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  "description": "Life's Too Short\n\nLife's too short to not wear little pink undies. To not feel pretty. To not act like\na goofball and fly in the face of Acceptable Behaviour.\n\nI'd like to think I've always thought this way. That I was free. That I was somehow\nunrestricted. That adulthood would be what I made of it.\n\nSadly, perhaps typically, I slowly and unthinkingly allowed others to shape what I\nwould say and do. Gradually building an exquisite and complicated prison for creative\nthought was what I was truly doing. Perhaps I would unlock it some day. Maybe even\nlet it out for a short while.\n\nWhat it simply did was rot. No sunshine. No fresh air. Nothing to nurture or feed my\nimagination. The practicalities and expectations of others came first, every time. I\nbegan to wonder where I had placed the prison, but getting yanked back into the day-\nto-day mechanics of society would end any searching.\n\nI began to feel...dull. Everything had a purpose. Everything had a reason. Square pegs\nin square holes. Insert tab A into slot B. It all became so...dreary.\n\nOne day - a day I wasn't particularly looking for it - I found where I had hidden my\ndreams. They had withered and gone dry. Bits and pieces had shriveled.\n\nThey were beautiful.\n\nExcitement flowed through my veins! I had rediscovered my flights of fancy! Hidden\nworlds, fanciful stories, colourful characters all found a way back into my life. I\npicked up a set of pens and a sketchbook. The discouragement at how technically poor\nI was was only matched by the passion and satisfaction of making something where there\nwas once nothing.\n\nI kept drawing. I drew paws and ears. Fur patterns and muzzles. All these thoughts and\nideas that I kept stowed away came flooding out through my own two paws. I bought a\ntablet and fired up my photo editing software. I really had no idea what I was doing,\ntechnically. The logical parts of my brain kept trying to make me stop: \"This sucks!\"\nthey seemed to say, \"Nothing about this makes any sense. You suck.\"\n\nI have to tamp down that part every day.\n\nWhat I had to learn and what I needed to understand was that life wasn't all about the\nnumbers. It wasn't all about the practical. The reason that part of my existence had\nno meaning for me is that I didn't give it meaning. It can only come through creating\na balance. If I can't create, how can I appreciate the finer points of a balanced life?\n\nHas life been better? Immeasurably. Does it make more sense now? No, but I've learned\nthat making sense out of life isn't necessarily something I want to do in every\nsituation. Life is too short to come up with a reason for every single action I take.\n\nSo, here, without context, is a dog showing off his pink undies. It makes little sense.\n\nThank goodness.\n",
  "description_bbcode_parsed": "<span style='word-wrap: break-word;'>Life&#039;s Too Short<br /><br />Life&#039;s too short to not wear little pink undies. To not feel pretty. To not act like<br />a goofball and fly in the face of Acceptable Behaviour.<br /><br />I&#039;d like to think I&#039;ve always thought this way. That I was free. That I was somehow<br />unrestricted. That adulthood would be what I made of it.<br /><br />Sadly, perhaps typically, I slowly and unthinkingly allowed others to shape what I<br />would say and do. Gradually building an exquisite and complicated prison for creative<br />thought was what I was truly doing. Perhaps I would unlock it some day. Maybe even<br />let it out for a short while.<br /><br />What it simply did was rot. No sunshine. No fresh air. Nothing to nurture or feed my<br />imagination. The practicalities and expectations of others came first, every time. I<br />began to wonder where I had placed the prison, but getting yanked back into the day-<br />to-day mechanics of society would end any searching.<br /><br />I began to feel...dull. Everything had a purpose. Everything had a reason. Square pegs<br />in square holes. Insert tab A into slot B. It all became so...dreary.<br /><br />One day - a day I wasn&#039;t particularly looking for it - I found where I had hidden my<br />dreams. They had withered and gone dry. Bits and pieces had shriveled.<br /><br />They were beautiful.<br /><br />Excitement flowed through my veins! I had rediscovered my flights of fancy! Hidden<br />worlds, fanciful stories, colourful characters all found a way back into my life. I<br />picked up a set of pens and a sketchbook. The discouragement at how technically poor<br />I was was only matched by the passion and satisfaction of making something where there<br />was once nothing.<br /><br />I kept drawing. I drew paws and ears. Fur patterns and muzzles. All these thoughts and<br />ideas that I kept stowed away came flooding out through my own two paws. I bought a<br />tablet and fired up my photo editing software. I really had no idea what I was doing,<br />technically. The logical parts of my brain kept trying to make me stop: &quot;This sucks!&quot;<br />they seemed to say, &quot;Nothing about this makes any sense. You suck.&quot;<br /><br />I have to tamp down that part every day.<br /><br />What I had to learn and what I needed to understand was that life wasn&#039;t all about the<br />numbers. It wasn&#039;t all about the practical. The reason that part of my existence had<br />no meaning for me is that I didn&#039;t give it meaning. It can only come through creating<br />a balance. If I can&#039;t create, how can I appreciate the finer points of a balanced life?<br /><br />Has life been better? Immeasurably. Does it make more sense now? No, but I&#039;ve learned<br />that making sense out of life isn&#039;t necessarily something I want to do in every<br />situation. Life is too short to come up with a reason for every single action I take.<br /><br />So, here, without context, is a dog showing off his pink undies. It makes little sense.<br /><br />Thank goodness.<br /></span>",
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