jaune

... tragic and inexcusable

Googlism : Teena

hmm

a hint of saline in an otherwise Eden existence
a crack in a pristine ivory-pale shell
a peek into an eternal depth of loss and sadness and unrequited love
a gasp in an even wave of breathing
a ripple in a silent pablum motion
a pause to blink; to savor and torment a blighted spirit.

... ... ...

ave atque vale

we've just met; already i am tired of you.
you pay no heed to others.
yet when you do, you are an endless well of calumny.
you want the world to fall hapless at your feet.
you are angry that it wouldn't give in;
angry that it cruelly etches your loneliness
into the glass walls that keep you within.
farewell.
your infinite sadness is contagious.
i fear for myself.

cum tacent, clamant

could you hear my thoughts?
they're scrambling one after the other,
impatiently racing to the surface of this lucid moment.
drowning in the smoke, suffering your ignorance.

p*ssy r*d

my nail color doesn't match my blouse.
i'm trying to preserve the paint on my left pinky.
just shows how careless i am, not how busy.

easily

i have ignored my mental ramblings for as long as possible.
i guess it's time to get off that pill.

so.
just about now i'm at a loss for words.
i'm trying to speak but i can't.

hold that thought. let me take a long drag on my ciggie first.
uh, yeah. ok, that felt good.

i am at a point in my life where i feel everything is still pointless.
my achievements are that of an underachiever.
i am a loser.

haunting

i am walking barefoot into a path i chose to forget
the moonlight my only guide.
i pause. and blink. and rub the dust deeper into my eyes.
somehow i'm thankful i'm alone.

"How Could You?"

When I was a puppy I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?" - but then you'd relent and roll me over for a bellyrub.
My housetraining took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed, listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs," you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.
Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.
She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" - still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love."
As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them, especially their touch - because your touch was now so infrequent - and I would have defended them with my life if need be.
I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams. Together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway. There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being your dog to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.
Now you have a new career opportunity in another city and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.
I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog or cat, even one with "papers."
You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life. You gave me a goodbye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too.
After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "How could you?"
They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you - that you had changed your mind - that this was all a bad dream...or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited.
I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table, rubbed my ears and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood.
She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?"
Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself - a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. With my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not meant for her. It was you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of. I will think of you and wait for you forever.
May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.

An excerpt from Jim Willis' book, Pieces Of My Heart

i've rendered myself broke again.
i'm stricken with chronic ebay-itis.
i buy stuff online armed with the excuse that i could easily resell it on ebay.
i've discovered, the hard way, that that is not exactly true.
i don't actually share the same fashion sense with the rest of the world.
now i have to look for a way to get rid of everything.
well, maybe sell enough junk to buy more garbage.

2005: year in review

It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m shut in my brother’s room in front of the computer when I should be out with my family celebrating (or probably snogging my boyfriend). Maybe it’s because I’m turning 28 this year and finally felt like acting my age that I’ve suddenly turned emo and decide to reflect on the year past.
’05 taught me that even parents aren’t perfect and that they’re also human, but that isn’t an excuse for them to drag their kids into their relationship crises. I’ve learned that no matter how much I convince either parent, neither will believe that I haven’t taken the side of the other.
Absolut Kurant with Sprite in a girlie bar isn't a good mix. Me in a girlie bar with my boss and officemates (all men)... Uh. Yeah. Let's end it there.
Diet and men in the same sentence? Try diet and men in the same office! I'm surrounded with testosterone and it hasn't helped my weight. Especially the fact that when the guys and I lunch out, I end up eating more than I'm supposed to without a female diet buddy around.
Just before Christmas, my phone was stolen. The realization that more than a decade of friendship doesn’t matter to a moocher much less the fact that I loved her enough to confront her and give her the chance to tell me why taught me that ne humanus crede is a perfect personal motto. Losing my phone wasn’t the painful part; it was hearing my friend lie to me, and hearing myself actually trying to make it a painless confession. I felt sick to my stomach learning that I’m just a lousy pushover. The tragedy of it all? She didn’t own up.
I’ve spent 2005 searching for happiness. I honestly didn’t know where to start. I have a good enough paycheck. I get driven to work. I have a scrumptious boyfriend. I can talk hours on end on my mobile because I don’t foot the bill. My work is play (I actually wear flipflops to work). My parents have learned to let me be the adult for once and I can stay out for as long as I want (that’s 3am in their book.). All that and yeah, all right. I admit I am hard to please.
But ’06 is something I can really REALLY look forward to. My boyfriend and I have rented an apartment and in mid-January we’re opening shop. An internet café with couches! Well, just a couple of them though. We’ve decided that this year might not be a good time to tie the knot, maybe being business partners would be like living together. I’ll just keep on telling myself that and find my own brand of happiness. Hmm.