Tag: entertainment
Sponsorship
There is something that bothers me about this. I find it downright sexist.
Windmills Of Your Mind
Round like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel
Never-ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel
Like a snowball down a mountain, or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that’s turning running rings around the moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face
And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind!
Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its own
Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never shone
Like a door that keeps revolving in a half-forgotten dream
Or the ripples from a pebble someone tosses in a stream
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face
And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind!
Keys that jingle in your pocket, words that jangle in your head
Why did summer go so quickly, was it something that you said?
Lovers walking along a shore and leave their footprints in the sand
Is the sound of distant drumming just the fingers of your hand?
Pictures hanging in a hallway and the fragment of a song
Half remembered names and faces, but to whom do they belong?
When you knew that it was over you were suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning to the color of her hair!
Like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel
Never-ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel
As the images unwind, like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind!
[source: LyricFind]
The Joker
Contrary to popular belief, I don’t want to rock the boat, the boat is f—ing rocked. ~ Joaquin Phoenix
Someone asked me if I have seen The Joker yet and I answered no. In my mind, the no is in reality never. I don’t like Joaquin Phoenix. I don’t like him because I love his brother. And compared to River Phoenix Joaquin not only pales but totally disappears. Not only in appearance but in talents. Why on earth he has to die? The brother I mean. It could have been Joaquin instead.
I know… I know… Cruel. But that is how I feel.
We all know he won the Oscar and the Bafta and the Golden Globe etc. etc. I am aware of his out of the box speeches but still, I am not convinced. I saw some of his performances (by accident if they play them on television I will watch him for a while to see what he got) but each time it reminds me of what he is lacking compared to his brother. He doesn’t have the looks of River, he doesn’t have the charisma, he doesn’t have the natural acting abilities, he doesn’t have the aura and he doesn’t have the talents. He could probably act (or otherwise he will not win all those awards) and he probably is okay as a person but still, I don’t like him. Watching him up there on the stage delivering his speech I thought: It could have been River. It could have been River accepting those awards and delivering those speeches because we all know how great an actor he was. A unique and promising talent that had been taken away so soon before it could flourish. What a waste! What a pity! Life is so unfair!
If River lives, there would probably never been a Joaquin (as an actor) He will forever be living in the shadow of his more talented brother. And I probably will not dislike him this much. But as it is, every time I see him, every time he won an award, I think of his dead brother and what could have been. Mea Culpa Joaquin, but you cannot hold a candle to River. Truly not.
Self-Defense
When I cannot sleep or too agitated to rest, I fantasize. Conjuring up scenarios in my head to cheer me up and calm me down. But most of the time I ruined my own fantasy by wanting everything to be perfect. Every move, every word has to be precise, even the lighting has to be perfect or otherwise, I cannot move from one scene to another. The keyword is feeling. If a certain setting doesn’t evoke the emotion I want to achieve, it will not do for me. When a person in my fantasy look at me across the room, I want to feel something, when someone holds my hand, whisper in my ear, sing a song, tells a joke, I want to feel it inside, I want the gesture to move me, or otherwise I will repeat the scene over and over in my head till I get it right.
I know it’s craziness but I can’t help it. If I want to escape reality, the fantasy must be damn good, or otherwise, what’s the use?
Don’t judge me for escaping the stresses and cruelty of the world
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
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.
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.
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
Care to try anyone?
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…
A Penny For Your Thoughts
There was this cartoon…
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.
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
MY OWN PRIVATE IDAHO 
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