Her hands were withered and wrinkled with age. But I didn’t mind. If anything it was nice to have a new texture. I found it interesting. I loved that I had known her long enough to be able to see her skin become this way and to watch her hair turn to a dark slate hue. She was still the most gorgeous woman I’d ever known and I was right all those years ago when I’d said I could never leave her.
It was slated to pass! That’s what the motherly ing doctors said. That’s what the nurses said. That’s what the loudmouth receptionists said, also! Cancer, man. Tell me more about the cancer, man.
Jenny scrawled and scrawled across the chalkboard. The children had left hours ago. All those maleable little minds looking to her for guidance, approval. Sometimes it drove her to sheer sweating anxiety.
Krissy
Clean Clate, Black Slate, things like this comes up. Everyone according to emerson is born with a blank slate. Anyone can fill their slate up with anything they choose. i don’t believe that your slate can every be blank. You can’t just start with a blank slate. What you did will always be there. The only time that you have a blank slate is when you’re first born
I usually like cleaning for no reason. It helps keep things organized. It helps keep me calm without actually having to get up. When I’m done, I know I’ve kept things on a clean slate. I know that I can just sit without even looking around the room and worrying that my guests will be disgusted. I can feel myself knowing I made a clean slate.
Cailin
a clean slate. she wasn’t sure how she would go about it. her alcoholism and nicotine addiction, well, they were out of the question for now. the drugs? she guessed she could work on that.
the sociopath fiance? uh, well, she’d deal with him later.
rhey quaza
if you go to the market and try to find your shit you can bet that instead you will find some green slate for your beloved children
manuel
i want a clean slate. That’s it. It’s a new year and being clean, isn’t that what it’s all about? I think about how the difference between New Years Eve and New Years Day is the same between any two days.
When I think of slate, I think of rock,and how solid it is. It makes me think of the solidness of places. The solidness between the outside world and inside, like looking through a window or a sheet of glass and seeing everything either inside or outside that window and either way being totally unattainable. your separated by something so small yet so influential as to how you see the world.
I often see a blank slate in front of me. Blank and boring like a piece of paper. I start to write and then the words make sense. Little black markings fly across the page, dotting each line and telling their story. Carrying each letter with a swish and a stoke, I make up and imagine a new word, a new phrase, a new formula.
Laura Riddle
Your slate is clear with me, it is a God of your understanding whom you await your judgement.
Leaving had never felt so good. After a mess of accidents that pushed him closer and closer to the edge, leaving had wiped his slate clean. A fresh start was what he needed, just perfect; until he was recognized.
He grasped the slate tile to prevent it from crashing to the ground. An owl hooted from a far off tree. He knew which was her window. Reaching it was easy, he’d done this before you see. But he told himself this would be the last time. All he had to do was persuade her. He knew she was the only one for him. After all hadn’t he been following her for the lasts six months, much longer than he had followed the others.
“I’m coming my love,” he whispered as the sash gave and the window slid silently open.
Helen
The slate was empty as I started the new year out, would I fill the slate with the same old stuff like the many years before. Or would the new year fill the slate with much needed changes. would the slate turn many new colors in the new year
shelly
It’s a clean slate.
That’s wat Tata always told me, when the new year started.
Sometimes I wish that she was still here, but it doesn’t matter now.
Clean slate. Dirty slate…empty slate.
I’ve remembered everything that she ever wanted me to. I’ve done everything that I could have. But it eats at me inside. It carves marks into my slate to the point that nothing around me can fill them anymore.
I’m cracking. Falling apart. Crumbling to dust.
I’m sorry Tata. I wanted this to be your legacy. I wanted to be your daughter. Your heiress.
I did not want to be the one holding the knife as they walked you to your death.
Maybe it’s a good thing they didn’t know what you meant to me. It means they’ll never see this coming. It means, maybe, that I can have a clean slate after all. If this works, then we’re even. Your sacrifice was worth it.
My youth wasn’t wasted. Goddess’ blessings on you, Tata. May your soul rest in peace.
I signed the letter, folded it in half and held it to the candle burning at my elbow. I watched it turn to ash and dropped it before it reached my fingers. the greyness was smushed into the surface of the worn writing station.
Slate. Slate chalkboards, do remember them? We used to write on them, draw, and pretend. Pretend to be teachers, pirates, and so much more. But now as I look down at the chalkboard that you dropped, I see it is just like you and I in real life. Shattered in a million pieces and broken forever.
A new year, a clean slate. We all try to start fresh each year, but i8t is only a matter of time before our old habits and our old self catches up. We can try to change, we can set resolutions, but what can we really do when we are all programmed to be the way we are?
Melissa
They held hands as they faced the light, fingers locked and shaking.
“You ready?” He asked, looking to his shorter companion as the light danced in her sombre hazel eyes. She looked up at him, and smiled.
“Yeah. It’ll be a clean slate for us”
The two stepped forward, and together readied themselves for an adventure in a new world
Sam
Blank slate. It is New Year’s day and today is the ultimate day for a blank slate, a fresh start, turning over a new leaf. A slate is something to write upon and New Year’s day provides us the opportunity to write a new chapter in our lives.
blank slate. the new year is the time to start again with a blank slate. its a time to start clean, start over and refresh yourself. slate blue is the color of our living room walls. when i was little grandma haines and i used to walk the fern trail in her back yard and see the slate at the bottom of the creek.
Chelsey
He wore grey suits.
“It’s slate. That’s the color. Slate.”
“Pretentious,” you scoffed. “Can’t you just call it ‘grey’?”
“No. Because it’s slate. It says so on the label.”
“Again, pretentious. It’s grey.”
He sighed. “It’s slate.”
“Pretentious.”
I don’t even know what this word means. I’m not a native speaker. It sounds like state, skate, although I assume it doesn’t relate to those words in the slightest. Isn’t there anything else for me? I sound like a douche-bag.
slate. a clean slate. sometimes thats exactly what we need. life gets crazy and messy and sometimes a new beginning is something that can help us out a little bit.
blank slate, the form in which a mind enters into this world. It can learn anything and be taught by anyone. The blank slate of the mind is a breeding ground for all the future of the individual. It can lead in all directions and it is near impossible to tell which one.
t
“Let’s start over, wipe the slate clean. We could do great things together, you and I,”
Their eyes met, his cold, hers fiery with defiance. “And my friends?”
He waved her off. “What use his there for friends, my dear, when you have power?”
I wanted a clean slate. A new life, A wipeout. I wanted to start over and try to be a different person, a better person. I wanted to experience everything good the world had to offer.
Fatima
Tabula rasa, the blank slate. The fresh start of the new year. No grudges, no hates, no looping memories. A clean, neutral grey surface, hard as stone, easily shattered.
The slate was clean, but she didn’t feel optimistic that she could create the life she wanted anymore. So often she caught herself looking back, wondering, wishing, regretting. Why couldn’t she just let it all go? She wanted desperately to look forward and to manifest a life worth living.
Today is a new day, a brand new start, out with the old and in with the new.
Feeling positive and productive but also reflective. Determined to make this year a success and write Happy memories on my new slate.
2015
Today is a new slate, a brand new start, out with the old and in with the new.
Feeling positive and productive but also reflective. Determined to make this year a success and write Happy memories on my new slate.
2015
Now that the slate’s clean it all just seems that much easier to redeem, myself. My wealth is coming and I believe that with faith. I am not afraid. I’m just a skater esque boy, turned man. At least that’s the path I’ll walk and talk. Crawl, should ever I fall, but whatever I do, believe that i’ma ball. Follow me @grldg
Anne reached up and screamed, “I HATE YOU GILBERT BLYTHE!” She slammed her slate over his head and shattered it. THe whole school gasped with delight. The teacher ran over to Anne, grabbed her by the ear, and marched her to the front of the school.
Savannah
You told me to start the new year off with a clean slate, which was harder than it seemed. For one thing, the eraser you provided was already haplessly filthy, and it only served to worsen the smudges already present on the board. Not only that, but cleaning the slate itself didn’t account for the multiple scratches, scrapes, and gashes that lined its perimeter and its black, void-like face. I wasn’t going to start the new year with a clean slate – I was starting with a scarred one.
Belinda Roddie
With a low roar the board smashed toward the ceiling, the slate surface oscillating with the force of the blow. Students in every seat awoke from a dull sleep, once again focused on the course. The professor paused, “Better,” he said. He continued to teach the course that he really couldn’t care less about, in the dead end job he’d dreaded as a kid. How did he get here?
Jen
there’s a slate at the bottom of the well. I can’t see what’s written on it; but it seems to have a sheer to it–maybe it’s gold. How am I ever going to get to this? Maybe I’ll go get my climbing gear and go get it!
Rusty
His eyes were slate-gray, unreadable. They reminded me of the chalkboards I would write on when I was little, streaky from years of use. I struggled under his weight and tried to think of where they were now. In the attic? In the…
His lips found my neck.
“Did you ever write on those little chalkboards when you were little? Like, play school?” I was breathless, panicky, but I couldn’t stop thinking about those damn chalkboards.
Her hands were withered and wrinkled with age. But I didn’t mind. If anything it was nice to have a new texture. I found it interesting. I loved that I had known her long enough to be able to see her skin become this way and to watch her hair turn to a dark slate hue. She was still the most gorgeous woman I’d ever known and I was right all those years ago when I’d said I could never leave her.
It was slated to pass! That’s what the motherly ing doctors said. That’s what the nurses said. That’s what the loudmouth receptionists said, also! Cancer, man. Tell me more about the cancer, man.
Clean, fresh, new beginning. Open, possibility.
Jenny scrawled and scrawled across the chalkboard. The children had left hours ago. All those maleable little minds looking to her for guidance, approval. Sometimes it drove her to sheer sweating anxiety.
Clean Clate, Black Slate, things like this comes up. Everyone according to emerson is born with a blank slate. Anyone can fill their slate up with anything they choose. i don’t believe that your slate can every be blank. You can’t just start with a blank slate. What you did will always be there. The only time that you have a blank slate is when you’re first born
I usually like cleaning for no reason. It helps keep things organized. It helps keep me calm without actually having to get up. When I’m done, I know I’ve kept things on a clean slate. I know that I can just sit without even looking around the room and worrying that my guests will be disgusted. I can feel myself knowing I made a clean slate.
a clean slate. she wasn’t sure how she would go about it. her alcoholism and nicotine addiction, well, they were out of the question for now. the drugs? she guessed she could work on that.
the sociopath fiance? uh, well, she’d deal with him later.
if you go to the market and try to find your shit you can bet that instead you will find some green slate for your beloved children
i want a clean slate. That’s it. It’s a new year and being clean, isn’t that what it’s all about? I think about how the difference between New Years Eve and New Years Day is the same between any two days.
When I think of slate, I think of rock,and how solid it is. It makes me think of the solidness of places. The solidness between the outside world and inside, like looking through a window or a sheet of glass and seeing everything either inside or outside that window and either way being totally unattainable. your separated by something so small yet so influential as to how you see the world.
I often see a blank slate in front of me. Blank and boring like a piece of paper. I start to write and then the words make sense. Little black markings fly across the page, dotting each line and telling their story. Carrying each letter with a swish and a stoke, I make up and imagine a new word, a new phrase, a new formula.
Your slate is clear with me, it is a God of your understanding whom you await your judgement.
Leaving had never felt so good. After a mess of accidents that pushed him closer and closer to the edge, leaving had wiped his slate clean. A fresh start was what he needed, just perfect; until he was recognized.
I cleaned the slate with a wippy. The slate was very clean so my mom won’t make me do it again.
He grasped the slate tile to prevent it from crashing to the ground. An owl hooted from a far off tree. He knew which was her window. Reaching it was easy, he’d done this before you see. But he told himself this would be the last time. All he had to do was persuade her. He knew she was the only one for him. After all hadn’t he been following her for the lasts six months, much longer than he had followed the others.
“I’m coming my love,” he whispered as the sash gave and the window slid silently open.
The slate was empty as I started the new year out, would I fill the slate with the same old stuff like the many years before. Or would the new year fill the slate with much needed changes. would the slate turn many new colors in the new year
It’s a clean slate.
That’s wat Tata always told me, when the new year started.
Sometimes I wish that she was still here, but it doesn’t matter now.
Clean slate. Dirty slate…empty slate.
I’ve remembered everything that she ever wanted me to. I’ve done everything that I could have. But it eats at me inside. It carves marks into my slate to the point that nothing around me can fill them anymore.
I’m cracking. Falling apart. Crumbling to dust.
I’m sorry Tata. I wanted this to be your legacy. I wanted to be your daughter. Your heiress.
I did not want to be the one holding the knife as they walked you to your death.
Maybe it’s a good thing they didn’t know what you meant to me. It means they’ll never see this coming. It means, maybe, that I can have a clean slate after all. If this works, then we’re even. Your sacrifice was worth it.
My youth wasn’t wasted. Goddess’ blessings on you, Tata. May your soul rest in peace.
I signed the letter, folded it in half and held it to the candle burning at my elbow. I watched it turn to ash and dropped it before it reached my fingers. the greyness was smushed into the surface of the worn writing station.
I almost laughed.
Clean slate? Who was I kidding?
Cleaning off the slate and starting anew. New year – new slate.
Back to the drawing board we go. Resolutions must be tangible and reasonable.
Slate. Slate chalkboards, do remember them? We used to write on them, draw, and pretend. Pretend to be teachers, pirates, and so much more. But now as I look down at the chalkboard that you dropped, I see it is just like you and I in real life. Shattered in a million pieces and broken forever.
A new year, a clean slate. We all try to start fresh each year, but i8t is only a matter of time before our old habits and our old self catches up. We can try to change, we can set resolutions, but what can we really do when we are all programmed to be the way we are?
They held hands as they faced the light, fingers locked and shaking.
“You ready?” He asked, looking to his shorter companion as the light danced in her sombre hazel eyes. She looked up at him, and smiled.
“Yeah. It’ll be a clean slate for us”
The two stepped forward, and together readied themselves for an adventure in a new world
Blank slate. It is New Year’s day and today is the ultimate day for a blank slate, a fresh start, turning over a new leaf. A slate is something to write upon and New Year’s day provides us the opportunity to write a new chapter in our lives.
blank slate. the new year is the time to start again with a blank slate. its a time to start clean, start over and refresh yourself. slate blue is the color of our living room walls. when i was little grandma haines and i used to walk the fern trail in her back yard and see the slate at the bottom of the creek.
He wore grey suits.
“It’s slate. That’s the color. Slate.”
“Pretentious,” you scoffed. “Can’t you just call it ‘grey’?”
“No. Because it’s slate. It says so on the label.”
“Again, pretentious. It’s grey.”
He sighed. “It’s slate.”
“Pretentious.”
I don’t even know what this word means. I’m not a native speaker. It sounds like state, skate, although I assume it doesn’t relate to those words in the slightest. Isn’t there anything else for me? I sound like a douche-bag.
slate. a clean slate. sometimes thats exactly what we need. life gets crazy and messy and sometimes a new beginning is something that can help us out a little bit.
blank slate, the form in which a mind enters into this world. It can learn anything and be taught by anyone. The blank slate of the mind is a breeding ground for all the future of the individual. It can lead in all directions and it is near impossible to tell which one.
“Let’s start over, wipe the slate clean. We could do great things together, you and I,”
Their eyes met, his cold, hers fiery with defiance. “And my friends?”
He waved her off. “What use his there for friends, my dear, when you have power?”
I wanted a clean slate. A new life, A wipeout. I wanted to start over and try to be a different person, a better person. I wanted to experience everything good the world had to offer.
Tabula rasa, the blank slate. The fresh start of the new year. No grudges, no hates, no looping memories. A clean, neutral grey surface, hard as stone, easily shattered.
The slate was clean, but she didn’t feel optimistic that she could create the life she wanted anymore. So often she caught herself looking back, wondering, wishing, regretting. Why couldn’t she just let it all go? She wanted desperately to look forward and to manifest a life worth living.
Today is a new day, a brand new start, out with the old and in with the new.
Feeling positive and productive but also reflective. Determined to make this year a success and write Happy memories on my new slate.
2015
Today is a new slate, a brand new start, out with the old and in with the new.
Feeling positive and productive but also reflective. Determined to make this year a success and write Happy memories on my new slate.
2015
Now that the slate’s clean it all just seems that much easier to redeem, myself. My wealth is coming and I believe that with faith. I am not afraid. I’m just a skater esque boy, turned man. At least that’s the path I’ll walk and talk. Crawl, should ever I fall, but whatever I do, believe that i’ma ball. Follow me @grldg
Courage
Anne reached up and screamed, “I HATE YOU GILBERT BLYTHE!” She slammed her slate over his head and shattered it. THe whole school gasped with delight. The teacher ran over to Anne, grabbed her by the ear, and marched her to the front of the school.
You told me to start the new year off with a clean slate, which was harder than it seemed. For one thing, the eraser you provided was already haplessly filthy, and it only served to worsen the smudges already present on the board. Not only that, but cleaning the slate itself didn’t account for the multiple scratches, scrapes, and gashes that lined its perimeter and its black, void-like face. I wasn’t going to start the new year with a clean slate – I was starting with a scarred one.
With a low roar the board smashed toward the ceiling, the slate surface oscillating with the force of the blow. Students in every seat awoke from a dull sleep, once again focused on the course. The professor paused, “Better,” he said. He continued to teach the course that he really couldn’t care less about, in the dead end job he’d dreaded as a kid. How did he get here?
there’s a slate at the bottom of the well. I can’t see what’s written on it; but it seems to have a sheer to it–maybe it’s gold. How am I ever going to get to this? Maybe I’ll go get my climbing gear and go get it!
His eyes were slate-gray, unreadable. They reminded me of the chalkboards I would write on when I was little, streaky from years of use. I struggled under his weight and tried to think of where they were now. In the attic? In the…
His lips found my neck.
“Did you ever write on those little chalkboards when you were little? Like, play school?” I was breathless, panicky, but I couldn’t stop thinking about those damn chalkboards.