Tag Archives: entertainment

Say What???

Everything’s kind of opaque and ineffable.

I mean, one instance I’m animated, happy and glorious, right after that I become quite not implicit and assured, or I am confused and cluttered about life or I’m temporarily in a hodgepodge of feeling something sure-enough and feeling torpid and toom– sort of like I am an out-of-sight landscape devoid of color and peppy life.

That is the moment I thought emotionalism sure cannot be in the same bivouac with life.

Everything’s kind of like that, every single day. Breathing and living became an arduous routine. We were propelled into this state, like a garden-variety of misplaced inanimate objects pushed in a circle, like a prosaic assemblage meant to be displayed or hung in order for a designated niche to look lively and polychromatic, like we were lunged here just so our place wouldn’t look arid and unaccompanied, like we were born into this just so the integral void would be replaced by wights, like we were shoved into this without any given druthers.

We were woebegone lodestones that had been attracted and captured by life.

Living’s been colorful, you know? also tiring, disquieting, and discombobulating. Living became an uncongenial groove, something I wouldn’t want to be near or be placed in, something I wouldn’t want to get wind of, something better left unnoticed or undisclosed.

But when I am surrounded by people I desiderate and I set store by, only life and the way I feel become less onerous and more endurable.

Maybe, just maybe, life figuratively turns into a narrow and rough road when you perambulate by your own bootstraps. Some things are quagmires that are mystifying and hard-bitten to fix when you are broken-down, cloistered and etiolated, but everything becomes painless and lenient when there are people beside you who are willing to peregrinate and carry half the baggage of your pain and are willing to buoy up some of your throes.

In defiance of the mixed and capricious emotions I have, contrary to the uncertainties and debacle I might stumble upon, and knowing how painful and hellacious life is, perhaps life itself isn’t a voyage meant to be lived alone.

Words by Lois Anne Amigleo

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Truer Than True

“My experience of life is that it is not divided up into genres; it’s a horrifying, romantic, tragic, comical, science-fiction cowboy detective novel. You know, with a bit of pornography if you’re lucky.” ― Alan Moore

I could not have said it any better.

Add thriller horror action and drama to the mix and it’s complete.

I wonder what yours is.

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LMAO

I stumbled upon an article while searching for__ basically nothing and everything that made me laugh so hard it made my day. I have never been to the place and there is no way I would or could be there ever because it is in the country which will never ever be in my bucket list. But the author wrote the piece so graphically I could almost imagine how it looks like. She said:

You go there to feel good but you leave broke, disoriented, and with the new-found knowledge that you have a vaginal disease.

Unlike Vegas, Whole Foods’ clientele are all about mindfulness and compassion…until they get to the parking lot. Then it’s war. As I pull up this morning, I see a pregnant lady on the crosswalk holding a baby and groceries. This driver swerves around her and honks. As he speeds off I catch his bumper sticker, which says Namaste. Poor lady didn’t even hear him approaching because he was driving a Prius. He crept up on her like a panther.

Isn’t it hilarious?

Here’s another one:

Next, I see the gluten-free section filled with crackers and bread made from various wheat-substitutes such as cardboard and sawdust. I skip this aisle because I’m not rich enough to have dietary restrictions.

Ever notice that you don’t meet poor people with special diet needs? A gluten intolerant house cleaner? A cab driver with Candida? Candida is what I call a rich, white person problem.

Now, I know that I’m rich (I have lactose and gluten intolerance) and in danger of becoming a white person. (Not that it’s bad. I always dream of having long blond curly hair I can shake in the wind in a slow-motion fashion.)

This one is epic:

Next, I approach the beauty aisle. There is a scary looking machine there that you put your face inside of and it tells you exactly how ugly you are.

They calculate your wrinkles, sun spots, the size of your pores, etc. and compare it to other women your age. I think of myself attractive but as it turns out, I am 78 percent ugly, meaningless pretty than 78 percent of women in the world.

Isn’t she genius!

Her name is Kelly MacLean and if you want to read the whole article, head on HERE. And if you are feeling sensitive while reading, remember this ( directly quoting one of the commenters) Don’t take it literally or personally. The humor lies not in fact but in jest. 

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Aphorism And What Have you

“Memory is a crazy woman that hoards colored rags and throws away food.”

“Those who believe it is all right to tell little white lies soon grow color blind.”

The above quotes are both from Austin O’Malley.

Hard as I try I can’t understand what the first quote means. The second I have an inkling. Perhaps it wants to say that be careful telling harmless lies because if you practice it often enough sooner or later it will make you a bonafide liar. Or something like that. But the first I have no idea. I googled it several times but no one out there can give me anything. Like me, they seem to be baffled. 

Care to try anyone?

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Mr. Right

If someone would ask me which part in a movie I would like to play, that would be of Bathsheba Everdene, the heroine in Thomas Hardy’s Far From The Madding Crowd. And like Carey Mulligan, who insisted and got what she wanted, I would love Matthias Schoenaerts to play Gabriel Oak. Heck, I would play any part opposite him. Physically, the guy has everything I don’t fancy in a man but there is something about him that makes him so irresistible and he is a Belgian which makes him more accessible to me. Dream big right?

On the other hand, the storyline isn’t new to me. Move over Bathsheba, if you got three suitors vying for your attention, I once had five if not an entire basketball team.

But that was once upon a time.

Dreaming of Matthias Schoenaerts is what’s now left of my once technicolor life.

Still, dream big right?

And keep dreaming…

Matthiasschoenaerts

A Penny For Your Thoughts

There was this cartoon…

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That sparked these reactions…

“That’s body-shaming, racism, sexism, judgmental, prejudicial and a million other things in one tiny strip.”

“You’re all getting the wrong message from this. The girl was completely dependent on her body for confidence, like its the only asset she has. But when she found a book, gradually her world view changed. What she thought was her only power, didn’t matter anymore, because her world was enlarged.”

“And it is racist. The girl gets lighter skinned as she gets “smarter” and more clothed. As if whiter people are less promiscuous and self-respecting. This is gross.”

“No, that’s reality: when you’re smart you don’t waste your time (and money) in frivolous things like false appearance (makeup, brand clothes, jewels), plus you don’t serve your body for eye candy cause you know you worth more than a free slut.”

“Where you see racism I see a woman who is relying on her physical image to satisfy herself where she then finds self-confidence by finding a book and becoming successful through getting an education. The “dark to lighter” I interpreted as layers of spray tan being worn off to the woman’s genetic skin color over time as she did not worry so much about her physical appearance as time went on.”

“Only too a touchy inner judgmental little soul.. why not just see past your emotional reaction and see a message that intelligence can be just as sexy.”

“I’m trying to figure out how you came to the conclusion that she was dependent on her body, it the only asset she has. That’s a pretty profound thing to assume about a woman solely based on how she’s dressed, which you might have done without realizing.”

“So we turn white when we do good?”

“APPEARANCE HAS LITTLE TO NOTHING TO DO WITH INTELLECT”.

“You’re all wrong, it’s the line to Starbucks. How does anyone think this is the same girl 5x?”

My own thoughts, I will keep for myself.

How about you?

What do you think?

Seems kind of pointless to be honest

It’s all about this picture quote: (featuring a battered foot of a ballet dancer)

“Everyone wants to be successful until they see what it actually takes.”

One Ian Patrick Pearce said:

“Some of us wanted to do what it takes until we saw what “successful” looks like. 
Not many people who give me advice have lives I want. Almost no one does. 
Redefining my own personal meaning for success has been a much more worthwhile endeavor.”

Which a Roylee Walker answered:

“So you basically mean lowering your standards until you are satisfied.”

And Ian retorted:

“No, I mean redefining our own personal meaning of success. Which is what I said.
For me, it meant only competing to be better than the me from yesterday, and no one else. For you, it can mean lowering your standards, and that’s okay.”

A William Albert chimed in:

“We don’t need to be successful, we need to be Happy.”

Hetha Smetha (I wonder if it is really her name) thrown in:

“I’ll take mediocrity…those who want it can have it.”

And others contributed their unremarkable thoughts. Some of them downright stupid but C’est la vie. Me, I learned a lot from listening and shutting my mouth, unless I have something meaningful to say.

And life goes on.

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Thursday’s Artistic Hemorrhage

husband:

The Tent Pole Is Up,

The Canvas Is Spread,

The Hell With Breakfast,

Come Back To Bed.

wife:

Take The Tent Pole Down,

Put The Canvas Away,

The Monkey Had A Hemorrhage,

No Circus Today.

husband:

The Tent Pole’s Still Up,

And The Canvas Still Spread,

So Drop What You’re Doing,

And Come Give Me Some Head.

wife:

I’m Sure That Your Pole’s

The Best In The Land.

But I’m Busy Right Now,

So Do It By Hand!

~ rbxr

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Oops I Did It Again

After a long wait I finally found the time to revised and published the third installment of five autobiographical books I have written more than twenty years ago and hid in a shoe box inside a closet. I did not do it for money or fame but for future reference. For safe keeping. Time is running out and I want it to be out there before it’s too late.

You can find it here. As usual, there is a picture widget on the right side of my blog and if you click the image it will bring you to my author page. Check it out when you have some time to spare.

The book is about Michael and his journey of becoming a man and meeting the love of his life and future wife. But life is never been that straight forward and seldom obstacle free. The woman he set his eyes on is not only married with two kids, she is also his teacher. Can Michael bridge the gap of age, education, background and social status between them? Can true love really conquer all?

Why don’t you find out?

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Crank

“Girls get screwed.
Not that kind of screwed, what I mean is, they’re always on the short end of things.

The way things work, how 
guys feel great, but make girls feel
cheap for doing
exactly what 
they beg for.

The way they get to play you, 
all the while claiming they 
love you and making you 
believe it’s 
true.

The way it’s okay to gift their heart one day, a backhand the next, 
to move on to the apricot
when the peach blushes and bruises.

These things make me believe God’s a man after all.” 

― Ellen Hopkins, Crank

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I Am a Rock

A winter’s day
In a deep and dark
December
I am alone
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow
I am a rock
I am an island

I’ve built walls
A fortress deep and mighty
That none may penetrate
I have no need of friendship, friendship causes pain
It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain
I am a rock
I am an island

Don’t talk of love
But I’ve heard the words before
It’s sleeping in my memory
I won’t disturb the slumber of feelings that have died
If I never loved I never would have cried
I am a rock
I am an island

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me
I am shielded in my armor
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb
I touch no one and no one touches me
I am a rock
I am an island

And a rock feels no pain
And an island never cries.

-Songwriters: Paul Simon & Art Garfunkel

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Calling

At long last...

After sitting in a shoe box inside the closet with four others for almost twenty years, I finally have the courage to publish the second installment in a pentalogy of autobiographical stories about a need and desire so strong it transcends time and death. Each book in this series can stand alone and can be read in any order.

ask yourself:

What are you prepared to give up for freedom? How far are you willing to go to follow your heart’s desire?  Would you put everything on the line for something that cannot last? Do you have enough courage to challenge the status quo and go against the flow even if it is for the wrong reasons? How important is a family for you? Are you willing to sacrifice them for a moment of madness, for a fleeting glimpse of what could have been?

This story will question everything you believe in and more. 

As usual, I put an image widget on the right sidebar of my homepage. You can click it if you wish and it will bring you to my author page where you can sample and purchase the book if desired. I copy the link here as well for easy access. Until next time… 

MeaCulpa

Daily Prompt: Calling