"V" is for Virgin.

hahaha...this came up on my "recommended for you" section on my youtube account... and i just had to post it. haha. I wasn't really drawn to this video... thought the intro was kinda lame haha... glad i stuck through it and watched the whole thing though. It's not the best, but, it made me smile and laugh. haha.

I'm a virgin, and proud! =) hope all you other virgin's out there find this atleast a TAD bit humorous or entertaining lol.

love it.

So... i went to the library to try and look for some stuff on Jhumpa Lahiri and Jorge Luis Borges.. for my research paper... and... i had been planning to do my paper on Borges, but then i was beginning to think about switching it to Lahiri because i just love her.. butttt... the guy who helped me at the library said that he thinks i'd probably have better luck finding more things on Borges (even though his actual literature is more challenging to read than Lahiri)..and so i stuck with Borges! & the guy.. or man, whatever u wanna call him, that works at the library knew so much! i was like thanks dude! you really helped out =) ANYWAYYY... this is not the point of my post... the point of it is..:

Afterwards, i went to look for the Murakami book i had returned a few days before... and upon finding it, i ALSO found other Murakami books.. one of them being "After Dark." The cover reminded me of something i'd seen in "Lost in Translation," and so, considering i'm a fan of that movie, the cover sorta drew me in... i opened to the first page... and wowww... i found myself smiling and shaking my head side to side thinking "Murakami, you're so clever." i totally want to read the book now but i have too much hmwk... so i'm going to try and read it over spring break. =) but yeah... here's the opening paragraph =) hopefully i'm not the only one who'll enjoy it:

"Eyes mark the shape of the city.
Through the eyes of a high-flying night bird, we take in the scene from midair. In our broad sweep, the city looks like a single gigantic creature-- or more like a single collective entity created by many interwining organisms. Bountless arteries stretch to the ends of its elusive body, circulating a continuous supply of fresh blood cells, sending out new data and collecting the old, sending out new consumables and collecting the old, sending out new contradictions and collecting the old. To the rhythm of its pulsing, all the parts of the body flicker and flare up and squirm. Midnight is approaching, and while the peak of activity has passed, the basal metabolism that maintains life continues undiminished, producing the basso continuo of the city's moan, a monotonous sound that neither rises nor falls but is pregnant with foreboding."

random poem

we read a poem called "Song For Bird and Myself" by Jack Spice in poetry class today.. and it inspired me to write this heap of words:

CLICHE UPON CLICHE: THE POEM

love, love, love, then something about a dove
or about above or perhaps
below.. yes, below
the eyes and past the nose, to the lips.
soft and moist, like the lips below the hips, and of course,
between these 4 lips lies the heart.
the ever so famous heart. beat beat bawl. beat beat fall to weak in the knees.
cupid and hearts and love love love. like a mirror
to poor Narcissus. No, selfishness never works. Yes,
the heart, or what it the soul?
And where was the soul again? Here? There?
Where does it lie? Oh and the lies! the lies and their words! But the truth,
the truth
somehow lies in THESE words,
MY words, THE words you are reading, wondering why they don't rhyme.
Could this be mere words posing as a poem? No. No.
It couldn't be... after all, it mentions love, love, love, and
dove, and above. But the metaphors... Where are the metaphors?
Like finding out your English teacher was your father's mistress,
revealing that OHHH! of revelation! that "oh! THAT'S WHY my brother's eyes are blue!"
Metaphors, yes, metaphors explain things like why eyes are blue, or green like lust, or was it money?,
or white like virgins,
like the KKK,
like the white man devil,
or red like passion, like thirst, like blood,
or grey like the FOG that covers MY soul, HIS soul, HER soul, our souls,
or brown like the MUD that covers HER soles, HIS soles, MY soles.
Time, and life, and ohh's! and ahh's! and yes, and truth! and enlightenment! and revelations! and MEANING! and love love love! seek it all in a poem,
in words,
or maybe not.
[climatic point.] Now isn't that what life was made for?




random. but yeah. <3

killer headache.

i hate not knowing what's "best for me."

i have a picture of "what i want" in my head... but... i don't let myself strive for it because i allow myself to believe that "maybe it's not the best thing for me." ...i wish i could just go on a vacation with myself.. and somehow magically run into a handful of amazing people who could school me on some of the "facts of life".. it doesn't even have to be a "handful".. maybe just 1.. or 2.. or 3. hah.

my head hurts.

grr.

Strange Hurt

Strange Hurt

In times of stormy weather
She felt queer pain
That said,
"You'll find rain better
Than shelter from the rain."

Days filled with fiery sunshine
Strange hurt she knew
That made
Her seek the burning sunlight
Rather than the shade.

In months of snowy winter
When cozy houses hold,
She'd break down doors
To wander naked
In the cold.

_Langston Hughes

i love that last stanza... the fact that she's naked shows just how EXPOSED she is.. how NATURAL she is. She's naked. She's herself, and nothing more. Naked and vulnerable. Hurt. I don't think you can truly know a person until you've seen them at their worst.. until you've seen them down and HURT..Vulnerable. it's easy when we're HAPPY. happiness numbs us from all the bad things out there.. but when we're hurt.. we become so sensitive.. the way we deal with it shows our strengths and weaknesses.

Wandering naked in the cold is like saying...
i'm here, and i'm vulnerable. take me as i am. this is me. love me or hate me, it's up to you, but atleast i have the balls to SHOW YOU WHO I REALLY AM.

stuck.

Lately, i've been feeling STUCK.

it's like, one of those gooey sticky hand toys that you can get in a quarter machine.




you throw it towards a window or wall, and it STICKS, and it feels good.. it's like, muahaha, i made you STICK to the wall damn it! i didn't even have to put much force into it and now your STUCK... but then... it unsticks.. and comes back to you.

that's how i feel.

I'm allowing myself to be thrown and stuck from window to wall, window to wall, only to be thrown back to the place in which i started.

it's really rather depressing.

i don't know what to do about it anymore.

and so, i guess i'm left with no choice other than to LIVE. go on.. be stuck and then unstuck.. it's boring staying in one place anyway.

i think i'm in love.

with Anoop Desai!

the next American Idol thank you very much. hahah. =] i love this guy. pretty much made me melt when i saw him audition for Idol. i never really stuck to the show... till maybe THIS season. woo hoo! go Anoop! lol. check him out(as a former soloist member of UNC's Clefhangers):

angel of mine..




i'll make love to you...



the only one for me...




sorry if u hate him. i don't =] haha