they are, you are, we all are.

where did the time go?:

someone said to me, “every morning, we reinvent ourselves.”

they said, “we wake up and make decisions everyday.”

“you can wake up tomorrow and not want to be around any of those peoples.”

they said, “you can decide to be different and not let those influences be part of who you are.”

i say,

too late. 

every experience, every person who’s left their mark on you - good or bad - you are the total product.

acknowledge it, embrace it, and be happy in who you are - no one else can be you better than you.

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Tagged as: me,writing,memories,personal October 22, 2009 @ 11:10 am

where did the time go?

one day, you’re in high school, waiting for it to just all be over so you can GET OUT…

then, *blink*,

fast forward,

you’re sitting in a mall, chatting with your friends, waiting for your store to open so you can go to work, so that you can LEAVE and go have a good time…

then, *blink*,

fast forward,

it’s 20 years and several lifetimes later, and you’re wondering where all that time went, waiting to *feel* like the adult you most certainly must have become when you weren’t even looking…

did i tell you about the time i ran with bandidos?  probably not.  that was so many previous lifetimes ago that it’s hard to believe it was me.  whatever else they did, they kept it separate from me and treated me with a measure of respect and kindness that few would have ever expected of them and i am forever grateful.

or the time i stood with a crowd of stunned onlookers as a car exploded into flames, trapping it’s occupants inside?  several hundred people and the only sound was that of the flames and one lone voice screaming, “oh my god, oh my god” over and over.  i think that was me.

then there was the time…

and the time…

it just keeps passing.  so many lifetimes.  so many people passing through. 

every now and again, those people make indelible marks on the person you are and the person you are to become.

i am me, because of my peoples.

Blogged, Just for Fun, Writing, Personal, Memories, Comments (4)
Tagged as: me,writing,memories,personal August 12, 2009 @ 11:41 am

poetry sunday: the lovers of the poor, gwendolyn brooks

The Lovers of the Poor

    arrive. The Ladies from the Ladies’ Betterment
      League
Arrive in the afternoon, the late light slanting
In diluted gold bars across the boulevard brag
Of proud, seamed faces with mercy and murder hinting
Here, there, interrupting, all deep and debonair,
The pink paint on the innocence of fear;
Walk in a gingerly manner up the hall.
Cutting with knives served by their softest care,
Served by their love, so barbarously fair.
Whose mothers taught: You’d better not be cruel!
You had better not throw stones upon the wrens!
Herein they kiss and coddle and assault
Anew and dearly in the innocence
With which they baffle nature. Who are full,
Sleek, tender-clad, fit, fiftyish, a-glow, all
Sweetly abortive, hinting at fat fruit,
Judge it high time that fiftyish fingers felt
Beneath the lovelier planes of enterprise.
To resurrect. To moisten with milky chill.
To be a random hitching post or plush.
To be, for wet eyes, random and handy hem.
      Their guild is giving money to the poor.
The worthy poor. The very very worthy
And beautiful poor. Perhaps just not too swarthy?
Perhaps just not too dirty nor too dim
Nor—passionate. In truth, what they could wish
Is—something less than derelict or dull.
Not staunch enough to stab, though, gaze for gaze!
God shield them sharply from the beggar-bold!
The noxious needy ones whose battle’s bald
Nonetheless for being voiceless, hits one down.

Continue Reading...

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Tagged as: writing,poetry July 05, 2009 @ 05:30 am

cool links on a ~hot~ day

nearing 100F again today with humidity around 77%.  you could take a bite out of the air, but you’d need to blow on it first to cool it off enough.  me, i’m stayin’ inside where it’s ~cool~, lest i spontaneously combust.

anyways, mah collection of neat links for the week:

100+ alternative search engines you should know - (there’ll be a test later.)

50 free resources that will improve your writing skills - (i kin tipe n speel jes’ fine, kthx.)

30 calorie peanut butter - (lick off the spoon?  more like leave a spoonful and lick out the jar.)

and to close it out, a coupla ~neat videos~.  stoned cats and bill maher, what more could you want?

dude.  wait.  whut?

“we don’t have a left and a right party… we have a center-right party and a crazy party.  over the past 30 years, democrats have moved to the right and the right has moved into a mental hospital.” - bill maher

Blogged, Life, Lists, Just for Fun, humor, videos, Current Events, Politics, Tech, Writing, Comments (2)
Tagged as: humor,politics,writing,food,lists,links,webdesign July 03, 2009 @ 02:31 pm

today is brought to you by the letter Z

To pragmatists, the letter Z is nothing more than a phonetically symbolic glyph, a minor sign easily learned, readily assimilated, and occasionally deployed in the course of a literate life. To cynics, Z is just an S with a stick up its butt.

Well, true enough, any word worth repeating is greater than the sum of its parts; and the particular word-part Z can, from a certain perspective, appear anally wired.

On those of us neither prosaic nor jaded, however, those whom the Fates have chosen to monitor such things, Z has had an impact above and beyond its signifying function. A presence in its own right, it’s the most distant and elusive of our twenty-six linguistic atoms; a mysterious, dark figure in an otherwise fairly innocuous lineup, and the sleekest little swimmer ever to take laps in a bowl of alphabet soup.

Scarcely a day of my life has gone by when I’ve not stirred the alphabetical ant nest, yet every time I type or pen the letter Z, I still feel a secret tingle, a tiny thrill…

Z is a whip crack of a letter, a striking viper of a letter, an open jackknife ever ready to cut the cords of convention or peel the peach of lust.

A Z is slick, quick, arcane, eccentric, and always faintly sinister - although its very elegance separates it from the brutish X, that character traditionally associated with all forms of extinction. If X wields a tire iron, Z packs a laser gun. Zap! If X is Mike Hammer, Z is James Bond. If X marks the spot, Z avoids the spot, being too fluid, too cosmopolitan, to remain in one place.

In contrast to that prim, trim, self-absorbed supermodel, I, or to O, the voluptuous, orgasmic, bighearted slut, were Z a woman, she would be a femme fatale, the consonant we love to fear and fear to love.

- Tom Robbins

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Tagged as: books,writing May 22, 2009 @ 10:04 am