Confine: (v) to keep or restrict someone or something

There are no bars.

There are no cells.

There are no guards.

There is no visible punishment.

Matter of fact, it would appear that the prisoner can come and go at will.

But nonetheless, it is a jailhouse.

It is a slammer.

It is a penitentiary.

It’s name is worry.

funny wisdom on words that begin with a COnce a human being is sentenced to a lifetime of worry, the gentleness, creativity, happiness and open-mindedness that might be available is stolen away, and in its place, the convicted soul is confined to limited thoughts laced with anxiety.

It is not necessary to kill someone to destroy him or her.

It is not required to lock in a concrete building, surrounded by steel.

All you have to do is convince any person that there’s something to worry about, and that worry itself is virtuous.

He or she will take the keys to life and lock away potential … until death mercifully pardons.

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Battery: (n) a container consisting cells, in which chemical energy is converted into electricity and used as a source of power.Dictionary B


Actually, there wasn’t even a click. It was just a sense of suspended animation while I held my car key in the position which normally ignited my engine, but this time–no fire.

The radio did not work.

The lights didn’t work.

The car was suddenly cast into the role of being a one-ton paperweight.

All because my battery was dead.

It didn’t give me any warning. Oh, I suppose I should have been keeping up with its passing birthdays, but I didn’t.

So I, who just short moments earlier was in the midst of a deep discussion about some procedure to raise at the upcoming meeting, suddenly became a dumbfounded, indigent traveler, with no idea on where to go or what to do.

Fortunately, somebody gave me a jump to start my car and I drove down to the local Wal-Mart to purchase a battery.

Because here’s the truth: there’s just no goose without the juice.

Nothing happens without the energy.

As I watched them put my battery in, I waxed philosophical. (I occasionally do that, fostering an annoying practice which somehow refuses to leave me.)

  • I need a battery for my emotions.

I must remind myself that to feel things–otherwise I am not capable of being in relationship with other humans who, like me, are creatures of emotion.

  • I need a battery for my spirit.

Something other than prayer and Bible study, that proves that I am loved and there just might be something out there other than stars and molten lava on dried-up planets.

  • I need a battery for my brain.

Without that battery I cannot create the jolt which stimulates new ideas rather than pumping out all the training of my youth.

  • And God knows, I need a battery for my body.

Often the fuel I send to my cells better prepares me for a nap than a walk.

It only took them ten minutes to give my car the boost it needed to be a car again.

It made me wonder what I could do with ten minutes.

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by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Acellular: (adj.) not consisting of, divided into or containing cells.

Sometimes it’s just difficult to think about how we’re made.

I mean, I look at my hand and I see a completed, fleshy mechanism. I watch how it works as I wiggle my fingers or grasp onto a bottle of Coke. The gadget just makes sense.

And then you think a little further–down to the individual parts. The fingers, the bones, the connective tissue, the arteries, the skin… and honestly, it gets a little spooky.

Truthfully, even though I know I’m a human being, I don’t like to think of myself as flesh and blood. In a way it grosses me out–that right underneath that magnificent hand that God has given me is all this intricate circuitry and organization which could falter at the least little breakdown.

And that’s just when I think about the fingers and bones. If you allow your brain to start considering that there are cells inside those fingers and bones that are constantly dividing, growing and changing, as other cells die off and flake into oblivion–don’t you think that’s freakazoid?? Especially when they show you the picture of a cell.

Honestly, I rarely make the trip to the cell idea. And on top of that, I am completely incapable of considering molecules and atoms.

But what is really weird is to imagine something that would be constructed that is acellular (even though I would insist that sometimes my phone service seems to abundantly qualify …)

As weird as it is to consider cells constructing something, what is the glue for the clump of life that would be acellular?

I probably would not have made a very good doctor. Looking under the microscope would have given me the creeps. So consider my dilemma today–when I, who is squeamish about cells, is asked to consider acellular.