the ickiest lifestyle

One door closes, another one opens.. don’t forget to look out the window to see what life has in store for you…

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19 plays

1. Chris Schweizer - Xeon (Original Mix)

2. Tiesto - Lethal Industry (Taped remix)

3. Emma Hewitt - Miss You Paradise (Shogun Remix)

4. Ferry Corsten Feat. Aruna - Live Forever (Shogun Remix)

5. Giuseppe Ottaviani & Betsie Larkin - Toys (Club Mix)

6. Allure Feat. Christian Burns - On The Wire (W&W Remix)

7. Wezz Devall - Kill Of The Year (Dave Chiefmann MILF Revenge Remix)

8. Shogun vs. Dash Berlin - Man On The Skyfire (Mash up)

9. Max Graham, Neev Kennedy - So Caught Up (Original Mix)

10.Ferry Corsten Feat. Betsie Larkin - Not Coming Down (Original Mix)

#Lifestyle

#Lifestyle

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25 plays

1. Arctic Moon - Starships Over Alice (Original Mix Edit)

2. Activa Feat. Will Atkinson - Access (Album Version)

3. Simon Patterson - We’ll See (Paul Webster Remix)

4. RAM - RAMplify (Original Mix)

5. Sy Gardney - Reversal (Mastered)

6. Max Graham & Ana Criado - Nothing Else Matters (Aly & Fila Remix)

7. Sebastian Brandt vs. Andain - Beautiful Ashes (Kris A Mashup)

8. Dogzilla - Without You (Simons Dead Dog Remix)

9. Reflekt - Need To Feel Loved (Ally Brown Rework)

10.Ferry Corsten - Beautiful (Original Extended Mix)

funktionality:

A sweet lesson on patience.
A NYC Taxi driver wrote - - -I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.. ‘Just a minute’, answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90’s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940’s movie.By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboardbox filled with photos and glassware.‘Would you carry my bag out to the car?’ she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.She kept thanking me for my kindness. ‘It’s nothing’, I told her.. ‘I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.’‘Oh, you’re such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, ‘Could you drivethrough downtown?’‘It’s not the shortest way,’ I answered quickly..‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice.I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. ‘I don’t have any family left,’ she continued in a soft voice..’The doctor says I don’t have very long.’ I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.‘What route would you like me to take?’ I asked.For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, ‘I’m tired.Let’s go now’.We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move.They must have been expecting her.I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.‘How much do I owe you?’ She asked, reaching into her purse.‘Nothing,’ I said‘You have to make a living,’ she answered.‘There are other passengers,’ I responded.Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.She held onto me tightly.‘You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.. Behind me, a door shut.It was the sound of the closing of a life..I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day,I could hardly talk.What if that woman had gotten an angry driver,or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life.We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

funktionality:

A sweet lesson on patience.

A NYC Taxi driver wrote - - -

I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.. ‘Just a minute’, answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90’s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940’s movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.

There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard
box filled with photos and glassware.

‘Would you carry my bag out to the car?’ she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.

She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

She kept thanking me for my kindness. ‘It’s nothing’, I told her.. ‘I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.’

‘Oh, you’re such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, ‘Could you drive
through downtown?’

‘It’s not the shortest way,’ I answered quickly..

‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice.

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. ‘I don’t have any family left,’ she continued in a soft voice..’The doctor says I don’t have very long.’ I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

‘What route would you like me to take?’ I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.

We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, ‘I’m tired.Let’s go now’.
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move.
They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

‘How much do I owe you?’ She asked, reaching into her purse.

‘Nothing,’ I said

‘You have to make a living,’ she answered.

‘There are other passengers,’ I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.She held onto me tightly.

‘You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.. Behind me, a door shut.It was the sound of the closing of a life..

I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day,I could hardly talk.What if that woman had gotten an angry driver,or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.

But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

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61 plays

Song of the Day 
Norah Jones - Don’t Know Why 

April 22nd, 2012

Late Saturday night (early Sunday morning), and I just can’t sleep. My mind is racing off a million different directions, my thoughts haven’t processed it yet. It’s like when I was a child and the teacher said we had a field trip. The day before the field trip I would get overly excited and I wouldn’t be able to sleep until very late. Then I would wake up dead tired and I’d just feel tired the whole day during the field trip. Since I can’t sleep right now I figured I’ll just write everything in my head.

Today was Picnic Day in Davis, it was alright. It was pretty hot, not blazingly hot (good 90 degrees), but I thought I wasn’t gonna be ready for it. Turns out, out of everyone I was most ready for it. I was pretty comfortable the whole day except for the time me and my buddy jack went into some port-a-potties that were outside. Goodness, it felt like the heat was just stabbing the fuck outta me in there. 

Played Rage Cage for the first time and drank so much cause I was pretty bad at it, but surprisingly I wasn’t too fucked up. 

Alright I’m lazy to keep typing so I’ll just end that there.. probably continue something when I come back from my trip. 

Song of the day - Norah Jones - Don’t Know Why

lmao awesome

lmao awesome

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At the end of the day…

just breathe…