It has been a while since I've posted anything, and even longer since I've posted something worthwhile. Ne t'inquiete pas mon cherie, that is going to change. I've given myself a bit of an ultimatum for abandoning my blogs and believe me I think I'm ready to really start posting stuff.
You will have to bear with me while I adjust to actually blogging about something interesting and not just half-assing everything by reblogging things, even though I will continue with random ramblings. So ta-ta for now!
...In the words of Monsieur Terminator "I'll be back"
Monday, December 26, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
Band-Aid
[Had to write about a band-aid for an in-class writing exercise.
This is what I came up with.]
Throughout life, we get hurt emotionally just about as much as we get hurt physically. There are those minimal injuries that will mend with a band-aid and just a bit of time. Some need a bit of help from some aspirin to ease the pain or maybe antibacterial spray to stop a possible infection to the rest of our sanity, or even a bit of Neurosporin or some other Scar-Be-Gone product to forget that we were ever injured. A band-aid provides us with a barrier to protect the injury so we don’t make it worse. This is the barrier we put up when we are trying to have an emotional injury healed. We don’t even regard what happened to us. We continue our daily lives. Trying to forget that injury.Get distracted. But sometimes that barrier peels down a bit while we’re distracted. No worries though. Remember the other things we have to heal our wound? These are the people that love us, the people around us the things we love to do that distract us, the hope they provide. It might take a while, but things will get better. Wounds do heal. Eventually if taken care of.
This is what I came up with.]
Throughout life, we get hurt emotionally just about as much as we get hurt physically. There are those minimal injuries that will mend with a band-aid and just a bit of time. Some need a bit of help from some aspirin to ease the pain or maybe antibacterial spray to stop a possible infection to the rest of our sanity, or even a bit of Neurosporin or some other Scar-Be-Gone product to forget that we were ever injured. A band-aid provides us with a barrier to protect the injury so we don’t make it worse. This is the barrier we put up when we are trying to have an emotional injury healed. We don’t even regard what happened to us. We continue our daily lives. Trying to forget that injury.Get distracted. But sometimes that barrier peels down a bit while we’re distracted. No worries though. Remember the other things we have to heal our wound? These are the people that love us, the people around us the things we love to do that distract us, the hope they provide. It might take a while, but things will get better. Wounds do heal. Eventually if taken care of.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Slacking
Eh, yes I realize I've been a tad-bit behind on posting...okay a lot behind. But I will do my best to remain more consistent. It's not like I don't have anything to post, I've just been caught up with some other things. And hopefully soon enough, someone will actually care about what I have to say, if not, well at least I have myself as fan, right?
{crickets chirping...}
Well, that just a little FYI note. But stay tuned and enjoy :)
{crickets chirping...}
Well, that just a little FYI note. But stay tuned and enjoy :)
Overdosing on books
A combination of the dim streetlight and moonlight’s gleam broke through the shades and onto the off-white, Times New Roman-patterned, pages. I had lost track of time after my father bid us goodnight and switched off the light. He had tucked us in bed, my sister and me, as he reminded me it was time to sleep and put my book away. I obligingly set the book aside and continued to put up the show that I was exhausted and ready for bed. In the darkness of the night, my ears remained alert. Next to me, my sister was fast asleep; the teeth grinding had begun. I tiptoed across the room and rested my ear against the door and litened for signs of activity. Two distinct loud snores came from across the hall, from my parents bedroom. I remained still as night until I was completely convinced that the coast was clear. On my way back to bed, I took my treasure from the night stand and happily flopped onto bed. It was just me, my pillow under my chest, and Roald Dahl’s Matilda.
I rarely read a book in more than one sitting, and although I had spent the day, aborbing as much as I could, I could not bear tear myself from the plot when I had it right there, in front of me. I would keep my book hostage from the moment I’d take possesion of it. Whether it was from the library or my own collection of unread books, which weren’t many, I would not put the book down until I was bored, which rarely occurred altogether or literally falling asleep against my will. I would often get in trouble with my parents when I would spent most of the day reading. Sometimes, they would catch me reading in the wee hous of the morning. This ritual occurred throughout a great part of my childhood and well onto my teenhood. In fact, from time to time, I still fall asleep with my books in bed.
I don’t like not doing something “productive”, so at times when I’m reading, I feel guilty for spending the whole day reading it away rather than doing the chores I am responisible for or helping with something around the house as I am used to. Books are my drug. They make me paranoid and lazy, but only while I’m reading them. If I hear so much as the doorknob moving or footsteps headed toward my room, I scramble to hide my book, throw it under the bed or hide it in my pillowcase under my pillow. I’ve been caught a couple times but all my parents do now is laugh and shake there head in disbelief. Occasionally I would go out to the living room, make an appeareance at the dinner table, but never without my book. My parent’s, particularly my dad, always questioned me as to what it was these books were doing for me. My dad has always been a bit more “practical” or so he thinks. Sometimes, I would try to get him involved in the plot by describing what was going on in the story, illustrate what I saw, but at the end he would not see the point of it. It wasn’t that he was against reading stories and books, but as he spent most of his childhood and adult life working, he tends to see things as how they will personally benefit us. And part of the reason that I think his opinion towards my reading is this way is because I do it excessively. I am glad to say that I have become better at taking books in slightly smaller doses… at least, I try. Although my mother and father still give me that look from time to time when they see me reading Pride & Prejudice for the third time, or going through the Harry Potter books for the umpteenth time or reading any other book for the matter, they have never been angered or upset about it. They just simply do not understand the power these books, these stories have over me. They don’t understand the places they take me, the characters I meet. At times, they jokes about banning books from the house and I will retort ”You know, there are parents out there who wish they had children that read like me.” Even though my father won’t admit it straight out, he compares me to his own mother who loved to read and this is more than enough for me to recognize he’s extremely proud of my accomplishments as an avid reader.
I rarely read a book in more than one sitting, and although I had spent the day, aborbing as much as I could, I could not bear tear myself from the plot when I had it right there, in front of me. I would keep my book hostage from the moment I’d take possesion of it. Whether it was from the library or my own collection of unread books, which weren’t many, I would not put the book down until I was bored, which rarely occurred altogether or literally falling asleep against my will. I would often get in trouble with my parents when I would spent most of the day reading. Sometimes, they would catch me reading in the wee hous of the morning. This ritual occurred throughout a great part of my childhood and well onto my teenhood. In fact, from time to time, I still fall asleep with my books in bed.
I don’t like not doing something “productive”, so at times when I’m reading, I feel guilty for spending the whole day reading it away rather than doing the chores I am responisible for or helping with something around the house as I am used to. Books are my drug. They make me paranoid and lazy, but only while I’m reading them. If I hear so much as the doorknob moving or footsteps headed toward my room, I scramble to hide my book, throw it under the bed or hide it in my pillowcase under my pillow. I’ve been caught a couple times but all my parents do now is laugh and shake there head in disbelief. Occasionally I would go out to the living room, make an appeareance at the dinner table, but never without my book. My parent’s, particularly my dad, always questioned me as to what it was these books were doing for me. My dad has always been a bit more “practical” or so he thinks. Sometimes, I would try to get him involved in the plot by describing what was going on in the story, illustrate what I saw, but at the end he would not see the point of it. It wasn’t that he was against reading stories and books, but as he spent most of his childhood and adult life working, he tends to see things as how they will personally benefit us. And part of the reason that I think his opinion towards my reading is this way is because I do it excessively. I am glad to say that I have become better at taking books in slightly smaller doses… at least, I try. Although my mother and father still give me that look from time to time when they see me reading Pride & Prejudice for the third time, or going through the Harry Potter books for the umpteenth time or reading any other book for the matter, they have never been angered or upset about it. They just simply do not understand the power these books, these stories have over me. They don’t understand the places they take me, the characters I meet. At times, they jokes about banning books from the house and I will retort ”You know, there are parents out there who wish they had children that read like me.” Even though my father won’t admit it straight out, he compares me to his own mother who loved to read and this is more than enough for me to recognize he’s extremely proud of my accomplishments as an avid reader.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Date a girl who reads.
"Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.
Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.
She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.
Buy her another cup of coffee.
Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.
It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.
She has to give it a shot somehow.
Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.
Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.
Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilightseries.
If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.
You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.
You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.
Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.
Or better yet, date a girl who writes."
[found on tumblr]
Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.
She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.
Buy her another cup of coffee.
Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.
It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.
She has to give it a shot somehow.
Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.
Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.
Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilightseries.
If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.
You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.
You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.
Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.
Or better yet, date a girl who writes."
[found on tumblr]
Thursday, April 7, 2011
The Paradoxical Commandments - Kent M. Keith
People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered.
Love them anyway.
Love them anyway.
If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.
Do good anyway.
Do good anyway.
If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies.
Succeed anyway.
Succeed anyway.
The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow.
Do good anyway.
Do good anyway.
Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable.
Be honest and frank anyway.
Be honest and frank anyway.
The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds.
Think big anyway.
Think big anyway.
People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs.
Fight for a few underdogs anyway.
Fight for a few underdogs anyway.
What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.
Build anyway.
Build anyway.
People really need help but may attack you if you do help them.
Help people anyway.
Help people anyway.
Give the world the best you have and you'll get kicked in the teeth.
Give the world the best you have anyway.
Give the world the best you have anyway.
Amigo- Roberto Carlos
Tú eres mi hermano del alma realmente un amigo.
Que en todo camino y jornada está siempre conmigo.
Aunque eres un hombre aún tienes alma de niño.
Aquel que me dá su amistad, su respeto y cariño.
Recuerdo que juntos pasamos muy duros momentos.
Y tú no cambiaste por fuertes que fueran los vientos.
Es tu corazón una casa de puertas abiertas.
Tú eres realmente el más cierto en horas inciertas.
En ciertos momentos difíciles que hay en la vida.
Buscamos a quien nos ayude a encontrar la salida.
Y aquella palabra de fuerza y de fé que me has dado.
Me da la certeza que siempre estuviste a mi lado.
Tú eres mi amigo del alma en toda jornada.
Sonrisa y abrazo festivo a cada llegada.
Me dices verdades tan grandes con frases abiertas.
Tú eres realmente el más cierto de horas inciertas.
No preciso ni decir, todo eso que te digo.
Pero es bueno así sentir que eres tú mi gran amigo.
No preciso ni decir, todo eso que te digo.
Pero es bueno así sentir que yo tengo un gran amigo.
No preciso ni decir, todo eso que te digo.
Pero es bueno así sentir que eres tú mi gran amigo.
No preciso ni decir, todo eso que te digo.
Pero es bueno así sentir que yo tengo un gran amigo.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Il y a -Vanessa Paradis
Il y a là la peinture
Des oiseaux, l’envergure
Qui luttent contre le vent
Il y a là les bordures
Les distances, ton allure
Quand tu marches juste devant
Il y a là les fissures
Fermées les serrures
Comme envolés les cerfs-volants
Il y a là la littérature
Le manque d’élan
L’inertie, le mouvement
Parfois on regarde les choses
Telles qu’elles sont
En se demandant pourquoi
Parfois, on les regarde
Telles qu’elles pourraient être
En se disant pourquoi pas
Il y a lalala
Si l’on prenait le temps
Si l’on prenait le temps
Il y a là la littérature
Le manque d’élan
L’inertie, le mouvement
Parfois on regarde les choses
Telles qu’elles sont
En se demandant pourquoi
Parfois, on les regarde
Telles qu’elles pourraient être
En se disant pourquoi pas
Il y a là les mystères,
Le silence sous la mer
Qui luttent contre l’temps
Il y là les bordures
Les distances, ton allure
Quand tu marches juste devant
Il y a là les murmures
Un soupir, l’aventure
Comme emmêlés les cerfs-volants
Il y a là la littérature
Le manque d’élan
L’inertie le mouvement
Parfois on regarde les choses
Telles qu’elles sont
En se demandant pourquoi
Parfois, on les regarde
Telles qu’elles pourraient être
En se disant pourquoi pas
Parfois on regarde les choses
Telles qu’elles sont
En se demandant pourquoi
Parfois, on les regarde
Telles qu’elles pourraient être
En se disant pourquoi pas
Un petit bonhomme
Un petit bonhomme au bout du chemin
Qui mangeait du pomme et a vu Lapin
Lapin, Lapin donnez, donnez-moi la main
Mangeons du pommes et soyons copains.
Time Tested Beauty Tips by Sam Levenson
For attractive lips,
speak words of kindness.
speak words of kindness.
For lovely eyes,
seek out the good in people.
seek out the good in people.
For a slim figure,
share your food with the hungry.
share your food with the hungry.
For beautiful hair,
let a child run his fingers through it once a day.
let a child run his fingers through it once a day.
For poise,
walk with the knowledge you’ll never walk alone…
walk with the knowledge you’ll never walk alone…
People, even more than things,
have to be restored, renewed, revived,
reclaimed and redeemed and redeemed …
have to be restored, renewed, revived,
reclaimed and redeemed and redeemed …
Never throw out anybody. Remember, if you ever need a
helping hand, you’ll find one at the end of your arm.
helping hand, you’ll find one at the end of your arm.
As you grow older you will discover that you have two hands.
One for helping yourself, the other for helping others”.
One for helping yourself, the other for helping others”.
In The Mood For l'Amour-Claire Denamur
In The Mood for l'Amour
You inspire
All the good
All the great
Puts me in the mood for love {x2}
Tu m’inspires
Tout le bon
Le meilleur
Meilleur que des bonbons
L’amour
Tu m’inspires tant d’amour
Je t’enlève tes habits
Comme le papier joli
Autour
Des caramels
Et le sucre de ta peau
C’est tout ce qu’il me faut
Pour être
In the mood for l’amour
{au Refrain}
Toi, tu es ma friandise
Mon adorée bêtise
L’objet
De ma faiblesse
Et si seulement je pouvais
T’infuser comme un thé
Toujours
In the mood for l’amour
{au Refrain}
Quoi que la vie nous réserve
D’un baiser sur mes lèvres
Tu me fais
Tout oublier
Pour le meilleur ou le pire
Que l’on s’aime ou qu’on se déchire
J’aurai toujours le souvenir de toi
Pour te chérir
Tu m’inspires
Tout le bon
Le meilleur
Meilleur que des bonbons
L’amour
Tu m’inspires tant d’amour
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