Monday, July 28, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
And they wonder why women struggle to be taken seriously....
“You know what? I am actually not that much into voting. I think it’s kind of crazy that a woman is running because I think that women deal with a lot of emotions and menopause and PMS and stuff. Like, I’m so moody all the time, I know I couldn’t be able to run a country, because I would be crying one day and yelling at people the next day, you know?”
-Brooke Hogan (on Hillary Clinton's bid to be a presidential candidate)
-Brooke Hogan (on Hillary Clinton's bid to be a presidential candidate)
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Only in America
Not even our lawn mowers are safe anymore.
Lawn Mower Killer
(*WARNING: Image may be disturbing to some viewers.)
Lawn Mower Killer
(*WARNING: Image may be disturbing to some viewers.)
Straight from the sailor's mouth
No matter how old you are, it will always bother your mom if you use bad words.
This morning while having a lovely phone conversation with Mama Wanderlust, I was being repeatedly dive-bombed for no reason whatsoever by a rather rude fly that had wandered into the house like he owned the place. While in the midst of discussing plants and my knack for murdering them, I suddenly can't take the assault from Beelzebub the fly anymore, and I shriek, "THIS FUCKING FLY IS DRIVING ME CRAZY!"
Dead silence on the other end of the phone.
I laugh awkwardly and apologize, and am reminded of the time when I was about seven and informed Mark rather loudly that he was a "bastard", with Mom standing right there. The two of them gave me matching looks of surprise, and Mom said, "What did you say?" I wasn't exactly sure at the time just what that word meant or where I'd heard it, other than it wasn't unlike something one would gather from the stream of pseudo-obscenities spewed by Yosemite Sam. The mortification I felt when I realized that this seemingly innocuous word was an actual curse word - not of the fake, cartoon variety - was enough to make me feel like a terrific shame of a daughter. Now, twenty-plus years older and very well-versed in the use of expletives, I kind of feel that way all over again.
There's a moment of awkwardness on the phone as Mom recovers from the searing f-bomb that has assailed her poor, unexpecting ear, and I make a pitiful attempt to return to talk of plants, but it's too late - the damage has been done. I have shamed my mother yet again.
Hours later, the fucking fly is still hanging about the house - I think he's fixing himself a cup of coffee right now.
This morning while having a lovely phone conversation with Mama Wanderlust, I was being repeatedly dive-bombed for no reason whatsoever by a rather rude fly that had wandered into the house like he owned the place. While in the midst of discussing plants and my knack for murdering them, I suddenly can't take the assault from Beelzebub the fly anymore, and I shriek, "THIS FUCKING FLY IS DRIVING ME CRAZY!"
Dead silence on the other end of the phone.
I laugh awkwardly and apologize, and am reminded of the time when I was about seven and informed Mark rather loudly that he was a "bastard", with Mom standing right there. The two of them gave me matching looks of surprise, and Mom said, "What did you say?" I wasn't exactly sure at the time just what that word meant or where I'd heard it, other than it wasn't unlike something one would gather from the stream of pseudo-obscenities spewed by Yosemite Sam. The mortification I felt when I realized that this seemingly innocuous word was an actual curse word - not of the fake, cartoon variety - was enough to make me feel like a terrific shame of a daughter. Now, twenty-plus years older and very well-versed in the use of expletives, I kind of feel that way all over again.
There's a moment of awkwardness on the phone as Mom recovers from the searing f-bomb that has assailed her poor, unexpecting ear, and I make a pitiful attempt to return to talk of plants, but it's too late - the damage has been done. I have shamed my mother yet again.
Hours later, the fucking fly is still hanging about the house - I think he's fixing himself a cup of coffee right now.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Be my muse - yeah, I dig that
Thank you, Andrew. And yes, you are the barrier - er, I mean gateway - to my happiness.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Words of motivation
The 24-hour fitness trainer told me tonight that I'm in "reasonably decent" shape. This was when I dropped my dumbbell on his face. Repeatedly.
Friday, July 18, 2008
The 43rd President of the U.S.
The man who should have been President shares some more insight on the energy crisis and what we can do to help...
Monday, July 14, 2008
practicing gratitude
so tonight in the Church of Oprah (of which I am an unabashed member, and may her Holiness strike you down with her microphone if you speak ill against me for it), I was taught to have gratitude and make note of five things every day that I am grateful for. So, here you are...
I AM GRATEFUL FOR:
1. the French (It IS Bastille Day, after all!) - for their lovely language that I so desperately want to know, their butter croissants that kept me (blissfully) alive on my travels, their brilliance with wine-making and the many joys it has brought to my wino life, their warm hospitality whenever I have visited their country, and their good genes from which have come many god-like creatures who make this world a more beautiful place! See: Melvil Poupaud
2. Page France - (another French reference, I know, but NOT intentional) for giving me little-girl goosebumps from your songs, and for being so goddamn repeatable.
3. the Internet - without which I would be lost, a mere shadow of myself - and without e-mail and networking sites, I would quite possibly have no friends because I, Master of Communications, am a not-so-good communicator.
4. San Francisco - for coming to my rescue when I needed you.
5. popcorn shrimp - just because it tastes good.
I AM GRATEFUL FOR:
1. the French (It IS Bastille Day, after all!) - for their lovely language that I so desperately want to know, their butter croissants that kept me (blissfully) alive on my travels, their brilliance with wine-making and the many joys it has brought to my wino life, their warm hospitality whenever I have visited their country, and their good genes from which have come many god-like creatures who make this world a more beautiful place! See: Melvil Poupaud
2. Page France - (another French reference, I know, but NOT intentional) for giving me little-girl goosebumps from your songs, and for being so goddamn repeatable.
3. the Internet - without which I would be lost, a mere shadow of myself - and without e-mail and networking sites, I would quite possibly have no friends because I, Master of Communications, am a not-so-good communicator.
4. San Francisco - for coming to my rescue when I needed you.
5. popcorn shrimp - just because it tastes good.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
coffee and cigarettes
i gave up coffee and cigarettes
i hate to say it hasn't helped me yet
i thought my problems would just dissipate
and all my pain would be in yesterday
i poured my booze all down the kitchen drain
and watched my bad habits get flushed away
i thought that that would keep my head on straight
and all my pain would be in yesterday
but it's true
i'm still blue
but i finally know what to do
i must quit
i must quit...you
-michelle featherstone
i hate to say it hasn't helped me yet
i thought my problems would just dissipate
and all my pain would be in yesterday
i poured my booze all down the kitchen drain
and watched my bad habits get flushed away
i thought that that would keep my head on straight
and all my pain would be in yesterday
but it's true
i'm still blue
but i finally know what to do
i must quit
i must quit...you
-michelle featherstone
Monday, July 07, 2008
Uh-huh
Early, foggy San Francisco morning. Trickling fountain at my feet. The rush of traffic breaking the calm. Hit play on the Ipod...and all was right with the world.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
June - in review
In retrospect, the month of June consisted of three monumentally embarrassing moments, one daring move that paid off, and the best weekend of the year thus far.
Over the course of those 30 days, I reconnected with several old friends and made several new ones (may have even lost a couple, too); nearly killed a person with a golf ball (don't ask); nearly killed myself playing tennis (no really, don't ask); got my hair done for $235 - only to have it look slightly different than it did before (wtf?!); went to a Giants game that I can tell you absolutely nothing about (I think they lost?); tried "sipping tequila" ('twas surprisingly good) and shooting Jameson (not quite so good); had more than one memorable American Beauty moment (i.e., plastic bag scene); smoked on a hookah for the first time (mmm...watermelon); was moved to tears in a symphony (twice); booked a flight to my beloved London town after nearly three years of being away (come September, woo hoo!); witnessed the debauchery and exhibitionism of Pride Weekend (somewhat frightening, and yet oddly refreshing, too); did "the right thing" twice (and was surprised by how good it felt); and took pause more than once to say to myself, "Remember this moment."
All things considered, I'd say it was, in fact, a very memorable month.
Over the course of those 30 days, I reconnected with several old friends and made several new ones (may have even lost a couple, too); nearly killed a person with a golf ball (don't ask); nearly killed myself playing tennis (no really, don't ask); got my hair done for $235 - only to have it look slightly different than it did before (wtf?!); went to a Giants game that I can tell you absolutely nothing about (I think they lost?); tried "sipping tequila" ('twas surprisingly good) and shooting Jameson (not quite so good); had more than one memorable American Beauty moment (i.e., plastic bag scene); smoked on a hookah for the first time (mmm...watermelon); was moved to tears in a symphony (twice); booked a flight to my beloved London town after nearly three years of being away (come September, woo hoo!); witnessed the debauchery and exhibitionism of Pride Weekend (somewhat frightening, and yet oddly refreshing, too); did "the right thing" twice (and was surprised by how good it felt); and took pause more than once to say to myself, "Remember this moment."
All things considered, I'd say it was, in fact, a very memorable month.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Voice of the past
So I was digging through some old files, and I stumbled across some poetry of mine that I haven't read in ages. I love that - it's as though the writing belongs to someone else, and this is my first time ever having read it. Anyway, here are a few snippets from a previous life of mine, a life I remember clearly and yet seems so distant to me now.
-------------
There's the disgustingly romantic:
I am yours and I am mine
Where you are dark and dark is light.
I choke on words I keep inside,
Your face a poem I’ve yet to write...
Who could ever be so vain
To dare to speak aloud your name,
To say those words to make you stay
When your heart tells you to fly away.
I won’t be the one to drown your will,
To change your mind and break the deal,
To act according to what I feel
When I’ve not determined just what is real.
I’ve miles to go before I’m through -
With you to gain, nothing to lose -
I’ll search the world if I have to,
To find the words to describe you.
Dazed by what I can’t believe-
A fusion of sweet energy-
Lost is logical reasoning,
While you are as near as you are to me.
Stowed away are all reservations
And thoughts of recent revelations,
As I marvel at the constellations
And forget to ponder our destination.
As star explode and worlds collide,
I kiss the moon, embrace the sky,
And soar across that dividing line
Into what once was yours but now is mine.
A piece of heaven to revel in,
A tangled mesh of skin on skin
In a flash of time when I can’t determine
Just where I end and you begin.
-----------------
The bitter and jaded:
With washed-up dreams and strangled screams—
I am torn between rage and an epiphany--
all this hot air suffocating me, and
I accept that I have been beaten.
I see that I am sliced up and twice fucked,
worn out and listless and
I think that I missed this when I let my ears fold,
when a sweet, salty kiss made my eyes close,
and I bought into all those lies that were sold
at the bestseller rate for those sociophobes
who can’t get a date-just sit home and masturbate,
wishing the world would implode to end their heartache.
Now, somewhere in my head, amidst all the regrets,
all the what-ifs, should-haves, and words I never said,
lies the notion of Romance as it has fallen dead,
taken with it the chance of repeating this dance
of the one-legged fool who gave in to circumstance.
-----------------
The angry political:
The sun rears her head
And we are all living dead,
Waking to a world of fear and dread,
Lamenting lost youth while tumors grow in our heads,
Here in the land of the free and over-fed.
So let’s give a hand to the man with a plan,
Who smiles and waves at his flag-toting fans,
Slaps his bible and takes a stand,
While jerking off with his free hand.
Glory, hallelujah! The world is saved!
The forests burned and the fields all paved!
The children are dead and their murderers reign
But the sun goes on rising just like yesterday.
----------------
The mildly amusing:
"Cinderella's Fashionable Tardiness"
So I’m late for the ball cuz the tire went flat,
but I'd never tell Prince Charming that;
that guy don’t know what the magic mirror shows,
which is I've got me a run in my pantyhose,
and yes, my friends - they're all long gone,
lured away by the Pied Piper’s song,
to a crystal castle overlooking the sea,
far, far away and there's no vacancy,
but now and then they send a postcard to me,
just to remind me of all that I'm missing,
so I’ll stick out my thumb and catch me a ride,
cuz I hear life’s better on the other side,
and soon I’ll be dancing with the man of my dreams,
and we’ll see if everafter's all it’s cracked up to be.
---------------
And a bit of haiku:
Kisses taste sweeter
When there is a foreseen end
To receiving them.
----------------
So, anyway....
-------------
There's the disgustingly romantic:
I am yours and I am mine
Where you are dark and dark is light.
I choke on words I keep inside,
Your face a poem I’ve yet to write...
Who could ever be so vain
To dare to speak aloud your name,
To say those words to make you stay
When your heart tells you to fly away.
I won’t be the one to drown your will,
To change your mind and break the deal,
To act according to what I feel
When I’ve not determined just what is real.
I’ve miles to go before I’m through -
With you to gain, nothing to lose -
I’ll search the world if I have to,
To find the words to describe you.
Dazed by what I can’t believe-
A fusion of sweet energy-
Lost is logical reasoning,
While you are as near as you are to me.
Stowed away are all reservations
And thoughts of recent revelations,
As I marvel at the constellations
And forget to ponder our destination.
As star explode and worlds collide,
I kiss the moon, embrace the sky,
And soar across that dividing line
Into what once was yours but now is mine.
A piece of heaven to revel in,
A tangled mesh of skin on skin
In a flash of time when I can’t determine
Just where I end and you begin.
-----------------
The bitter and jaded:
With washed-up dreams and strangled screams—
I am torn between rage and an epiphany--
all this hot air suffocating me, and
I accept that I have been beaten.
I see that I am sliced up and twice fucked,
worn out and listless and
I think that I missed this when I let my ears fold,
when a sweet, salty kiss made my eyes close,
and I bought into all those lies that were sold
at the bestseller rate for those sociophobes
who can’t get a date-just sit home and masturbate,
wishing the world would implode to end their heartache.
Now, somewhere in my head, amidst all the regrets,
all the what-ifs, should-haves, and words I never said,
lies the notion of Romance as it has fallen dead,
taken with it the chance of repeating this dance
of the one-legged fool who gave in to circumstance.
-----------------
The angry political:
The sun rears her head
And we are all living dead,
Waking to a world of fear and dread,
Lamenting lost youth while tumors grow in our heads,
Here in the land of the free and over-fed.
So let’s give a hand to the man with a plan,
Who smiles and waves at his flag-toting fans,
Slaps his bible and takes a stand,
While jerking off with his free hand.
Glory, hallelujah! The world is saved!
The forests burned and the fields all paved!
The children are dead and their murderers reign
But the sun goes on rising just like yesterday.
----------------
The mildly amusing:
"Cinderella's Fashionable Tardiness"
So I’m late for the ball cuz the tire went flat,
but I'd never tell Prince Charming that;
that guy don’t know what the magic mirror shows,
which is I've got me a run in my pantyhose,
and yes, my friends - they're all long gone,
lured away by the Pied Piper’s song,
to a crystal castle overlooking the sea,
far, far away and there's no vacancy,
but now and then they send a postcard to me,
just to remind me of all that I'm missing,
so I’ll stick out my thumb and catch me a ride,
cuz I hear life’s better on the other side,
and soon I’ll be dancing with the man of my dreams,
and we’ll see if everafter's all it’s cracked up to be.
---------------
And a bit of haiku:
Kisses taste sweeter
When there is a foreseen end
To receiving them.
----------------
So, anyway....
Monday, June 23, 2008
Monday, June 16, 2008
Sprinklers
Have you ever seen some sprinklers going and you’re suddenly compelled to run through them – although you are, in fact, well beyond the age of ten? You completely let loose and dance through the spray, all the while getting soaked from head to toe. You feel exhilarated and alive, and suddenly the world no longer exists, and you don’t think for a second about where you’re supposed to be at that moment, or what you have to do when you get there, or how uncomfortable you’ll be when you inevitably have to return to your car and sit in wet underwear. Nothing else matters but this very moment. You may even pause for a moment, as the water showers down on you, and realize that you are in fact….happy.
Yeah, that’s kinda what it feels like.
Yeah, that’s kinda what it feels like.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Thoughts for the Week
1) Sometimes it's better to just SHUT THE HELL UP.
2) I think that everybody, every now and then, needs to know that they're doing ok. We all bust our butts in different ways on a daily basis, and sometimes you really need someone to pull you aside and tell you how great you are. Not even great, actually - just...fine.
3) Comfort zones are highly underrated.
4) One of the most frustrating things to me in life is trying to translate my thoughts into spoken words. It will make perfect sense in my mind, then I'll speak, and I'll sound like something between Dr. Seuss and Yoda. This kills me.
5) Kerouac said that life is a "great, strange dream." With that in mind, I sometimes want to do something crazy just to test whether I really am here or if I'm just dreaming. Just to see what would happen. Like tear down the street with no clothes on, or go onto the Muni when everyone is quiet and avoiding eye contact, and just scream, or start dancing and singing. In San Fran, it's fairly common to see someone standing on a street corner, shouting out to those who are streaming past with their heads down. You know the guy I'm talking about - the one who everyone tries to ignore as he's either belting out a Stevie Wonder song at the top of his lungs, or calling out to specific individuals and laughing loudly at his own jokes. I think to myself that that guy has slipped away from what the rest of us would call "reality" and lives in his own. Yeah, that guy has probably gone completely mad, but I'm willing to believe that in some respects he's probably a helluva lot happier than a lot of us.
6) “People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that's bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they're afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they're wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It's all in how you carry it. That's what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you're letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.” - Jim Morrison
7) What a difference a day makes.
2) I think that everybody, every now and then, needs to know that they're doing ok. We all bust our butts in different ways on a daily basis, and sometimes you really need someone to pull you aside and tell you how great you are. Not even great, actually - just...fine.
3) Comfort zones are highly underrated.
4) One of the most frustrating things to me in life is trying to translate my thoughts into spoken words. It will make perfect sense in my mind, then I'll speak, and I'll sound like something between Dr. Seuss and Yoda. This kills me.
5) Kerouac said that life is a "great, strange dream." With that in mind, I sometimes want to do something crazy just to test whether I really am here or if I'm just dreaming. Just to see what would happen. Like tear down the street with no clothes on, or go onto the Muni when everyone is quiet and avoiding eye contact, and just scream, or start dancing and singing. In San Fran, it's fairly common to see someone standing on a street corner, shouting out to those who are streaming past with their heads down. You know the guy I'm talking about - the one who everyone tries to ignore as he's either belting out a Stevie Wonder song at the top of his lungs, or calling out to specific individuals and laughing loudly at his own jokes. I think to myself that that guy has slipped away from what the rest of us would call "reality" and lives in his own. Yeah, that guy has probably gone completely mad, but I'm willing to believe that in some respects he's probably a helluva lot happier than a lot of us.
6) “People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that's bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they're afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they're wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It's all in how you carry it. That's what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you're letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.” - Jim Morrison
7) What a difference a day makes.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Thought for the Week
Lately, various people from my past lives have been resurfacing into the present. Reconnecting with someone means you're suddenly faced with the impossible task of summarizing your experiences since the two of you last spoke. What's even stranger is to see someone out of context; there's a correlation between certain faces and certain surroundings, and when things get a little mixed together, time and distance get a bit lost and your brain can't quite compute.
Throughout my twenties, I've generally picked up every 2-3 years and started anew - because of this, I have pockets of friends in various cities who are all somewhat symbolic of different stages of my life. I know everybody has friends from different periods of life, but I think when you move around a lot, the distinction between your groups of friends and your relationship with them is much clearer. What has really rocked my world is having certain people from all stages of my life resurface NOW of all times, considering the recent madness, as I'm trying to piece Amanda back together again.
I was reunited with an old friend from a previous life last night and nearly burst into tears as there was this sudden, beautiful rush of familiarity - not just in seeing him, but in remembering who I was and where I was when he was a constant in my life. It was amazing. I want to bottle that feeling and store it on a shelf.
Little things like that have been helping me to, slowly but surely, get back to feeling like myself again - or the better version of myself, that is. Friends are good like that - especially those who know you in ways that nobody you meet today or tomorrow will quite grasp. They've seen you change in some ways and stay the same in others. There's power in that. And sometimes there's nothing they even need to do to help you to get a grip on yourself again- just being there as a sort of "souvenir" for where you've been is enough.
Throughout my twenties, I've generally picked up every 2-3 years and started anew - because of this, I have pockets of friends in various cities who are all somewhat symbolic of different stages of my life. I know everybody has friends from different periods of life, but I think when you move around a lot, the distinction between your groups of friends and your relationship with them is much clearer. What has really rocked my world is having certain people from all stages of my life resurface NOW of all times, considering the recent madness, as I'm trying to piece Amanda back together again.
I was reunited with an old friend from a previous life last night and nearly burst into tears as there was this sudden, beautiful rush of familiarity - not just in seeing him, but in remembering who I was and where I was when he was a constant in my life. It was amazing. I want to bottle that feeling and store it on a shelf.
Little things like that have been helping me to, slowly but surely, get back to feeling like myself again - or the better version of myself, that is. Friends are good like that - especially those who know you in ways that nobody you meet today or tomorrow will quite grasp. They've seen you change in some ways and stay the same in others. There's power in that. And sometimes there's nothing they even need to do to help you to get a grip on yourself again- just being there as a sort of "souvenir" for where you've been is enough.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
a sort of reawakening
your homecoming will be my homecoming-
my selves go with you, only i remain;
a shadow phantom effigy or seeming
(an almost someone always who's noone)
a noone who, till their and your returning,
spends the forever of his loneliness
dreaming their eyes have opened to your morning
feeling their stars have risen through your skies:
so,in how merciful love's own name, linger
no more than selfless i can quite endure
the absence of that moment when a stranger
takes in his arms my very life who's your
-when all fears hopes beliefs doubts disappear.
Everywhere and joy's perfect wholeness we're
one's not half two. It's two are halves of one:
which halves reintegrating, shall occur
no death and any quantity; but than
all numerable mosts the actual more
minds ignorant of stern miraculous
this every truth-beware of heartless them
(given the scalpel, they dissect a kiss;
or, sold the reason, they undream a dream)
one is the song which friends and angels sing:
all murdering lies by mortals told make two.
Let liars wilt, repaying life they're loaned;
we(by a gift called dying born)must grow
deep in dark least ourselves remembering
love only rides his year.
All lose, whole find
silently if,out of not knowable
night's utmost nothing, wanders a little guess
(only which is this world)more my life does
not leap than with the mystery your smile
sings or if (spiralling as luminous
they climb oblivion)voices who are dreams,
less into heaven certainly earth swims
than each my deeper death becomes your kiss
losing through you what seemed myself,i find
selves unimaginably mine, beyond
sorrow's own joys and hoping's very fears
yours is the light by which my spirit's born:
yours is the darkness of my soul's return
-you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars
e.e.c.
my selves go with you, only i remain;
a shadow phantom effigy or seeming
(an almost someone always who's noone)
a noone who, till their and your returning,
spends the forever of his loneliness
dreaming their eyes have opened to your morning
feeling their stars have risen through your skies:
so,in how merciful love's own name, linger
no more than selfless i can quite endure
the absence of that moment when a stranger
takes in his arms my very life who's your
-when all fears hopes beliefs doubts disappear.
Everywhere and joy's perfect wholeness we're
one's not half two. It's two are halves of one:
which halves reintegrating, shall occur
no death and any quantity; but than
all numerable mosts the actual more
minds ignorant of stern miraculous
this every truth-beware of heartless them
(given the scalpel, they dissect a kiss;
or, sold the reason, they undream a dream)
one is the song which friends and angels sing:
all murdering lies by mortals told make two.
Let liars wilt, repaying life they're loaned;
we(by a gift called dying born)must grow
deep in dark least ourselves remembering
love only rides his year.
All lose, whole find
silently if,out of not knowable
night's utmost nothing, wanders a little guess
(only which is this world)more my life does
not leap than with the mystery your smile
sings or if (spiralling as luminous
they climb oblivion)voices who are dreams,
less into heaven certainly earth swims
than each my deeper death becomes your kiss
losing through you what seemed myself,i find
selves unimaginably mine, beyond
sorrow's own joys and hoping's very fears
yours is the light by which my spirit's born:
yours is the darkness of my soul's return
-you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars
e.e.c.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Thoughts for the Week
1) Stella + Vodka + Tequila = Crazy Amanda
2) Connect 4 connects 2 (connects 3?) then disconnects 1 and suddenly, the game is over. I didn't like this fucking game anyway.
3) Everybody has an ugly side. Some people's ugly side is uglier than others, but we've all got it. And it can rear its head at the most inopportune time. The question is: Can we truly expect others to forgive us our ugliness if we refuse to forgive them theirs? When is it time to distance yourself from a "friend" who has suddenly shown a very ugly side? Just how much is forgivable? Yeah, I don't know. That's why I'm asking.
4) David Cook is going to obliterate David Archutah.
5) Trust the universe and don't fight the forces. Either something is going to work or it's not. You have to trust in that or you'll just be beating your head on concrete. Be patient.
6) Patience is a virtue I lack.
7) It's easy to take your rights for granted. You're simply born with the right to do certain things, and it's hard to imagine otherwise. Then, when you see someone else given that right you've always had but taken for granted, you realize just how very blessed you've been over the years. (Happy Day. Let's drink!)
8) I'm still not convinced my phone is working properly.
2) Connect 4 connects 2 (connects 3?) then disconnects 1 and suddenly, the game is over. I didn't like this fucking game anyway.
3) Everybody has an ugly side. Some people's ugly side is uglier than others, but we've all got it. And it can rear its head at the most inopportune time. The question is: Can we truly expect others to forgive us our ugliness if we refuse to forgive them theirs? When is it time to distance yourself from a "friend" who has suddenly shown a very ugly side? Just how much is forgivable? Yeah, I don't know. That's why I'm asking.
4) David Cook is going to obliterate David Archutah.
5) Trust the universe and don't fight the forces. Either something is going to work or it's not. You have to trust in that or you'll just be beating your head on concrete. Be patient.
6) Patience is a virtue I lack.
7) It's easy to take your rights for granted. You're simply born with the right to do certain things, and it's hard to imagine otherwise. Then, when you see someone else given that right you've always had but taken for granted, you realize just how very blessed you've been over the years. (Happy Day. Let's drink!)
8) I'm still not convinced my phone is working properly.