Monday, November 26, 2007

-get a life, losers.-

If I receive one more email telling me exactly how horrible and painful a death I can expect if I don't repost it, I am going to make the sender have that horrible and painful death he wishes upon everyone else.

What is wrong with you people anyway? Do you honestly believe that monsters will crawl out from under your bed and eat you if you don't forward one lousy little email? Are you really shallow enough to think that some horribly disfigured humanoid will come out of your closet and dig your eyes out of their sockets if you don't pass along a threatening message?

(Do you know how many threats I've cleared from my inbox? Do you know how much I'm still alive and kicking right now? Alive enough to kick your butt, that's how much.)

What if I tell you then, that the Master of All Darkness will eat the whole lot of you losers if you pass along any more annoying, useless chain emails?

There's a bunch of people out there who want their emails to be known to the world (for what reason i really do not understand), or who are just lousy enough to have all the time in the world. And how do they do that? They compose a long email about how the reader will be cursed with imminent death if he doesn't pass it along. And the reader just passes it on like the idiot that he is.

I am so pissed off. Stop sending me stupid messages about how chain-mail karma is out to get me because I don't forward the email to 50 people. Stop telling me my relationships will fail for seven years because I don't pass along a pathetic reach for net-fame. Stop threatening my family, my friends, my life, just because you're a sad, daft, pathetic loser with no friends, so much so that you take and revel in all the attention you can get, even if it's in the form of general annoyance.

Stop wasting everyone's time, and do something productive.

Get a life, losers.

Labels: reads

| so spoken! @ 7:12 PM|

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Sunday, November 25, 2007

-arty-farty.-

The stuff that happens in art museums;






| so spoken! @ 11:57 AM|

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Thursday, November 22, 2007

-random.-

Feed the starving African kids, dammit ._.

Labels: picture post, random

| so spoken! @ 10:46 AM|

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Wednesday, November 14, 2007

-LP!-

And despite the lack of moshing and the 'bery not-on crowd', LP concerts are still one of the best things in life.

I won't be able to sleep tonight, I'm high.


| so spoken! @ 1:34 AM|

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Monday, November 12, 2007

-freakish.-

Libra

| so spoken! @ 10:54 PM|

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Saturday, November 10, 2007

-just because-

Oh yeah. That's why.

Have you sometimes pondered over something for such a very long time, so much so that you get a permanent nagging voice at the back of your head because a) you can't figure it out, or b) you can't understand it? And then when you finally get it, you get this huge sense of relief because it's out of your head for good and you think; Oh yeah, that's why.

(there was a nagging voice at the back of my head when i first started thinking about it but then couldnt understand how people can still starve when the world is so developed uh huh im hearing voices in my head now yes i am are you scared of me yet huh)

Something else got into my head recently, and did it's nagging thing at the back of my mind.

Our problems are so huge to us. They take over everything we do, and then after awhile that's the only thing on our minds, while we try to find ways to get over (or ignore) it.

Now, after that thought came out, the one that followed was, The problem, no matter how big it is to you, is never as big when you tell it to someone else. No matter how dramatic you make it sound, no matter how much of a sob-story you make it out to be. Why? Because they have their own problems to attend to. And they don't need the extra hassle of being in your shoes and trying to experience what you're feeling. (Oh yeah. That's why.)

But God. God loves every single person. And no matter how big a problem a person is facing, it is equally big in every way to God. If it matter alot to you, it matters a whole lot to God, too.

And I wondered. God loves so many people. And each person comes free with their own sets of difficulties, setbacks, troubles. How does He tend to each and every one of our trivial problems, help each and every person without bias, without judging?

And then one day when I was thinking about it, it hit me. He is God. He loves every single person with a pure and unbiased love, because He is God (Oh yeah. That's why). It is possible for him to take every one of our trivial problems, even the ones we don't know about yet, and tend to them, care about them, because He is God (Oh yeah. That's why).

And our problems are as big as they are to Him as they are to us. He takes them from us. He will never abandon us in a rut. He will always care about each and every one of us, unprejudiced. He will love us unconditionally.

Why? Just because He is God (oh yeah. that's why).



| so spoken! @ 6:33 PM|

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Friday, November 09, 2007

-you should all clock yourselves with a sledgehammer-

The world demands. The world screams (and whacks you upside the head with a wooden hammer) for cooperation. And the world expects deliverance.

People demand. People scream (and whack you behind your back so you puke on the carpet) for cooperation. And people expect deliverance.

Whatmoredoyouwantfromme. How far over the edge do you want me to go.

Because I give up. And you vultures can have my carcass. I give up. Are you happy now? Huh?

Labels: ranting.

| so spoken! @ 11:38 PM|

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Sunday, November 04, 2007

--

A bunch of selfish bastards walk this Earth.
(and that includes you reading this, mister)


I've been wondering for a few days now. Why spend hundreds of millions on an indoor sports stadium, on the integrated resorts, on the many material objects the country could very well do without; when there are poor starving kids in Africa, when in the US alone, 13million kids go to sleep hungry each night?

It bugged me. It made me stay up thinking. If I were one of those 13 million children, I would be hating the world right now. I would be cursing at everyone, screaming injustice to the skies in the desperate hopes that the stars would hear me. Or maybe I would be too hungry to think anymore, so much so that it dulled my senses, that I resigned to my starving fate.

Is that how the world treats kids? By starving them into resignation? The sad truth is, no. Only the unlucky kids, which consist of over 30 million children.

Thirty Million Children are going to bed hungry and have resigned to their fate simply because the world has turned its back on them. Thirty Million Children are going to bed hungry because nobody buys them food. Thirty Million Children are going to bed hungry because you, yes you, have just bought a hundred dollar dress, a two thousand dollar laptop, a five hundred dollar phone. If everyone just gave a single dollar, it would make a difference in their lives, but the world is just too fucking selfish to deliver. (Yes, the people who actually find it in their hearts to do something about it, kudos to you. I sincerely, honestly respect you.)

It hit me when I was picking out my electric guitar and choosing two hamsters for my sister's birthday. Thirty Million Children are starving. Yet, because I'm a selfish, self-absorbed bastard, I'm spending two hundred on a guitar and twenty on hamsters. Instead of using the money to feed poor homeless kids, I'm buying myself entertainment, pleasure, contentment and comfort. Instead of using the money to make others' lives better, I'm taking two other lives into my hands.

To those Thirty Million kids, do you know why you're becoming skinnier and skinnier as the days go by? Do you know why you go to bed crying each night with bloated stomachs and painful diseases? Do you know why your friends are stripping the trees down like deer in winter?

Because the world would rather pay for entertainment and comfort rather than for a cause they cannot see, that is not an active eyesore in society. Because the world would rather ignore something that they have failed at so disappointingly and obviously, and revel instead in the shameful glory of the things in which they have succeeded.

Because the world is just too fucking selfish for its own good.








| so spoken! @ 10:01 PM|

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-I HAS ELECTRIC :D-

My amp carrier, my amp,( and most importantly, meet...) my new electric, Chrissy! Isn't he just hot?

(And if you don't agree with me yes i will eat you oh yes trust me i will)


| so spoken! @ 8:57 PM|

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Thursday, November 01, 2007

-330th Post-

Post number 330! What a nice, rounded number. I can't wait for post number 777. Imagine how long that would take me though. A year? Two years? Three? Thirty? Most likely one of those among the latter.

Would any of you be reading this, a year, two years, three years later? Twenty? Would I have deleted my blog by then? Would I have turned into such an annoying, chirping, backstabbing bitch (one of the many that litter this earth), so much so that nobody bothers coming over to check out if I'm still breathing? Will this blog even matter to me as much then as it does now?

I feel the same fear I felt as a very small kid (four? five?). It messes up my stomach and makes me feel queasy. It messes with my head and I feel the old friend-slash-adversary paranoia creeping up again. Yes, paranoia was a frequent visitor, a good friend, a daily customer, when I was younger. Everything from imminent death to the end of the world, from Santa Claus to fairies, scared me.

Paranoia was a big problem for me. I'd stay up worrying. I'd bit my nails to the quick (and that's another issue for another post). And then I'd worry that my fingers would fall off because I bit my fingernails (a tale someone told me to try and get me to stop biting my nails: if you bite your nails, a ring forms around your finger and your finger falls off. Obviosuly, it didn't work). I wrote a special prayer to Jesus, asking Him to please not let my fingers fall off.

I spent ages hanging around my mother, asking her questions. Does Santa Claus exist? What if the world crashed into the sun (as it would in the future)? What would happen if I died? Would it be like sleep, like black nothingness? Would I still be able to think?

I was scared of everything.

Truth be told, I have no idea how I overcame it. I guess I grew out of it. Because the last I remember, I was ever as paranoid in primary school.

If you're wondering what sparked off this memory, it's because this link reminded me of all the times I stayed up worrying in the night, wondering how small I really was and what it was really like out there.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20071031/sc_afp/usastronomy2_071031201428

.... How I wish I never read that article now.

I'm queasy.


| so spoken! @ 7:56 PM|

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