i like making food with my friends because i am very smart person and i hate fake people potato and i lied, i love potatos and food, josh is very pretty, i like jumping in the pool, mokeys are weird.
this word has made so much change in our society, since the rise of text messaging. short messages that are instantly sent to our contacts, to supplement communication.
I walked down the street and realized that I had not thought in words for days.
When the tree moved I tasted the wind, and nothing else.
When my child smiled at me I heard ringing and flowers shuffling, and nothing else.
Why is the only word “texts” this website seemed really cool. But this is the only thing you have for me to write about? I’m very disappointed :(
Wow. So much time left. I are dissapoint.
“I keep receiving this texts from no one,” I said.
“Must be from some secret admirer,” my friend teased.
“No. They’re creepy. It keeps saying it will eat my hamburger later,” I said.
“OH NO. THAT PERSON DID NOT JUST SAY THAT!” my friend replied.
She took my hamburger and ate it.
She glanced down at her phone. Years ago, she got behind technology. Kay had been around long enough to know what would and wouldn’t stay around. Texting definitely wasn’t going anywhere. There were three texts and she tapped the app, seeing they were all from Raven. Good. He had an idea of where she could find Warren. It lifted her heart and she headed out into the morning, forgetting to pull her hood up against the chilly, winter air.
It all started with that damned Magic Tree House. He knew when he read the first sentence that there was no stopping until he got through Pynchon, and Joyce, and Proust, and Tolstoy. Now he pores over texts from the moment he wakes up to the moment he sleeps. But he eats and drinks, albeit with his eyes on the page. And he occasionally stands up and flails his arms and legs wildly from side to side, to keep his muscles toned and healthy. So he isn’t like the rest, he tells himself. He will outlive the rest. He is a FUNCTIONAL book addict, with no reason to quit reading anytime soon.
Receiving unexpected text messages from someone you care about is one of life’s simple pleasures. It makes you feel special, loved; cherished even. To think that he saw something to remind him of you, or that she felt a twinge of desire to get in touch with you because she missed your company is something very special. People often bemoan the effect text messages have on our communication skills as a species as a whole but I think a case can be made that the advent of text messages has not fundamentally altered the way in which we relate to each other on a human level.
I love getting text messages from people completely out of the blue. If I’ve texted them first or even if we’re arranging to meet up but it’s based on an earlier statement of intention between the two of us it isn’t so special, but when it happens unexpectedly I know that they were thinking of me or had seen something that reminded them of me. There’s something very special about that. It makes me feel like I’m important to that person, that they saw something or heard something and took the positive action of getting into contact with me as a result.
Texts? I love texting. It’s way better than actually talking to the person. The long ackward pauses are taking out and you get time to think before you actually say something.
Texts are brilliant as they allow people to speak without actually speaking. Genius really. Shame about the bad grammar and ease of taking them the wrong way, but hey, language has to evolve doesn’t it? Imagine if we still spoke like Shakespeare. Very difficult to fit all that flowery language in a text.
The texts you send could change someone’s day in a matter of seconds. And not always for the better. Just three hours a go, I received a text from a number I haven’t seen light up my screen in years. And now, I’m on the run, and I’m slowly uncovering the unresolved secrets of my life that I had not known. The text read, “Janey, go hide. They found you.”
I know who “they” are, but you will have to find that out for yourself. Where to hide, I do not know. Chrisi, the mysterious sender, was my best friend all through school, until she disappeared eleven years ago. Everyone suspected a kidnapping, but I knew the truth. I thought she was gone forever. But here she is again, and here goes another crazy adventure.
I’ve written about this before, before I made a oneword account. I text all the time. With friends, family, basically anyone,. Texting shapes out lives. Go TEXTS!!!!! Woo hoo. Now I’m just filling up space… doo dooo doooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. OH!!! TIMES UP!!
She felt her love with every kiss, in every look; every fleeting or lasting touch. It was a melange of every romantic cliche she had ever read about in books and texts.
I text all the time. With my friends, family, basically anyone. Texts are also things that you read in language arts classes. They are quite boring, but shape our minds into what they are. Texts save lives. I love taxts. Yay!!!
texts are kind of boring to me. you can never fit the amount you meant to say in the allotted number of characters. whatever though, perhaps i wasn’t meant to tell you how i truly feel. 140 characters of bullshit then! enjoy my surface conversation…
There were many things to be said about life. Holding the text messages up close to me, I wondered what there is to do. Should I act, as the messages tell me to? Or should I hide, hide, hide – as always. I’m afraid of those who have come near me. I am afraid. Of everything.
There were so many at first and then finally there were none. Who knew how to deal with them all, the texts? Was I paying a fee for each one? It was new. It was at first fun. But then it was less fun and less exciting. I wished there were fewer texts and more meaning but that was a lot to ask in this world, in this life.
I had to endure hours of this mess before we got to the juicy stuff. Before they revealed their crime buried in thousand year old history. They finally gave us all our copy of the text and trusted we’d keep it from the masses. But one didn’t start a revolution by keeping secrets.
Texts are like cellphone texts i guess? that’s all that comes up in my mind. oh my. haha. but i think texting led to grammar failure for me. it’s a perfect example of how it’s sometimes better to just quiclkly get to the point instead of beating round the bush.. i guess?
Undeleted texts piled up on his cell phone, like old newspaper clippings. If he lost his phone, a stranger could view the whole history of their relationship, from the “are you free sat?” to “i’m sry” three days after the breakup, could with sufficient imagination, fill in the missing details, turn a plot summary into a novel. He didn’t want to delete them, but when he read them, each would be like a little pinprick, and there were a lot of them. He hoped that he would just accidentally lose his phone someday, and someone would read the entire memory of texts. Somehow the idea of a commiserating stranger appealed to him.
I think that most young people text more than anything because it makes them feel like they can say anything without consequences, like, teenagers could be completely vulgar and don’t have to actually say the words. Though, I feel it makes talking in person much harder seeing as they aren’t used to face-to-face contact.
I’m disappointed to see the word texts because I was hoping it’d be something that required more thought. Like “trust” or “love” or “friendship.” Because then you could write about all three and they would be interchangable. What do texts have to do with life.
You should know, my dear, that those aren’t the graceless slips of the tongue. You, are, in all honesty, just a troublesome mix of pretentious sentences and dull wit. If I ate your words and threw up by the bushes, it would sprout out batshite. My dear, my dear.
I want to eat up your words and throw up into a bush and just watch batshit sprout out of the seams. Because that is exactly what all your sentences will amount to, a clump of regurgitated half promises and half assed pleading
i don’t get a lot of texts. the empty messages app in my iphone makes me feel empty. i hate technology. so your boyfriend hasn’t texted you back, what happened to face to face? calling? holding hands?
written words speak across ages
but over time
like a long game of telephone
the message is blurred
shaped by the retelling
to suit the need of those
who pass it on
Exchanging texts isn’t a replacement for real human contact. Talking on the phone isn’t much better. Today people don’t realize how socially deprived they are because of all of the new “social media”. I for one am sick of it. If I talk to you through technology, then I better damn well see you in person. Otherwise, we’re not really friends are we?
Texts’s again. Need to set the clock ahead and not sign in too soon. Wind up in a groundhog day of repeating the same word over and over. Need to find a thesaurus.
The word I see is “texts”. What does that mean to someone born before the middle of the last century? It means school books, you know, those volumes yesteryear kids used to carry around in wrapped arms and stooped shoulders? What a mess when you dropped them…unless a cute boy was around.
The texting was part of what ruined the relationship for me. February 14th, romantic dinner, pulling out all the stops even though I had the princely sum of minus 2,000 in my bank account. All evening, my companion was glued to the phone, a friend having found it an appropriate time to begin a conversation. One is never truly alone with a texter, and that is something that I can’t abide.
It is all we are left with. Letters and numbers and texts and things that we would like to call art and literature. Multiple meanings for words and texts that pass across in the air. Thats what text is. Just vague confidence.
Many people these days would see the word texts and rattle on about text messages; but I am an old man before my time, and it reminds me of the set texts we once had to read in school. Some were shockingly bad; others were life changing. I will never forget ‘Death of a Salesman’ in particular. I read it in its entirety whilst sitting out of my window, letting Miller’s words, and the soft summer rain, both wash over me.
I send texts to my friends, because it is the cheapest way to contact them. However, while cheap and easy, it is too easy to miscommunicate, and multiple messages are often required. Screw it, call. It may cost more money, but is that really important?
i like making food with my friends because i am very smart person and i hate fake people potato and i lied, i love potatos and food, josh is very pretty, i like jumping in the pool, mokeys are weird.
this word has made so much change in our society, since the rise of text messaging. short messages that are instantly sent to our contacts, to supplement communication.
Texte können kurz sein oder lang. Sie können sogar nur aus einem Wort bestehen. So zum Beispiel:
Text
Text ist ein ziemlich komisches Wort. 2xT, 1xE und ein X. X-beliebig. In einem Text kann alles stehen. Oder nichts.
I walked down the street and realized that I had not thought in words for days.
When the tree moved I tasted the wind, and nothing else.
When my child smiled at me I heard ringing and flowers shuffling, and nothing else.
Why is the only word “texts” this website seemed really cool. But this is the only thing you have for me to write about? I’m very disappointed :(
Wow. So much time left. I are dissapoint.
“I keep receiving this texts from no one,” I said.
“Must be from some secret admirer,” my friend teased.
“No. They’re creepy. It keeps saying it will eat my hamburger later,” I said.
“OH NO. THAT PERSON DID NOT JUST SAY THAT!” my friend replied.
She took my hamburger and ate it.
She glanced down at her phone. Years ago, she got behind technology. Kay had been around long enough to know what would and wouldn’t stay around. Texting definitely wasn’t going anywhere. There were three texts and she tapped the app, seeing they were all from Raven. Good. He had an idea of where she could find Warren. It lifted her heart and she headed out into the morning, forgetting to pull her hood up against the chilly, winter air.
It all started with that damned Magic Tree House. He knew when he read the first sentence that there was no stopping until he got through Pynchon, and Joyce, and Proust, and Tolstoy. Now he pores over texts from the moment he wakes up to the moment he sleeps. But he eats and drinks, albeit with his eyes on the page. And he occasionally stands up and flails his arms and legs wildly from side to side, to keep his muscles toned and healthy. So he isn’t like the rest, he tells himself. He will outlive the rest. He is a FUNCTIONAL book addict, with no reason to quit reading anytime soon.
Receiving unexpected text messages from someone you care about is one of life’s simple pleasures. It makes you feel special, loved; cherished even. To think that he saw something to remind him of you, or that she felt a twinge of desire to get in touch with you because she missed your company is something very special. People often bemoan the effect text messages have on our communication skills as a species as a whole but I think a case can be made that the advent of text messages has not fundamentally altered the way in which we relate to each other on a human level.
writing about texts is strange, it’s like texting about writing. How is that going to make a statement?
I love getting text messages from people completely out of the blue. If I’ve texted them first or even if we’re arranging to meet up but it’s based on an earlier statement of intention between the two of us it isn’t so special, but when it happens unexpectedly I know that they were thinking of me or had seen something that reminded them of me. There’s something very special about that. It makes me feel like I’m important to that person, that they saw something or heard something and took the positive action of getting into contact with me as a result.
Texts? I love texting. It’s way better than actually talking to the person. The long ackward pauses are taking out and you get time to think before you actually say something.
Texts are brilliant as they allow people to speak without actually speaking. Genius really. Shame about the bad grammar and ease of taking them the wrong way, but hey, language has to evolve doesn’t it? Imagine if we still spoke like Shakespeare. Very difficult to fit all that flowery language in a text.
The texts you send could change someone’s day in a matter of seconds. And not always for the better. Just three hours a go, I received a text from a number I haven’t seen light up my screen in years. And now, I’m on the run, and I’m slowly uncovering the unresolved secrets of my life that I had not known. The text read, “Janey, go hide. They found you.”
I know who “they” are, but you will have to find that out for yourself. Where to hide, I do not know. Chrisi, the mysterious sender, was my best friend all through school, until she disappeared eleven years ago. Everyone suspected a kidnapping, but I knew the truth. I thought she was gone forever. But here she is again, and here goes another crazy adventure.
I’ve written about this before, before I made a oneword account. I text all the time. With friends, family, basically anyone,. Texting shapes out lives. Go TEXTS!!!!! Woo hoo. Now I’m just filling up space… doo dooo doooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. OH!!! TIMES UP!!
She felt her love with every kiss, in every look; every fleeting or lasting touch. It was a melange of every romantic cliche she had ever read about in books and texts.
I text all the time. With my friends, family, basically anyone. Texts are also things that you read in language arts classes. They are quite boring, but shape our minds into what they are. Texts save lives. I love taxts. Yay!!!
texts are kind of boring to me. you can never fit the amount you meant to say in the allotted number of characters. whatever though, perhaps i wasn’t meant to tell you how i truly feel. 140 characters of bullshit then! enjoy my surface conversation…
There were many things to be said about life. Holding the text messages up close to me, I wondered what there is to do. Should I act, as the messages tell me to? Or should I hide, hide, hide – as always. I’m afraid of those who have come near me. I am afraid. Of everything.
There were so many at first and then finally there were none. Who knew how to deal with them all, the texts? Was I paying a fee for each one? It was new. It was at first fun. But then it was less fun and less exciting. I wished there were fewer texts and more meaning but that was a lot to ask in this world, in this life.
I had to endure hours of this mess before we got to the juicy stuff. Before they revealed their crime buried in thousand year old history. They finally gave us all our copy of the text and trusted we’d keep it from the masses. But one didn’t start a revolution by keeping secrets.
Texts are like cellphone texts i guess? that’s all that comes up in my mind. oh my. haha. but i think texting led to grammar failure for me. it’s a perfect example of how it’s sometimes better to just quiclkly get to the point instead of beating round the bush.. i guess?
Undeleted texts piled up on his cell phone, like old newspaper clippings. If he lost his phone, a stranger could view the whole history of their relationship, from the “are you free sat?” to “i’m sry” three days after the breakup, could with sufficient imagination, fill in the missing details, turn a plot summary into a novel. He didn’t want to delete them, but when he read them, each would be like a little pinprick, and there were a lot of them. He hoped that he would just accidentally lose his phone someday, and someone would read the entire memory of texts. Somehow the idea of a commiserating stranger appealed to him.
I think that most young people text more than anything because it makes them feel like they can say anything without consequences, like, teenagers could be completely vulgar and don’t have to actually say the words. Though, I feel it makes talking in person much harder seeing as they aren’t used to face-to-face contact.
I’m disappointed to see the word texts because I was hoping it’d be something that required more thought. Like “trust” or “love” or “friendship.” Because then you could write about all three and they would be interchangable. What do texts have to do with life.
good morning, he said, a smile like maple syrup on pancakes otherwise stale
‘hello sweetheart,’ i told him, my heart sore for loving him so fiercely so early in the morning. ‘what should we do today?’
he pointed to his record player. we’ll dance, in the garden
‘sounds perfect,’ i said, swallowing down the last of breakfast
–
are you still sad? he asked me, hand on my hand like i was his anchor though it was the other way around
‘a little,’ i said, i couldn’t bear to lie to him. ‘but less and less everyday’
sounds perfect, he said, and when we laughed it was like applause
–
our song, he said, and then he was quiet as the strings took over
sometimes he hums, like he was doing now. i don’t need to listen to the words to hear them, and for them to know me
his cheek rested on my shoulder, his hair tickling my cheek and i fought so hard not to bruise him with my embrace
‘sounds perfect,’ i said, inviting a kiss. he acquiesced, lips soft and mute
You should know, my dear, that those aren’t the graceless slips of the tongue. You, are, in all honesty, just a troublesome mix of pretentious sentences and dull wit. If I ate your words and threw up by the bushes, it would sprout out batshite. My dear, my dear.
I want to eat up your words and throw up into a bush and just watch batshit sprout out of the seams. Because that is exactly what all your sentences will amount to, a clump of regurgitated half promises and half assed pleading
this word is important in any culture, it represents books, lettres, i
i don’t get a lot of texts. the empty messages app in my iphone makes me feel empty. i hate technology. so your boyfriend hasn’t texted you back, what happened to face to face? calling? holding hands?
written words speak across ages
but over time
like a long game of telephone
the message is blurred
shaped by the retelling
to suit the need of those
who pass it on
Exchanging texts isn’t a replacement for real human contact. Talking on the phone isn’t much better. Today people don’t realize how socially deprived they are because of all of the new “social media”. I for one am sick of it. If I talk to you through technology, then I better damn well see you in person. Otherwise, we’re not really friends are we?
Texts’s again. Need to set the clock ahead and not sign in too soon. Wind up in a groundhog day of repeating the same word over and over. Need to find a thesaurus.
The word I see is “texts”. What does that mean to someone born before the middle of the last century? It means school books, you know, those volumes yesteryear kids used to carry around in wrapped arms and stooped shoulders? What a mess when you dropped them…unless a cute boy was around.
Pointless drivel spews from today’s youth in the shoddiest excuse for communication.
The texting was part of what ruined the relationship for me. February 14th, romantic dinner, pulling out all the stops even though I had the princely sum of minus 2,000 in my bank account. All evening, my companion was glued to the phone, a friend having found it an appropriate time to begin a conversation. One is never truly alone with a texter, and that is something that I can’t abide.
It is all we are left with. Letters and numbers and texts and things that we would like to call art and literature. Multiple meanings for words and texts that pass across in the air. Thats what text is. Just vague confidence.
Texts are the present day form of communication. People have started improvising and put their own language in it.
Many people these days would see the word texts and rattle on about text messages; but I am an old man before my time, and it reminds me of the set texts we once had to read in school. Some were shockingly bad; others were life changing. I will never forget ‘Death of a Salesman’ in particular. I read it in its entirety whilst sitting out of my window, letting Miller’s words, and the soft summer rain, both wash over me.
I send texts to my friends, because it is the cheapest way to contact them. However, while cheap and easy, it is too easy to miscommunicate, and multiple messages are often required. Screw it, call. It may cost more money, but is that really important?