PussyPuckerPots

Wed, 05 May 2004 20:56:41 GMT

ABANDON LJ! I REPEAT! ABANDON LJ!

http://www.livejournal.com/users/muerda_muerda/

oh my god.. i'm quiz crazy!!!!

Mon, 01 Mar 2004 04:55:30 GMT

You're Lili St. Cyr!

What Classic Pin-Up Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Fri, 27 Feb 2004 23:33:31 GMT

Which reality TV rich girl are you?

Jaime Gleicher

Get therapy, or you'll end up 45, married, with two kids, and taking valiums with your martinis.

Click Here to Take This Quiz
Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests.

Launch of My NEW website..

Fri, 13 Feb 2004 21:36:35 GMT

http://faerienumber5.mysite.freeserve.com/

I made a website... I actually did. While I was sick with the flu, I...

1) updated my blog (OMG!!!)
2) Did my homework and readings
3) Cleaned the apartment
4) MADE A FRIKKIN WEBSITE!!!

This only goes to prove that I am at my most efficient and productive when I'm at my worst physical shape.
Hmm...... Interesting thought...

Go check it out!!!!!!!!

The Prodigal Daughter Returns

Wed, 11 Feb 2004 17:59:25 GMT

So... during my very long hiatus cooped up in my little Orlando life I went and took charge of matters and get lots of things started up. It was horrible, I've been so busy dealing with all kinds of crazy things going on that I didn't have time to do anything. Anyway, how'sl my lovely lovelies back home who I so dearly miss???

Anyhoo, I got braces. *ouch*

And I've been stuck home with the flu for about 2 days now. (I'm ecstatic!! *giggle*) No worries, it's not the bird flu. This retard in my sociology class came to class with the flu and started sneezing all over everyone so...

On the bright side, (or dark side.. hmmm) I got myself hooked up with numerous internships with magazines/websites. They all don't pay. (bloody hell) but they're much needed, and probably very good experience. Besides, I get lots and lots of free CDs and books and stuff that they want me to review!! Yippee!! Freebies!!! I need to fill up my resume. *sigh* It's cool seeing my stuff published though. Very darn cool. Check em out.

http://www.heartless-bitches.com/

I am music editor for this website. *wheeee* I'm still in the process of making up the page but my work will soon be posted up in the music section.

http://girlpunk.net/

I write reviews for this website. I haven't had anything published on them yet but soon enough. :)

http://axismag.com/index2.html

I actually write at this magazine's local office in Orlando. My first review for them is already online in the reviews page. Go check it out!! hehe. It's a band called Tishamingo. :)

The last one doesn't have a website but it's my school's arts newspaper oddly called the Indie (ironic cos they recently got bought over by a bigger newspaper..hmm...). I already have a couple CD reviews and an article published by them. :)

It's great huh? I'm still working at the bookstore and trying to do 5 classes in school so everything's still going rapid speed for me. *sigh* no wonder I got sick...

Click on this link!

Tue, 13 Jan 2004 16:46:01 GMT

Hey kids, found this cool site. Sorry I haven't updated for so long. I'll be back. iin the meantime. CLICK AWAY!!!

http://goddessboutique.net

Nick Cave: And No More Shall We Part

Wed, 10 Dec 2003 21:21:48 GMT

And no more shall we part
It will no longer be necessary
And no more will I say, dear heart
I am alone and she has left me

And no more shall we part
The contracts are drawn up, the ring is locked upon the finger
And never again will my letters start
Sadly, or in the depths of winter

And no more shall we part
All the hatchets have been buried now
And all of birds will sing to your
Beautiful heart
Upon the bough

And no more shall we part
Your chain of command has been silenced now
And all of those birds would've sung to your beautiful heart
Anyhow

Lord, stay by me
Don't go down
I will never be free
If I'm not free now

Lord, stay by me
Don't go down
I never was free
What are you talking about?

For no more shall we part
And no more shall we part

Mon, 08 Dec 2003 02:54:18 GMT

I took the What Mythological Creature Are you? test by
peacefulchaos !

funniest quiz ever seen...

Mon, 08 Dec 2003 01:41:00 GMT

Nihilist Bear

Which Dysfunctional Care Bear Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Tales of the Intrepid Fag Hag

Thu, 04 Dec 2003 21:23:28 GMT

This is a pretty long article I found on the net. But I know you guys will absolutely adore it.... Here's the site for you all.

http://swishpride.org/index.html

Disorganized Religion

Flaming Jesus
1 ½ oz vodka
splash lime juice
splash grenadine
½ oz Bacardi 151

Put all ingredients in a shot glass in the order given. Light rum on fire. Extinguish flame before attempting to drink.

My friend David asked me to go to church with him today; as usual I had too much to drink the night before and arrived at the church tired, nauseous and disoriented (I usually don't feel like that until after the service ends). Before I dared go inside, I wandered up and down the street in search of some peppermint tea to settle my stomach. A kind waitress in a nearby coffee shop took pity on me and brought me not only the tea, but some B-complex tablets and a homemade chocolate muffin. By the time I finished the tea I felt somewhat less hellbound, and ready to brave uncomfortable pews and self-righteous sermonizing. Yippee-skip!

I wasn't always so church-phobic; actually when I was younger I went religiously, as it were. I learned to appreciate and eventually cherish the tight-knit sense of community fostered there, and I adored most of the congregation, who treated me as they might a dear cousin or niece. As a streetwise New York latchkey kid and a natural loner, I didn't often get to feel part of a family - my own family was deeply flawed and really lousy at keeping in touch with each other. I got the impression that my mother didn't hold them in especially high regard anyway and was just fine with their prolonged absence from my life. (We recently learned that our cousin Joan, who lives in Detroit and happens to be the only member of my extended family that my mother likes, was diagnosed with inoperable colon cancer. Well, at least there's no reason for me to go to Detroit anymore. Just kidding. Joan actually laughed when I said that to her) So it was with a profound sense of relief that I made my weekly pilgrimage to the friendly, joyful haven of Rutgers Presbyterian Church.

After my beloved minister died of AIDS in 1987, the demographics and general attitude of the church underwent a dramatic shift. It was as though his death administered a walloping slap across the face to our previously ostriched congregation. Reverend Coonradt was a gentle, loving, deeply spiritual soul who was also possessed of a loopy sense of humor and an awesome empathy towards his fellow human beings. He was a tough act to follow even as ministers go. Upon his death, the terrible secret he'd been keeping from all but a select few came out. Knowing that the final days of this very special man were wracked with such silence, agony and loss collectively brought my church to its knees, and the floodgates opened. The church began to offer macrobiotic cooking lessons. A rainbow flag appeared suddenly one day alongside the Presbyterian flag on the church roof. Reverend Coonradt's death had sounded an alarm, and formerly religion-estranged gays and lesbians citywide answered its urgent cry.

At the time my mother was serving on the church's board of Elders. Although she is a compassionate, tolerant and highly intelligent woman, she and I have been at odds for years over my involvement in the gay rights movement and my deep attachments to gay men and women in general. I think more than anything she simply despairs of me ever finding a husband amidst the throng of happy homos I surround myself with. I do get that, but her disapproval, both spoken and unspoken, cuts deep regardless. Anyway, the insurgence of homosexuals into Rutgers, and the changes that came in their wake, disturbed her and many of the other deacons and elders greatly. There were ugly, protracted meetings in the church for many weeks, and my mother would relate them loudly and angrily to her mother on the phone, as well as to anyone else who cared to listen. Granted, I didn't know exactly what "gay" meant, but I do remember being left with the general impression that my mother believed that whatever Reverend Coonradt and others like him were could not, and should not, coexist with our religion. How could that possibly be? How could someone as dear and forgive me, holy, as Reverend Coonradt be an aberration in the sight of God? It just didn't add up.

The straw that broke the camel's back for my mother apparently came when Rutgers presided over a gay marriage, which was quite a big fat deal back then. The deacons and elders were convened and basically told that it was a fait accompli and no discussion was going to be brooked on the matter. Shortly thereafter my mother left the church and migrated to Park Avenue Methodist on East 86th Street. She urged me to follow her, but I was completely torn. I didn't know any of those people, and didn't want to know any of them. Who wanted to trudge all the way over to the East Side every Sunday, when Rutgers was a ten-minute walk away? And what the heck was a Methodist - we were Presbyterian! Rutgers had been the core of my entire religious life. I was confirmed there. I knew its cool stone walls and hushed corridors as well as the halls of my own school, and the idea of leaving broke my heart. But I didn't want to stay there without my mother.

So I left my church too, and I stayed gone a long, long time. I know now that I suffered immeasurably because of it. You often hear stories of the fallen-away religious, and how they sometimes simply drift along, rudderless, seeking to fill the gaping hole in their spirits with whatever happens to be handy. Some end up none the worse for wear, while others end up broken beyond repair. I have a lot of "lost years," mostly my teens and early twenties, where I don't believe I grew emotionally. In a lot of ways I'm still a little girl. I'm not saying that weekly doses of church would necessarily have been a cure for all that ailed me, but having a stronger spiritual center might have helped me to deal with it more maturely and effectively. All I know is that my lack of faith preferred to launch sneak attacks on me like mean children on the playground, kicking me soundly in the ass when I wasn't looking and then darting away before I had a chance to confront it. I would be blissfully oblivious for months and then bolt upright from a demon-choked nightmare with the terrible weight of the universe sitting on my chest like an anvil. Unanswerable questions raced across my brain at warp speed. How could a loving God allow a disease like AIDS to exist and steal away the closest thing to a father I would probably ever know? Why couldn't he share his fear and suffering with his flock, who loved him so well? How could my mother call herself a Christian and walk away from the church I'd grown up in simply because it had the audacity to indeed practice what it preached?

These were the questions I pondered, at the ripe old age of eleven. And because I've never been (until recently) one to open up about much of anything, on my own hook I came to the unhappy conclusion that having faith, believing that there were answers suitable and just and fair to these questions, and accepting that maybe there weren't answers to all the questions in life (and that fact was in and of itself an answer) was just too complicated and too much fucking work. I wasn't exactly looking for a point-by-point layout of God's plan, but I needed more than what He was choosing to give me. So I shut the door on my faith, slammed it hard, and except for the yearly Christmas Eve Service at Park Avenue Methodist, thought of it no longer.

***

St. Anne's Church of the Holy Trinity is a lot like most any other church. It's quite pretty, lots of stained glass, uncomfortable pews and pleasant-bordering-on-bland attendees. I arrived a few minutes ahead of David and his boyfriend Tri and took a seat near the back in case I had to make a fast break for the bathroom. The worshipers filed in slowly, all of them looking pleased to see each other. St. Anne's is a church community slowly finding its way - from the little I gleaned at the after-service gathering, it appeared that the previous pastor had some serious, possibly criminal, problems and did not leave the church in a particularly honorable manner. As a result, the congregation has had to adjust to an interim pastor, one Angela Askew. Mother Askew looks like Estelle Parsons, the lady who played Roseanne's mother on Roseanne, and coincidentally is also a foul-mouthed lesbian (Roseanne's mother, I mean. I have no idea whether Estelle Parsons is a lesbian). After the obligatory prayer/hymn/prayer/choir/prayer roundelay, it was time for Mother Askew's sermon. Instead of speaking from the pulpit, she took a cordless microphone and came downstage to us. I liked that a lot, and I liked her sermon even better. It was exceptionally literate, for one, almost at the level of a college lecture, not the usual Jesus-loves-you flowery platitudes dispensed by ministers who don't have much regard for their audience's comprehension level. For another, it left me pondering an interesting religious question.

The sermon was on the Beatitudes section of the Bible, also known as the "Blessed are the" section. Mother Askew went through each one and explained their meanings to us ecclesiastical laymen. For the uninitiated, they go like this:

Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are the meek,
for they shall possess the earth.
Blessed are they who mourn,
for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for justice,
for they shall be satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful,
for they shall obtain mercy.
Blessed are the clean of heart,
for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they shall be called children of God.
Blessed are they who suffer persecution for justice' sake,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

I particularly related to the "Blessed are the meek" one, meek in this case not referring to unfortunate societal doormats who go through life having the world wipe its collective feet on them, but those who are humble, who allow the presence of God to encompass and infuse their lives. The meek, in this case, are not only willing, but eager to embrace this presence and to give themselves up to it.

This got me thinking about whether spirituality is supposed to be as hard as it often tends to be. Is it a lifelong process, or something that just swoops in and swallows you up once you're ready for it? I asked Jason, whom I think is remarkably well-informed in these matters, his opinion. As noted in my previous "Tales" installment, Jason is one of those people you expect to suddenly take out a loaf of bread and a fish and start feeding all the homeless people in Central Park. Like me, he was raised in the traditional Christian faith and attended church regularly with his family growing up. However, in recent years his focus has shifted from organized religion and he has been strengthening his spiritual side by participating in meditation sessions, reading a plethora of related material, and just a general walk-the-walk attitude towards his work and life. Jason reminds me of Reverend Coonradt in a lot of ways, including the off-the-wall sense of humor. Being connected in that way to an external consciousness is important to him in a way it has never really been to me, and I was curious to know what kept his interest for so long and so intensely. His answer was a combination of the above: yes, his spiritual growth has been a lengthy and difficult journey, but it only began in earnest after Shandy gave him the book Conversations with God. I haven't yet had the pleasure of reading this book, but I've seen it on many an acquaintance's shelf. It seems like an enormously powerful and suggestive compilation of ideas, but I submit that if Jason hadn't been truly open and ready to explore the "what elses?" of the universe and all points beyond, then Conversations with God wouldn't have registered on his radar screen. Or maybe he might have been momentarily inspired, like people who go to the gym for two months starting January 1st and then avoid it like the plague from then on. To torturously mix a metaphor, he could have traveled the road, but wouldn't have appreciated the journey to its fullest until he had the right vehicle to do it in.

It occurred to me, as I listened to Jason's answer, that as much as I loved and really needed my church back in those carefree youthful days, I wasn't ready to devote the effort required to develop a strong spiritual foundation. Perhaps that was simply a result of youth, but then again perhaps not. I've always been something of a cynic, even as a little kid, and could drive my mother absolutely apeshit with my dourly sarcastic outlook on the world and its inhabitants. Being the child of an intellectual, especially a sociologist, forces you to hold even the most benign circumstances up to intense scrutiny, to basically overanalyze everything to death. How, then, was I supposed to be receptive to a God that didn't provide answers to questions I desperately needed answered? A God who seemed to assert Himself in completely contrasting fashion to the loving, kind, merciful Santa Claus Reverend Coonradt told me he was every Sunday? I used to lie in bed and miss him with a physical force so overwhelming it was honestly as though I'd lost my own father. The circumstances surrounding his death were murky and frightening to me, but young as I was, I knew that he'd been dealt a terrible injustice and no one would tell me why.

It was while I listened to Mother Askew's sermon that I felt the fingers of ice surrounding my faith melting away. For so long, I had wandered a lonely spiritual wasteland where I'd been unable to reach God. I was all of those things mentioned in the Beatitudes - poor in spirit, meek, mournful, suffering, hungering for justice. I had been hurt early and deeply by a reality I couldn't comprehend, and turned my back on one thing that might have helped me to comprehend it. The other thing, plain old time and experience, wasn't accessible to me then.

Indeed time and experience has helped me tremendously. Meeting my best friend and supporting him through his coming-out, getting involved with SWiSH, hearing the stories of all the amazing, wonderful gay men and women whose lives I've been lucky enough to touch - all of that was like salve on the open wound of my soul. I'll never understand the ugliness and mercilessness of a disease like AIDS, why it's with us, why it's ravaged our community. I've always felt there's a terrible, almost biblical pathos about this disease that separates it from all the others - the sense that love and sex are punishable offenses, and AIDS is the punishment (certainly enough right-wing fundie lunatics have jumped on that particular bandwagon) But the heart knows better. Like every other disease, AIDS finds its victims through unluckiness or irresponsibility, and for every physical indignity it brings, there's a correlative ennobling of spirit that is awe-inspiring to witness. At the end of his life, Reverend Coonradt was thin, weak, frail - your typical late-stage AIDS patient. He looked as though every movement brought him pain. But when he preached, the last few times he did, there was an exceptional fervor to his words, as though he were lit from within by God's love - he seemed almost to blaze with it. I remember being so moved by him then. Cynic that I was, Mark Coonradt made me believe.

I'm not angry with God anymore. I'm finally ready to accept Him back into my life. Although it took a lot of time and heartache to get here, now that I've arrived I find myself willing to be devoured by my faith like prey. So I guess the answer to my question is twofold: some of us are devoutly atheistic, while others are lucky enough to have the gift of unswerving faith. But I think, for the majority of us, getting to that next level, spiritually speaking, takes some work. As the Beatitudes say, I'm a peacemaker now. And in most things (though certainly not all), I am clean of heart. I see God in people I love, in places I find myself. I see God in the fierce devotion I have for my family, my friends and my cause. Life is marked by much pain and bewilderment, and that is why we can only feel truly blessed when we go out there, roll up our sleeves and try to take some of it away.

I think Reverend Coonradt would be awfully proud of me.

Yours in hagdom,
Jamielah

Tue, 02 Dec 2003 18:14:25 GMT

"Wherever I went in my life, I met people wanting to gobble up something new. Gobble up a new car. Gobble up a new piece of property. Gobble up the latest toy. And then they wanted to tell you about it. 'Guess what I got? Guess what I got?' You know how I always interpreted that? There were people so hungry for love that they were accepting substitutes. They were embracing material things and expecting a sort of hug back. But it never works. You can't substitute material things for love or for gentleness or for tenderness or for a sense of comradeship."

- Morrie

The Painter (by Jewel)

Mon, 24 Nov 2003 01:41:12 GMT

Once in a while, it's nice to come back to old things that used to make me cry... Keeps me human.

Painters (by Jewel)

80 years, an old lady now, sitting on the front porch,
watching clouds roll by, they remind her of her lover and how he left her,
and of times long ago...
When she used colour carelessly,
painted his portrait a thousand times
and maybe just his smile...

Her and her canvas would follow him
wherever they will go
cos they were painters and they were painting themselves
a lovely world...

oil streaked daisies covered the living room walls.
he put water coloured roses in her hair.
he said, "Love, I love you.
I want to give you the mountains, the sunshine,
the sunset too...
I just want to give you a world that's
as beautiful as you are to me.
Cos I'm a painter and I want to paint you.
A lovely world."

So they sat down and made a drawing.
They made it an art to live by
They painted every passion every home,
created every beautiful child.

In winter they were weavers of warmth,
in summer they were carpenters of love.
They thought blueprints were too sad.
So they made them yellow.
and they were painters and they had painted themselves
A lovely world...

Until one day the rain fell,
thick as black oil,
and in her heart she knew something was wrong.
She went running through the orchard screaming,
"No God! Don't take him from me.
By the time she got that she feared. He already had gone..."
She got to where he lay,
water-coloured roses in his hands for her,
she threw them down screaming,
"Damn you man, don't leave me.
With nothing left behind
but these cruel paintings these cruel portraits
to remind me..."

He said...
"Love, I only leave a little.
Try to understand.
I put my soul in this life,
we've created with these 4 hands...
Love, I leave but only a little.
This world holds me still.
My body may die now
but these paintings are real."

La di die... La di die... La di die....di die...

So many seasons came and many seasons went
and many times she saw her love's face.
Watering flowers, talking to trees and singing to his children.
When the wind blew, she knew he was listening
and how he seemed to hold her when she was crying.
Cos they were painters and they had painted themselves
a lovely world...

80 years, an old lady now, sitting on the front porch,
watching clouds roll by, they remind her of her lover and how he left her,
and of times long ago...
When she used colour carelessly,
painted his portrait a thousand times
and maybe just his smile...

Her and her canvas would follow him
wherever they will go...
Yes.
Her and her canvas still follow...
Cos they were painters and they had painted themselves
a lovely world...

My Christmas List :)

Mon, 24 Nov 2003 01:09:22 GMT

Here I have (with hardly any embarassment) put up my entire wishlist of things I want just in case you kindly souls out there decide to buy me something. *smirk*

If anyone out there is reading this and want to sell me their used things or trade for something else, drop me a line.

Hehe I'm so shameless...

The List

"The 120 Days of Sodom and Other Writings" by Marquis de Sade

</ul>

ISBN #: 0312422385

Portishead "Dummy" CD

Any Erica Jong book except "How To Save Your Own Life" and "Fanny"

"Nexus", "Plexus" and "Sexus" by Henry Miller

"Yellow Dog"by Martin Amis

Evanescence CD

http://www.hottopic.com/store/product.asp?LS=0&G=1&M=1421844620&ITEM=286959&RN=100

http://www.hottopic.com/store/product.asp?LS=0&G=1&M=1421844620&ITEM=203199&RN=292

http://www.hottopic.com/store/product.asp?LS=0&G=1&M=1421844620&ITEM=263715&RN=292

http://www.hottopic.com/store/product.asp?LS=0&G=1&M=1421844620&ITEM=270759

http://www.hottopic.com/store/product.asp?LS=0&G=1&M=1421844620&ITEM=225374&RN=292

http://www.hottopic.com/store/product.asp?LS=0&G=1&M=1421844620&ITEM=220534&RN=146

http://www.hottopic.com/store/product.asp?LS=0&G=1&M=1421844620&ITEM=348005&RN=129

http://www.hottopic.com/store/product.asp?LS=0&G=1&M=1421844620&ITEM=317180&RN=129

http://www.hottopic.com/store/product.asp?LS=0&G=1&M=1421844620&ITEM=307366&RN=130

http://www.hottopic.com/store/product.asp?LS=0&G=1&M=1421844620&ITEM=340378&RN=130

http://www.hottopic.com/store/product.asp?LS=0&G=1&M=1421844620&ITEM=355961&RN=131

http://www.hottopic.com/store/product.asp?LS=0&G=1&M=1421844620&ITEM=456756

http://www.hottopic.com/store/product.asp?LS=0&G=1&M=1421844620&ITEM=390205&RN=100

http://www.hottopic.com/store/product.asp?LS=0&G=1&M=1421844620&ITEM=208310

http://www.hottopic.com/store/product.asp?LS=0&G=1&M=1421844620&ITEM=213623

http://www.hottopic.com/store/product.asp?LS=0&G=1&M=1421844620&ITEM=212609&RN=176

My Life Begins Today: Part Deux

Sun, 16 Nov 2003 23:12:05 GMT

I actually found the time to read. Haven’t read anything in such a long time.

Am reading “Tuesdays With Morrie” right now. Haven’t really gotten through too much of it but I had to stop and write here.

For the past months, so much has happened in my life. Really got me thinking about what I’m doing here, where I’m going, who I really am…

Back when I was sitting in the St Nicks’ canteen, fooling around with my friends, did I ever think that in just 8 years I would be where I am right now? Would I have expected to be married, at the other end of the world, doing what I’m doing, being with the people I’m with? While I sit here at 5.35pm, in St Petersburg, FL, typing on Steve’s brother’s computer, can I see where I will be in 8 years’ time? Will I have kids? Will I have a job? Where will I be? What will I be doing? Will I have Steve? Will I still be alive?

Sigh….

It’s so hard to think about life, what it means, where I’m headed… It’s so hard to look back with no regrets. Especially over the past months, when in an instant, I’ve pretty much walked out on my family, my friends, my school, my country… my life as I’ve known it. Then I almost lost my livelihood, my husband, my life… It’s hard not to look back at the worst times and wish I’d left Singapore. Yet… I have. And thinking back at this moment, I see my life as it is and the endless road ahead of me and I know now that regret is not an option. No one (including myself) can tell me what is wrong and what is right. The path has been taken, the time is past and the route is walked. Instead of wasting life trying to trace my steps, I’m going to walk ahead and see where this route has taken me. I’ve done no wrong, all I’ve done is to make a choice and no matter how gloomy and bumpy the path is, it is my destiny and there will always be beauty in every path I pick.

“The culture we have does not make people feel good about themselves. And you have to be strong enough to say if the culture doesn’t work, don’t buy it.” (“Tuesdays With Morrie”)

I don’t buy it… But most times I’m not strong enough to say it…

Reading the book, I’ve asked myself the questions Morrie asked Mitch on their first visit:

Have you found someone to share your heart with?
Are you giving to your community?
Are you at peace with yourself?
Are you trying to be as human as you can be?

I still haven’t answered them. Still ignoring their persistent little voices swimming like so many fucking minnows in my swirling head…

Can’t answer… Afraid to answer…Afraid to find out that I’ve died.
Morrie said: “Why did we bother with all the distractions we did? Back home, the OJ Simpson trial was in full swing, and there were people who surrendered their entire lunch hours watching it, then taped the rest so they could watch more at night. They didn’t know OJ Simpson. They didn’t know anyone involved in the case. Yet they gave up days and weeks of their lives, addicted to someone else’s drama.”

Are we all so dead that we have to obsess over the meaningless like we do? Like so many lapdogs panting after a bone in mad desperation, then chewing and chewing on it for hours… only to find that it has nothing on it.

Then Morrie said: “So many people walk around with a meaningless life. They seem half-asleep, even when they’re busy doing things they think are important. This is because they’re chasing the wrong things. The way you get meaning into your life is to devote yourself to loving others, devote yourself to your community around you, and devote yourself to creating something that gives you purpose and meaning.”

So then, after going through a complete upheaval of my life and my environment, as well as experiencing the threat of a failed marriage all at the ripe old age of 21, I thought it was time I did some spring cleaning in my mind, my heart and my soul. Although it’s been hard to throw away the many things that has fulfilled my need to be defined and categorized in society, I’m still working on packing those into the trash.

It’s time I started living and stopped dying. I’m too young for that.

My life begins today.

american stupidity

Thu, 13 Nov 2003 19:29:59 GMT

Yet another wonderful example of american stupidity:

From the show American Dreams
.....................................................

Marine son: "I got stationed in another base, dad."
Dad : (pause) "You got your orders?"
Marine son: "Yep."
(silence)
Mom : "Where are you going?"
Marine son: "Okinawa"
(silence)
Mom : "What does that mean?"
(silence)
Dad : "That means he's going to Vietnam."

...........................................................

I didn't realize Okinawa is in Vietnam. hmm......

Mon, 10 Nov 2003 03:35:23 GMT

New Revelation:

My life begins today.

Sat, 08 Nov 2003 04:28:26 GMT

If this is love, why does it feel so bad....

more stupid quizzes i've done...

Wed, 05 Nov 2003 20:52:17 GMT

-Sensitive- You're Sensitive, and you'd like to
stay that way. Sorry,listened to a bit too much
Jewel there. You're sweet and very emotionally
charged. You definitely love the person you're
with, and always want to know how they're
feeling so you can make sure they're happy.

What Kind of Girlfriend Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

You're the suggestive grin,mostly used while
flirting and accompanied by the come-hither
look.You're either an attention hog or way too
insecure to not be in the spotlight at all
times.No one can quite tell.Calm down and learn
to be regular,ya perv.

What Kind of Smile are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

check this out!

Fri, 31 Oct 2003 04:46:15 GMT

http://members.cox.net/impunity/endofworld.swf

Thu, 30 Oct 2003 21:24:06 GMT

My LiveJournal Trick-or-Treat Haul
pussypuckerpot goes trick-or-treating, dressed up as Hitler.
bewarenerd gives you 11 yellow tropical-flavoured jelly beans.
calando tricks you! You lose 6 pieces of candy!
emerican_life tricks you! You get a broken toy car.
hurhur gives you 4 red-orange orange-flavoured gumdrops.
kitsch_king tricks you! You lose 5 pieces of candy!
le_bombement tricks you! You get a thumbtack.
pinkgelatin gives you 13 pink spearmint-flavoured gumdrops.
sillyfaery tricks you! You lose 11 pieces of candy!
smelly_belly gives you 15 dark blue banana-flavoured jelly beans.
strawberry_cow gives you 17 purple blueberry-flavoured nuggets.
pussypuckerpot ends up with 38 pieces of candy, a broken toy car, and a thumbtack.
Go trick-or-treating! Username:
Another fun meme brought to you by rfreebern.

hmm... I kinda like the broken toy car and the thumbtack actually tastes pretty good together with the purple-blueberry flavoured nuggets... bizarre...

which level of hell will you go?

Tue, 28 Oct 2003 03:42:28 GMT

Find out which level of Hell you will end up at:

http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-test2.mv?stat=1&xyz=27

This is me,

Second Level of Hell

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You have come to a place mute of all light, where the wind bellows as the sea does in a tempest. This is the realm where the lustful spend eternity. Here, sinners are blown around endlessly by the unforgiving winds of unquenchable desire as punishment for their transgressions. The infernal hurricane that never rests hurtles the spirits onward in its rapine, whirling them round, and smiting, it molests them. You have betrayed reason at the behest of your appetite for pleasure, and so here you are doomed to remain. Cleopatra and Helen of Troy are two that share in your fate.

Post your results here. :)

which level of hell will you go?

Tue, 28 Oct 2003 03:41:30 GMT

Mon, 27 Oct 2003 23:24:53 GMT

Accomplishments

Today, I changed my first diaper.

I realized to my horror that I really do love children very much. (not just to eat...)

I'm sold. I can't wait to have my own kids. (I can imagine Steve's look of mortal horror if he ever reads this... lol) I spent 3 hours with 14 babies today, training for a job at a day care centre. I had 13 diapers to change, 13 bottles to fill, 13 babies to feed and 13 babies running from the playground telling me they got a boo boo.... There was KiKi the weird 1 year old who never says a word until her mother arrives, Jason the Japanese baby brat who refuses to walk anywhere himself, Jordan the little girl who loves velcro, Carly the baby who eats dirt off the playground floor, Noah the baby who bites people, Rose the baby who pooped herself 4 times today, Valerie who fell asleep on my lap... and so many others. This has been the oddest 3 hours ever... I don't know what I'm feeling now but my heart feels like a ball of cotton candy. Strawberry flavoured... with flowers and angels around it. :) Suburban motherhood, here I come!!!!!

Nonetheless, despite the simulated joys of motherhood that changing a diaper had given to me today, I still wish that the babies that I have in future will never take a poop until they're old enough to clean themselves up.

On a lighter note, I sent pics of myself to my family. My sister took one look and instantly pointed out all the places I've put on weight and how fat eating all that roti and kantang has made me. *sigh* such is the love of a sister......

And of course, here's another dumbass quiz I did...

You're Shirley Manson, you saucy girl.

What sexy girl are you
brought to you by Quizilla

Not very maternal eh? Oh well...

Mon, 20 Oct 2003 21:27:55 GMT

oh woe is the terror of boredom!!!

this is for all that ails thine wounded souls and tortured minds. (aka pain of term papers)

http://www.x-woods.com/games/differences/loader.swf

take a break, my lovely chickadees!

what swear word are you?

Mon, 20 Oct 2003 18:38:31 GMT

Wish I was a more exciting word. Now I'll be the butt of everyone's joke. (hur hur hur...)

your asshole.

What swear word are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Guess I gotta start responding to people who call me "asshole"..

What swear word are you guys? I actually honestly truly wanna know...