Results for were you allowed to use badgets f... translation from English to Tagalog

were you allowed to use badgets from time to time
badget away

where you allowed to used gadgets from time to time
kung saan pinayagan mong gumamit ng mga gadget mula sa oras-oras

from time to time meaning
madalas na kahulugan

perform other duties assign from time to time
tagalog

there are still 5 tuna two here is tail part maarin yet it can be used from time to time i
kong sino man ang incharge sa 49 floor paki cheack ang mga isda bago mag simula ang trabaho gaya ng pag luluto ng sushi rice.. maaring mag palit ng cloth lalo sa tuna 2 beses sa isang araw

dear self i know that burden you carry become too heavy from time to time please just remember that's is okay to rest for a while
dear self alam kong nagiging masyadong mabigat ang dinadala mo paminsan-minsan pakitandaan mo lang na okay lang magpahinga sandali

sorry ma, dik met gamin kaya nga awan maka sasaok ket ni jken ti pangibagbagaak dagijay haan ko maibaga kanya na nga problemak ta nu adda ibag bagak ket nag drama ak lang ti panag kita na. haan met nga kasla kanyada nga nu nag boypren ket maki asawa nga dagos. that's why i just want to be able to enter the marigrigatan and here from time to time.
sorry ma, dik met gamin kaya nga awan maka sasaok ket ni jken ti pangibagbagaak dagijay haan ko maibaga kanya na nga problemak ta nu adda ibag bagak ket nag drama ak lang ti panag kita na. haan met nga kasla kanyada nga nu nag boypren ket maki asawa nga dagos. kayat ko lang nga adda maka sasaok ta marigrigatan ak ditoy nu maminsan.

a low art [excerpt from the penelopiad] by margaret atwood (canada) now that i’m dead i know everything. this is what i wished would happen, but like so many of my wishes it failed to come true. i know only a few factoids that i didn’t know before. death is much too high a price to pay for the satisfaction of curiosity, needless to say. since being dead — since achieving this state of bonelessness, liplessness, breastlessness —i’ve learned some things i would rather not know, as one does when listening at windows or opening ot her people’s letters. you think you’d like to read minds? think again. down here everyone arrives with a sack, like the sacks used to keep the winds in, but each of these sacks is full of words —words you’ve spoken, words you’ve heard, wo rds that have been said about you. some sacks are very small, others large; my own is of a reasonable size, though a lot of the words in it concern my eminent husband. what a fool he made of me, some say. it was a specialty of his: making fools. he got away with everything, which was another of his specialties: getting away. he was always so plausible. many people have believed that his version of events was the true one, give or take a few murders, a few beautiful seductresses, a few one-eyed monsters. even i believed him, from time to time. i knew he was tricky and a liar, i just didn’t think he would play his tricks and try out his lies on me. hadn’t i been faithful? hadn’t i waited, and waited, and waited, despite the temptation — almost the compulsion — to do otherwise? and what did i amount to, once the official version gained ground? an edifying legend. a stick used to beat other women with. why couldn’t they be as considerate, as trustworthy, as all-suffering as i had been? that was the line they took, the singers, the yarn- spinners. don’t follow my example, i want to scream in your ears — yes, yours! but when i try to scream, i sound like an owl. of course i had inklings, about his slipperiness, his wiliness, his foxiness, his — how can i put this? — his unscrupulousness, but i turned a blind eye. i kept my mouth shut; or if i opened it, i sang his praises. i didn’t contradict, i didn’t ask awkward questions, i didn’t dig deep. i wanted happy endings in those days, and happy endings are best achieved by keeping the right doors locked and going to sleep during the rampages. but after the main events were over and things had become less legendary, i realised how many people were laughing at me behind my back — how they were jeering, making jokes about me, jokes both clean and dirty; how they were turning me into a story, or into several stories, though not the kind of stories i’d prefer to hear about m yself. what can a woman do when scandalous gossip travels the world? if she defends herself she sounds guilty. so i waited some more. now that all the others have run out of air, it’s my t urn to do a little storymaking. i owe it to myself. i’ve had to work myself up to it: it’s a low art, tale-telling. old women go in for it, strolling beggars, blind singers, maidservants, children — folks with time on their hands. once, people would have laughed if i’d tried to play th e minstrel —there’s nothing more preposterous than an aristocrat fumbling around with the arts — but who cares about public opinion now? the opinion of the people down here: the opinions of shadows, of echoes. so i’ll spin a thread of my own.
isang mababang kwento ng sining sa tagalog