tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18075117649545123862024-02-07T02:25:31.024-08:00Almost But Not QuiteIs a personal journal Blog. My intimate thoughts and ideas, my unanswered questions, even share a bit of what I can do well; just a simple collection of my writings, my paintings, or just me.Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.comBlogger93125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-85010465391297550922014-08-25T05:43:00.001-07:002014-08-25T05:45:24.153-07:00Depression and Humour: Odd Couple<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am probably one of the many people in the world that is still reeling from the death of one of the most loved actors of all time: Robin Williams. People have associated his death with a severe case of clinical depression, as he took his own life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Many people scoff at the term, depression, but you see here; we get mood swings, we feel sadness, we feel disappointed with continuous struggles in life. But depression is so much more. Depression is a combination of genes, chemistry and environment and it is clearly a complex mental health disorder that does not spare anyone wealthy, prominent, or even successful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I grew up fascinated with this gentleman; back in the days of "Mork and Mindy" where he became every household staple comedian extraordinaire. There is always something deeply profound and intense in the character of comics, Mr. Williams included. I have this premise that the funnier they are, the lonelier they could be inside. But they shield it so well with humor, irony and sarcasm. Studies have disproved this, I just happen to believe that because comics need to find funny and laughable materials from their own lives, that could seriously be very depressing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The real crux of the matter is when does one hit rock bottom, feeling empty, and totally worthless, to take your own life? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Earlier on in my life, I took off hurriedly away from a lifetime of clinical practice because the patient I thought we were gaining ground in our sessions together, took her own life right after Christmas. She was a teenager and a week away from being discharged. I could not wrap myself around what just happened, where I failed, where I went wrong, where I could have been better at? I just lost it. And much like Robin Williams, there is something utterly romantic about hanging yourself, because she did just that, too. Physically harming yourself to feel pain is unfathomable; the depths of which only the clinically depressed can relate with.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was reading this book by Ned Vizzini, a gifted talent and a great writer. The Book's Title is "It's Kind of a Funny Story" and it has been made into a movie.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The Book (I reckon also the movie as I have not seen it) is largely based on the author's 5-day stay at the loony bin, and you're right; for clinical depression and suicidal thoughts. It is an honest, touching and really funny read. But you see here, years after the book and the movie was out, sometime December 2013, Ned jumps off from his apartment building in Brooklyn. He was 32 years old.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I still don't get it. I probably never will as I already failed the first time. I just think there is so much tragedy around us and so much comedy. Perhaps it is easier for escapists like me to just laugh at the tragedies. What is not to laugh about?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Or maybe I just love life (and hate pain). Or maybe because life is already too short for a lot of us to make it spectacular or make a difference. Maybe both Robin and Ned found the way to make a difference in their lives that it was just about the right time to make a wonderful exit. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Nah ... there are a million ways to end a life, and to take your own is not in any way romantic, wonderful or even courageous. And the irony of it all, Ned ends his book repeating this 4-letter word again and again: <b>LIVE. Here's to Life!</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-53792283596822987502014-06-21T23:54:00.002-07:002014-06-21T23:54:34.903-07:00Sanity Check LinkJust because I can do it, I did.<br />
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Link to my other Blog: <a href="http://psychobabblingbasher2.blogspot.com/2014/06/sanity-check.html">Sanity Check </a><br />
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Cheers!Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-83503203966010279722014-01-12T02:02:00.001-08:002014-01-12T07:09:28.301-08:002014 ... H.O.P.E.<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Well, well, well, it has been three years since I took this therapeutic road of the Blog world. Not unlike most people I have met across the universe (copyright Lennon-McCartney) that took to writing, writing helps.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The few that have decided to keep on would have found out by now that given enough time, a working computer, a functional internet, a more intelligent approach rather than taking snapshots of food that you will eat or the shoes you will wear; the Blog world is a community of people who took to writing for widely diverse reasons. There are a lot of real talents with equal amount of honest to goodness crap. And I have come across all types. Not that I am complaining. It's rather amusing and I prefer to learn from both. Oh and did I mention that I have had the privilege of meeting real writers (as in book authors, fiction and non-fiction) from the Blog-verse and sheer geniuses in comedy writing? I am awed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Since we have clocked in to a new year, there are a few things that I realized are compelling enough reasons to move me to post, again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">First off, if you are not stricken with a terminal illness and your Doctor has not given you a few weeks to rule the world, <b>then you are not dying. BUT, the world is</b>. It's cruel to have to choose which comes first. However, the odds are freaking me out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">From what I have gathered, the options are rather few. You can choose to die of hypothermia (like right now, the cliche' hell freezes over has come true); get drowned, even swallowed by a storm surge # Haiyan; have a picnic and then caught in an overwhelming </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">forest fire; have a fun time with friends trekking the mountains</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">, then suddenly the world decides to shake and tremble under your feet you get buried alive at the earth's core wrapped ironically with your safety gear.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Second, because we are generations post-Roman civilization, we completely embraced the concept of law and order. We have a <b>government</b>. Or do we? Don't get me started on this. One word: <b>useless.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Okay, so nature does not get you and you are smart enough to evade (or delude yourself) the idiocy of government leaders, but guess what? Look around you, no, not in the far distance, look nearby. </span><b style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A neighbour, a friend, a blood-kin, a stranger or all of the above, can just snap and lose it</b><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">. What</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> would you do if you are taken hostage by a completely deranged or even drug-induced individual who can't take Scenario 1 and 2 anymore? Depressed and hallucinating, he or she takes you to represent the sum of all his greatest fears and frustrations.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And because life can really be tough, you can get shot at whilst trying to get an education or watching a movie; or you can choose to hang yourself in your flat because <u>the world is not cruel but people are</u>; or because you are worry-stricken of what may cause your death, you die of ischemic</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> heart disease.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">You could have just been on your way home from work, or buying bread from your nearby Deli, or sipping coffee in that corner Cafe' reading over a good book. You could have been doing anything but you happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, but all that is irrelevant if shit happens, right?</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What to do?</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Don't get me wrong. I am not a proponent of paranoia. It does not help to think that all these scenarios are stupid if you have the luck of sliding in your shower and breaking your neck. that's beside the point. It just is, reality. It is almost downright comical that nothing seems to work: not nature, the world, government or the people around you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And that my dear padawans, lead me to my thesis. <b>Hold On, Pain Ends. H.O.P.E</b>. There will always be better days. Not everyday but as frequently as you choose them to be. Live a day at a time and be thankful you survived 24 hours, unscathed, well possibly battle-scarred, but still alive. It does not take much to breathe in 86,400 seconds a day, if you are not counting. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There's not much we can do about stopping nature from fighting back, guess why they called her MOTHER? Yeah, payback is a bitch. But we can take steps to try to prevent her from overdrive menopause if we are really serious and have the political will to sustain it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Government. We have the luxury of choosing our leaders. When I say WE, I meant all. Morons included. News flash: how many morons do you need to elect idiots to government? If there's a Bill on establishing an I.Q. and E.Q. prior to the right to vote, I will be on the lobby by dawn.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As a function of my anal military breeding, I have been taught to "scan" or in my Dad's jargon, "reconnoiter" (whatever that shit is) but it basically means, passively observe surroundings, people and possible threats. You may ask, threats to what? To anything. To my simple mind, it only means being a little cautious and perceptive. It's the 21st century, nothing should surprise you. Nothing. Or do we have to debate on this?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">At the end of the day, it's simple. Nobody gets out of this life alive. Whilst you're at it, might as well have a great, safe and hopeful time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><i>"When the sun goes down, the stars come out."</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Like I said before, and I say it time and again, the darkest hour comes just right before dawn. Have a wonderful 2014 peeps!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>Psst! Thanks to Agnes and Despicable Me.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-70521380541517106482013-08-31T04:23:00.001-07:002013-08-31T04:24:13.187-07:00GREED <span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Interestingly enough, just 5 letters, and 2 vowels. However if greed becomes an affliction of the soul, it is a vigorous enough noun to illustrate what could possibly be the darkest side of humanity.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As Gordon Gekko once put it so eloquently in the movie that changed the whole world's perspective on Wall Street, "Greed is good." Or is it?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Professionals with Doctorate degrees call greediness an "addiction" or some compensatory mechanism for guilt; an insatiable desire to get more than enough of what they don't really need; a compulsion. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My simplistic mind would prefer to refer to greed as a plague. It is a manifest infestation of an individual's desire to relentlessly pursue wealth and self-gratification in it's most gruesome and archaic form. A primitive display of covetousness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I happen to embrace the anti-thesis of Gekko's dictum. Greed is not bad at all, <b>it is evil</b>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I see greed's ultimate goal is to deprive others from attaining their own pursuits, to include the most basic of human survival needs. Whilst to some people they don't see the direct correlation with murder, greed kills. In third world economies, greediness should be a crime associated with genocide.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9G8GTPdS129kCWUblRfH1v5l9BLPhemFYbD-EMwuXPfVeCsh08wJLfDFGQpaVIbX1YpLSQdovZyHFkmAu-gGimPmXXO20EJT5w1jQDHBUcaGFlWmXAvoN3jbBBAfQYfn9CBWH1nHq0iFJ/s1600/gk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9G8GTPdS129kCWUblRfH1v5l9BLPhemFYbD-EMwuXPfVeCsh08wJLfDFGQpaVIbX1YpLSQdovZyHFkmAu-gGimPmXXO20EJT5w1jQDHBUcaGFlWmXAvoN3jbBBAfQYfn9CBWH1nHq0iFJ/s1600/gk.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Sadly, and tragically, greed is not even considered a crime albeit it is one of the worst form of crime I can think of. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The Law of the Land evades it, the Law of Corporations sustains it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So in reality, there is an endless parade of greedy people in powerful positions in government and corporations around the globe guiltless-ly displaying luxurious and lavish lifestyles, sub-titling their Instagram snapshots with ... "look and die with envy." For the faint of heart, and spirit, they bleed with jealousy and with the same</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> grain of desire longs to romp in the dark corridors of the absolutely seductive excessiveness. However you splice and dice it, the world considers these greedy, powerful individuals as "icons" and heroes. </span><br />
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N<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">ow, what are all these material trappings without wisdom, discernment, counsel, knowledge, fortitude, piety, and above all, fear of the Lord? <b> Nothing. Absolutely nothing.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">At the end of everything, "</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 23.09375px;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i><b>What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul?"</b></i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Remain steadfast. I have personally chosen to uphold and clutch tightly to the Law of God</span>Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-88447944881270313712013-06-19T07:48:00.001-07:002013-06-19T08:10:39.011-07:00The Truth About Lying<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have always wondered whether to lie or to speak of half truths is a deeply ingrained component of the human brain. Or it must be a carefully planned and manipulated programming? I tend to believe both. How else do you explain the fact that every one lies? You and I included.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We were born clueless of what is the truth and what is not. I recall however when I was a kid, that generally adults discouraged honesty, in some vague, sordid way. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>ADULT: "No don't say she's fat, she's robust." </i>(seriously, she looks like a German tank waddling in heels!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> ADULT: <i>"Do not stare or mention Aunt Lisa's new horrible curls."</i> (how can I if she looks like she electrocuted her wet nose in a socket?)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>ADULT: "We're house guests, don't make that face and swallow the food. Smile."</i> (WTF? Hay bale stir-fried in donkey's compost would probably taste sweeter) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So I argue, <i>"But, Mom, we hate those nosy neighbours, why do I need to invite their kid to my kid party? I hate playing with that stinking, snotty kid. He does not even know how to blow his nose! We don't play with him at all."</i> So I get a scolding and am told that those words are not proper and hurtful. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Even if they are true. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And it is gracious to invite neighbours to your own personal events, even if you hate them, because it is socially proper.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I guess I failed on that note. I grew up getting into major fights and fall outs with family and friends, for calling a spade, a spade. I still have no idea why I should call it otherwise.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So why do we lie? I can think of a few honest reasons why.</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><u>For survival and self-preservation</u>. Yeah because often, the people around us would prefer to be lied to than deal with reality. If your Boss asks if he is right about his decision, you ought to know better that he is always right however warped his mind is. So you lie.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><u>To save face</u>. A more common face-saving treachery is forgetting the name of the person who just stopped you at the corner Coffee Shop. Whilst he/she rattles off about how long ago you have last seen each other, your brain crashes as it tries to retrieve the Archives but the screen goes blank instead. You nod and agree and pray that the whole agonizing meeting would stop. It does. And you still don't remember who it was. But you shout back, "Yeah, let's have coffee sometime. Keep in touch." Lame. Liar.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><u>To avoid responsibility</u>. It's lovely to loaf and fool around. When you get confronted you say, "Geesh, I'm swamped and neck-deep with to-do lists, I was trying to swing it but it just didn't pan out." But you didn't. You forgot. Too busy horsing around and just being a sloth. Truth is, you don't even know what you forgot. But you say this without batting an eyelash nor glancing to the right side.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><u>To avoid confrontation</u>. <i>"The Company has decided to initiate some cutbacks and move in another strategic direction</i>." Truth is, "you suck and you are no better than an incompetent baboon..." </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><u>For personal gain</u>. Or personal interests. Or anything that is centrally about your delusions. Or perhaps because you want to and you can.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfY5VKXLtaLva9utJ50L6emCo4Cu6HvmRhUKzJNsa-GDpO62Grd98pmX8Cr6-v66aOuwBiLiJsrvPonSRWuBkBR3aw_VLzeTm_sFoC0FZba6FME83RzgeKaOrhQLnmY5u2G4SJ16aynTvH/s1600/boy_lying_virtual_reality_1498755.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfY5VKXLtaLva9utJ50L6emCo4Cu6HvmRhUKzJNsa-GDpO62Grd98pmX8Cr6-v66aOuwBiLiJsrvPonSRWuBkBR3aw_VLzeTm_sFoC0FZba6FME83RzgeKaOrhQLnmY5u2G4SJ16aynTvH/s1600/boy_lying_virtual_reality_1498755.jpg" height="320" width="228" /></a></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><u>To please people</u>. Generally people love half-truths and lies, even if they are loaded with sarcasm, absurdity and trash. Or you are just a people pleaser and you love being lied to as well.</span></li>
<li><u style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Jack Nicholson is right</u><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">. Always been and always will be.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-19426682407023126362013-03-20T00:03:00.001-07:002013-03-20T00:03:25.792-07:00Good Ol' Spam<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Just because I am temporarily off my Blog web site, (in Latin it translates to lazy as fuck to write), it does not mean I don't monitor my Blog activity ...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And whaddyaknow? I chance upon 42 Comments on this Blog, and another 38 comments on my other site, awaiting moderation. <b>It's all SPAM!!!!!</b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUhpqkFtwgO17yzNLj012MZTYyzIOiNzZ-sbXhmdKzw2MGvZzLd7JoGnhd745Za-AzT1Ar1Cj1ORvEtwv02IDrBu_HCfuPpl8gA23l-Ptl_a2UrEmxIDeLPfWcXl_ETHh0fz0MvEENFaG-/s1600/Spam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUhpqkFtwgO17yzNLj012MZTYyzIOiNzZ-sbXhmdKzw2MGvZzLd7JoGnhd745Za-AzT1Ar1Cj1ORvEtwv02IDrBu_HCfuPpl8gA23l-Ptl_a2UrEmxIDeLPfWcXl_ETHh0fz0MvEENFaG-/s1600/Spam.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Seriously? I thought they have all been completely annihilated since safety and security measures (were they?) installed by Blogspot or Google or whichever. Not that I have anything against Hormel products, but what gives? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">These Spammers now have gone a little bit sophisticated. They do painstakingly write a bit of nonsense (2 sentences, tops), hoping that somehow it hits something close to your Post, and then practically beg you visit their site... a link. It's not funny.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I promised myself I will suspend all "bitch activity" that I completely enjoy as a lifestyle preference, for 2013, but I am so close to going ballistic. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQigz3mpIY7wSno-BsAQxoyvgqy8HxnN0XHsGMFNG6vA_pnygAmXoyDtQNfuVIubpAkLl0IAUsQhCXRW23bzkzRnCgoICxK-cSiYLFtxHqX1f4YmehfnIrGHrpvYAiu8f5j9ZixzJ8H01V/s1600/Bitch+Please.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQigz3mpIY7wSno-BsAQxoyvgqy8HxnN0XHsGMFNG6vA_pnygAmXoyDtQNfuVIubpAkLl0IAUsQhCXRW23bzkzRnCgoICxK-cSiYLFtxHqX1f4YmehfnIrGHrpvYAiu8f5j9ZixzJ8H01V/s320/Bitch+Please.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's bad enough I don't post as regularly as I should and it's not like I have run out of material to write or rant about. Frankly, my dear spammer, I don't give a rotten rat's ass what you sell or advert or even what you have to say about nothing in particular. If you will notice, I moderate my comments, so it's primarily between you and me. Mano a Mano. And unless I approve any of your inane and mindless comments, they are all forever gone in the Internet-verse!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm7KDkPmw-r6Jx4yjgHMGxFb35xwI84CjA3QgjBTsT07Tm5Q7e8S1iirpQVTtz8CasmuiH7zVf62bbBoSGI6kvB5QT48keaKzq8O-tSwH2GlF-hLdoApxnqUekHSU8F_HMI0skGdgvQhxK/s1600/meme+annoyed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm7KDkPmw-r6Jx4yjgHMGxFb35xwI84CjA3QgjBTsT07Tm5Q7e8S1iirpQVTtz8CasmuiH7zVf62bbBoSGI6kvB5QT48keaKzq8O-tSwH2GlF-hLdoApxnqUekHSU8F_HMI0skGdgvQhxK/s1600/meme+annoyed.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I do have to commend your creativity for trying or attempting at some level of smarts albeit still puerile. But meanwhile, back at the ranch, go fish or something.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And for my parting shot, here's nothing. 'Nuff said.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-27679766883087979462012-11-29T03:42:00.001-08:002012-11-29T03:42:33.890-08:00New Chapters, Second Chances<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Once in a while, rare and far between, some individuals are given a second shot.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A very, very dear friend of mine, will soon be a couple of air miles away from home. An entirely new experience for her. It is a </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">bitter-sweet</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> feeling for me. It is sweet in the sense that I know this is something she has to do, must do, now. Bitter in the sense, that however happy you are of events that happen to kindred spirits, they will always be missed by your soul. But like I always said, there are no goodbyes among friends. It should always be, "See you when I see you."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There is no doubt that amongst us all, we have friends who are the perennial rolling stones. However, there will almost always be the one friend who opts and prefers to stay grounded in the comforts of home. For some people it is a preference. For some others, it is the best choice under certain circumstances. When the unlikely opportunity arises to live your life the way you always wanted it to be, certain that looking back is only an option for cowards, and moving on to a totally different world that is absolutely</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> risky and terrifying, armed only </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">with a leap of faith, I probably would still say, "jump!" Perhaps because some wise dude once said, the best second shot is when you have the moment to craft not a new beginning, but a new ending. Maybe not a perfect ending, but the right one.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_9FWlJ4W2qhf5pESkFpu_tMmEx_ZUPUGJ4H95aNT07OugUmmMu3MThGMaSwxb4Gahm42i8QoskINa4vQ9kaLjWa3wK8xG5ntZ6gO-3gINAqmihCslE36HM_s3ww0zNdK9TsC0zTTHyMQS/s1600/second_chances-436.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="118" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_9FWlJ4W2qhf5pESkFpu_tMmEx_ZUPUGJ4H95aNT07OugUmmMu3MThGMaSwxb4Gahm42i8QoskINa4vQ9kaLjWa3wK8xG5ntZ6gO-3gINAqmihCslE36HM_s3ww0zNdK9TsC0zTTHyMQS/s320/second_chances-436.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>If there is anyone at all who deserves and earned the right to make your ending right, my dear "evil twin sister", you do.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I promised my friend I would Blog some more. And that I would write a series dedicated for people who are either victims or still trying to survive the evil in the hearts of men in Corporations, and I will do that. Except that at the moment, my muse has inspired me to devote this post for her. And when my words are not enough, I rely on the tried and tested quoting a Quote some wiser guy had already concocted.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNfRwgvPAq3HCQFhb_SOwn8_-N786CeX3syd4X5r_iYGkoMrfL8ttcOuqMtMSciZJIUAaNR3MW2o3cMKrElxxbssMaLRdsGo8D6jQHyHSvIY6PDZqCypSkpKg9QcJlh3GNZSYa5oMOD4NM/s1600/Gaiman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNfRwgvPAq3HCQFhb_SOwn8_-N786CeX3syd4X5r_iYGkoMrfL8ttcOuqMtMSciZJIUAaNR3MW2o3cMKrElxxbssMaLRdsGo8D6jQHyHSvIY6PDZqCypSkpKg9QcJlh3GNZSYa5oMOD4NM/s320/Gaiman.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I have decided</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> to attach this link to a historical post I made likely a century ago in dog years: <a href="http://psychobabblingbasher2.blogspot.com/2011/02/21st-century-rules-in-workplace.html">21st Century Rules in the Workplace</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The Link, true to form, is a complete disconnect to Second Chances. But who knows, you might just be inspired to look for your own. It is part of my promise to talk about Survival Tips in the world of Plutonomy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-68381363289095616462012-10-25T23:50:00.001-07:002012-10-25T23:51:04.121-07:00Pumpkin Flu<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So have you guys heard what the latest virus is? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Well if you haven't, it's called : <b>PUMPKIN FLU.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was told that this virus of undetermined/undifferentiated strain is airborne and made a land fall sometime early this October, around the first week, I reckon.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS715C2RYjtOKtDM44_6amXwdimi-Zp1QdSdb2SiUjYV6gxTR4jnVujd2GhVtmPey6nrrnwhlFe7cS5HeBZwBZARMMyxNYeAoLsZystGjARl6YOo2PQVMWBHiWTISNIyQov0rfeCvohad6/s1600/halloween_decorating_ideas_scary_pumpkins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS715C2RYjtOKtDM44_6amXwdimi-Zp1QdSdb2SiUjYV6gxTR4jnVujd2GhVtmPey6nrrnwhlFe7cS5HeBZwBZARMMyxNYeAoLsZystGjARl6YOo2PQVMWBHiWTISNIyQov0rfeCvohad6/s320/halloween_decorating_ideas_scary_pumpkins.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am afraid I did not catch the Pumpkin Flu and to rationalize that my absence is due to this virus is a massive lie. I happen to be completely incapable of lying to the few and far between readers of this Blog. I am probably even just talking to myself, which of course, is more frequent than anybody would consider normal. (You haven't even seen how violent my arguments are with myself. I bloody hate it when I lose in the rebuttal!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Oops, but I digress, we were on the pumpkin flue thingy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The symptoms of this virus are orange-tangerine like patches that grow surprisingly fast (like overnight I guess) on green manicured lawns of blue grass. They look kinda off when you live in the tropics where I am. The best orange-tangerine scene around here I love, are the sunsets. Not the Pumpkin Patches. However for some odd reason, or harvest moon reason that escapes most victims, they acquire the flu pretty much like they acquire a political opinion --- through mass media marketing!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Albeit strange, though not surprising, just when it is believed that this is the season of ghouls, zombies, vampires and other elements from undefined dimensions, a post re-appears on this Blog. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A-ha! It is therefore of no coincidence that my writing muse must be a spook (nope, not those in black suits and black ties), but a real spook, like Edgar Allan Poe's Annabel Lee. </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"It was many and many a year ago</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">In a kingdom by the sea,</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">That a maiden there lived whom you may know</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">By the name of Annabel Lee.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And this maiden she lived with no other thought</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Than to love and be loved by me."</span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn7euwfNw3krcjPMr53-H0L2icFtp2c_Tg1QYWk0Yo1kJA_ooamkykNoeqXAiJ3s3_ZYxKdeQWaBdqLXiVgtJ9UfbpzcCIIDnfnNciwu-i8vNndRQaw-fhii8vvdrN3Yjod23SyZ8JBn6J/s1600/Annabel_Lee_Painted_by_MirrorCradle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn7euwfNw3krcjPMr53-H0L2icFtp2c_Tg1QYWk0Yo1kJA_ooamkykNoeqXAiJ3s3_ZYxKdeQWaBdqLXiVgtJ9UfbpzcCIIDnfnNciwu-i8vNndRQaw-fhii8vvdrN3Yjod23SyZ8JBn6J/s320/Annabel_Lee_Painted_by_MirrorCradle.jpg" width="228" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Since I am no Edgar Allan Poe ... (I really like the rhythmical tone and musicality of that poem since I first read in some many and many moons ago); nor am I an Annabel Lee, it is inexcusable and totally embarrassing to creep and crawl back into my Blog to write again. But what the hell! I miss writing. I miss my Blog. I miss my Blog friends.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Like I always say, if it is important, then one must make time to do it. If it is unimportant, then one will always have the excuse of not having the time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We all work within 86,400 seconds, 1,440 minutes and 24 hours in a day. If some people can make time out of the same given, then I sure can.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Be careful now, the pumpkin flu is around, so don't let the vampires bite! It's Halloween Time when all the other ghastly, grim and eerie creatures will swarm. This can also mean that all the diabolical Bloggers who have been in absentia as of late will be infesting the web. I bet my bottom dollar on that!</span>Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-91793969235261719822012-08-25T08:57:00.001-07:002012-08-25T08:58:13.231-07:00Things That Make Me Sick<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEX1BhCkDl3P4oErcqmz5pvE60EapwpnpCMLOCjIFwx4b9AOXEFct0ytMPX67-D-jPQNVJq-HS3GV0EDkKNH8fljUkcvMzDghhx0ro6M-QVZ_gWY1qVRdXjjM3PhCRzDAPjBcfyMkWQVUD/s1600/SickSmileyFace.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEX1BhCkDl3P4oErcqmz5pvE60EapwpnpCMLOCjIFwx4b9AOXEFct0ytMPX67-D-jPQNVJq-HS3GV0EDkKNH8fljUkcvMzDghhx0ro6M-QVZ_gWY1qVRdXjjM3PhCRzDAPjBcfyMkWQVUD/s1600/SickSmileyFace.png" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Today I can confidently say that I am intestinal flu virus-free! I have been battling with this annoying illness for a week now until my anti-bodies have finally mustered enough strength and stamina to kick asses. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So I decided to wobble back to start doing something a little more productive than ...uhm...err.. continually detoxifying myself, then I had an epiphany of some sort. There are a couple of things that make me sick much more than a bacteria or a lowly virus that can crawl its way into my molecular structure.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now how do I start with this sickening list?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">First off in my<b><i> "makes me absolutely sick"</i></b> list is <b>hypocrisy. </b>Some people just can't handle the taking so they do the giving. So if I can't stand hypocrites, does it make me one? The world has evolved in such a way that to be completely honest with your thoughts and feelings make you an ass, a bigot or a racist. This game of "pretend" in terms of acceptance and tolerance is just making me puke.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisuSxqtiqcEqosGHY54NpbNVIcdktUxhCJt_Ap3rLmupSP8XH65QoK-DexBvygHhvT21lhUfeiJqqIKrukubG4WSGGmxravcre_N94NEEv901Eya-ZxfviV83d4rKHeoZrsgrK12A_Xg_Y/s1600/politically-correct-hypocrisy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisuSxqtiqcEqosGHY54NpbNVIcdktUxhCJt_Ap3rLmupSP8XH65QoK-DexBvygHhvT21lhUfeiJqqIKrukubG4WSGGmxravcre_N94NEEv901Eya-ZxfviV83d4rKHeoZrsgrK12A_Xg_Y/s320/politically-correct-hypocrisy.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Stupidity, </b>to include, but not exclusive to the Press and Social Media<b>. </b>There are people who just really push my limits in terms of patience and understanding. I don't know if this "age of technology" has truly made a lot of people totally inane or perhaps the landscape that encourages limited, if not, absence of human and tactile interaction makes the grey matter dull. Maybe it's just me, but coming out of this stupor, I have awakened to seeing the population of stupid to be growing exponentially everywhere!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYPIXIiJbqI2vW5WNGBd3SdB5VrANe6BBqu0MVD45TTC5BdYlQ_Ea3xOGsrxUHIhxmqJQgdoyQu_VwQMf0DYd1I5tfl6Y9JFvlEUexPJ6CcvLaNwrkkY-lJheRsx8euBZ1GtXrGmG-ZTHU/s1600/stupid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYPIXIiJbqI2vW5WNGBd3SdB5VrANe6BBqu0MVD45TTC5BdYlQ_Ea3xOGsrxUHIhxmqJQgdoyQu_VwQMf0DYd1I5tfl6Y9JFvlEUexPJ6CcvLaNwrkkY-lJheRsx8euBZ1GtXrGmG-ZTHU/s320/stupid.jpg" width="237" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But seriously now, what really make me sick to my core? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was given this Blog link to browse and whilst most of our humanity's history has reinforced my belief about the inherent evil in men, there are just some events that are severely disturbing that to hear about famous film directors jumping to death or laid off employees summarily executing their bosses pale in comparison to the evil in our forefathers that brought forth our generation to this century. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am not from Canada, and I needed to back check the veracity of the sources as it spoke about the <a href="http://the-canadian-holocaust.blogspot.com/2011/08/canadian-holocaust.html">Canadian Holocaust</a>. The worst crime and hypocrisy imaginable is <b>using fear of eternal damnation and religion for power and greed</b>. These historical archives are painful reminders of what we are capable of doing and how dark our souls can be. I can't blame the heretics, after all, at the end of the day, it is all a matter of your own faith.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3GYpj7rCZlYZ1h2sjljo4QM-05HAYhd85E_9C7jAX4BeUERC3MAItcMarfhHz7Mo4l5hb6NfFmtPwyVfrDL54Y8sQJqjh-1FoXg3M5ZvLI4D_QQhFRR_3VhG02bk3k1ocMjfQxWcq43Pw/s1600/Hypocrisy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3GYpj7rCZlYZ1h2sjljo4QM-05HAYhd85E_9C7jAX4BeUERC3MAItcMarfhHz7Mo4l5hb6NfFmtPwyVfrDL54Y8sQJqjh-1FoXg3M5ZvLI4D_QQhFRR_3VhG02bk3k1ocMjfQxWcq43Pw/s320/Hypocrisy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Truth is, where we are and where we have been, t</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">o stand grey in a field of black make one glisten with goodness. Fundamentally there is not much of a choice.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn_6_0oQmuNBHsC6T6KllQ1xXR0j6P2uuxbW7Y94dNxOBAUwBbKOYgQptBh9REea_APrSsvC9p2TWDshTj1FBMksHtoAIjHx6IB5eBmGEEFaxQ4VqUuh0MlljkQyYE4pyKEuvXWuXPUK7T/s1600/less_evil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn_6_0oQmuNBHsC6T6KllQ1xXR0j6P2uuxbW7Y94dNxOBAUwBbKOYgQptBh9REea_APrSsvC9p2TWDshTj1FBMksHtoAIjHx6IB5eBmGEEFaxQ4VqUuh0MlljkQyYE4pyKEuvXWuXPUK7T/s320/less_evil.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Watching an <b>injustice</b> is the same as committing the injustice itself. But do we still have a moral ground? Can justice stand against the powers of money and politics and personal interests? Can we achieve a sense of vindication free-loading with the freedom fighters? Or do we have so much more pressing matters at the moment to care for such huge and daunting causes? Some people struggle making it to their front door everyday, so who cares what happens to the greater good?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I will always argue about having a choice. A choice to do good, to make a stand, to call a spade a spade, to speak the truth in the face of adversary and to accept failure with a sense of dignity. So the most atrocious thing that can make me sick, is when someone says, </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: bold;">"I do/did not have a choice." </i>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was recently speaking to a young lady, (22 years old), married for 3 years and is pregnant on her second child; who has been physically and emotionally abused by her husband through their married life. She tells me she can't leave the husband or report the abuses because she does not have a choice. She has bled three times during her current pregnancy and has been warned repeatedly by her attending physician that further stress and distress can be fatal to both herself and her child. But still she argues, she does not have a choice. I could have chosen to shoot her myself to end the misery altogether but better judgment and fear of eternal damnation prevailed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Today I am flu virus-free but it is nothing compared to the wealth of sickening madness also known as the lesser humanity everywhere. Whatever dark virus it is that has been handed down to us by our heritage is nothing compared to the alphanumeric man-made viruses we scamper about to find an antidote. If we choose not to find a cure for our souls then we're all damned, for good.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-16505961720412589582012-08-13T03:32:00.001-07:002012-08-13T03:51:31.776-07:00I Will Miss My Sweet Diva Catty<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was 6 years old when I first felt the trauma of losing our family's best friend. His name was "Lassie", a mixed Collie. I was practically inconsolable. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I remember my Dad saying if my heart will break each time I will lose a pet, then he will never have me own another one, ever, in my lifetime. He lied. I still got pets for presents between that time and to this day. But he spoke the truth about my heart breaking into a million little pieces.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This morning I woke up to the news that my sweet feline baby, Catty, has passed. I couldn't stop myself from sobbing when I saw her in her "little room". Totally lifeless. Cold. It must have been sometime in the middle of the night. I just had to look and touch her again. So I sobbed even more. Sometimes the <i>denial</i> stage can only last for a couple of moments. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">She's gone. And I can't stop blaming myself since two nights back, I scolded her for misbehaving. She's been behaving rather oddly the past few days whilst the storms battered our place. A week ago, I had to hug her close because she was shaking when the thunders clapped and the lights went poof! I should have known something went terribly wrong right after. It must have been the shock.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Here's a link to a couple of her pictures. there's so much more but I have not posted them (nor have I been posting at all) </span><a href="http://privatelegends.blogspot.com/p/pink-pussy.html">http://privatelegends.blogspot.com/p/pink-pussy.html</a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am a professed dog lover but having Catty has completely changed my perspective about cats. She's the first feline member of my family, we have always had dogs. Losing her just cut through my core and I don't think she will ever be replaced in my heart. Not her diva self. Not her sweet ways when she wants some cuddling. Not the way she communicates and somehow I understand and she understands. Not when she's the Number 1 fan of my cooking and my pasta dishes.Not even when she's just being a brat and earning exclusive rights to her "Catty" name. Catty would have been two years old in December.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am in absolute grief and I miss her terribly. They say all dogs go to heaven, I hope even cats do. Her lovely white fur will be a totally radical match to the pearly white gate. I only wish that if there is such a thing as an after-life for pets that she is warm and safe and loved.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i><b>"As anyone who has ever been around cats for any length of time well knows, cats have enormous patience with the limitations of the human kind." - Cleveland Amory</b></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">To heaven's new angel, Catty, good night baby, sleep tight and purr softly.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-80266549993713468282012-08-03T23:29:00.001-07:002012-08-03T23:30:02.165-07:00The Fb Abomination<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzCCqgKlmg9_bnoEkuVYOjyjGWM_Lz715JxaDcWbzRA9Tni5ofzlcPs2gRUciRmlZGY3de8Fx3S-fu_-wa8P5q_dCriDffjxHFO3UTcdOQnIvC88-zGk49CVhSPJFh_5WglsO2ry08dF3T/s1600/facebook-logo.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzCCqgKlmg9_bnoEkuVYOjyjGWM_Lz715JxaDcWbzRA9Tni5ofzlcPs2gRUciRmlZGY3de8Fx3S-fu_-wa8P5q_dCriDffjxHFO3UTcdOQnIvC88-zGk49CVhSPJFh_5WglsO2ry08dF3T/s200/facebook-logo.png" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I do have a Facebook account. I still remember the day when a couple of well-meaning kids decided to create me one. Technically, I had two friends. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Suddenly, a long unseen bestie sent me an "Inbox" message. I was thrilled. She said she was tracking me down for some kind of a get-to after having lost touch since our University days, and was surprised to find that I do have an Fb account up. She jokingly added she didn't have the heart to see me with <b>ONLY</b> 2 friends. That's how I started my Fb journey.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Call me a noob but I always believed that a social networking site, is as designed and intended, for "social networking." How this site turned out to be people's personal diaries/journals documenting tons of epic failures, fugly photographs and stupid updates, I really don't know. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">However, there are certain things I do know.</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">What you had for breakfast, lunch and dinner posted on your wall courtesy of </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Instagram </i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">is of no interest to me. As a matter of fact, it only</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> gives everyone who can read your posts, a very vivid picture of how your poop is going to churn out at the end of the day. Tofu is very fascinating. Really.</span></li>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr2O1Xv2J9H2L06GSDCht9ZRyKLzc32z2wG1e63-S7f_ZvGmYXwHJjdDJ89cIA56jwTR6kjDjKq5lHBThK7qnOpvJu1zIC2NkPnk5DdZnSpB-wlIOgJIjTrL0XFPiDaJx8V4Sc7ft-7UZl/s1600/facepalm_jim_76437.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr2O1Xv2J9H2L06GSDCht9ZRyKLzc32z2wG1e63-S7f_ZvGmYXwHJjdDJ89cIA56jwTR6kjDjKq5lHBThK7qnOpvJu1zIC2NkPnk5DdZnSpB-wlIOgJIjTrL0XFPiDaJx8V4Sc7ft-7UZl/s320/facepalm_jim_76437.jpg" width="251" /></a></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">When you are in the mood to display some ignorance, do you really have to have the rest of the public, aka as your Fb friends, agonize over your </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">stupidity</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">? And you even have the temerity to </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Like" </i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">your own update? That's short of stroking yourself in public.</span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Whilst I </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">believe</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> in self-love as the foundation of being able to give love to others, it does not include having to withstand pictures upon pictures of your fugly face and fugly children in annoying and repugnant poses. I personally think to </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Dislike"</i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> it would mean judging your gene pool, but I do fervently wish someone else will finally tell you to please Stop it </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">already</span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">! Now unless your kids are between the ages of 2 weeks old to about 36 months (particularly hugging pets), people might still all go <i>"Aww..." </i>But when they're 18 years old and damn, starting to look like they are pushing 40, do you really have to post their pics on your wall? They probably have their own Fb account for crying out loud! I could always choose to Un-friend or Block you, but where's the fun in that? Watching other people delude themselves gives me a helluva kick!</span></li>
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<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Relationships, as I heard, have been either built or ruined via the infamous Relationship Status on Facebook. What's with that? I reckon this appeals to the voyeur in all of us, we want to see how things can turn from damned Fail to Epic Fail!</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Maybe I am just sick of seeing how old "real-life" friends have turned out to be detestable creatures and these newfound Fb friends, given the virtual nature of the relationship, turn out to be more like-able! Odd but just keeping it real.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And yes I am keeping my Facebook account. Why not? I don't want to lose such an entertaining medium. Between the news, television, books and the cinema, reading my News-feeds on Fb is such a cheap therapeutic alternative.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I even have a Twitter account just to keep myself in the loop on what's trending in terms of the latest #. If you have no idea what a hashtag is, go twit!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Many thanks to 9GAG.com</b></span>Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-43172110785489531582012-07-24T03:34:00.001-07:002012-07-24T03:34:55.028-07:00Mmmmm...Missing My Muse and Magic Mike<br />
<span style="color: yellow; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Good grief! I just realized when I checked into my Blog that I have suddenly been reduced to practically a once a month Blogger. I started pulling my hair and knocking my head on the keyboard blaming the absence of my writing muse.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: yellow;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Whut?</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Wait a minute, I am no literary genius nor am I a writer. I am a Blogger. Bloggers write Blogs not novels nor did I ever dream of grabbing a Pulitzer under my armpit. So who am I kidding?</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: yellow;">Honestly, I have been lazy and swamped with a chronic list of ideas I wanted to Blog about then eventually forgot to post. In my dream state, I thought I did. Honest. Fine, sue me. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: yellow; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Sometimes I would think of a thousand ideas and decide these are not good enough to Blog about. Or I may disappoint the people (the few and far between... har de har har) who may chance upon my Blog and have the patience to read through the first line. But then again that defeats the purpose of a Blog. The very essence of why it is and what it is.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: yellow; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Ta-dah! I found my muse.<i> (Jamie darling, this is for you!)</i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: yellow; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I was watching<b> Magic Mike.</b> And I thought, "Man, this film is such a cerebral let-down! However, it is definitely a totally visceral experience satisfying my visual senses! In short, an eye-candy movie."</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Some of the Magic Mike Cast, Channing Tatum center</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: yellow; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">For those of you who have not heard of Channing Tatum, Alex Pettyfer, Matt Bomer (who is such a beautiful man, comfortably open about his being gay), Joe Magnaniello; then you probably know of Matthew McConaughey. What is an A-list actor doing in a movie rated an Indie Comedy-Drama about male-strippers? I have no idea but will definitely ask him next time I catch up with him for some coffee.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: yellow; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Okay, I will give you a moment to Google the movie and the cast. Oh you're back, that was fast.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Alex Pettyfer, up close. No reason, just an up close shot.</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: black; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: yellow;">It is not a complete insult to the intellect. At least, not mine. (wink!) It has its good moments and its entertainment value is par. Well with some films you know you will sleep through an hour and a half of trash. I was told there were cinemas where the audience was highly participative, not in an interactive sense. It was unfortunate that I watched it in a theatre with a ho-hum crowd that squirmed in their seats trying to stifle a sigh and their heavy breathing. I am not proposing, "go watch!" I am just saying the movie kept me awake and I thought I would write a post about it. Can you believe that? All I needed was to watch a strip-show then I found my Blog muse. (ahem...)</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: yellow; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And in a short and rare moment of lucidity, I started this post. </span><br />
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<span style="color: yellow; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i style="background-color: black;">A Post-script:</i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: yellow; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I have a new toy. It is supposed to enable me to live-blog. My toy and I have not achieved the level of total synch. The toys these days seem to know more what to say and think than I do and I refuse to succumb to the fallacy that their intelligence, albeit artificial, is better than my smarts. So until then, I crawl to my trusty keyboard like my comfort love blanket. It is reassuring to feel that it has missed my fingers on its keys. I will see you soon. Perhaps to have a more substantive Blog muse to post about. At the moment, I feel like doing an <i>Ellen Dance Dare</i>. Toodles!</span><br />
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<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-14363532941417338322012-06-15T05:51:00.002-07:002012-06-15T05:54:39.212-07:00Fifty Shades of Twilight ... Whut?<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Hey, lest you guys misconstrue, I am not writing this post positioned as a Book Review. Geesh, I have spent a lot of that crap in the university and I have no plans in reliving that pain.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And speaking of pain, allow me - "heads up"! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This Trilogy, (yes my sweet Virginia, I happened to have just read all the three Books of the Fifty Shades series by E L James; <i>Fifty Shades of Grey; Fifty Shades Darker; Fifty Shades Freed</i>) promises to be the newest and latest "fan fiction." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">If you have not fully recovered and may still be reeling from the <b>Twilight </b><i style="font-weight: bold;">phenomenon, </i>I dare declare, has been an absolutely mind-boggling pop cult classic, then brace yourself. A new prodigious fan fiction is probably well on its way to hit the screens.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Now look here, you are arching your eyebrows, but trust me, I may have really bad days in terms of motor skills, but my intuit has never failed me, uh-huh, n-e-v-e-r! The series, albeit toying with the same saccharine formulaic ploy of Stephanie Meyer, has nothing to do with vampire romanticism (I may have bitched about it here, some time ago, like maybe a decade ago ... <a href="http://psychobabblingbasher2.blogspot.com/2011/02/vampire-romanticism-and-tweenies.html">Vampire Romanticism and Tweenies</a>). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Truth is, it tackles a rather delicate and controversial subject matter that I have serious doubts a screenplay will do the paperback justice if the intention is to make a killing at the box office. The novels delve deeply into the deepest sexual and carnal desires of a young woman thrown into a roller-coaster intimate relationship anchored on BSDM. Hell yeah, now I got your attention! And sugar-coated with your happily-ever-after. If it weren't for the graphic and explicit sex chapters, I have no doubts Pixar and Walt Disney Productions would be the top brass producers killing to own the franchise in the bidding!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But I am straying here. I noticed more importantly, that the fan demographics for <b>Fifty Shades</b> has shifted from the tweeny-something to the thirty something. As a reader, the experience has definitely brought romantic overtones to the <i>"hurt me Master" </i>psyche. I just wished I loved myself a little less so I can completely relate to it. After all, I probably have an inner Dominatrix that still needs to come out of the Narnia closet. Plus, <i>submission </i>is still a concept, or a word to me that I have problems in terms of comprehension</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Honestly though, I loved the humour of the author, and her writing strikes me as definitely female. There is something here in this erotic romance novel and that something scratches the surface of your archaic and most primitive "id". Nope not the ego. (I am talking to my sisters here, y'know) ... that callow, coarse core most of us women seldom interact with, because it's roughness burns.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Oh well, don't say I didn't warn you. To begin with, it has not been labelled as the cult erotic "mommy porn" for nothin'. Until then, <b><i>"Laters, baby."</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-66185089429185874012012-06-01T10:40:00.002-07:002012-06-01T10:59:39.647-07:00Perfectly Flawed<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Do you ever stop in your tracks and wonder what actually divides a fully functional individual ("normal" to use a more common reference term) versus a completely dysfunctional, maladjusted, neurotic individual? Oh, you don't?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Well neither do I. I don't really do a double-take. I do think about it on occasions when I engage in a favourite time-waster: people-watching.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I have just recently finished reading a couple of "comfort" books. (I rather refer to them as "comfort" paperbacks since these are the type of novels where there is no pressure whatsoever to finish them in one reading. You can actually continue reading through the book even after a week or so and still feel comfortable, since you have not missed any cliff-hanger or suspenseful episodes.) </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Easy reading novels are however different from the HDI or DIY; aka How Do I and Do It Yourself types in essence because they are not idiot-proof. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">One of the more recent book I read was originally written in Japanese, </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>Norwegian Wood</b></i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> by </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Haruki Murakami. </i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A masterfully crafted, yet simple novel on relationships: with yourself, with others, with the world ... s</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">et in the radical '70's decade and before I disclose any further, I should say that the translation to English is pretty impressive. I was intrigued when I saw it on the book shelf; splashed on the cover of the book: NOW A MAJOR MOTION PICTURE. Seriously? I never had the chance to see the movie. I had to look up "Norwegian Wood" and I found out it was one of those romantic poems of the Beatles, and has a pretty decent cult following.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My take from the book is more simplistic on the over all. I have heard or read somewhere, (that's what I always say when my sources are fuzzy) and I can be completely wrong; that besides Las Vegas, Japan holds the highest suicide rate. It could be a cultural nuance or perhaps even a norm. I can deduce the reasons can not be further from similar in these two locations. Arguably, the act of taking one's own life, regardless of country, is about the ability to manage (or the </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">inability</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> to) one's fears and dreams; talents and weaknesses; brilliance and failures. The polarities are attendant in every human being. The </span><b style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">capability</b><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> to accept the imperfections and flaws and failures become the overriding differentiator.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Whilst most people I have met would curse at the roots of their upbringing, for instance, their family and their childhood years, I consider myself blessed to have been loved unconditionally. I grew up with an older brother, (am younger of only 2 kids), whose middle name might have been written in Latin, <i>Summa Cum Laude. </i>By the time my big bro graduated in high school, the medals (gold was rather cheap and ho-hum), citations and rewards he accumulated had to be displayed in the family's heirloom - a huge China cabinet replacing all the Japanese stoneware and Austrian crystals. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My own achievements were proudly displayed too, at the bottom left corner. I had about 5 academic citations, <b>all-in</b>, in my entire lifetime in school. 3 of them I got in Second Grade and the other 2 medals in Third grade. I do have my own variety of trophies, certificates and ribbons on pep squads, sports teams, Speech and Drama, Singing, Dancing, in my own room. But academics? I look back and I realized I was not perfect in school but I had a fabulous time getting educated.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Early on, living under the shadow of someone's relentless streak of success and accolades, I assimilated from my father a trait that has allowed me to rise above all my flaws. I learned to laugh. Even make people laugh without meaning to sometimes. Above all, I learned to laugh at myself, at my own limitations, my warts, my blemishes, including my scars and failures. I laughed my way till today. Oh hell am I perfectly flawed, but it is my very definition of myself. I would hate to be completely successful and unfailing, popular and loved and feared and famous and rich. There will be so little to rise above from and even if I do have all that, to laugh would be seen as to demean and to condescend. I would be deprived of my life's greatest gift. A sense of humour and l</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">aughter</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I have often wondered how anyone is able to transfer wit and humour or that perhaps, "laughing" should be part of any medical </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">practitioner's</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> regular prescription. I don't believe though that laughter can prevent death but wouldn't it be rad if people passed with a smile on their faces instead? (Unless of course, someone ate your face ... I just had to put that in) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I guess the challenge is to have something to laugh about. If you are laughing alone lost in your own thoughts, it may not really be perceived as healthy. You see here, there is a large percent in the 7 billion species of humans walking this earth living their lives with absolutely no idea how to laugh out loud with total abandon. They probably did gurgle with laughter as infants or toddlers, but somewhere along the way between Kindergarten class and Middle School, they lost it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Perhaps next to breathing, I will keep on laughing. If not, I would find every way humanly possible to have a reason to smile. Even if the <a href="http://psychobabblingbasher2.blogspot.com/2011/05/from-h1n1-to-zombieland-wtf.html">Zombie Apocalypse</a> (May 2011 post) has finally begun ... dun dun dunnnn... Check this out if you're not a wuss: <a href="https://maps.google.com/maps/ms?msid=209024629401219254673.0004c14289ddb99ec369c&msa=0&ll=45.460131,-79.101562&spn=40.201931,63.984375">Zombie Virus?</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-23293947379485090102012-05-12T06:10:00.001-07:002012-05-12T06:11:33.294-07:00Desidera-whut?<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I was driving one day around the neighbourhood. When something glittery caught my eye. Down the block it seems we have new folks moving in. The couple must be somewhere in their mid-60's or something like that and they were both busy cleaning up the landscape and putting up bold gold letters onto their fence that spelled... D E S I D E R A T A!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">You have to be kidding me! A true-blue quarter storm, age of Aquarius couple? They must have decided it is their life statement, I mean, to have it plastered on your front lawn for everyone to see and take notice!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I seldom do a double-take (particularly when I am behind the wheel) but the visual I saw immediately transported me back to the memory of my Literature class where I remember being forced to read the poem again and again; cull the best insights from each line by this Professor whom we believed to must have been Hitler's wife in her past life!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Well of course the words just echoed in my hollow head, with hardly any meaning. I would love to discuss it now, yeah, bring it! Today, I know what the message is. What it has always been. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Back then, it was torture to hear her screech at every attempt at a profound insight from me or my classmates. We were pretty lame to say the least. Honestly, at 14,<b><i> "placid" </i></b>was not even in my vocabulary of significant words to live by.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Unless aided by what we currently call today as 'medicinal herbs', how would you expect average teenage girls who are barely starting to manage with hormones without breaking out into massive acne attacks, to relate with such esoteric, moving lines, such as:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">At my best then, I just knew that the word itself must be LATIN. Literally translated, it means, "desirable things". Desirable? How could chocolates and men not be included? Or just plain vanilla and chocolates? It was just way beyond my comprehension.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Couple of years later, when I chanced upon this prose poetry by Max Ehrmann, the words begun to breathe. And this time, I didn't need an Eva Braun to scream in my face to think and delve deeply into my soul for a meaning. I gave the words their meaning and somewhere along the way I realized I must have grown up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I have no doubt that whilst DESIDERATA was, once upon a time, a mantra, a philosophy or a devotion (that time when people believed in making love and not war; that life is about taking things in stride and making time to smell the roses; each individual is intrinsically good; heroism and magnanimity is commonplace, respect and humility is a norm, and that the world is a happy place to be born in); today, this very moment, the memory of my Literature class has become more real and more apt. The words in the poem have lost their capacity to move people's hearts and our souls cringe at the possibility of being touched by it. Such tragedy. I would hate to admit this to "Eva" but when I saw the word proudly displayed on that wall, I just had to read it again.</span><br />
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<i><span style="color: yellow;">Go placidly amidst the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. <br /><br />Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. <br /><br />Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. <br /><br />Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism. <br /><br />Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. <br /><br />Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. <br /><br />Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. <br /><br />And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labours and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its shams, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And I made a mental note to myself, perhaps one of these days, it will be nice to meet up with the new neighbours. I underscored the note with "listen" for they must be wise in their years, just as boldly as they declared their Life's philosophy.</span>Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-66728340928042498952012-04-04T04:36:00.001-07:002012-04-04T04:56:01.609-07:00I've all but ... (Almost an A-Z Challenge)<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It's a been a little over a year since I started this Blog chapter of my life. And not unlike most of the virtual friends I have met in this journey, there would be highly driven stages of writing where the inspiration oozes out of my soul; and there would be phases when I've all but given up writing altogether. You see here, whilst writing can be highly therapeutic, reading back your feelings in words sometimes feel like a surreal experience.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But why call an entire Blog <b>"<u>ALMOST BUT NOT QUITE</u>"</b>?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Well, the rest of my Blog Friends have taken up the courage to go for the A-Z Blog Challenge, meanwhile, back at the ranch, I will begin and end with A.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I used to fancy road trips with my parents; and typical of kids in long distance rides, I annoyed them with the only question I demanded an immediate response to: <i>"Are we there yet?"</i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Sometimes, my Dad would patiently reply, <i>"We're almost there but not there yet."</i> I would go back to either sulking as I never really understood what that meant, or be more annoying and nag again, <i>"How far is <b>almost </b>there?"</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">What kind of an English word is <b><u>ALMOST</u>, </b>anyway? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">References define "almost" as synonymous to <i><b>nearly, practically, but not exactly, et. al.</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Technically, it is a word in the grey area. It is neither hot or cold, but almost warm. It is neither black or white, but almost black or nearly white.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">However, to my young mind, including my adult mind (that means now, I hope), I believe that<b> <i><u>almost</u></i> </b>carries a mystical meaning. It is a word that can never be wrongly used nor can it ever be politically incorrect. It is a safe word. Devoid of triggers and potential repulsive reactions contrary to other words that can be used in its stead. However arbitrary and vague, it is most descriptive in a peculiar sense. It carries a calming effect versus a straightforward, <b>NO, NOT, YES, or TOTALLY</b>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I particularly chose this Blog Title as it generally signifies life experiences, my own and the sum total of the people I have met. It represents a continuous search for meaning and closure. Even at the point or peak of someone's achievement, they tend to always feel, there is more than where they are, or how far they've gone. Certainly, <i>almost, but not there yet.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Whoa, had no intentions of making this post sound so darn philosophical! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I just really wanted to quietly celebrate my Blog's more than a year of existence; with a humble following, <i>(whilst I quietly sip on my 1984 Chateau Margaux Giscours Cabernet Sauvignon and nibble on some walnuts, cheese and cherries)</i> and since the molecular fibre of my being has not decided to join the rest of the universe where it originated from, I will always feel that life is a road trip, where every pit stop tells you that you're almost there, but not quite.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span>Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-82311493972212909822012-03-16T14:40:00.000-07:002012-03-16T14:40:19.355-07:00When Life Gives You Lemons<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It has been awhile since my last post. The last one on this Blog was aptly a ranting.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I have been rather busy fire-fighting in real life. Like the old adage goes,</span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> "When life gives you a basket of lemons ... it's called a Lemon Rampage."</i><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I don't recall who originally said this quote, maybe you do. I know I heard it before from my Grandma, my Mom, a couple of friends, and it gets quoted time and again, probably until you get to experience it for real. I reckon when you begin to feel like a sourpuss, then the lemon must have hit you for real.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I find it rather amusing to watch how life's twists and turns happen to people. There will always be elements of either delight or pleasant surprise, or frustration and disgust. Except when life happens to me personally, and I don't get what I expected and planned for, in a series of unfortunate circumstances, the humour escapes me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So here I am, a couple of weeks before my birthday, trying to mull my life's <i><b>"Corona with a Lemon Twist."</b></i> </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">(I used to call it </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"birthday blues" </i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">as back when I was kid, I had the most annoying ritual of getting a little sick before my birth day actually happens.) In a moment of weakness I told myself maybe I should stop "hoping" and dreaming, as my frustrations seem to get a life if its own acquiring strength and power along the way. Then I remembered these very words, <i>"when life gives you lemons, make lemonade."</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And in a rarer moment of lucidity, I decided to actually use my head to seriously think about how I am coping with my life's frustrations. Not that I don't use my head to think, but my head is mostly filled with trivia and songs that to utilize higher brain functions such as evaluate and discern, gives me serious migraine headaches.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I started <strike>by bringing out my favourite Tequila, salt and a couple of lemon slices.</strike> to make my own version of Lemonade. And with all the wisdom and intellect I could muster, I asked myself some process questions that will help me better understand what I am dealing with and how I am coping with it:</span><br />
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<ul><li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Am I overrating a small problem and making it too big to have a solution? Or do I already have a solution except that I haven't acquired the patience to wait for the solution to happen?</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I doubt I am the only one in the entire universe of mankind who has to deal with their fair share of challenges and there are a lot more in worse situations than I am. Then why do I react like the world is against me and my life is completely ruined? As a matter of fact, my life is not ruined at all. I like to think I am suffering because the attention I get feeds my ego.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Should I not be looking at what I have learned and how much I have gained since I am totally getting stretched and not many people have the same challenging opportunities than what I am facing? I have grown in leaps and bounds in the past months than in all of my lifetime and I have lived to Blog about it. I am not sick, my faculties are intact, and I can still sing and dance if I want to.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And perhaps the best thing I can take away from all of these is that certainly in life, we do not always get what we want. Sometimes, even what we love and need get taken away from us yet it does not mean we should stop breathing.</span></li>
</ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBKLgAmlxt9KKLchrcMftkiRJ5ZLoYqPQrl45ka2-8Kg4rJw6Kzm5UA8uNB1TPC2FAJNY9lq1Jc5-ewaVe4rgnP-tnWOqffFWXMSzXl3OO91vtpQfEo6Hc1VGlA6EKjNGUPKm9yECpdbjq/s1600/when-life-gives-you-lemons.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBKLgAmlxt9KKLchrcMftkiRJ5ZLoYqPQrl45ka2-8Kg4rJw6Kzm5UA8uNB1TPC2FAJNY9lq1Jc5-ewaVe4rgnP-tnWOqffFWXMSzXl3OO91vtpQfEo6Hc1VGlA6EKjNGUPKm9yECpdbjq/s320/when-life-gives-you-lemons.gif" width="320" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">There is no substitute to acceptance borne from clarity enabled by a shot of Tequila.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Yeah, life can be very hard and depressing. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">People can be so disappointing. Sometimes, friends let you down instead of lift you up. Sometimes the very people you have helped in the past will turn their backs on you when you need them or worst, will take you down. A lot more people can really be heartless and mean, I choose not to be like anyone of that breed.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">However, it is during these times that I find it important to own up to what I am feeling at the moment, not to dwell on it but to know that it is happening and that I am hurting. It is equally important too to embrace the reality that there are certain issues out of my control but in time, they will all pass.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Whatever it is that seems to be unresolved going on in our lives will soon have their own resolutions, in time. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Nothing is permanent. Everything is temporary.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Today, more than ever, I recognize the transitory nature of every matter and every circumstance in the universe and I find the whole concept absolutely redeeming.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The truth is, I really prefer lime to lemonade with my tequila. Salut!</span></div>Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-41311310995364692842012-02-25T03:24:00.000-08:002012-02-25T03:25:01.193-08:00Sometimes Being Nice Sucks<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Being a douche and an asshole, and not caring for anyone or anything at all, is way too easy. That would explain the proliferation of this species in the humanity-dom.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Who cares if more than half the people in the world is starving? That the homeless should be sheltered; the substance abusers must be rehabilitated and that the ghetto children deserve health and education? Or if the overweight people are bullied and are bound to slit their wrists in the next day or two because they feel unloved? That those anorexics-emo-turds deserve to be flushed out of the world so they don't litter their sorry skeletal bones all over the place? Or that being ugly does not really matter, it's what inside that counts? That racism and segregation still truly exists? Bullshit!</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpsk7tmkAIwJ1ld3RU4ITfuDHWADj6Ij-PFezVx86XHradb_-LJxzS6AqvQfvJGaCVBUJI-ucN-urL3sBDjkC4O-zhefCGJrscDmxLHM3nA2YtIQaSEMvCbLTiJXUag3uDX_krCsSammak/s1600/fuck-you-tomato.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpsk7tmkAIwJ1ld3RU4ITfuDHWADj6Ij-PFezVx86XHradb_-LJxzS6AqvQfvJGaCVBUJI-ucN-urL3sBDjkC4O-zhefCGJrscDmxLHM3nA2YtIQaSEMvCbLTiJXUag3uDX_krCsSammak/s1600/fuck-you-tomato.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Do you know that caring is frickin' tiring? Being fair allows other people to step all over you. Being honest helps you lose the race and any other competition. Living true to your values and life principles make you lame. Trusting that other people will tend for you in your time of crisis and need is inevitable given that you extended an arm and a leg (and a torso) to help them out when they were rock bottom. Fuck that!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It was your choice or your nature to be good and nice to people. But to expect people to care just as much, are you kidding me? Grow up! You are likely to be the prime target of scam artists and parasites who will suck the life out of you. </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyBI_mmthpL5JY54tOhBYnJmlDPpBQ4IUSIZAhb1qhZ_dDexxYRTqVXSdG40eghZm3TqMlLI5tatxzYpntSVzCAmV8JPivp7PM0KTu8gx0QuU7kQSlzD1bAdTguHR6VE3kfMSRa3hI20Uq/s1600/suckup_Large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyBI_mmthpL5JY54tOhBYnJmlDPpBQ4IUSIZAhb1qhZ_dDexxYRTqVXSdG40eghZm3TqMlLI5tatxzYpntSVzCAmV8JPivp7PM0KTu8gx0QuU7kQSlzD1bAdTguHR6VE3kfMSRa3hI20Uq/s320/suckup_Large.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Fine so you sleep with a smile, but who the hell cares if you're smiling?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Yeah I know, I am ranting and frothing at the mouth.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">There are days when it's a lot better to behave like a bitch and be true to form. It's too easy and too much fun.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Honestly? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It really breaks my heart to see more and more people succumb to the easy way following the rules of life in general. The few people who try to do good and have a heart, continuously get punished and suffer for good intentions. The last one that ever walked this earth was stoned and crucified.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This reality leaves very little option for people who try to have a decent life or for a lot more, who just try to survive.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">What am I saying here? I don't know. really. All I know is that I try to live by my choices and how I choose to behave. And in return, I fend for myself and I trust myself to do great things for me. Sure I still care, as a matter of fact, I care too much. However, that will never stop me for looking out for myself when I need to. Just a reality check. Painful but I am just keeping it real.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYYA-Fvze7TYUS_ub9P6SuUCVJpgIGURoWbHJ5mrb0d65PZkfOGryJnFi_x9u449716UlMNeV1s8pxEUz_JcBWQ9PBKC1lzxjJWr9fsN6ypzwW-U8u70fNakIY668zRphZQGvMrAdl7zh1/s1600/fuck_you_i_am_cat_picdump-s600x399-140812.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYYA-Fvze7TYUS_ub9P6SuUCVJpgIGURoWbHJ5mrb0d65PZkfOGryJnFi_x9u449716UlMNeV1s8pxEUz_JcBWQ9PBKC1lzxjJWr9fsN6ypzwW-U8u70fNakIY668zRphZQGvMrAdl7zh1/s320/fuck_you_i_am_cat_picdump-s600x399-140812.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span>Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-40642665067465914042012-02-13T14:17:00.000-08:002012-02-13T14:18:02.915-08:00TRUE LOVE - love is in the air<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJU9bcI19eUXSJZHYiUvvReRq1oPtydEXQ2xPBRBRLIl_lExGqkNQ1UT8fpTNXdQqPxYkKMbCx6Nq68rkaJD_BepL94Pnyt2nNl-BDIn_YcsYmInLhDVBaKVeJhyphenhyphen6CLq6NcLzYQQqgJtm/s1600/Ellie_&_Carl_(old).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJU9bcI19eUXSJZHYiUvvReRq1oPtydEXQ2xPBRBRLIl_lExGqkNQ1UT8fpTNXdQqPxYkKMbCx6Nq68rkaJD_BepL94Pnyt2nNl-BDIn_YcsYmInLhDVBaKVeJhyphenhyphen6CLq6NcLzYQQqgJtm/s320/Ellie_&_Carl_(old).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favourite couple</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Scenario: <b><i style="background-color: #660000;"><span style="color: white;">Senior wedding. </span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i style="background-color: #660000;"><br />
</i></span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #660000;">Jacob, age 92, and Rebecca, age 89, living in Miami, are both excited about their decision to get married. They go for a stroll to discuss the wedding, and on the way they pass a drugstore..... Jacob suggests they go in.</span></span></b></div><span style="color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b style="background-color: #660000;"><br />
Jacob addresses the man behind the counter: <i>"Are you the owner?"</i><br />
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The pharmacist answers,<i> "Yes."</i><br />
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Jacob:<i> "We're about to get married. Do you sell heart medication?"</i><br />
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Pharmacist:<i> "Of course, we do."</i><br />
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Jacob: <i>"How about medicine for circulation?"</i><br />
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Pharmacist: <i>"All kinds."</i><br />
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Jacob: <i>"Medicine for rheumatism?"</i><br />
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Pharmacist: <i>"Definitely."</i><br />
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Jacob: <i>"How about suppositories?"</i><br />
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Pharmacist: <i>"You bet!"</i><br />
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Jacob: <i>"Medicine for memory problems, arthritis and Alzheimer's?"</i><br />
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Pharmacist:<i> "Yes, a large variety. The works."</i><br />
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Jacob: <i>"What about vitamins, sleeping pills, Geritol, antidotes for Parkinson's disease?"</i><br />
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Pharmacist: <i>"Absolutely."</i></b></span><br />
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Jacob: <i>"Everything for heartburn and indigestion?"</i><br />
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Pharmacist: <i>"We sure do."</i><br />
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Jacob: <i>"You sell wheelchairs and walkers and canes?"</i><br />
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Pharmacist:<i> "All speeds and sizes."</i><br />
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Jacob:<i> "Adult diapers?"</i><br />
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Pharmacist:<i> "Sure."</i><br />
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<i>Jacob: </i></b><b style="font-style: italic;"><span style="color: yellow;">"Great! We'd like to use this store as our Bridal Registry."</span></b></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #660000;"><b style="font-style: italic;"><span style="color: yellow;"><br />
</span></b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPw4kVTDVTkZltnA-YlR0ZBA8dLhIvLt2gPKYhi5i8ot94C9us_umkSIBnt8xMR5wz23P_poT27SiTjXRle86dgggPQqYJe_FivFjOy5Trc-q2bjGxKonzDgYakmdgecYzN7HWGuhlWbZe/s1600/tumblr_llfsawmqb91qgeutao1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPw4kVTDVTkZltnA-YlR0ZBA8dLhIvLt2gPKYhi5i8ot94C9us_umkSIBnt8xMR5wz23P_poT27SiTjXRle86dgggPQqYJe_FivFjOy5Trc-q2bjGxKonzDgYakmdgecYzN7HWGuhlWbZe/s320/tumblr_llfsawmqb91qgeutao1_500.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span><br />
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</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Now, if that didn't bring a smile to your jaded face and your mind cluttered with disbelief in <i><b>true love</b></i>, it sure worked for me so I would not know what will ever work on you. My dear friends, love and stay loved. It's totally tax-free.</span></div>Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-72016726143335588992012-01-30T02:15:00.000-08:002012-01-30T02:15:34.046-08:00Failure: It's An Option<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I find it particularly interesting and amusing that there are abundant sources of literature on the subject of <i style="font-weight: bold;">How To Be Successful, Quickly</i> and even on <i style="font-weight: bold;">Averting Failures and Risks.</i> However, there is very little that is written up on how to deal with being unsuccessful, being risk-prone and what to do when you've failed? I suspect it is one particular <b>taboo</b> subject alongside sex and nudity. Or better, one of the most dreaded words in the English language.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb0MbAc0J_Pbz_VmlcR9ha4zVAHg2FJT8eYEIHqef-v9LYy7q6r-QwnqZmbD_RmFTM37oTEXJlNwX16UCvwKIQcGDaPWgWeObmsZETY4wozbEHkNKdr7kyTDevoGkAO56qayA1dgo_oXAQ/s1600/failure0400.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb0MbAc0J_Pbz_VmlcR9ha4zVAHg2FJT8eYEIHqef-v9LYy7q6r-QwnqZmbD_RmFTM37oTEXJlNwX16UCvwKIQcGDaPWgWeObmsZETY4wozbEHkNKdr7kyTDevoGkAO56qayA1dgo_oXAQ/s320/failure0400.gif" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We have practically been brought up in a landscape where success, defined in terms of <i style="font-weight: bold;">fame, fortune and fans;</i> should be everyone's lifetime goal. The unnecessary stress this brings upon every individual is proven by the unarguable success of pharmaceutical companies making happy pills and the number of very affluent shrinks/therapists as well as cosmetic surgeons.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Something is terribly wrong here.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Growing up in a family where academic achievements defined your future, I chose to be the maverick. I refuse to follow my family's definition of success, much to the pain and chagrin of my parents. Whilst my big brother raked in the honours, I chose to be the apple of the Discipline's Office, The Detention Centre and the Guidance Counsellor. Nope, there was nothing clinically wrong with me, I just refused to be outstanding. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">However</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">, I was exemplary in matters where Citations were given but they were completely of a different nature. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I realized that because of this trait, I have become fearless about</span><b style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> "failing"</b><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">. You see here, the fear of failure tend to reduce your capacity to stretch and dare yourself. When you're afraid of failing, you're scared to dream; you tend to be catatonic and immobile, fretting over other people's opinions and feelings, instead of yours. You end up feeling comfortable with </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">mediocrity</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">, for as long as it is simple, safe and comfortable enough.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAOFatzHlm0-nLUAmAUy1v8pN8I3SAZAc_CMKXHvNxe5NhxdDyVjtJQMjVOOQQAEgrSNiHY_doNQYNCPaPJe1YFoCUgdkmaMQq3-fxkv7TeHSeBiKbKcIhKghw47bSirE0d0fOpS8NxyNS/s1600/fear-of-failure-768216.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAOFatzHlm0-nLUAmAUy1v8pN8I3SAZAc_CMKXHvNxe5NhxdDyVjtJQMjVOOQQAEgrSNiHY_doNQYNCPaPJe1YFoCUgdkmaMQq3-fxkv7TeHSeBiKbKcIhKghw47bSirE0d0fOpS8NxyNS/s320/fear-of-failure-768216.gif" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Life is too short to be fearful of failing. Didn't someone say before, <i>"it is not how many times you fall that counts, it is how quickly you can rise up again?"</i> or something like that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I think the simplest way to live with this is to accept realistically, that <b><u>Failure</u></b>, is always an option. This does not mean that you are not going to be giving your challenges your best shot, or that you have reduced your competitiveness. For me it simply means, that there is a possibility that I can fail, so I plan ahead to avoid it. If I still fail nonetheless, I move on. I just know for a fact that whatever you try to do and however you try your damn best to do it, sometimes, things just don't work out. I will not beat myself up for my failures. Shit happens, to the best of us. If shit hasn't happened to you, you'll probably be in for a major enema. Damn, that's going to be tougher!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Failure does not define who you are. The world and its men can call you such, but believe me, it is <u style="font-weight: bold;">not</u> your identity.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz_YxwuAcmz-hRVg_0vE0oPnO6YMoPxrs8OFJLzrDWZbbxSuyNxKysu8wSKGToBUXlunrVdaNTteuiif2W60Fk78RticGMubFmPAdK3-sXHWLdjtbFHZgEswi4vcY9hDE5nUWnqi_QrpMh/s1600/failure.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz_YxwuAcmz-hRVg_0vE0oPnO6YMoPxrs8OFJLzrDWZbbxSuyNxKysu8wSKGToBUXlunrVdaNTteuiif2W60Fk78RticGMubFmPAdK3-sXHWLdjtbFHZgEswi4vcY9hDE5nUWnqi_QrpMh/s320/failure.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Just dream on, be reckless, try on new things, do things that will make other people stop and think that you are actually, certifiably insane! Love with all you've got, don't hold back. It can probably cost you a lot, but who cares? Fail everyday! Embrace your frailty and move on. Live a little. Look at the "true" heroes and icons of the world, Vincent Van Gogh for instance, at some point people believed them to be deranged. They could be, but so what?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I follow Buddha's dictum: <i style="font-weight: bold;">"The only real failure in life is not to be true to the best one knows."</i> So I choose to tread on and risk, failing and falling, but each time, rising with greater enthusiasm than before. So to life, mankind and the world, bring it on!</span><br />
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</span>Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-9123106987539300642012-01-22T00:02:00.000-08:002012-01-22T00:02:22.973-08:00Twenty Three BASIC TRUTHS<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b><u>AUTHOR'S NOTE</u></b>:</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This POST has been <i>authored by someone else</i> and was passed on to me by a very good friend. Frankly I have no idea who I need to acknowledge to give credit for such a hilarious piece, but honestly, it is too tempting to pass on, it's criminal to keep it stale on my Inbox. If you chance upon this post Mr./Ms. Author, give me a holler, it's a great list!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Meanwhile back at the ranch, go ahead, have a little chuckle.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPSfq4DaO06hiK7eO8iWK1C2X_8z5UpR8KZ6By0cYk5qeW4u4OlcXRU4j_NdJmABgDqVhaIOu6cJy4sFJHGiWV_v0MA9lywq7QD29ki1eXymG85Y-G2xFkx-Ohyn4uC_dAAn35p37lvFxx/s1600/fish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPSfq4DaO06hiK7eO8iWK1C2X_8z5UpR8KZ6By0cYk5qeW4u4OlcXRU4j_NdJmABgDqVhaIOu6cJy4sFJHGiWV_v0MA9lywq7QD29ki1eXymG85Y-G2xFkx-Ohyn4uC_dAAn35p37lvFxx/s320/fish.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b>1. Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is. </b></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span lang="EN" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> <br />
2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.<br />
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3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.<br />
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4. There is great need for a sarcasm font.<br />
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5. How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?<br />
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6. Was learning <i>cursive</i> really necessary?<br />
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7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.<br />
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8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.<br />
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9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind-of tired.<br />
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10. Bad decisions make good stories.<br />
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11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.<br />
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12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blu Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection...again.<br />
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13. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to.<br />
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14. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.<br />
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15. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.<br />
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16. I disagree with Kay Jewelers; I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Light than Kay.<br />
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17. I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.<br />
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18. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.<br />
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19. How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word they said?<br />
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20. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters!<br />
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21. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.<br />
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22. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'd bet everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds - </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">eyes closed, first time, every time.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b> <br />
23. The first testicular guard, the "Cup," was used in Hockey in 1874 and the first helmet was used in 1974. That means it only took 100 years for men to realize that their brain is also important.</b></span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I don't know about you people, but #23 just takes the cake for me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
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</div>Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-76353498904005942082012-01-12T02:59:00.000-08:002012-01-12T02:59:11.708-08:00The Trouble With Hello Is Goodbye<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It has been almost a full year, roughly, by the end of this month, when by forces of nature or fate or whatever you prefer to call it, that I chanced upon Google forum's <b>THE COFFEE SHOP</b>. The experience has so much influenced me that it was the first post I ever wrote on this Blog: <a href="http://privatelegends.blogspot.com/2011/02/day-i-joined-coffee-shop.html">The Day I Joined The Coffee Shop</a></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjswlsmuNWNu78gniLuH-8avJc7Y9dZr_-Z_3egYEzJmWPqlHS-D23uvjUAjx1Ax_uyEn250Ku0xc89cO33yks-zgK5MaqReg_dwY2_aAy-Bgry4aDjaKxxBwtjDRERKtad_P7oqBb1sQi4/s1600/hello.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjswlsmuNWNu78gniLuH-8avJc7Y9dZr_-Z_3egYEzJmWPqlHS-D23uvjUAjx1Ax_uyEn250Ku0xc89cO33yks-zgK5MaqReg_dwY2_aAy-Bgry4aDjaKxxBwtjDRERKtad_P7oqBb1sQi4/s320/hello.png" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">January 2011 was a critical turning point in my life. My mother had an accident that required a total hip replacement surgery. As a consequence of worry and anxiety, this period started my many days, weeks, of sleeplessness, coming face to face with insomnia and my long-term love affair with the Internet-verse, Blogging and loving it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Perhaps most of you who read my Blog are part of this extended community in the Google-hood. And if you're not, damn shame, because whilst The Coffee Shop is still on its last stretch, how I wish you would catch it. This is where in this virtual landscape, that I met the most incredible, diverse, interesting, wonderful, obnoxious, intolerable and lovable people that ever banged upon a keyboard! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And then there's the <b>Saturday Night Cafe' </b>cum Bar cum Solace Nook. Where "souls" meet and sing and drink and dance or just pass through. Each soul carrying his own life stories; from the past, from the present and well into the future. A corner, practically a small dot in the Internet, where you get the chance to read about one's soul's search for meaning, relentless pursuit of true love, the start of a journey or the end of one, or simply, where one's soul speaks and another soul just listens.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6DlII5ELIP12b8XqI5k9NodihKhm0U4mRtlMNtPqN63JMVBkUm50iySE8fQyCilHbhtIrvv40SyX2uWSPkpUVdXEuRfu5JDbWkTiQmK3temHLwlwQ6z_OGexSU1VsLKAQxqHLsrs4gKoJ/s1600/soulmates1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6DlII5ELIP12b8XqI5k9NodihKhm0U4mRtlMNtPqN63JMVBkUm50iySE8fQyCilHbhtIrvv40SyX2uWSPkpUVdXEuRfu5JDbWkTiQmK3temHLwlwQ6z_OGexSU1VsLKAQxqHLsrs4gKoJ/s320/soulmates1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Ay, there's the rub. You say goodbye, I say Hello. The thing about all good things and all bad things, they all come to pass. Pretty soon, if not right at this moment, the landscape will be changed. How things will turn out in the new landscape of virtual interaction is anybody's intelligent guess. Endings are commonplace, it's a given whenever there is a beginning. Some people would say it is the quality of the journey that counts not how it ended. Some people would say it is how you started your quest and why.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I prefer to keep whatever I have learned and built in the entire journey with me as I move on to the next, for very selfish reasons. I have met great friends and they will all be part of my life's treasures. And no one can take that away from me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Someone did say something smart, sometime to somebody, <i style="font-weight: bold;">"In the end we are all separate: our stories, no matter how similar, come to a fork and diverge. We are drawn to each other because of our similarities, but it is our differences that we must learn to respect."</i> And this sums up my insightful experience in The Coffee Shop. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">American film director Orson Welles has a most logical quote about story endings: </span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"If you want a happy ending, that depends of course, on where you stop your story."</span></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieXWwz-c3uDWvOOFThyphenhyphen2k5NlfbUT3eP21AwJQOUWSHeZbPaSV4v2_T4HJjFD_VOUERBsXuI-299FNODht6OWCGYQz8UPOavMXZr5f5bQ1lvVlYILQvNj11moWRXQbwfN3VpDSoKsQOXXGp/s1600/goodbye-death-loneliness-sad-sadness-sorrow-pain-fanzwave-net.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieXWwz-c3uDWvOOFThyphenhyphen2k5NlfbUT3eP21AwJQOUWSHeZbPaSV4v2_T4HJjFD_VOUERBsXuI-299FNODht6OWCGYQz8UPOavMXZr5f5bQ1lvVlYILQvNj11moWRXQbwfN3VpDSoKsQOXXGp/s320/goodbye-death-loneliness-sad-sadness-sorrow-pain-fanzwave-net.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</span>Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-68838054123755414802011-12-29T23:00:00.000-08:002011-12-29T23:00:15.688-08:00And To All, A Happy New Year!<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A very wise man once said:</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow.</span></i></b> - Einstein</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">As we start our countdown to celebrating the dawn of 2012, I can't help but smile when I think about the thousand and one "meanings" we attribute to a new year.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">For some people I know, it means a whole night of drinking in total abandon and spending the first day of the year in a drunken stupor or with a massive hangover.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EqikWEPxRJQ/Tv1VN6sYgXI/AAAAAAAABxk/V4zpRMiqUWI/s1600/hangover+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EqikWEPxRJQ/Tv1VN6sYgXI/AAAAAAAABxk/V4zpRMiqUWI/s320/hangover+2.png" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">For several, it means a little more sedate, like revisiting a tattered list of resolutions made in the past year, only to re-write them again, on a new page, under a different chapter, but pretty much the same list, albeit with minor editions.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4YcKe-NjTpI/Tv1V6ZmvzMI/AAAAAAAABxw/XVLtjtBjs9k/s1600/new_years_resolutions_broke_416135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4YcKe-NjTpI/Tv1V6ZmvzMI/AAAAAAAABxw/XVLtjtBjs9k/s320/new_years_resolutions_broke_416135.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">For others, it means rekindling old friendships and building new ones. Or trashing old ones and choosing a totally different route. Moving on from past mistakes, making a vow never to take the same route ever. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sx7Ube4gVoQ/Tv1WkfF6y8I/AAAAAAAABx8/VyYAjmFCee4/s1600/%2527My+New+Year%2527s+resolution+is+to+take+up+golf+and+be+that+one+person+in+six.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sx7Ube4gVoQ/Tv1WkfF6y8I/AAAAAAAABx8/VyYAjmFCee4/s320/%2527My+New+Year%2527s+resolution+is+to+take+up+golf+and+be+that+one+person+in+six.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">All of these, remains to be seen, remains to be lived. We don't know really, there are no guarantees in this life, new year or otherwise.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I take a more simplistic approach to a new year. Something I can wrap my fingers around. Something I can completely and honestly relate with. Here's a quote that sums up, roughly right, my new year dictum; from <i>Anthony Robbins</i>, a motivational speaker in the 21st century:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b><i>"Live life fully while you're here. Take care of yourself and your friends. Have fun, be crazy, be weird. Go out and screw up! You're going to anyway, so might as well enjoy the process. Take the opportunity to learn from your mistakes: find the cause of your problem and eliminate it. Don't try to be perfect: just be an excellent example of being human."</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Sounds simple enough, but tougher than you think. Being human, characterized by compassion and kindness is fundamentally tough and a stretch for most of us. For me, in particular. I reckon I start from somewhere based on birthright, year on year. And I continue to be a work in progress. The Dalai Lama is right, absolutely everyone in the universe, regardless of race or faith, can not survive without human affection.</span></div><br />
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</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vPDtkDfv1fQ/Tv1dreXTaeI/AAAAAAAAByI/ti5GJ-Ar6Fw/s1600/maya_cartoon.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vPDtkDfv1fQ/Tv1dreXTaeI/AAAAAAAAByI/ti5GJ-Ar6Fw/s320/maya_cartoon.JPG" width="272" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 25px;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">If only for a day, or a week, or a month in 2012, people can see and act on an opportunity for kindness for other human beings and other forms of life, then who cares if the Mayans are right? The sun can explode on a universe of mankind that shines brightly in a sea of compassion.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LK91x4SuaSI/Tv1gW2xdvmI/AAAAAAAAByU/0GVFLfnwouU/s1600/HNY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LK91x4SuaSI/Tv1gW2xdvmI/AAAAAAAAByU/0GVFLfnwouU/s320/HNY.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So my dear friends, here's to making an end, a new beginning! My wish for you and yours, a wonderful New Year ahead! Cheers y'all!</span></div>Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-82047877257492384882011-12-15T09:07:00.000-08:002011-12-15T09:07:55.565-08:00HATE ON THE NET<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The age of technology has paved the way to fingertip access to information; e-buying and e-trading; e-reading; bridging distance via web-based communication; facilitating simulated and vicarious learning; among all the other attendant consequences of the Internet Universe. As I write this post, someone would have likely invented a gadget more powerful than what either of us are using now to read this.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It is however unfortunate that for every breakthrough humanity is given, we almost always naturally destroy its inspiration as we <u style="font-weight: bold;">ascribe</u> power <i>to ourselves</i> to use these advancements as an edge to further improve our<i> <b>skills on hating, bullying, segregation, bigotry</b> </i>and worst of all, increase our cowardice as we hide behind the comfort of an electronic tool to commit these acts of inhumanity by judging and ridiculing other people, trusting that we are protected by some distant, geographical servers.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>Do you really matter at all? Or what you think? Or what you say? I mean, seriously. Do you believe all that is possible just because ...?</i></span><br />
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<b style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">In real life terms, </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">there are very few people in this world who really matter to any one other person. In the same way, for anyone to matter a great deal to someone, <u>all the time</u>, is rare and far between. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The downside of the Internet community and the social networks has unfortunately increased man's capacity to delude himself by completely fracturing his mindset to think AND believe that the total number of <b><i>Friends</i></b> that <u>like you</u> on <i><b>Facebook</b></i> or<b><i> Follow You </i></b>on <i><b>Twitter</b></i> or play games with you, are in any way a good substitute or equivalent to <b style="font-style: italic;">warm-blooded, tactile, present and real-life friends and loved ones, </b>living right outside of the dark closet of your laptop or PC.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It's sad, no, I correct myself, it is tragic. People have grown accustomed to the "home-ness" of the little black (or white or alien) box, and the relative ease in using one of the most abused 3-letter word on the keyboard ...DEL. Delete, my dear friends, is not considered homicide.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXdaLrSk8WhbQBCj6DMBn0dBHXr5be1Vl12YIyyUGpsZAQovosPFuHZCDVNNnGPE0ShwWq7i0WHSj5yFfNpwa6xIF7Ec146uAgRAqgeajIIqNDDitYNurTarSOF0oG-vnIZHkDhlbeqpih/s1600/delete-all-tweets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXdaLrSk8WhbQBCj6DMBn0dBHXr5be1Vl12YIyyUGpsZAQovosPFuHZCDVNNnGPE0ShwWq7i0WHSj5yFfNpwa6xIF7Ec146uAgRAqgeajIIqNDDitYNurTarSOF0oG-vnIZHkDhlbeqpih/s320/delete-all-tweets.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The sky is blue, the clouds are white, and the air we breathe (as the last time I checked) is still tax-free. The world to date has 7 frickin' billion people. There are around 100 billion galaxies and approximately 30 sextillion stars in the observable universe. And here is something I hope everyone who would chance upon this post would appreciate and feel humbled - <b><i><u>an entire galaxy is seen as a small bright dot, a speck</u>.</i></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">If you happen to love and be loved by one other real-life person in this magnanimous galaxy, consider yourself lucky. Otherwise, you don't matter. Nor do I. Or anybody else. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I can't, for the life of me, explain all the hating and judging, whether in cyberspace or in real-life.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I can't simply rationalize why one person can feel so superior over another.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">How can one race be more intelligent?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">How can one creed be more righteous?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">How can one gender be considered more fortunate?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">If your preferences differ, how can you think your preferences are better than anyone else's?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Wealthy and affluent? Who the hell cares? You're still smaller than a dot.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Now, (getting off my soap box),</span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: bold;"> I am fortunate enough to have found a handful </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">(emphasis on the handful)</span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: bold;">, of online gems and another handful of loved ones and significant others who make my little speck in the universe glow with spectacular brilliance.</i><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>"It is better to be hated for who you are, than to be loved for someone you are not."</i></b></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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</span>Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807511764954512386.post-36958706267882708472011-11-29T03:10:00.000-08:002011-11-29T03:10:31.100-08:00DYING YOUNG<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It took quite a lot of thinking for me to write this post, but I figured it was something worth writing about. I really don't want to be dampening the holiday spirit but anyway ...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I remember a time in my life when I thought myself to be <u style="font-weight: bold;">immortal</u>. I drove fast, hell, I raced. I practically drank everyday and if there was no reason to drink, I will invent one. I love taking risks and daring the devil and found myself in situations when I look back on it today, I still cannot imagine how I managed to get out of it unscathed. Maybe some bruising and wounds, but aren't they supposed to be battle scars?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I remember those great fun times and I remember them.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">She was envious of the coming out party of a friend. So we said we'll make hers even more fabulous. The theme would be rainbow colours because she loved them all. That night, we all left the party irresponsibly drunk, but we had a driver. She was left behind somehow, so the next best thing to do to catch up with us in the Club we would hit was to ride in a bike. Vivian was really tall, statuesque even, because I remember she towered amongst us girls, and to call her a stunner was an understatement. Something went terribly wrong that night. The bike she shared with her cousin skidded when he tried to maneuver away from a big rock on the road, and she flew out of the bike and hit a tree trunk. We were laughing hysterically over nothing in the bar when the news hit us. On the day of her burial, we let go of a 1000 rainbow coloured butterflies. She never made it to 18 years old.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Olivia had always been goofy looking, but don't let that fool you, she was tops in the Vanity list and her physique was deceiving. We played a mean tandem in the volleyball team. I stopped and tossed, she spiked them hard. She's the only one I know who goes to a parlour before a volleyball match. Win or lose, she was properly coiffed. She loved life and everything beautiful about it. She always said she had something wrong with her blood, but in those days, who believed who? Everything was said in the spirit of jest and good times. One Saturday, I was told that she was rushed to the hospital, yet she was fussing over her manicure. Apparently, she refused to be ushered into the Emergency Room with her manicure colours cracking. We realized then, that her congenital cerebral disease was truly fatal. She died 2 days later. It was quick, too quick. We missed her spot in the Graduation Ball in High School. She wore her prom dress in her wake. She was vain till the end.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Carol and I are speed freaks. We have a <b><u>need for speed</u>. </b>We both raced in the Circuit. And Carol was a damn good driver.<b> </b>Carol's family is half-Chinese and extremely superstitious. They believed in signs, stars, numerology, astrology, name it. I guess when she was a young kid, Carol always had an illness or was accident-prone during her birthday month. Her parents always managed to tie her down when she was much younger and kept her in detention before she further harms herself every month of September. Some Chinese I have met believe August or September to be the Death Month. She wasn't supposed to drive, but that day, my big brother had the car and he promised to drop me off wherever we would hang out and collect me back when I wanted him too. We needed one more car, Carol, of course, volunteered. It was one more week before her birthday in September. Anna, Frieda and Lourdes rode with her. She was not even driving fast, but the truck driver that hit them from behind probably was. Her car toppled twice and hit the side of the road landing on its top. Anna recalled Carol's voice asking if everyone was alright. Everyone was alright but Carol never made it to the hospital. She died on the spot. She was going to be 21 years old.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I was doing my internship in my graduate school in Psychology when I chanced upon one of my Mom's closest girlfriend, Bernie, in a shopping mall. I have known Aunt Bernie since her kids were babies, Claire and Anton. Anton is a boy genius and I have been cruel enough several times to use him as my lab rat when I was doing my Psychology papers. Claire and I shared a lovely bond, so she took up Psychology because she wanted to be something like me. Aunt Bernie and Claire was out shopping that day, which was the usual time-killing hobby of the people that I call, <i>have tons of money to burn</i>. Claire had just turned 18 and she had a new sports car as a present, and now she wanted to join me in the Special Children's Clinic I was doing internship in, for a paper she had about <i>Autism in her Abnormal Psychology Class</i>. I told her to come over to the Clinic the week after as I will endorse her intent to the Head Clinician. That was October. I never saw her which then I thought was rather odd because Claire sounded so enthusiastic. When December came, one afternoon when I got home, I saw my mother's face fresh with tears and I asked what was wrong. She shakily told me Claire had passed just under a week ago due to some rare viral haemorrhagic fever. I was shocked to say the least. I told my Mother of the brief encounter I had with Claire and Aunt Bernie just a month ago and Claire looked so lovely and healthy. It was completely unbelievable, I said, they lived only 2 blocks away from a good hospital. Apparently, she never took her recurring fevers seriously. <i>(I could swear she felt immortal)</i> By the time they took her to the hospital, she was bleeding in all the holes of her body. I was stumped and completely in denial that the following weekend I drove to their place to check on Aunt Bernie, Anton and Uncle Alex. A caretaker met me at the gate with a Guard. The family had flown to an unknown destination. They left the house, the cars, everything they owned, intact. I was told they just flew with the clothes on their backs and the caretaker has not heard since. I dared a peek and I saw Claire's brand new red Corvette parked in the huge garage along with the other Beamers, Benz and Volvos. So much money and they couldn't save the life of their only daughter. I can only try to feel the agony of being in so much wealth and yet so helpless in the time of death of a loved one. Claire was 18 when she passed and I still remember her bright eyes and very charming smile.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Today, I don't think of myself immortal. I just think I'm blessed and lucky to still be around to enjoy whatever is worth enjoying in this transitory existence. I remember all these girls I have shared my life with and now they are gone; constantly reminding me that I should live my life fully as any time and in any way, it can easily be snatched from my hand. I have so grown up to consider everyday is a day of Thanksgiving. I am thankful I am still alive and whatever it is that is out there I still have to conquer, I will, whilst I still have the time and I still live. Call me foolish, but to everyone who will read this post, Happy Thanksgiving Day!</span>Psycho Babbling Basherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17232755958213827818noreply@blogger.com18