This is how the city of Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia looks like from the 7th floor of my apartment building in Setapak. The low roofed buildings in the foreground represent the (often) subdued but authentic side of Kuala Lumpur, as opposed to the incredibly urban and modern, yet superficial way of life in the big capital city.

f/8, HDR (-1, 0, +1): 1/125  sec, 1/60 sec, 1/25 sec

So ever since my last post about starting my blogging for MagMe, I’ve been very busy researching all the hot gossip and writing pieces for the site.  The focus is always to comment or add onto an already existing magazine article (since it is a free-content magazine website), so it’s kind of annoying to have to wait until People, Us, or Life & Style publish their news (since other gossip blogs tend to post gossip right away, or at least sooner than the mags), but it helps keep my content on trend.

I’ve added a new link in the “Find Me” section on the right, so that you guys can keep up with my multiple daily posts.  There are other great bloggers on the site (like I mentioned before), and they tend to write a lot more than me, and all their articles are quite interesting/funny!  So if gossip isn’t your thang, you’ve got options, kiddies.

In addition, I’m always tweeting what I write (with links, of course), so go ahead and follow me on Twitter!  I think the more the merrier =)  And don’t think I’m one of those boring tweeters who only tweet links and such…I am a very active ranter on there too!  Haha!

Once my insane end-of-semester assignment are all done and handed in, I’ll make a video, I promise!  I have a fun little idea for it. =D  Meanwhile, please pray that I can summon the strength and peace to complete the tasks ahead of me!!!

Here are some of my favourite articles I’ve written so far (they’re my faves because the words just flowed when I wrote these…they’re just hilarious topics!):

1. Lindsay Lohan and Ungaro
2. Heidi Montag and her “singing career”
3. Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show/Heidi Klum’s surprise
4. Levi Johnston’s Playgirl Pictorial

I’m writing this as a male, I welcome introvert females who want to comment, add to, or correct me on this matter.

To begin with, women introverts are rarer than their male counterparts.  Or at least, those women considered introverted are still considerably more social in nature than their male counterparts.

I’ve met a few in my lifetime who really fit the description.  In general they had a horrible time growing up,  same as males, but the nature of their experience was quite different.

Because truly introverted behavior is so unusual in women, it begets some truly nasty reactions.  Every pair of parents wants and expects their daughter to be bright, happy, social, and cheerful.  Little girls are expected to be pleasing and put a warm fuzzy feeling in everyone’s(especially daddy’s) tummy.  Everyone wants their little girl to be  a golden girl.  Most girls step right into this role with glee and thrive on the attention they’re given.

Yet now that I’ve met introvert females I’ve seen the special treatment and attention girls get has its sinister side.  There quite simply is no place for girls who behave differently or who don’t fulfill their narrow expectations.  Such girls are thought of us as ’strange’ and are kept out of sight for fear of shame while sunny extroverts are flaunted.  Some parents are understanding, but the introvert girls I’ve known have had at least one parent who reacted negatively to them from a young age.

Most introverted girls tell me that they don’t get along well with other girls, least of all the social hostesses, soccer moms, and sorority girls.

Like men, they endured a lot of teasing from both sexes while growing up.

While introvert men are shut away entirely from the world of romance and relationships, introvert girls just end up in bad relationships because of their low self esteem.

Unlike other girls who keep making this same mistake all their lives, an introvert woman’s heart hardens and she learns her lesson quickly.  She becomes one of those rare and precious women who isn’t chasing millionaires and movie stars.

Introvert women are much more pragmatic and analytical than other women, more so than most men.  They value fairness in a relationship and treasure the quality of a relationship over the material things that can be extracted from it.

While many women speak loudly and rapidly, introvert women tend to speak more slowly and deliberately.  They love spending time outdoors and wear less makeup than other women.

They have a deep appreciation for spells of silence and natural beauty.

They are usually superb writers with a lot of creativity and flair for describing the details.

Introvert women always amaze me because they basically contradict everything male cynics have said for centuries.

The sad thing is that most of them, even as adults don’t understand just how precious they are.

Geurtie era o dulceata de fata, imi spuneam in timp ce o priveam cum zorea cu prajiturele de colo pana colo in sufrageria ingusta a matusii lui Gusti. Inafara de asta era si extrem de realista. Sigur ca visa la Fat-Frumosi si cai verzi pe pereti, dar stia bine ca asta nu se intampla in realitate; cel putin nu ei. Asa ca in mintea ei ascutita de fata ne-a luat pe toti baietii, ne-a facut o analiza riguroasa la sange si a ajuns la concluzia ca sansa la romantism cel mai probabil o avea cu mine. Eu robust, ea dolofana, ne potriveam. De aceea imi arunca priviri pe furis, imi zambea si eu o ingnoram. In primul rand ca imi palcea sa ma zbenguiesc cu baietii. In al doilea rand chiar daca eram mai robust tot imi placeau fetele zvelte cu trasaturi cizelate, cu obrajii proeminenti si barbia ascutita si un mijlocel numai sa-l frangi in maini. La urma urmei eram barbat si nu trebuia sa fiu decat un pic mai frumos ca dracu si nici macar, caci toate femeile sunt lesinate dupa putina afectiune.

“Mihai,” zise Geurtie cu vocea ei ciripitoare. “Vrei o negresa?” si ridica farfuria cu prajiturele maronii plesnind de sos de ciocolata.

“Da cum sa nu?” ii zambesc neatent. Pe buze ii juca surasul acela binevoitor, iar ochii ii sticleau insetati de recunoastere. “Exceptional!” o incurajez.

 Stau si ma gandesc in timp ce ciocolata se topeste in gura ca poate as putea sa o iubesc pe Geurtie daca as avea destula rabdare sa o cunosc si urata nu-i, si chiar asa sa zic ca nu are trasaturi feminine ar fi fost absurd, dar n-am rabdare. Se intoarce la fete. Sta pe langa Victoria Raita una din cele mai energice si zapacite fete din cate am vazut. Asa sunt fetele cand nu au succes in dragoste. Se duc glont la alte fete ca sa se alimenteze din drama lor si Victoria avea ceva drame la activ. Fusese si cu Gusti si cu Maxim si cu Radu si cu inca altii pe care eu nu ii stiam. Momentan e cu unul pe care probabil il chema Andrei pentru ca in loc sa ii zica pe primul nume folosea numele de familie: Oprescu. Desi Vicky era cu Oprescu, acum o vedeai ca sa jughinea cu Stan sau cu Dori. Era dragutica. Era inalta si slaba ca o scandura si avea ochii mici si migdalati caprui, o fatuca mica incadrata de bucle castanii. Insa nu ma gandeam la ea caci iesise cu multi din tovarasii mei. Ma consolam insa cu gandul ca ma voi duce eu la Cluj, la fetele mele frumoase.

Geurtie m-a condus la la gara la sfarsitul clasei a zecea pretextand ca mai conduce si pe altii. Nu era singura. Mai venise si iubita lui Gusti care lua trenul spre Timisoara. Eu plecam impreuna cu Radu care urma sa traga la Sibiu. Incerca sa para naturala si degajata cum era de obicei si eu incercam sa raman indiferent la tristetea ei. Ne lasase mie si lui Radu o caserola cu kek si se intorsese sa o potoleasca pe iubita lui Gusti care zbiera ca o apucata in urma trenului care il ducea departe pe prietenul ei. Cu cat ma apropiam mai mult de Cluj cu atat uitam mai repede de viata mea din Bucuresti, iar cand a coborat si Radu in Sibiu, eram cu totul obsedat de dorinta de intoarcere. In gara ma astepta mama mea inalta si spatoasa cu ochii inlacrimati si tatal meu caruia ii semanam leit cu atitudinea lui grava si mustata deasa si negricioasa . Primele zile am trandavit in pat mancand de ficare data cat zece.

Incetul cu incetul mi-a revenit pofta de aventura. Ieseam cu prietenii vechi seara de seara si petreceam sau jucam fotbal in tarana batatorita. Nu mi-a venit pofta de fete pana n-am cunoscut-o pe Silvia intr-o seara calduroasa de vara cand ne-am intalnit pe promenada cu Laura, o fata pe care o stiam din generala. Ea si cu prietenele ei inca trei tocmai isi luau inghetata. Una din ele era Silvia, de celelalte doua nu-mi aduc aminte. Era o unguroiaca inalta cu parul lung si moale de culoarea mierii. Avea o pereche de ochi azurii si senini inramati de gene lungi si curbate. Era tacuta si adunata. Ma uitam fermecat la ea si sangele incepea sa imi fiarba in vene. Am facut rost de numarul ei si la scut timp ii si faceam curte ca multi altii. Nici acum nu-mi dau seama prea bine cum o fata ca Silvia si-a odihnit privirea asupra unui neispravit ca mine.

Cert e ca singurele mele amintiri din urmatorii doi ani erau serile racoroase cand Silvia se lipea de mine pe Cetatuie si apoi conversatiile interminabile pe care le aveam la telefon cu ea in camera mea rece de camin. Contamplam obsedat poza ei seara inainte se ma culc. Era randul lui Gusti sa rada de mine cum in repetate randuri am ras si eu de iubita lui plangacioasa. Geurtie aparea vag de fiecare data inarmata cu emotie si o caserola cu placinta in mana.

La sfarsitul clasei a doispea eram pregatit sa fac Politehnica din Cluj care era oricum o facultate recunoscuta. Gandul revederii Silviei ma bantuia constant. Groaznica a fost clipa cand intr-o seara calduta de Mai, cand ma intorsesem in Cluj pentru cateva zile am mers si ne-am plimbat, iar ea mi-a spus cu calm ca tine la mine enorm, ca ce am avut a fost special, dar ca nu ma mai iubeste cum ma iubea ieri. As fi fost indiferent daca ar fi fost vorba de oricare alta fata, dar era Silvia-prima mea dragoste. Am plecat furtunos si urmatoarea zi am luat primul tren spre Bucuresti.

In capitala am ales sa ma ingrop in probleme si in desene pana cand am intrat primul la Politehnica. Ma salbaticisem fata de ceilalti. Ulterior aflasem ca Silvia era acum cu un ungur de-al lor, un anume Zoltan inalt si uscativ cu pleata lunga si intunecoasa indreptata cu placa si ochii reci incodeiati de dermatograf. Spre sfarsitul lui August am iesit la suprafata si am hotarat sa reiau legatura cu oamenii. Geurtie, de fapt Gertrude Comanescu intrase cu chiu cu vai la Jurnalism. Nici nu stiam ca avea inclinatii artistice. Era la fel de rotunjoara si imbujorata ca in liceu. La inceput ma plictisea cu vorbaria ei, insa in seara aceea am aflat ca de ea nu puteai sa te ascunzi. Clipind incet din ochii umezi de caprioara ma intreba:

“Ce-i cu tine, Mihai?” imi mangaie cu hotarare incheieturile degetelor.

Am ajuns sa vars tot in noaptea aia, iar ea a continuat sa ma priveasca indurerata si intelegatoare. Eram asa de insetat de razbunare incat am incercat sa o sarut. Am fost surprins cand am vazut ca nu ma lasa desi focul dragostei ardea inca viu in ochii ei de culoarea scoartei de nuc.

Dupa seara aceea mi-am facut timp sa o cunosc pe Gertrude. Nu era de origine germanica, ci doar stra-stra-strabunicii mamei ei ar fi avut o legatura, iar parintii ei s-au gandit ca era o scuza buna sa ii dea un nume mai interesant. Era placuta si dragalasa cu ideile si reactiile ei care atingeau acum altfel mintea mea maturizata. Rosea nebuneste de ficare data cand ii ziceam: “Ce faci, draguto?”

Imi raspundea cu falsa indignare: “Termina-te, Baciu!”

Ii placea sa strige oamenii dupa ultimul lor nume. Ranjeam obraznic de fiecare data. Au mai fost alte fete silfide si blonde in viata mea, insa Geurtie era constanta. De multe ori imi fortam atractia carnala fata de ea. Vroiam sa ma indragostesc complet de ea. Imi spuneam ca atractia fizica era o trivialitate. Eram deja sedus de ea.

Am realizat, cand mi-a spus intr-o doara ca a cunoscut pe unul spilcuit intrat pe pile de la Drept, cat de mult o iubeam. Devenisem turbat de gelozie si mai ales de furie cand stiam ca se mintea, ca tot de mine era indragostita. Am mers intr-o seara tarziu la ea acasa. Era imbracata intr-o pijama roz cu buline albe si avea un sal gros in jurul umerilor.

“Cand o sa incetezi cu joaca asta?” am intrebat-o furios.

“Care joaca, domn’le?” mi-a suras.

“Tu nu-l iubesti pe Robert, Geurtie!” am prins-o de umeri zgaltaind-o parca incercand sa ii scutur valul de pe ochi.

“Si tu nu esti indragostit de mine!” mi-a plesnit mainile la o parte.

“Ba cum sa nu te iubesc, Geurtie?!” i-am raspuns cu si mai multa inflacarare.

“Sigur ca ma iubesti,” a spus cu aciditate. “Dar esti tu oare indragostit de mine?”

Am tacut. Nu stiam. Era o linie vaga intre prietenie si dragoste, iar eu nu stiam unde eram. O iubeam, dar eram oare indragostit?

 “Atunci lasa-ma,” a dat sa plece.

Dar ca un erou tragic, am prins-o de brat si am tras-o intr-o sarutare inflacarata de furie si gelozie. Vroia si ea insa ma impingea cu palmele ca o bezmetica. Era realista. Lucrurile acestea nu i se intamplau ei. Cu greu i-am dat drumu. Gafaiam amandoi. Abia am avut timp sa ma dezmeticesc ca Geurtie mi-a tras o palma.

“Nesimtitule…” a marait. “Lasa-ma sa traiesc!” a strigat cu vocea tremuratoare inainte sa tranteasca usa in urma ei.

Buimacit si plouat, in seara aceea l-am sunat pe Gusti sa ne intalnim la un pahar. Urma sa se insoare cu disperata in vara cand ea se intorcea de la MIT si el termina Cibernetica. Planuiau sa se mute amandoi in America dupa. Singurul lucru pe care a putut sa mi-l spuna a fost.

“Te iubeste ca un caine, boule.”

Urmatoarele cateva saptamani nu ne-am mai vazut. Eu imi gasisem o studenta in anult intai la Economie micuta si firava si pusa pe petrecere acum ca in sfarsit implinise si ea optsprezece ani. Livica o chema. Nu-i vorba, ca imi placea tare mult de ea, dar ma plictisea. Nu stia sa fie la fel de amuzanta, iar confuzia ei comparata cu naivitatea buna a lui Geurtie imi parea deja tampita. A zburat la fel de repede cum a intrat in viata mea, pe nesimtite. Eram morocanos ca ma prinsese nunta lui Gusti si a apucatei fara insotitoare.

Evenimentul urma sa fie organizat in comuna de unde venea disperata, un satuc de langa Bucuresti uitat de Dumnezeu numit Ciorogarla. Inaintam pe poteca nepavata privind plictisit saracia lucie si casele din chirpici din jur. Colbul se ridic si imi murdarea costumul negru. Tot satul era adunat in jurul casei unde se tinea petrecerea. Tiganii se uitau flamanzi de dupa gard cum in ograda cea mare rudele disperatei chiuiau si dantuiau. Gusti statea retras cu banatenii lui insa privea vrajit pe nebuna, care avea o floare de bujor prinsa in cununa, cum juca impreuna cu tatal ei. In continuarea bataturii se intindea o livada racoroasa de nuci. Oamenii din jurul meu ma agasau si mai ca eram hotarat sa am duc sa ii felicit pe miri si sa ma scuz ca ma doare capul cand am vazut-o pe ea. Geurtie pasea confuza prin batatura si ii privea curioasa pe nuntasi. Purta o rochie usoara de vara vernil care se oprea sub genunchii ei butucanosi acoperindu-i formele generoase si scotand la iveala un decolteu cochet alb ca neaua. Ochii ei cercetatori s-au oprit pe mine si ne-am privit pret de cateva secunde sau minute, zile, saptamani, luni, ani sau secole. A incercat sa zambeasca.

“Ce faci?” am inghitit in sec.

“Bine, Baciu, dar tu?” a suras imbujorandu-se.

“Pe aici,” am rotit ochii in jurul curtii. “Robert ce mai face?”

Privirea i s-a intunecat si si-a muscat buza de jos. “Nu-i aici.”

“Aha,” am privit-o lung. Soarele dogoritor de Iulie ma batea in cap. “Asculta, Geurtie,” i-am zis. “N-ai vrea sa ne plimbam un pic ca tare mi-e ca o sa ma topesc?”

S-a gandit un pic, apoi cu falsa raceala mi-a raspuns. “Bine.”

Am pornit-o amandoi spre livada cu nuci. Aerul era deja mai racoros, iar mireasma amaruie ne alina din toropeala. Geurtie nu mai era cea din adolescenta, nu mai se amuza in sinea ei si nu imi mai arunca priviri furise. Mi-am dres glasul.

“Si ce-ai mai facut?” m-a intrebat. “Bine, dar tu?”

 “Bine,” mi-a raspuns cu asprime. Am continuat sa mergem in liniste pana am poposit peste un leganas. Am invitat-o sa ia loc.

“Si Livia ce face?” a spus privind departe al casele indoite de timp si de ploaie.

“Nu stiu,” am zis incurcat. “Geurtie…” mi-am potrivit mana peste a ei.

“De ce nu m-ai sunat?” mi-a zis cu o voce tremuratoare privindu-ma in ochi.

“Asta vroiai?” am intrebat-o.

“De ce nu ma lasi, Mihai?” a suspinat.

“Asta vrei?”

“De unde sa stiu ce mai vreau?! Nu stiu… nu vreau sa alerg dupa naluci! Vreau…” s-a uitat in jos. “Lucrurile astea nu li se intampla fetelor ca mine.”

 A inceput sa suspine. Plangea. Lacrimile ii siroiau calde pe obraji si rimelul i se scurge pe fata. I-am cuprins obrazul carnos cu o mana. Lacrimile ei ma opareau. Am inceput sa o sarut pe toata fata mai putin pe buze mereu soptind. “Ba da.”

I-am ridicat barbia rotunjoara si am privit-o. Era frumoasa.

“Eu pe tine te vreau.”

Nu am lasat-o sa imi raspunda. Buzele mele le-au cautat falmande pe ale ei caci stiam ca grozav de mult o iubeam.

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Din perspectiva superficialului Mihai prezentat de mine. Mi se pare ca am un caracter cam oral, chiar foarte oral, desi am studiat cateva scrieri mai moderne si ca sa nu mai spun de cele realiste venit imediat dupa clasice cu structuri orale. Sper ca nu a deranjat asa de mult si sper ca nu l-am facut pe saracul Mihai sa para gay cand el se crede un adevarat hombre cu cojones(cum ar spune Lavinia si multe alte fete)

Superficialitate maxima. Producatori, distribuitori sau agenti formand un reflex, un obicei din a ne face sa detestam produse, reclame sau personaje

Flash-urile se incapataneaza sa ne strice citirea presei online si reoptimizarea ecranului in timpul finalei cupei Romaniei de fotbal ne face sa rostim la unison “sa mor daca dau banii vreodata pe cacatul ala”.

Mesajul nu exista, totul are la baza “daca sare in ochi e bine”, tigania a urcat in randurile orange, vodafone, duraziv, nutline etc. As vrea sa se intrerupa meciul echipei nationale odata si sa apara un nene care sa-mi spuna “Scuza-ma, sunt platit sa-ti arat punga asta de chipsuri, e buna asa, merge sa o rontai din cand in cand, hai ca te las acum, spor la meci”. In schimb primesc jumatati de masura. Fa ceva !!! In ce manual e recomandata superficialitatea in publciitate? Daca tot ai intrerupt programul, acum distreaza-ma, nu poti sa-ti scoti chilotii si sa alergi prin fata mea. Daca tot ai facut-o…acum ia un loc, calmeaza-te, fa-mi un sex oral.

Nu-mi raspunde la telefon, o urasc cand face asta, ii scriu sms, imi raspunde, ma invita sa trimit sms la *140 pentru a castiga 2 bilete la concertul X, daca vreau 4 trebuie sa scot tastele, sa le aranjez invers si sa scriu un mms in codul morse. Nu e ea, e Vodafone, promit sa downloadez toate piesele artistului X si sa sar toate gardurile la concertele lui pana apeleaza la alta agentie de publicitate.

E clar, reclama nu e DOAR aducere la cunostinta, e nevoie de promovare, de inovatie, adu-ma de partea ta.

A constatação do fim de semana: todos os meus namoros acabaram em Novembro. Pensei nisto, achei graça, coisa do fim de ano. Eu acho graça de quase tudo, só não fico sorrindo feito um bobo alegre porque não sou alegre o tempo inteiro.

Presto atenção nas conversas, nos amigos que reclamam de suas vidas afetivas, nos amigos que insistem no erro; o sujeito que não gosta da namorada, mas prefere continuar com ela por comodismo; o amigo que está ficando com a ex-mulher, o irmão que se apaixona, chega em casa e passa uma hora me dando lição de moral. Sim, acho graça.

De repente, comecei a gostar dos Novembros, dos desfechos nesta época do ano; gosto deste Novembro em que não está chovendo, aprecio este calor diferente, o Novembro do churrasco, da música, da piscina, das cervejas geladas e doses de cachaça na xícara; dos amigos todos embriagados lembrando que amanhã é Segunda, mas que se foda, pega uma cerveja quando voltar, beleza? Aquela preguiça boa e a assistência de quem se gosta; todos juntos na mesma preguiça, a preguiça sensível do fim do ano; do Novembro sem chuva.

Neste Novembro em que não ando de mãos dadas com ninguém, uma mão segura a cerveja, a outra segue boba, belisca uma bunda ali, aperta uma cintura acolá; acena para todas.

Mãozinha esperta.

“Lucy Harmer’s shamanic astrology book is truly amazing. I use it in my work every day as a therapist to help people understand their personality and find their pathway through life.”
–Jean-Francois Beltrami, counselor and kinesiologist

Welcome to Lucy Harmer’s Shamanic Astrology monthly forecast for the Northern Hemisphere! Each month Lucy shares inspiration and ideas for the coming weeks from her book Shamanic Astrology: Understanding Your Spirit Animal Sign.

Shamanic Astrology is based on the study of the movement of the sun and the moon during the different seasons of the year. There are twelve astrological ‘”signs” which are represented by twelve different spirit animals. To find out your own personal spirit animal sign (the sign you were born under), please check the table of spirit animals at the end of this article. Shamanic Astrology teaches us that inner power derives from knowing the properties, characteristics, and qualities of each spirit animal (known as their “medicine”), and applying this in our own lives.

Each month I will focus on the spirit animal for that month, and describe the “energy” of the month itself and also the influence of the moon. I will also indicate which other spirit animal signs will find this month to be particularly beneficial, and why.

November 22-December 21: OWL

Month of Hibernation and Long Nights

Spirit Animal Sign of the Month:
Owl is the spirit animal which corresponds to November 22 – December 21 (in the northern hemisphere). If you were born at this time, your spirit animal sign is Owl and you share Owl’s strengths of being fair, honest, wise, philosophical, idealistic, optimistic, and independent. You are someone who enjoys the good life! You may also share some of Owl’s weaknesses and can have a tendency to be restless, negligent, intolerant, proud, irresponsible, tactless, superficial and excessively optimistic.

Medicine: Owl’s medicine is the ability to seek out truth and justice in all
circumstances. This can be used in any ambiguous or unclear situation, to find the path to follow and to restore order.
Element: Fire
Stone: Obsidian
Color: Gold
Plant: Mistletoe

Energy of the season:
Owl’s month, which ends with the winter solstice, is that of hibernation and long nights. The sun is at its lowest in the sky and the nights are at their longest. This is a period for introspection, spiritual seeking, visions, plans and preparation for the future. Everything undertaken during this month will need a greater dose of enthusiasm, spontaneity, and optimism than at other times and will have to be on a sound ethical basis. Projects conceived now are often highly ambitious.

Energy of the moon:
Owl’s new moon started on Nov 16th and the full moon is on December 2nd 2009. The period from November 22nd until December 2nd is the ideal time for conceiving or launching projects. These will have a high rate of success, as long as they have a sound ethical foundation. After the full moon, from December 3rd until 15th December, time is best used for introspection and deep spiritual growth. This is a time for learning from the past and for setting new goals for the future. December 16th brings the new moon in Snow Goose; this is a time for putting new structures in place for the year to come, with much determination.

This month is particularly favorable for the following signs:

Owl:
If your sign is Owl the energy of this month is very favorable because it corresponds to the month and the moon of your birth. A new cycle is about to start in your life and this is the best time to start planting seeds. Use the sun’s energy to take stock and head off in a new direction.

Falcon/Salmon:
If your sign is Falcon or Salmon, this is a very lucky month for you, with lots of harmony because you are in your own fire element. A multitude of opportunities will open up for you in this period and this is the best time to give destiny a helping hand!

Raven/Otter:
For Raven and Otter people, this is a very dynamic month, full of energy which favors the conception and birth of new projects. You will feel new motivation and a renewal of your energy at this time.

Table of Spirit Animal Signs:

To find your spirit animal sign, just locate your birthday from the dates below, according to your place of birth. If you were born north of the equator (eg; USA, Canada, Europe), then look for your date of birth in the column headed “Northern Hemisphere.” If you were born south of the equator (eg; Australia, New Zealand, South Africa), then look for your date of birth in the column headed “Southern Hemisphere.”

© Copyright 2009 Lucy Harmer

Shamanic Astrology is available for purchase directly through NorthAtlanticBooks.com, as well as major book stores and online retailers.

CLICK HERE to learn more about courses, seminars and workshops offered by Lucy Harmer.

CLICK HERE to learn more about Shamanic Astrology.

CLICK HERE to learn more about Discovering Your Spirit Animal.

noroc cu moda asta cu ciorapii deşiraţi şi unghiile cu oja cojită, că altfel aş fi fost luată drept o vagaboandă.

Aşa, cum cineva influent a decis că e frumos şi bine, şi mulţi alţii l-au crezut imediat pe cuvânt, am intrat şi eu în rândul lumii.

Photos of various models who walked the runway of this year’s Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show.

Caroline Trentini

Behati Prinsloo

Candace Swanepoel

Maryna Linchuk

Picspam of  VSFS Supermodels Ana Beatriz Barros, Selita Ebanks, Doutzen Kroess, Miranda Kerr, Isabelli Fontana and Rosie Huntington Whiteley.

Picspam of Izabel Goulart’s appearance in this year’s Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show,  from backstage to runway. Even though she’s not an Angel anymore, she still makes quite an impact! Also, the wings that she wore are my favorite this year!

Picspam of Alessandra Ambrosio’s Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show 2009 appearance, from backstage to runway. The Braazilian Bombshell opened this year’s show.

Runway photos of Marisa Miller from this year’s Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show…[FYI, she got to wear this year's Fantasy Bra]

Tons of pictures straight from the runway of the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show 2009.

Run of Show…

Victoria’s Secret Magical Journey

Segment 1 – Star Trooper

Alessandra Ambrosio
Miranda Kerr
Maryna Linchuk
Caroline Trentini
Izabel Goulart
Liu Wen
Candice Swanepoel
Abbey Lee Kershaw
Selita Ebanks
Erin Heatherton
Anja Rubik

Segment 2 – All Aboard

Doutzen Kroes
Chanel Iman
Julia Stegner
Edita V
Isabeli Fontana
Ana Beatriz Barros
Sessilee Lopez
Marisa Miller
Caroline Winberg
Lindsay Ellingson
Aminata Niaria
Rosie Huntington-Whiteley

Segment 3 – PINK Planet

Behati Prinsloo
Candice Swanepoel
Eniko Mihalik
Anastasia Kuznetsova
Erin Heatherton
Lyndsey Scott
Lily Aldridge
Abbey Lee Kershaw
Dorothea Barth Jorgensen
Elyse Taylor
Chanel Iman
Shannan Click

Segment 4 – Enchanted Forest

Heidi Klum
Rosie Huntington-Whiteley
Miranda Kerr
Alessandra Ambrosio
Doutzen Kroes
Edita V
Izabel Goulart
Caroline Trentini
Anja Rubik
Candice Swanepoel
Lindsay Ellingson
Abbey Lee Kershaw
Tatiana Kovylina
Caroline Trentini

Segment 5 – Romantic Journey

Marisa Miller
Isabeli Fontana
Julia Stegner
Anna J
Jaime Lee or Kylie
Selita Ebanks
Sessilee Lopez
Maryna Linchuk
Ana Beatriz Barros
Aminata Niaria
Miranda Kerr
Doutzen Kroes
Alessandra Ambrosio
Rosie Huntington-Whiteley

Miranda Kerr’s backstage pictures from this year’s Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show…

To everyone’s surprise…Heidi Klum DID walk the runway, despite previous reports she’ll only be hosting this years Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show! Klum, who gave birth to her baby girl last October 9th,  shocked the crowd and walked in the show! After green vines took over the background of the stage and little pink fake birds came down from the sky, Heidi walked out to open the Enchanted Forest section of the show. She wore a Victoria’s Secret cupped slip and matching panty with a corset and half gown by Jane Law, with fine jewelry by Mouawad and shoes by Guisseppe Zanotti. Demurly she walked out, her hair hiding her face, but she quickly turned on her Heidi charm and the crowd went WILD.

**Images Courtesy of TFS/Landov/Modelinia**

 Supermodel Alessandra Ambrosio is taking her Angel power to new heights as she is set to open the 2009 Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show, which is taking place this Thursday at the Lexington Avenue Armory in New York City. This year, the looks are pure sci-fi, which given the sections of the show (Magical Journey, All Aboard, Pink Planet, Enchanted Forest, Romantic Journey, and Star Trooper) seems quite obvious.

Let’s go holiday shopping with VS Angels  Marisa Miller, Doutzen Kroess, Behati Prinsloo, and Alessandra Ambrosio at the new Victoria’s Secret SoHo store. 

Thirty Victoria’s Secret models pose in Times Square on Nov. 18 to celebrate the return of the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show to New York.

The Victoria’s Secret Angels take over New York City’s Time Square today as they made preparations and did various  promotions for tomorrow night’s Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show 2009. The Black Eyed Peas will perform at the fashion show and although new mama Heidi Klum won’t hit the runways, she’ll host the show.

It’s a 30-supermodel attack!  A bevy of Victoria’s Secret models posed in Times Square on Wednesday to celebrate the return of the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show to New York. VS Angels Miranda Kerr, Doutzen Kroess Behati Prinsoloo, Marisa Miller, Heidi Klum and Alessandra Ambrosio were amongst the girls blowing kisses.  The show will be broadcast Dec. 1st on CBS.

Sexiest Man Alive 2009

Johnny Depp has been crowned Sexiest Man Alive 2009 by People magazine (he also scored the honor in 2003). Other stars who have received the honour twice include George Clooney and Brad Pitt.  False reports had circulated earlier this week that Twilight star Robert Pattinson had been awarded the title.

The Top 10:

   1. Johnny Depp
   2. Ryan Reynolds (The Proposal)
   3. Jake Gyllenhaal
   4. Bradley Cooper (The Hangover)
   5. Robert Downey Jr
   6. David Beckham
   7. Gilles Marini (Brothers And Sisters)
   8. The Glee Guys (from the Glee TV series)
   9. Nick Cannon (America’s Got Talent host)
   10. Adam Lambert (American Idol star)

100 Sexy Men in 1 Minute…

Para dor de cabeça

Navagina

Ou a genérica

Dipiroca Sádica.

O que os olhos vêem é tão superficial, às vezes. E você?
Acredita só naquilo que seus olhos vêem?

Nada é real…

Perdemos tempo em uma sala de espera de consultório médico, lendo revistas antigas, enquanto um garoto gordo de boné vermelho nos olha com desdém. Você se sente um perdedor, um deslocado, assim como ele aparenta ser. Você lê sobre o final da novela que acabou há quatro anos atrás, enquanto ele, o garoto gordo, chupa um sundae de morango e te observa. Você se sente tão excluído e gordo quanto ele. Você se vê nele ou ele se vê em você?

Isso te incomoda… Os olhos estáticos se fixam na parede branca. Deixa de pensar no que aconteceu no último capítulo da novela que assistiu há quatro anos atrás.  Futilidades…

Aliás, fútil é o ser humano inconveniente e mórbido que convencionou que o garoto gordo é um um perdedor-deslocado-excluído. Porque? Por ser gordo, usar um boné vermelho e chupar um sundae de morango? E porque nos incomodamos tanto quando nos colocamos na mesma posição que o garoto gordo ocupa na escala de “vencedores”?

O garoto gordo poderia ser Jô Soares. Não é mesmo? Você pensa isso, talvez, pra não se sentir tão infeliz quando se coloca no mesmo patamar que o garoto gordo. Você encontra um gordo de sucesso… Maravilha!

Eis que chegamos ao ponto clímax da adiposa equação! Damos fama e dinheiro pro garoto gordo de boné vermelho e ele deixa de ser um perdedor-deslocado-excluído! Se torna um bobo da corte das elites… Mas será que isso é o melhor pra ele? O que será que ele quer da vida? Será que quer mesmo ser o Jô Soares? Ou o Faustão? Acho que não…

Acho que o garoto gordo de boné vermelho não quer dinheiro nem fama. Acho que ele quer continuar sua vida lambuzada de sundae de morango, observando os babacas que lêem revistas de quatro anos atrás em salas de espera de consultórios médicos, na tentativa de relembrar finais de novelas que não fazem a mínima diferença em sua vida.

Provavelmente, somos todos parecidos com o garoto excluído e gordo. Alguns por fora, a maioria por dentro. E, provavelmente, queremos ser o babaca que lê revistas velhas na sala de espera, só pra não ser o garoto gordo.

Às vezes nossos olhos são realmente muito superficiais e não vêem nada além da gordura do garoto. Talvez ele seja um cara bacana. Poderia ter sido seu melhor amigo na escola. Mas você preferia as futilidades dos “descolados” ao diálogo com os “deslocados”. A maioria normativa prefere.

O poder, ou a simples vontade de tê-lo, tapa nossos olhos com a normalidade estanque de tempos estranhos. E, assim, essa moral normativa cria os estigmas da puta, do viado, do drogado, do bizarro, do gordo… Dos perdedores-deslocados-excluídos. É sempre ruim ser minoria, que na verdade é maioria. É sempre bom sentir-se parte da maioria, que na verdade é minoria.

No final das contas, no frigir dos ovos e no bem da verdade, compartilhamos da mesma sala de espera e das mesmas revistas antigas. Do mesmo consultório médico e do mesmo desdém. Dos mesmos finais de novela que não lembramos e que não fazem a mínima diferença na nossa história.

Descolados ou deslocados, não interessa. Pra um virar o outro basta deslocar ou descolar duas pequenas letras… Nenhum deles é real. Nada disso é real. Nenhum deles precisa dessa realidade…

Afinal, todos nos escondemos por aí, em máscaras soturnas e empoeiradas de esperança, à procura de uma cura pras doenças que nos obrigam a permanecer em salas de espera de consultórios médicos, fantasiando finais de novelas em revistas antigas.

Still the only thing fresh in this town is the manure.   The stagnation of inherited inbred ideology lingers with this aire.  To some, this night of memorabilia is their only experience of a dream.  Long lost hopes, from the gates of a requiem walking hand in hand with a Coors light and some road kill at their side.  For others, it was like the day after their cousin married outside of their race… being careful with their words, afraid to ask real questions…  None the less, no real care to take a step out.

After the bar was spit up on by the drooling outsiders, the classmate’s reunited and separated once again into their old cliques. 

Lacking any real truth, with manipulating, superficial honesty, they go back and forth with attacks on each other and those they feel threatened by.   Curtness and lack of propriety in their values and morals with each breath out, they seem to be warm and cozy in their disgusting dialog.  The pot calling the kettle black.  Gossiping about gossipers.  Tragedy of life being so pitiful is the only reality here that is spoken, though the directors of this play haven’t the faintest idea of how the script is as old as their addicted, handed down, rewinded and rewinded ”original ideas” that they all share and pretend are so original.  Each actor plays the part of enabling this to continue, playing ignorant and growing older. 

 I sit to wait for the tow truck.  Keys in the trunk, sister in His bed.  The one exception I saw all night and I offered her to him, best indeed.  To keep myself from a weakness that could bring this place… this heap of a town closer to me.  I doubt there would be any power from him, but I stay careful of tragedy and a trip into hell.

I found myself (bizarrely enough) in a lecture yesterday in which it was noted that the latin root for communication is communicare from which we get “communist”, “common” and other such words.  The key to good communication is having something in common.

For my blog to communicate to you we need a common language (my red dot map shows visitors mostly from the English-speaking world).  It is probably a common experience that brought you here in the first place – the death of a precious baby most likely or perhaps ongoing struggles with infertility.  And it is likely that the blogs and posts we most relate to are ones demonstrating a shared or common worldview – perhaps more Christians return to this site and perhaps non-Christians are put off by some of the content.

This is one of the reasons why we struggle when engaging in the real world.  Stillbirth and Infertility are massively formative experiences.  They change us on a seismic scale.  In so doing we find we have something in common with others all around the world and the internet opens up the possibility to relate to people who we otherwise would never have encountered.  We now have something in common (the loss of a baby) which opens up a way to bridge the distance gap which would otherwise never have been spanned.

What about the other side of this equation?  We have been changed massively.  We now have something unique from the vast majority of people who before seemed just like us.  There are people who we gravitated towards because we shared common beliefs (went to same church), common interests (supported the same football team), common dna (in the same family) or common employment (worked in same office) but they now seem so very different.  They do not “get it”.  They do not “understand”.  We interpret their reaction as uncaring when perhaps they just cannot communicate effectively to us as they do not share our formative experience.  Don’t get me wrong, there is no excuse for a lack of compassion or care when someone loses a baby but… was I any better before I lost Abigail?  I don’t think I was.

I too have had allergic reactions to others who don’t seem to relate meaningfully to me about my daughter.  That is what started me blogging in the first place and inspired my first ever post.

I totally get Irishdad’s recent post and the comments made in response.  We get uptight about how we communicate in forums such as faceb00k because we no longer share commonality and the most basic statements jar with us now.  In response to Irishdad, Sally says “If one more person says to me “not long now!” or “you must be excited!” I might hit someone.“  This (mis)communication is built on the mirage of having something in common.  1) Sally is pregnant.  2) Person making small talk has been pregnant too.  3) Person making small talk was excited when she was pregnant as baby’s arrival approached.  4) Therefore “not long now, you must be excited” seems the perfect thing to say…

… BUT Sally once lost a precious baby, she isn’t just excited she is scared too!

At another level Irishdad’s post (through no fault of his I stress) risks miscommunication with me too.  Whilst we share an experience (the death of a baby) our circumstances since that point are very different.  Irishmum is expecting a baby and it is interesting that the first two people to add a comment to his post are also expecting a baby soon to arrive.  They can relate to his post because they share common hopes and fears based on common circumstances.

I however do not share these circumstances.  No “rainbow baby” for Livingintherainbow.  We have been told we cannot have any more children – see here and here if you are interested.  Therefore part of me reacts badly to Irishdad’s post and the comments made in response.  I wish I could be petrified in the later stages of pregnancy.  I wish we could have even the chance of a living baby in our future.

So even in this online community of babyloss parents where we have so much in common there are also many differences that ambush us.  Irishdad, Angie and Sally (should you read this) you do not need to feel bad that you are expecting a baby (that is wonderful and I am genuinely pleased for you and I really hope you all get a keeper!) or that your comments jarred with me (because we are not expecting a baby).  What you said makes perfect sense for the circumstances you find yourself in and you made them very appropriately in a forum focused on babyloss (not infertility).  It is not your fault that we cannot have a baby.  But, I guess this just highlights to me the fact that each of us only “gets” the experiences we have been through and we can expect little else.  Perhaps we are not so different to those who fail to “get” our experience of baby loss.

The challenge for all of us who have lost a baby, or who are unable to have them, is how we overcome the lack of commonality with those we meet day-to-day.  How we make allowances for their lack of understanding and the frequently jarring comments they make from their position of blissful ignorance.  How can we educate them more so we can bridge the differences between us and find a common point of contact?

Like a shell
Waiting to be crushed
By the slightest touch
I feel empty
Not lonely
But empty
Longing
To be filled

All I am is a shell
Of what I was
Superficial
Yet seemingly alright
But peer inside and see
There’s nothing to hide

For
Nothing
Is all
I am

Life is such
Such is life
We’re all fucked
Virgins or not.