«Y’a deux gars qui m’ont marqué dans ma vie, j’me rappelle pas vraiment leurs noms mais ils m’ont marqué avec leur apparence down there.»

- M.

My Trendy Wendy notebook that I did my math homework this year and last year is no more. The spirals got all messed up and made it nearly impossible to turn the page of the notebook without ripping the page out. I retired Trendy Wendy and her brother Todd and dug through our school supplies basket for a new Algebra II/Trigonometry notebook to do my homework in. I unearthed a green College Ruled spiral notebook and packed it in my bag to take to school the next morning.

Yes, I did homework in it, but I noticed that the closely spaced lines made writing between them more inviting for me. Smaller print means more words can fit on the page – it’s a no-brainer. So, for the past couple weeks or so, I haven’t been paying attention in Trig (and I’m sure that my average has suffered a little if not immensely). Instead, I’ve been picking up my pen and getting lost in words I have written. Poetry’s always been my forte, but until a couple of weeks ago, I hadn’t been writing any new material. Now, thanks to this green notebook, I haven’t been using my laptop in school as much. Instead, I’ve been distracted by the beauty a clean, white page can provide. Just knowing I can fill that blankness with words makes me want to write all over on every page. So, that’s what I’ve been doing.

The green notebook isn’t for Trig anymore. No, I unearthed a new notebook for that subject (this time it’s red!) and have been using that instead. I’m letting this plain old green notebook help me stretch my writing abilities. I’m writing everything I can (it’s all poetry, mind you) even if it ends up sucking. At least I’m getting everything out of my head.

Lately I have been trying to write beyond my comfort zone. I’ve always kind of written G-rated poetry subconsciously. Now, my most recent works hold a new, deep and hidden meaning that it will take a reader several read-throughs to figure out what it’s truly about. Some of my recent poetry could be rated R or PG-13 at least. I used to be cautious about what I wrote. Now I find myself wanting to write about everything that I hold in my mind, no matter how vulgar or inappropriate my thoughts are (and let’s face it, every mind thinks vulgar and inappropriate thoughts sometimes). One of my most favorite poems is by this poet called C.B. Trail. He obviously didn’t care what the reader thought when he wrote “Sonnet”:

This is for the afternoon we lay in the leaves
After it had been winter for half a year,
And I kissed you and unbuttoned your jeans
And touched you and made you smile, my dear.
And of all the good things that love means,
One of them is to touch you there
And make you smile, among the leaves,
And feel your wetness and your sweet short hair,
And kiss your breasts and put my tongue
Into the delirium between your soft pale thighs,
Because the winter has been much too long
And soon will come again, when this love dies.
I will hear sermons preached, and some of them be true,
But I will not regret that afternoon with you.

I love his honesty and just the truth behind this sonnet. I have had some of my friends read this poem, and their first reaction is “ew! That’s disgusting!” but me? I think it’s beautiful. I think the way it was written is beautiful. I don’t necessarily think that the act displayed in the poem is beautiful (though, what in love isn’t beautiful?), but the way it was written is just phenomenal. Total honesty. Total fearlessness. I want to write like that. I don’t want to be reserved with my writing just because I’m afraid of being obscene or inappropriate. Marilyn Manson’s song “mOBSCENE” has a line that goes “Be! Obscene! Be be obscene!” I’m going to be totally honest with everything I write to get my point across, and if it means being obscene in the process, so be it. I’m willing to take the risk. This green notebook is helping me stretch that ability and is nursing it to reach its full potential. I write how I feel instead of how I pretend I feel. I make up stories in my head and then write them down in poetic form. I create magic with my poetry.

So, I’m trying to be open-minded with everything I write. Even if I think it’s horrible, I keep it. Even if I think a subject is a little iffy to write about, I do it anyway. I’m broadening my horizons. I’m making way for the new – so, out with my old ways and techniques!

Here are samples of my random thoughts in poems from school days (I’m keeping this G-rated here):

You Don’t Know Me

I appear miserable all the time
angry, sad, never happy
to you, this appears to be quite the crime.
Oh, how you don’t know me.
I’m filled with laughter and smiles
and I know, laughter you can’t see
but even though I run miles and miles
I don’t think you know me.
You think you know all my quirks
and what I like to be
the truth is, I’m not the queen of jerks
which shows that you don’t know me.
For as long as there is air to breathe
nobody – nobody – will ever know me.

I would tell you how the sun rose
but I’ve never seen its birth.
I know that the light slowly grows
and gradually heats the Earth.

All I know is when I wake
her silky rays reach my eyes
I know there is no mistake -
I’m in the right place when I rise.

I would tell you how the sun rose
but you’re asking the wrong girl.
This secret, nobody but her knows.
We’re both little girls in a big world.

Alone,
hated,
discombobulated.
She’s alone,
hated
and discombobulated.
I…
I’m alone,
hated
and discombobulated.

Surrounded by millions, thousands, billions
she smiles for the camera constantly.
She’s mocked and her popularity’s docked
all around her, bodies are flocked.
She looks in the mirror, but cannot see.
The flashes blind her temporarily.

She faults in her footing, cameras still shooting
capturing a moment that lives on forever.
She’s harassed and so embarrassed…
never did she ask for this.
She looks for her shoe, but cannot see
the flashes blind her temporarily.

She never has that moment, the missing component
to calm herself down completely.
Not missing a beat, she’s again up and on her feet.
She struggles, but won’t admit defeat.
She walks on, but cannot see…
the flashes blind her permanently.

What you should not do

After a successful disc:

RiRi’s Rated R.

Track Listing: Release Date Dec 1st 2009

Hey Guys! Mega Muffin Here! I’m The New Admin Of This Blog! You’ll Be Hearing Alot Of Me From Now On! I Have A Really Cool Pandanda Blog That Ayush Is Working On With Me!
Me And Ayush Have Been Very Good Friends For Over A Year Now.. & I Hope To Meet The Team Of This Blog!
Here Is My Playercard:

(I’m Santa, Shhhh)
xD , I Hope You Start To Like Me! I’m Very GreatFull That Ayush Let Me Join!
Thanks Ayush! You Rock!!!!

(P.S. I Have A Chat: Http://Xat.Com/ChillOutHQ <—- You Can Go There To ChillOut, No Fights Or Swearing! So It’s Nice And PeaceFull)

Embobado, engatusado, más a gusto que la mar mirando a su novia.

Z okazji dzisiejszego koncertu w katowickim Spodku kawałek promujący nową płytę:

“Liebe ist für alle da”

Dla spragnionych – wersja nieocenzurowana

PARMA [WMAT NEWS] – An enormous crowd of bargain hunters lined up outside the Toys R Us store on Day drive in Parma.

The line stretched almost half a mile, with a crowd estimated at anywhere from 800 to 1000. It was so crowded, people began parking across the street at Parmatown Mall, due to the lack of parking at the store itself. Parma Police were also called to assist the store workers in crowd and traffic control.

The rainy weather certainly didn’t damage the spirit of these shoppers. Even those towards the back of the line remained very enthusiastic.

Not only were there several hundreds of shoppers. The huge line also drew dozens of spectators as well.

The person who was first in line at the store told us she had been waiting in line almost six hours before the store opened at midnight, and that she was shopping for her grandkids and some of her family members.

According to the store, the majority of their yearly revenue comes from Black Friday, and the four weeks leading up to Christmas.

©2009 Westcom/WMAT News

Region free, stealth, y multi idioma. Sólo se puede jugar con los instrumentos del Rock band… Nisiquiera el micrófono incluido con la 360 se puede usar para cantar… Eso en mi caso particular le baja muchos puntos, aunque el juego pinta muy bueno. Excelente apartado visual.

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La contraseña es: dexcargas.wordpress.com

We got tattoos. Just kidding. Maria, Paola & I got star tattoos. We’re cool like that. Maria and Paola got theirs in their ears (like Rihanna) and me on my wrist. I also drew Rihanna’s R on Jennifer, Paola, Daisy and Maria. I also got 5 R’s on my hand. I only have Paola’s and Jennifer’s “R” tattoo. I’ll post those later.

Chaque année, à l’agence, nous faisons un party d’huîtres.

Et qui dit party d’huîtres, dit beaucoup de vin.

Un de mes gentils et sexy collègues n’avaient pas beaucoup mangé de ces petites choses visqueuses, mais c’était jeté corps et âme dans l’alcool… Si bien qu’à la fin de la soirée, quand nous avons pris un taxi ensemble pour rentrer à la maison, il s’est retourné vers moi et m’a dit :

- On fait tu l’amouuuuuur…

- Non.

- …

- Pas habitué de te faire dire non?

- Ben làààà…. Tu m’turn off tsééééé…

5 minutes plus tard…

- On fait tu l’amouuuuur…

- haha… non.

- Monsieur (en parlant au chauffeur de taxi), continuez tout droit.

(tou droit étant la direction du guichet automatique…) En fait, l’entente était qu’il allait me reconduire en taxi, qu’il allait chercher l’argent pour payer le taxi et qu’ensuite il s’en allait gentilment et sagement à la maison. C’est alors que je pose mes mains sur les épaules du chauffeur de taxi…

- Non. Vous tournez ici. (ici étant la rue où j’habite) Vous allez me porter, vous aller chercher l’argent au guichet avec lui et ensuite, vous le déposer chez lui.

Le chauffeur s’exécuta. Je crois qu’il voyait déjà dans quel pétrin il allait me mettre s’il écoutait l’ivrogne à côté de moi. Et le collègue de s’exclamer :

- C’est à cause de toi que j’vais pas faire l’amour ce soir!

- Non. C’est pas à cause du chauffeur de taxi, mélange pas tout.

Arrivé devant chez moi, je dis au chauffeur de se rendre à l’adresse de mon collègue et de ne pas oublier d’aller chercher l’argent au guichet. Et c’est à ce moment là, qu’il s’étendit de tout son long sur la banquette arrière comme ultime tentative de me ramener à la maison…

- Veux-tu un cunilinguuuuuuuuusssssss ?

- …

J’ai fermé la porte du taxi. En me retournant, abassourdit et surtout bien amusé de la situation… qui est-ce que je ne vois pas en train de me faire des simagrés dans la fenêtre arrière de la voiture en prononçant ce que je crois être le mot cunilingus ???

Ça lui a pris 2 semaines avant de me réadresser la parole…

Ce soir, ça fait un an de ça.

Je m’en vais au party d’huîtres. Allez, à plus!

Ma coloc V. vient de me dire :

«T’as le droit de pas feeler, mais je t’interdis de douter de toi à cause d’un punk déguiser avec de la moutarde»

Merci, ça m’a fait sourire.

Vous avez déjà entendu parler du site «Fuck my life» ? Il s’agit d’un site où des histoires personnelles sont partagées et les internautes sont appelés à qualifier l’histoire foireuse en votant par un «you totally deserve it» ou «i agree your life sucks».

Bon… vous sentez venir la suite hein ?

Samedi passé, nous sommes sortie au Balroom après le match du Canadien. Plus tôt dans la soirée, D. me textait pour me demander si j’allais le voir à son bar. Sur quoi je lui répond que je ne peux pas parce que j’ai promis à un ami que nous sortions au Balroom.

Durant la soirée, je «drunk text» D.

- Y manque juste toi!

- J’y étais il y a une minute, mais je ne t’ai pas vu.

- Ah ! Mais t’aurais dû me le dire! T’as quitté?

- Oui, j’ai fais le tour deux fois et je ne t’ai pas vu.

- Je te hais! lol reviens.

- Je bouge, passe une belle soirée!

Bon… est-ce qu’il s’est déplacé pour me voir? Ou est-ce une coïncidence? J’en sais rien. Cela dit, cette soirée là, je l’ai manqué de peu.

Mardi soir, je suis au Centre Bell quand soudainement je sens mon cellulaire vibrer dans ma poche.

- Travailles-tu ce soir?

- Oui.

- Je viens te voir, dis moi t’es où. Moi, je suis dans une loge.

- Non, déplace toi pas. J’irai te voir tantôt.

- Yeaaaaah ! Tu vas me donner un bec.

- un.

- deux ?

- exagères pas.

J’suis aller le voir. J’étais nerveuse. Habituellement, moi qui garde mon calme… on aurait dit que son message texte m’avait scié les jambes… Était-il sérieux? Enfin… On s’est jasé devant la porte de sa loge et je suis retourné à mon poste, sans que rien d’extraordinaire se passe.

…

Ce matin, je suis sur msn quand il vient me parler… Il me dit qu’il est très occupé ces temps-ci et qu’il est fatigué… avant de me lâcher la phrase qui tue.

«en fait plus jy pense et plus je me dis que je suis bien sans blonde !!!!»

Bon… J’ai saisi le message. Dénudé de subtilité, on aime ça comme ça. Au moins c’est clair… mais tellement décevant à la fois… Je crois que je vais canceller le souper de Noël finalement. Je ne vois pas ce que j’irais faire là de toute façon…

J’ai continué la conversation, comme si de rien était. J’allais quand même pas commencé à lui poser des questions du genre : «Ah bon? Pourquoi dont…» Ç’aurait été juste trop inutile et ça m’aurait encore plus mis à découvert que je le suis déjà…

Enfin, bref…

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I am a huge fan of Dennis Lehane. The Kenzie and Gennaro series are what got me hooked on the mystery genre.

I recently finished Lehane’s historical novel The Given Day. It was a beast at about 702 pages. However, it read like a 300 pager. I tackled this thing over a weekend and when I finished I immediately was hoping for an encore from Lehane in the same format. The novel casts a wide net on subject matter. Set in 1918-19 Boston, the book touches on subjects ranging from labor struggles to early American 20th century race relations. The Given Day culminates with a protagonist account of the 1919Boston Police strike and subsequent riots.

I have described this book to friends as the workingman’s Atlas Shrugged. I didn’t find it to be outwardly political though. Which I thought was pleasantly surprising given the dramatic topics it covered. All in all, a very good read.

I really like this QuickPress blog feature, as it makes it real neat to quick throw a blog say, right in between two boring conferences (where you can write about how boring the past conference was!), and under the Tags, you need to place commas instead of enter.

“I don’t mind telling you I don’t like the name. In fact, I think it’s a damn silly name. What’s more, if I had to call him by it I should feel very self-conscious.”

(Georgette Heyer, Death in the Stocks, 1935)

I Posted This Track From R. Kelly Last Week But It Only Featured Tyrese This Version Also Features Robin Thicke And The Dream…A Must Download This Ish Is Dope, Track After The Jump R. Kelly-Pregnant Feat. Tyrese, Robin Thicke ,and The Dream

…::LISTEN::…