This thing called Love
Who wrote the book of love?
In the late 1950s, a rock and roll group known as the Monotones wondered "who wrote the book of love?" Philosophers, poets, and couples consumed with passion have been asking the same question for eons. And now, even scientists have entered the fray, wiring the brain with electrodes and watching for telltale signs of electrical ecstasy, as well as searching for the elusive molecules that bind one lover to another.
To be sure, no one has been entirely successful. But a possible answer to the Monotones' plaintive query is "Love is a story."
A story each of us is constantly writing and rewriting. Love develops, grows, and lasts when a person finds someone else who fits what his or her particular story is all about.
Love is certainly the thing we crave the most and have the most trouble getting, and love also involves a kind of intelligence
If you really want to understand love, you have to look at how it develops and evolves. The story is who you are. And it's never completed. Your personal story is very dynamic.
You have to know your own story and it has to mesh with your partner's story. A story isn't necessarily good or bad. The important thing in determining the outcome of a relationship is finding someone who fits in as a character in the story you feel comfortable writing.
Love is a personal thing -- and a risky one. You're putting yourself on the line. Failing at love is very different from failing a test.
When you're between 18 and 22, you don't really know who you're going to become, and the kind of relationship that might work on a long-term basis is not yet clear.
Our only hope is that when you get ready to settle down, the question you ask a potential partner won't be, "What's your sign?" but rather, "What's your story?
Miner's folk song, Sri Lanka
In seach of a job I came to Bogala
I went down the pits seventy-two fathoms deep
Invisible as a fly, not seen from the pit head
Only when I return to the surface
Is my life safe...
Blessed be the scaffolding deep down in the shaft
Blessed be the life wheel on the mine's pit head
Blessed be the chain attached to the life wheel...
Sashaying on the catwalk of life
Girls from the dynasty days are tailored to the word "petitie". Who say we can't stop natural growth? Mummified that pair of swanky feet, lo and behold u get 3" footsies for LIFE. How good can things get, ya? Aspiring to be zhu ying tai II or hold a reeeal penchant for books? Stash the expensive bamboo scripts on ur pretty li' head. Your handbags are too delicate to hold anything of weight and no, we don't make bookbags for ladies. But fear not, my lady. Prolonged carrying of books on ur head will enhance ur balancing act on ur 3" little feet and squash some air out of the featherbrain. What an ingenious idea, don't u agree? And it doesn't cost a cent. Wow...
The seducer and the seduced
Props, lights, shadows and the human body - the seducer.
The human mind - the seduced.
A sincere albeit desperate wish
In exactly 16 minutes time by the lunar calender, we'll be ushering the year of the rooster. At this sacred hour (also the most auspicious hour to make your wishes), I wish upon my god for good health. One look at my physical build, you'd probably scoff at my modest wish. What can be possibly be wrong with you?! You're in the pink of health!
Darn...I wish outer appearance runs deep. I'm none but a feeble, old dame trapped in a two-decades-old body. If anyone knows of a product/medical formula/herbal brew/therapy guru/shaman/new age spiritualist/basically anything that can renew the body system, do tell me.
This tottering grandmama here can do with a bodylift or a botox-for-your-organs.
Miss Sionasta and her dipolar closet pets
There was a perculiar Miss Sionasta
Who kept two girls in her closet
One was as bubbly as effervescence
Another was a brooding gothic princess
Two nemesis fighting for the throne
Mad Miss Sionasta was a careful one
She doesn't want anyone to know
Of the skeletons in her closet, you see
So she grabbed the girls by their hair
And taped them to their space
But the girls outsmarted the tape
And stirred mayhem in the closet
Now Miss Sionasta is suffering for her deed
