I believe giving friends, families, and strangers opportunities are what makes a good person. Success should be shared and should be handled amongst those who deem responsible to sharing that success. It pains me so much witnessing someone hide an opportunity from someone else simply because they want all the credit or they want to be the only one who stands successful. 
If it’s a competition, that is understandable, but even competitions are superficial compared to life’s opportunities.
I would like to say almost half of my success comes from what people have given me. It is so humbling and appreciated. I can only do so much for them. Sometimes, when an opportunity rises and is able to shared, I try my best to get as many people to share it with me. While some appreciate it and reciprocate another event or position, others do not. 
Here’s the thing, people do know when someone else is hiding an opportunity, and although it is bothersome, they do not want to impose. It is one’s choice to be selfish or kind. But that choice is karmic.  

Went to work at the italian restaurant.
All of a sudden, all of these people offered me: 

• CAKE.
• MILK CHOCOOOLLAATTE.
• CARAMEL.
• MUSSELS. 

Fuck you, Italian restaurants. I was doing all right with my lentils until you came along. 

• Read and understand the whole Quran. 
• Write a novel.
• Draw a novel. 
• Make a children’s book. 
• Climb Mount Kilimanjaro 
• Swim the Channel. 
• Bike the Tour de France. 
• Win a triathlon.
• High five George Clooney.
• Get a PhD. 
• Ride an elephant. 
• Touch my toes. 
• Have a child who touches their toes and becomes a violinist prodigy. 
• Work for a well respected newspaper / news source. 
• Tell my fifth grade teacher to suck it. 
• Finally be a happy person with a happy body. 
• Make a good film. 
• Be a Muslim Mahatma. 
• Sleep happily for 40 nights. 
• Have a painting or photograph in a gallery // have a gallery. 
• High five George Clooney again. 
• Meet all the good people.
• Become a Shepherd. 
• Get it on with Daniel Radcliffe. 

I believe being a scientist is possibly the most dangerous occupation in the planet. They are very much like philosophers but are also able to construct things they think of as long as they have a microscope. They are observers of the world that follow patterns and question what seems to be a missing piece. For those who drive their cars, turn on their computer, or really love your opposable thumbs, please find the time to make pity for the scientists who discovered such things and made more sense of the world. 

I am not saying they are horrible people. In fact, I think they are wonderful and deserve the most consideration for government funding out of any occupation who must ask for it. However, it is when they find a number amount of discoveries or inventions that they do not believe in the greatness of humanity. 

Let me clarify something: I know a lot of people say, “they stop believing in God.” Though in many cases this is true, I do not believe this is the most destructive thing scientists believe (or lack of) in. To not believe in God is like an optional gateway to the more upsetting mistrust and distaste in humanity and their intelligence.

I cannot go deeper in this — mainly because I do not have time and I must run. But I will be sure to get back to this post soon enough because at this point, it looks pretty offensive and harsh (which are not my intentions). Please give me your opinion.  

I slept. It may have been one or four hours; nonetheless, a good amount of hours to let the hurl in my stomach pass as a fart. I was not ready to put an effort of sliding a belt around each belt loop, but I did anyway. I did this because there was nothing to do. I am a fifty-six year old man, but when I look at the mirror, I see someone who is thirty years younger trapped in a few 100 pounds of fat.

Set dead to be a goner. 
No longer with my mamma or papa,
Just gum on the sole of a shoe, 
The lord told me to know what I needed to do,
But I only knew what I wanted. 

You,Tibetan.
You needed to see their violence.
What was once theirs,
We believe is China.
Don’t you ever get mad, Monk?
Please tell me, that underneath your peace and prayer,
There is that fire.

Banana leaves,
Poppy seeds,
Adderall and cheap seats.
None of these matter to me,
as long as there are three eyes,
looking at me.

I poop.
Yes, that’s right. I am a girl that poops.
I know that there are many other girls that poop too. Our public bathrooms stink just as much as the boy’s (believe, me, I have smelled both).
This is not what I am here to talk about, though. I am here to address the social situation in which one woman must poop. POOP, WOMAN. It is your right to remove such waste from your body. It is your right to smell like you actually just ate a pot of chili. It is your right to clog the toilet and feel satisfied.
I now live in a house with five other people — a huge difference with the one. I pooped one day and now, it is the main talk of the house. Fuck, man. I fucking shitted, now stop talking shit.
I do not understand why it is a social thought that women always smell nice and do not poop. I remember reading a story about a girl whose mother always told her that ladies do not poop.
For god’s sake, sometimes, I believe women just oppress themselves.
I was confronted today, about my bowel movements, which is nobody’s business besides me and my doctor. And this person, my cousin, asked me, “was that thing really your’s?”
“Yes.”
“THAT big?”
“I eat healthy.”
“I didn’t know girls packed in so much.”
If I had the energy to, I would have pooped on him.

Edit:
Also, picking your nose is fine by me. It’s when you want to make me touch it is where you cross the line.

Won’t you drink some tea before you go to bed?

And wear a sweater and pants to bed? 

Brush your teeth real nice.
As nice enough to skate your tongue around them. 

Clean your ears, fluff your pillows, and brush your hair a hundred times. 
And wash your face, wash your elbows and knees.
Wash your feet, and put them in thin socks.

Have a cookie, even though you already brushed your teeth. 

Apply lotion all over your body so you feel really soft inside your sweater and pants and blanket and outside of your tea. 

Tell yourself something good. 
Tell yourself how I really find you amazing and fantastic, and magnificent, and I really adore your ways of a human being.

Have a good night.  

And if my body creaks like a ship, 
Let my bones be the crew,
And my organs be the captain’s hands.  

The whole world had died.
We were nothing.
All of the grey dust was clumped into oil and blood.
No one could hear the Earth,
We were mute.
Except for the plastic blue watch that straddled onto a little girl. 
Though her left hand laid motionless,
Two smaller ones worked for eternity. 

It is brown and gold, 
It loops five holes around my left wrist. 
I peak at it from time to time,  
To not see the time,
But see how long I have lived.  

I had a dream that I wrote article after article after article. Yet I did not overwork myself. 

Ben Stiller was in my dream too.