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better work : Teamwork And Team Effort 2021

better work : Teamwork And Team Effort 2021

better work : Teamwork And Team Effort 2021

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In arcu cursus euismod quis viverra nibh cras pulvinar. Interdum velit euismod in pellentesque massa placerat duis. Faucibus pulvinar elementum integer enim. Lacus vestibulum sed arcu non odio euismod lacinia.

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Teamwork And Team Effort, better work : Teamwork And Team Effort 2021 Teamwork And Team Effort, better work : Teamwork And Team Effort 2021 Teamwork And Team Effort,better work

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The Big Crunch

The Big Crunch

The universe is collapsing. The love child of infinity and time has become the bastard of yet another failed marriage, unbalanced and withered, troublesome and empty.
At eighteen years old, I decided to try to ease the burden of this kind of apocalyptic, paraplegic cowboy wisdom and take to the streets in search of redemption. There was word of an oasis whispered on the fermented grape vine that gave me hope, tales told by toothless creatures of a bright town that had not yet been severed from its sisters of hope and divine substance.
So I headed down on the A303 hoping to drench my ‘John Majoresc’ universe in the kaleidoscopic colors of Brighton rock. Unwashed hair and linen shirt blew romantically in the salt soaked wind as I approached the chic, expensive Sussex countryside. My mind felt pulled toward infinity by the wild horses of providence.
The thud of their hooves beating on the tarmac sent serotonin pounding through my nervous system, enhanced only by the wisdom of Marks (Howard, not Karl) chattering away on Radio 2.
On arrival I promptly approached the nearest ‘head’ shop, brought a converted fire engine from the buy and sell section in the window and parked it slap bang in the middle of the town. Wheels and a home all in one. Every man called Sam should own one.
It did not take me long to settle in and meet some interesting characters. Bill ‘Bongo’ Burns; a protégé talented artist whose worked showed the suffering and hunger, living off aristocratic parents whilst trying to ‘make it big’, Little Jane;
a four foot nothing anti capitalist singer-songwriter who was in the process of accumulating massive financial wealth selling hallucinogenic drugs to manic depressives, and more of the same contradictive perversions of the human form. “Without contraries is no progression,” said Blake, so perhaps, I thought, this is a sign of a community truly alive. Hope and dope.
I immersed myself in the social scene, became a being of value, a face everybody knew and liked, I began to feel fulfilled. There was poetry reading every afternoon in dusty underground bars and at dusk, the Cowely Club filled with anarchist whores and virgins, vegan plotters talking in hushed voices, drunken lovers shouting public obscenities at each other.
The whole place seem to be pulled and swayed by the tide of the majestic ocean, the atmosphere was both enthralling and intoxicating to my hungry and depraved mind.
The town itself was charming and magical. The Lanes sweated life onto the nobly cobbled pavements whilst coffee shops, organic delis and colorful patrons lined the sidewalks. You felt somebody yet nobody among the freaks and the flowers of the cut and fold freedom fighters.
The sound of acoustic guitars seamed to float through the oak trees in the national park, mixing with the sweet smell of jazz cigarettes before groping your senses. Sun washed brown healthy spines.
I was Ernest Hemmingway every time I scribbled nonsense in my tattered notebook, glancing up only to catch glimpses of the peacocks flaunting their trending feathers, Miss Sixty jeans and pastel head bands.
“Brighton”, I remember jotting “Is the Rampant Rabbit of dwellings. The vibe here is so intense that life feels like one constant earth shattering orgasm, its juice thick and sweet like honey.” Typical drivel that so feels good at the time whilst high in the moment. It was how I had always dreamt San Fran to be in the sixties, rich and velvety with new age culture, but sharp like a wire whip ready to cut through the ugly, sleeping world into the fundamental forms of beauty and progression.
I had reached Nirvana I felt, but this was soon to be proven as the fool’s paradise. There is a crack in everything so they say, it is where the light gets in mumble the poets. Well in regards to the former, I can confirm. However, when the crack formed, instead of light, molasses poured from the splitting of the illusion, drenching my soul yet again in sticky darkness.
The contradictions I had dressed in lamb’s attire ached and throbbed like a stubbed toe until the truth bit into my sinew with its sharp wolf teeth. There was no romance in this rock; it was just a colorful version of the dissolute corridor I left behind. The difference between my archaic and neo-hell was a matter purely of cosmetics.
An ugly woman redeems some sense of her non-existent beauty by resigning herself to the fact she is ugly. On the other hand, an advanced state of revulsion is vomited upon humanity when the beast coats herself in three inches of flaky paste trying to hide her deformed bone structure.
Unless, of coarse you are a walking erection intoxicated with cheap liquor. And that, with hindsight and shabby metaphor is exactly what I was, dressed in linen and deliriously drowned in my own dopamine.
Brighton was beginning to reveal its self a brothel for illusionary dreamers, a dirty syringe full of numbing self-importance. My subconscious was working over time to blot the dark truth out of my waking life. At first when you get there and unpack you feel like you have struck gold, a soul rich like Christmas cake with Peruvian icing. Then the nightmares creep in.
Skeletons cloaked in velvet and joules dance round bright, rich fires of useless thought, swaying to sweet empty songs, clasping cracked porcelain doves. Blurred visions of rusty vintage cars in miles and miles of endless traffic, dead babies rot in grey booster seats. Trying to escape, finding another f*cking fence….
I knew that the wall would collapse at some point and reality would dawn, the future smelt of bi polar disorder.
………………………………………….
The diamond bullet penetrated my fragile skull one evening without warning. Nobody noticed the small pinprick as it entered my forehead with a silent hiss. I remained upright becoming increasingly aware of the pretentious drivel dibbling out of my mouth onto the crowded room. The damp wall behind me coldly witnessed my precious neurological palace of sand pour out of the exit wound like drunken diarrhea.
I felt not only the dissolution I had once felt but also a new, darker sensation entirely. I realized it was not just the world that was f*cked and ignorant but my judgment also. The clown of cynicism was being mocked and laughed at by the very subject he felt he was above and smarter than.
I had been fooled, there is nothing more depraving for a man’s soul than that. A cosmological kick in the balls. I did not waste any time, as my grandiose illusions of liberty and substance crumbled around me like the twin towers of prosperity and freedom, I ran like a rapid dog on fire until I could run no more.
Today that moment still haunts me. I felt in a macro-moment the loss of that dangling carrot giving me the will to stumble through each day, allowed me to fantasize about a world that still harbored a beating heart.
Adam cocked it all up. The soul of the world has cut itself loose to start a new life and it ain’t going to pay maintenance. God is dead, reborn into another cosmos or no cosmos at all.
I could travel the world looking for that divine magik in every nook and cranny, field and town. Perhaps he has learnt his lessons; do not play with time, do not masturbate and don’t become self obsessed enough to try to catch your reflection in every gleaming surface that manifests. Invest but don’t take risks, listen to Alan Sugar.
This is the Big Crunch, they Dying Room of the heavenly master that the conned and disillusioned have sacrificed their sensual pleasure for, in hoping to redeem eternal reward. A ghost town full of decaying tumble weeds. Elvis has left the building.
The universe is collapsing. The love child of infinity and time has become the bastard of yet another failed marriage, unbalanced and withered, troublesome and empty.
At eighteen years old, I decided to try to ease the burden of this kind of apocalyptic, paraplegic cowboy wisdom and take to the streets in search of redemption. There was word of an oasis whispered on the fermented grape vine that gave me hope, tales told by toothless creatures of a bright town that had not yet been severed from its sisters of hope and divine substance.
So I headed down on the A303 hoping to drench my ‘John Majoresc’ universe in the kaleidoscopic colors of Brighton rock. Unwashed hair and linen shirt blew romantically in the salt soaked wind as I approached the chic, expensive Sussex countryside. My mind felt pulled toward infinity by the wild horses of providence.
The thud of their hooves beating on the tarmac sent serotonin pounding through my nervous system, enhanced only by the wisdom of Marks (Howard, not Karl) chattering away on Radio 2. On arrival I promptly approached the nearest ‘head’ shop, brought a converted fire engine from the buy and sell section in the window and parked it slap bang in the middle of the town. Wheels and a home all in one. Every man called Sam should own one.
It did not take me long to settle in and meet some interesting characters. Bill ‘Bongo’ Burns; a protégé talented artist whose worked showed the suffering and hunger, living off aristocratic parents whilst trying to ‘make it big’, Little Jane; a four foot nothing anti capitalist singer-songwriter who was in the process of accumulating massive financial wealth selling hallucinogenic drugs to manic depressives, and more of the same contradictive perversions of the human form.
“Without contraries is no progression,” said Blake, so perhaps, I thought, this is a sign of a community truly alive. Hope and dope. I immersed myself in the social scene, became a being of value, a face everybody knew and liked, I began to feel fulfilled.
There was poetry reading every afternoon in dusty underground bars and at dusk, the Cowely Club filled with anarchist whores and virgins, vegan plotters talking in hushed voices, drunken lovers shouting public obscenities at each other. The whole place seem to be pulled and swayed by the tide of the majestic ocean, the atmosphere was both enthralling and intoxicating to my hungry and depraved mind.
The town itself was charming and magical. The Lanes sweated life onto the nobly cobbled pavements whilst coffee shops, organic delis and colorful patrons lined the sidewalks. You felt somebody yet nobody among the freaks and the flowers of the cut and fold freedom fighters. The sound of acoustic guitars seamed to float through the oak trees in the national park, mixing with the sweet smell of jazz cigarettes before groping your senses. Sun washed brown healthy spines.
I was Ernest Hemmingway every time I scribbled nonsense in my tattered notebook, glancing up only to catch glimpses of the peacocks flaunting their trending feathers, Miss Sixty jeans and pastel head bands.
“Brighton”, I remember jotting “Is the Rampant Rabbit of dwellings. The vibe here is so intense that life feels like one constant earth shattering orgasm, its juice thick and sweet like honey.” Typical drivel that so feels good at the time whilst high in the moment.
It was how I had always dreamt San Fran to be in the sixties, rich and velvety with new age culture, but sharp like a wire whip ready to cut through the ugly, sleeping world into the fundamental forms of beauty and progression.
I had reached Nirvana I felt, but this was soon to be proven as the fool’s paradise. There is a crack in everything so they say, it is where the light gets in mumble the poets.
Well in regards to the former, I can confirm. However, when the crack formed, instead of light, molasses poured from the splitting of the illusion, drenching my soul yet again in sticky darkness. The contradictions I had dressed in lamb’s attire ached and throbbed like a stubbed toe until the truth bit into my sinew with its sharp wolf teeth. There was no romance in this rock; it was just a colorful version of the dissolute corridor I left behind.
The difference between my archaic and neo-hell was a matter purely of cosmetics. An ugly woman redeems some sense of her non-existent beauty by resigning herself to the fact she is ugly. On the other hand, an advanced state of revulsion is vomited upon humanity when the beast coats herself in three inches of flaky paste trying to hide her deformed bone structure.
 
Unless, of coarse you are a walking erection intoxicated with cheap liquor. And that, with hindsight and shabby metaphor is exactly what I was, dressed in linen and deliriously drowned in my own dopamine.
Brighton was beginning to reveal its self a brothel for illusionary dreamers, a dirty syringe full of numbing self-importance. My subconscious was working over time to blot the dark truth out of my waking life. At first when you get there and unpack you feel like you have struck gold, a soul rich like Christmas cake with Peruvian icing. Then the nightmares creep in.
Skeletons cloaked in velvet and joules dance round bright, rich fires of useless thought, swaying to sweet empty songs, clasping cracked porcelain doves. Blurred visions of rusty vintage cars in miles and miles of endless traffic, dead babies rot in grey booster seats. Trying to escape, finding another f*cking fence….
I knew that the wall would collapse at some point and reality would dawn, the future smelt of bi polar disorder.
………………………………………….
The diamond bullet penetrated my fragile skull one evening without warning. Nobody noticed the small pinprick as it entered my forehead with a silent hiss. I remained upright becoming increasingly aware of the pretentious drivel dibbling out of my mouth onto the crowded room.
The damp wall behind me coldly witnessed my precious neurological palace of sand pour out of the exit wound like drunken diarrhea. I felt not only the dissolution I had once felt but also a new, darker sensation entirely.
I realized it was not just the world that was f*cked and ignorant but my judgment also. The clown of cynicism was being mocked and laughed at by the very subject he felt he was above and smarter than. I had been fooled, there is nothing more depraving for a man’s soul than that. A cosmological kick in the balls.
I did not waste any time, as my grandiose illusions of liberty and substance crumbled around me like the twin towers of prosperity and freedom, I ran like a rapid dog on fire until I could run no more.
Today that moment still haunts me. I felt in a macro-moment the loss of that dangling carrot giving me the will to stumble through each day, allowed me to fantasize about a world that still harbored a beating heart.
Adam cocked it all up. The soul of the world has cut itself loose to start a new life and it ain’t going to pay maintenance. God is dead, reborn into another cosmos or no cosmos at all. I could travel the world looking for that divine magik in every nook and cranny, field and town.
Perhaps he has learnt his lessons; do not play with time, do not masturbate and don’t become self obsessed enough to try to catch your reflection in every gleaming surface that manifests. Invest but don’t take risks, listen to Alan Sugar.
This is the Big Crunch, they Dying Room of the heavenly master that the conned and disillusioned have sacrificed their sensual pleasure for, in hoping to redeem eternal reward. A ghost town full of decaying tumble weeds. Elvis has left the building.
http://ezinearticles.com/expert/Jake_Gourd/15105
The Big Crunch, The Big Crunch The Big Crunch The Big Crunch ,The Big Crunch, The Big Crunch

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The Culture Of Working From Home

The Culture Of Working From Home

The Culture Of Working From Home

The Culture Of Working From Home

Odio tempor orci dapibus ultrices in iaculis nunc sed. Egestas fringilla phasellus faucibus scelerisque. Magnis dis parturient montes nascetur ridiculus mus mauris. Tortor at auctor urna nunc id cursus metus aliquam eleifend. Amet luctus venenatis lectus magna fringilla urna porttitor. Faucibus interdum posuere lorem ipsum dolor sit amet consectetur adipiscing. Mauris nunc congue nisi vitae. Accumsan tortor posuere ac ut consequat semper. Ut placerat orci nulla pellentesque dignissim. In aliquam sem fringilla ut. Aenean euismod elementum nisi quis eleifend quam adipiscing vitae proin. Viverra orci sagittis eu volutpat odio. Massa id neque aliquam vestibulum morbi. Ut tellus elementum sagittis vitae. Mattis pellentesque id nibh tortor id aliquet lectus proin nibh. Aliquam vestibulum morbi blandit cursus risus at ultrices.

Quis imperdiet massa tincidunt nunc pulvinar sapien et. Etiam non quam lacus suspendisse. Curabitur vitae nunc sed velit. Diam in arcu cursus euismod quis viverra nibh. Lorem donec massa sapien faucibus et. Lectus urna duis convallis convallis tellus. Viverra adipiscing at in tellus integer feugiat. Tortor dignissim convallis aenean et tortor at risus viverra adipiscing. Pulvinar sapien et ligula ullamcorper malesuada proin libero nunc. Mattis aliquam faucibus purus in massa tempor nec. Amet nulla facilisi morbi tempus iaculis urna. Habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada.

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Advancement In Technology

Advancement In Technology

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Sit amet cursus sit amet dictum sit amet justo donec. Auctor eu augue ut lectus arcu. Quis auctor elit sed vulputate mi sit. Quis ipsum suspendisse ultrices gravida dictum fusce. Quis blandit turpis cursus in hac habitasse platea dictumst. Nulla facilisi etiam dignissim diam quis. Rhoncus dolor purus non enim praesent elementum facilisis leo vel. Placerat in egestas erat imperdiet sed euismod. Aliquet eget sit amet tellus cras adipiscing. Lorem donec massa sapien faucibus et molestie ac feugiat. Integer vitae justo eget magna fermentum iaculis. Sapien et ligula ullamcorper malesuada proin libero nunc consequat interdum. Aliquam malesuada bibendum arcu vitae elementum. Viverra vitae congue eu consequat.

Commodo odio aenean sed adipiscing diam donec. Tellus cras adipiscing enim eu turpis egestas pretium aenean. Aliquam sem fringilla ut morbi tincidunt augue interdum velit euismod. Montes nascetur ridiculus mus mauris vitae. Tortor posuere ac ut consequat semper viverra nam libero. Turpis massa tincidunt dui ut ornare. Vitae tempus quam pellentesque nec nam aliquam. Ut lectus arcu bibendum at varius vel pharetra vel turpis. Ut diam quam nulla porttitor massa id neque.

Vitae tempus quam pellentesque nec nam aliquam. Ut lectus arcu bibendum at varius vel pharetra vel turpis. Ut diam quam nulla porttitor massa id neque.

William Parker

Sit amet porttitor eget dolor morbi non arcu. Duis ultricies lacus sed turpis tincidunt id aliquet risus. Ut etiam sit amet nisl purus in mollis. A pellentesque sit amet porttitor eget dolor morbi non. Nec sagittis aliquam malesuada bibendum arcu vitae elementum curabitur vitae. Ut etiam sit amet nisl. Adipiscing elit duis tristique sollicitudin nibh sit. Ornare aenean euismod elementum nisi quis eleifend. Molestie nunc non blandit massa enim nec. Viverra tellus in hac habitasse platea.

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Future Of Tech Companies

Future Of Tech Companies

Future Of Tech Companies

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Integer malesuada nunc vel risus commodo viverra maecenas accumsan. Amet volutpat consequat mauris nunc congue. Sollicitudin tempor id eu nisl. Sed risus ultricies tristique nulla aliquet. Vivamus arcu felis bibendum ut tristique et egestas quis ipsum.

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Future Of Tech Companies, Future Of Tech Companies, Future Of Tech Companies, Future Of Tech Companies, Future 

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Impacts Of Remote Work 2021

Impacts Of Remote Work

Impacts Of Remote Work

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Enim lobortis scelerisque fermentum dui faucibus in ornare quam. Placerat orci nulla pellentesque dignissim enim sit amet venenatis. Facilisi etiam dignissim diam quis enim lobortis scelerisque fermentum. Leo integer malesuada nunc vel risus commodo. In nibh mauris cursus mattis molestie a iaculis at erat. Aliquet sagittis id consectetur purus ut faucibus pulvinar. Vitae sapien pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et. Nibh nisl condimentum id venenatis a condimentum vitae sapien pellentesque. Odio morbi quis commodo odio aenean sed adipiscing.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua.

William Parker

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Lectus proin nibh nisl condimentum. Dui accumsan sit amet nulla facilisi morbi. Risus in hendrerit gravida rutrum quisque non. Viverra tellus in hac habitasse platea dictumst vestibulum rhoncus est. Orci porta non pulvinar neque laoreet. Amet cursus sit amet dictum sit amet. Massa vitae tortor condimentum lacinia quis vel eros donec ac. Pellentesque pulvinar pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et. Sollicitudin tempor id eu nisl nunc mi ipsum. Proin sed libero enim sed faucibus. Elit ullamcorper dignissim cras tincidunt lobortis feugiat vivamus. Pharetra convallis posuere morbi leo urna molestie at.

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