sometimes with her, sometimes without.
Though she didn’t know it at the time, she offered me a family.
Oddities persist, like the drums behind a tune. Carrying on, they carry deeper, even when the song has ceased.Everything I do, is at odds with my odds. How did I get so messy? Why can’t things just stay tidy, the way everything in my bedroom has a place of its own. Except him. Except me.
what are the odds that i would pick you. that i would pick your life to step into, get involved with, mess up, and then step out. we both know what is going on here. i have to leave, i don’t want to talk about it. i’m pretty sure you don’t either. it only makes it harder the longer you pull on my wrist while i’m trying to get away.
odds are I will finish my work by morning, and odds are I will probably be in this situation again, but I do feel I am learning and changing and making a concerted effort to develop plans and ideas that require more of students and less inefficient and ineffective work for me. One thing for sure is I need to do more w/ infocus and elmo. these will provide all group work instead of the million comments on every single paper.
The odds of us amounting to anything more than friends is very slim. Whenever we walk around campus together, people mistake us for a couple. It’s not as if we’re holding hands, or waking close to each other, I guess it’s the way that we talk, the way that we lock eyes, how we can’t wipe that smile off our faces. That doesn’t matter anymore though because you have a girlfriend. Even though my feelings for you have intensified, I can’t tell you.
Odds were against them, but then again they always were. Only one thing was different this time. They were looking up to him. His crew. His compatriots. Dare he say it? His friends. Perhaps even his family. Well, maybe not that far. After all, no one ever bothered to remember his birthday. But as they all looked up to him now, he could not deny the fact that somewhere inside of him a glimmer of hope was ignited.
The odds that they would meet on that dreary night were ten to one. One to one hundred. Yet there they were. The cold nipped at their feet but what did they care? Their breath swirled as they sighed heavily, light from a flickering lamp post illuminated the lines on the old man’s face. Laugh lines and wrinkles. What were the odds that they would meet after all this time? Ten to one… One to one hundred….
The odds were, he had swam out and disappeared into the murky waters. They had spent all night combing the waves with the beams of their flashlights. After the last week, I wasn’t sure what to think about his escape.
I think that love is odd.
I mean, if you actually think about it, being attracted to someone is so…odd. And liking them A LOT is odd. Especially if you are a girl. Who likes another girl. I feel odd whenever she is around me, even though she knows I’m gay.
Although, she doesn’t know I like her. A lot.
I wish I could tell her that I liked her, without it being awkward or anything. :(
Why can’t I just kiss her? It would be wonderfully odd.
Odd.
Odd.
Odd is a funny word.
#End_Rant
I’ve got so many oddities. It’s nice to meet someone who’s oddities match perfectly with mine.
What are the odds that someone start complaining right from his first post. But here I am I am writing here again, because whatever I have written earlier resulted in an error message. I was expecting a different word
the odds were against her. She shifted her gaze from one spot to another and felt the skin of her face turn bright red. She became worried sick that he might notice but he continued to gaze steadily into his empty glass.
She liked to play against the odds. The boys would laugh as she repeatedly bet the underdogs, the long shots. And every time there she was, smirking back at them as the drown their sorrows in liquor and paid her her dues. She knew the way luck worked, and it always worked in her advantage.
Everyone wants to beat the odds. and in general, people use the phrase in the most generic sense. “i’m going to beat the odds and graduate from college”, when in reality so many people graduate college. i don’t know. that phrase bothers me. it’s not about proving people wrong or proving “life” wrong. just work hard.
I am at odds with myself. Why does life have choices?
To look at our regrets or celebrate our good choices?
Odds, what are the odds I die young? What are the odds I become famous, or a millionare.
I am at odds with myself, fighting to make sense of life. What
plan has god made out for me? Will I live alone, have a wife
or still living woth my parents? Life is not for the weary.
What are the odds, after 17 years I saw him, in the place I fell madly, for you. His eyes wild, with memory erasing passion. They said “You can forget him now” that smile that crept from the side of his mouth, was more than I could stand, and concepts of love, and hate, hurt, and deceit dissolved without struggle. Leaving me free of your face forever.
Boys and girls are bigger odds then two socks and a pair of whitey tities.
odds
I learned that boys with pretty eyes should’t be trusted and that the odds are in everyone favor, except for mine.
Tasteless evens in broken sharps of tangible mixes with edges ripped up the ceilings. It was so beautiful to see them tanning in the wind, broken, tasteless, with sunglasses that could burn through a man’s heart. And then, then I came.
Count yourselves off, odds go in one line, even in the other. Face each other and gaze into the eyes of the person across from you. You see a tinier, fishier-eye you with a big baby head and glassy-shiny skin. You are less odd than you think. Count yourself in.
what are the odds of me losing fifty pounds in two months?
i’m giving myself a year to lose the weight, but every day i see myself looking this way, i get even more disgusted. what is happening to me?
The odds of me coming out ok are stacked seven Godzilla stories high above me but the odds of me throwing it all down the toilet aren’t odd at all. They’re even-steven with my eye level.
They were at odds with one another. It was entirely Sherlock’s fault but he refused to admit even the slightest amount of error on his part. John knew though that it had been he who had burnt the toast. What am I writing?
At odds with myself about what I should do, I turned down the alley. I knew there was a chance I would never leave the alley, but I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care whether I saw another sunrise or got another piece of gum stuck to my shoes. I didn’t care as long as he was alive. So either he or I was not leaving that alley.
Oh, what are the odds anyway? It just doesn’t seem possible. Oh, I suppose it’s against all odds isn’t it?… Where am I even? Where does it feel a little more even? Who’s determining the odds? Maybe there’s a reason they feel so familiar…
i am at odds with the even things in life. when everything is even, i sail along but i don’t learn anything. it is when the odds are at odds that i learn the most about myself and what God’s plan is for me.
“may the odds be ever in your favor!” a line from the hunger games. what a joke. it’s a joke in the book, and it’s a joke in my life. the odds are never in my favor. if the odds were in my favor, everyone I love would be with me right now.
At odds with herself, she looked out over the wreckage. It was a mess that she had created. She didn’t like what she was doing, but oddly enough she couldn’t stop herself from twisting her fist around his heart. Trying to push her luck.
She needs to stop
“The world is now at odds!” The announcer, obviously in pure fear for his life, dawned a brave face and fearless voice, announcing the impending intergalactic war between the two factions. Every kid in the arena showed fear in their eyes, recognizing the gravity that failed to run parallel to the Saturday Morning Space Wars they watch on Saturday morning basic cable over their bowl of Cap’n Crunch.
What are the odds that you’ll fail? Are they high enough for you not to try?
May the odds be ever in your favor.
MAY THE ODDS BE EVER IN YOUR FAVOUR!!
march 23rd
:D:D:D:D
thats all that came to my mind for this word :D I am beyond excited
The odds were stacked against me. I’d sworn a thousand times before that I was going to lose the weight, I was going to go to the gym. He looked at me with that condescending smile, promising to go with me for as long as I kept it up, until I wanted to stop. I told him I wasn’t going to stop this time. He laughed. Seven months ago he and I went are separate ways. Forty pounds gone and single, I’m happy.
In school its the one man out
And outside its going against the flow
But just how far will I go
To do what I know
Is worth loving, living, being, seeing, telling, laughing, caring, crying, trying, sharing, daring,
Odds are that you won’t win the lottery,
That the only people who read your blog are your mother and her few internet-literate friends,
That you’ll swallow eight spiders in your lifetime,
And that your eggs don’t have salmonella.
I must’ve been a pretty lucky guy to end up in the emergency room on New Year’s Day with a fever and abdominal pain.
What are the odds that our future is already set in stone? Maybe what we dreamed was meant to be, maybe not. Could our lives be predetermined? And if so, does this mean we have no free will?
It’s a lonely thought.
odds and ends
something not normal
“thats odd”
t odd lers
differences
weird things
She is, by far, one of the best things to happen to me. I mean, who I am now (and for always) is completely myself, but when we were kids, she was the archetype of who I was going to be. And in that venture, I created “me.” Sometimes with her, sometimes without.
Though she didn’t know it at the time, she offered me a family.
Oddities persist, like the drums behind a tune. Carrying on, they carry deeper, even when the song has ceased.Everything I do, is at odds with my odds. How did I get so messy? Why can’t things just stay tidy, the way everything in my bedroom has a place of its own. Except him. Except me.
what are the odds that i would pick you. that i would pick your life to step into, get involved with, mess up, and then step out. we both know what is going on here. i have to leave, i don’t want to talk about it. i’m pretty sure you don’t either. it only makes it harder the longer you pull on my wrist while i’m trying to get away.