like an old diary, that has its initially fresh and crisp pages gradually filled with intimate thoughts, hopes, fears, regrets, and happiness, this memento of a memory has become somewhat an onerous emotional luggage.

when its first pages were inked a year ago, how it would eventually pan out - both the diary and the days ahead - were a complete mystery. but i traipsed the pages and the days with bated, hopeful steps, in search of happiness, satisfaction, and betterment. my one year is too short a time to eulogise as if a great epoch has passed. taken into the wider scheme of things, it is less than the blink of an eye. but it is hard to judge and quantify life itself, with all its unexpected, indescribable joys and unwarranted, unimaginable troubles. for all the good and wicked of these vicissitudes, they almost always portend better, happier days ahead, be they culled from lessons learnt and humble pies ate, or the bearings of hope ernestly, even desperately clung onto, and believed. the human soul inevitably is ennobled by such - mine, in its small and peculiar ways, certainly have - for as elusive and invisible as faith is, it is an intensely compelling construct.

in my first entry here, where i was touched by these lines from a movie i had just watched, 'so many streets traversed, so many convulated routes, all these to bring me here...', i had no idea how intimate this simple phrase could turn out. standing at this little denouement at the end of a little mysterious journey now, i probably would like to sum up thus, 'it had been one more helluva ride, and here's cheers to many, many more.'

and so, may my little luggage of one year's memories be now tucked away in a little nook of cyberhistory. it is certainly time for a change of environment, and for a breath of fresh air.

merry christmas to one and all.

Dec 19, 2004 ST (IHT)

A century of wisdom in these uneasy times

104-year-old grandmother has seen empires and nations vanish in her lifetime

By Roger Cohen

THE end of the year is near, a time for reflection. So, in search of understanding, I recently visited my grandmother, who is 104. She was 14 when the shot was fired in Sarajevo that sparked World War I. As the stones of the old city of Sarajevo have been smoothed by countless footsteps, so have her memories been honed by time.

Honed to silence, or so it seems.

She was loquacious on her 100th birthday, but has gone quiet these last couple of years. Her eyes are now closed much of the time. In her touch, there is recognition, but her eyes, when they open, are impenetrable pools. She eats pureed food from a spoon. Things come full circle.

But some things never return. I gaze at family photographs: Marriages, great loves, gone and sundered as completely as the empires and countries that have disappeared in her lifetime. Austria-Hungary, the British Empire, the Ottoman Empire, the Soviet Union, East Germany, Yugoslavia. All vanished as a single life has been lived.

The birthing of countries has been more hectic in her time than the dying. An independent Croatia was reborn after more than eight centuries: the loops of history can be circuitous. Indonesia came into being, as did Israel, and Uzbekistan, and myriad independent African states, and the bizarre North Korea.

Some states moved. Poland journeyed westward. Hungary shrunk. Some borders did a vanishing act, like those within the European Union. Political ideologies came and went, taking tens of millions of lives. So it goes. States are living beings. They shift, they wed and divorce, they wither and they also perish as one woman lives her life.

I considered my grandmother's skin: fissured as parched earth yet soft as a newborn. I considered her silence. It seemed more sage than vacant. We do not like riddles or silence; we prefer pronouncements. Journalism is the day-after-yesterday craft. We need to say where things are going, what they mean.

But the living of 104 years speaks for caution. Such longevity is itself unexpected and, scientific advances notwithstanding, unforeseeable. She was 21 when the British installed a monarchy in the modern Iraq they carved from the defunct Ottoman Empire. Eighty-three years later, the country's statehood still seems tenuous.

It is tenuous because different currents in history, different epochs almost, are clashing there, as they do now throughout the world. It used to be that we could ignore our differences. No longer. Asian nationalism, European post-nationalism, American expansionism: they vie for influence.

In Iraq, at the very least, we see the following forces: the apocalyptic fundamentalism of Islamic jihadists; a classic guerilla struggle against an occupying army; the nationalist aspirations of the Kurdish people; the battle of Shi'ite and Sunni strains of Islam; an old-fashioned fight for resources; and the zeal of the United States, a country at or near the zenith of its historical power, to fashion more of the world in its image by delivering the freedom that President George W. Bush believes is God's design for humanity.

Where all this will lead, I do not know. I did not ask my grandmother; she would have responded with the wisdom of silence. It is possible that the borders of Iraq will not withstand these forces and the country will break up, as Yugoslavia did in the 1990s after release from despotic rule. But I doubt it for the simple reason that agreement on the shape of the broken-up parts will be impossible.

I do know that American forces will leave Iraq one day, that myriad treacherous myths are being forged in the current struggle to be invoked at some future date, and that it is possible but not inevitable that the more than 1,280 young American lives already lost will be lost in vain. I also know that Iraq in 2004 stands at what the Germans in 1945 called 'Stunde null', or zero hour.

It is quiet in my grandmother's Johannesburg apartment. There is no television; she lives without news. It is possible to live without news, of Iraq or American elections. So she did not hear the good news of 2004: the Chilean army's extraordinary apology for the killing and torture after the 1973 coup and the Bosnian Serbs' apology for the slaughter at Srebrenica in 1995.

Truth, it seems, is getting a global toehold. For much of her life, it was not so: the lies that exalt and kill were the stuff of political discourse. There is ground for guarded optimism. The worst, as South Africa illustrates, is not inevitable.

When she was born, the city of Johannesburg, founded in 1886, was a mere teenager. Her father came penniless from Lithuania. Her daughter went to England. Four of her great-grandchildren live in the United States. Over 104 years, a lot happens.

Although she has seen a lot of it, she never liked change much. 'The things you see when you don't have a gun' was a favourite expression, delivered on encountering any novelty or irritant.

Her husband, a gambler whose favourite expression was 'Never worry', died a few years back at the age of 98; they were married for 75 years. She loved him deeply and I think she may have forgotten him entirely. Proof, if needed, that in the great scheme of things, three-quarters of a century is the blink of an eye.

Occasionally, the silence is broken. My grandmother speaks: 'On earth as it is in heaven... forgive us our trespasses...'; fragments of the Lord's Prayer, summoned from somewhere. She is Jewish, but attended a convent school long ago. Perhaps her last lesson is ecumenism. Or love. She will not release my hand. I try to ease it away, but she clings with surprising force. In her silence there is indeed knowledge.

A nurse confides: 'She's talking to the people on the other side.' To whomever she is speaking, she has a last word, pronounced slowly: 'Aaaa-men.'

Perhaps we can all agree on that.

the recent snowball.04 fiasco had me very amused. first and foremost the official justifications have been trite, lame, and uninspiring. how many times can one invoke an invisible 'conservative majority' for political purposes? in any case what do they mean by 'conservative'? and to what extent is conervative, conservative enough? and if there really is a conservative majority that is so concerned by the palpable debauchery then may they have a voice and speak. so now we can start showing sex and the city on cable and shrink-wrapped cosmopolitan magazines but cant allow gays to hold hands and kiss in a public enclosed, paid-entry area with police officers roaming? but wait, such parties have been held before, and as bernard wee have pointed out, smaller parties continue and bathhouses remain open. naturally too, the irc continues its indispensible utility of hooking up the gay community for casual sex.

so why the rejection? some people said that its a follow-up of the recent Aids=gay debate. but if that really were the case, what about the possibility of a concerted governmental effort to further restrict the gay community, i.e. pave the way (Aids-gay debate) for the actual onslaught (reject snowball.04 licence)? other more alarmist and libertarian critics rail that this is the start of a shifting official policy towards gays.

with a real official reason nowhere in sight we can only speculate. but personally i think the reason might be as simple as showing singapore 'who's boss still'. when lee hsien loong ascended the throne and delivered his maiden address, a rare phenomenon occurred, that wasnt experienced by this lil sunny island since it became a lil rich - his critics were at least temporarily silenced, if not permanently won over, and the conservative majority gushed over his maroon shirt/neat spectacles/photogenic smile/inclusive hand gestures/brilliant speech. and a nation started to believe - believe that for once and finally, singapore was going to open up, get all-inclusive, its heretofore lil peoples suddenly enthusiastic, political, and participative.

so what was the nation's obedient lil peoples to do but at least try and be enthusiastic, political, and participative. and the gay community being traditionally enthusiastic and participative (their sexual inclination renders them naturally political already) did what they did best - party. but parties can get out of hand (just ask the opposition party) and need to be put back in place at some point. hence the simple method of rejecting a licence sent a powerful message to the young and rowdy community to behave itself or otherwise.

it might be asked now, 'is singapore really opening up?' the official reiteration is 'yes', though there are predictably numerous sceptics. not to put too cynical a take, my view is the government's notion of openness is mercurial, strategic, and limited. the faultlines are the people's presumption of a continual, definitive, and linear openness; the people's over-expectation of 'i want it and i want it now'; and the erroneous assumption that openness equals laissez-faire government. with regards to gays, it is an open-and-close situation. the penal code for homosexual acts still exists and can be drummed up at a whim. yet paradoxically bathhouses and gay parties are allowed, with the powers-that-be undoubtedly aware of the licentious activities behind their doors. but that is not surprising - a total ban would be impractical and drive the gay community underground where policing would be made more difficult. designating certain locations and restricting licences are more effective methods of control.

a friend has also offered an invaluable insight on contentment, and i'll quote at length:

"It appears that there has emerged a strong culture of contentment on the part of Singaporean gay men and lesbians. A strongly controlled political and social culture combined with limited liberalisation and a de facto if not de jure tolerance of same-sex sexual acts in private between consenting adults has made both individual risk and social organisation to the ends of legal and social reform less, not more, likely.

In the absence of overt oppression (legal, civil or governmental) there are few rallying points around which to develop a political consciousness or community aimed at political and social reform. And it seems that there are dangers in the continuing attempt to connect gay and lesbian rights, consumption and visibility with economic growth and national strategies of international legitimacy.

Gay men and lesbians in Singapore appear content to prioritise availability of consumer goods and services, lifestyle comfort and the availability of artistic representations over civil and political rights and social/political change. Contentment here acts as a powerful strategy of political and social containment of gays and lesbians who continue exist under the shadow of governmental erasure, censorship and oppression.

but all these ruminated and articulated, my real concern is not whether there really is opening up or not. that's a wrong question to ask. there certainly is liberalisation just as there are closures and enclosures - but it is to whom these apply, when, how, and why, that are more pertinent concerns. my real disappointment is the squabbles within the gay community - amongst which are most notable between the two rival portals sgboy.com and fridae.com. whatever their reasons, intents, and nature, their destructive and petty quarrels will only make the classic 'divide-and-rule' strategy a breeze to execute - leaving the polarised gay community the sole and self-made loser. we might have been reminded about who's still the boss, but we certainly can do ourselves a great favour and minimise the chances of being bossed around. a reduction of such opportunities might unsurprisingly correspond with increased liberties.

ooo... her bowl-cut fringe and feathered stiletto on her head made her absoAbsoABSOLOOOOOOTLY adorable. and check out those legs man... so can die!!!

a few days ago i sent faye's concert version of new tenant to cheryl. cheryl's this coursemate from canada, and i really wanted to hear what people who'd never heard of faye think. and thinking she's so ang mo she'd appreciate new tenant. damn i was wrong. she went, 'hmmmm... rather folksy, but there's the modern beats'. then she went 'hmmm... i like the music. not the vocals. too eerie'. i then sent her the album version and she went 'dude, are all her songs like that?!' goddammit. finally the song of all songs - and wo yuan yi placated her.
___

once more i'd been thinking about this blog of mine. sometimes it's embarrassing to read what i'd written. many times i think my entries are trashy. occasionally i unknowingly net a spurt of inspiration and actually pen down something thoughtful, something piquant. but that's a lil struggle each time - the tug between shooting my mouth off just because this is my blog and i jolly well say what i like, which i think is a rather childish stance to take, because the very fact that i make my thoughts public (to varying degrees of course) means my freedom of speech and thoughts is being attenuated to varying degrees; and between keeping what's mine, mine.

quite strangely i enjoy this lil thing i do to myself. i'd torture my senses by putting public what oughtnt be, then shiver at the thought of how many cringes i'd induce from friends and strangers alike, or i'd write the most i-so-want-the-whole-world-to-know entry only to suppress my exhibitionistic tendencies and make it only-me viewing.

but i'm a very private person and i make no apologies for it. it has nothing to do with trust or friendship. it's not even a bad childhood - coz on hindsight i actually had a really lovely and enjoyable one. it's just something i'm born with. and a blog like this is certainly no place for revealing them. words can be misinterpreted and meanings truncated. then whispers already on a wrong footing travel far and wide, eventually arriving on entirely different dimensions of untruths. that's how rumours are borne and friendships irreparably sour, no?

therefore i rarely, if at all, write down my truest and most genuine feelings here for all to see. and sometimes i chuckle at the hilarity that blogs have become. so many have turned them into popularity contests, ego-thumping platforms, attention seeking avenues, even online newspapers (there's this one blog i refer to for the latest and newest singapore news). thankfully there are still gems littered around - the ones i enjoy most are those who genuinely blog about their lives and their thoughts, who do not harbour any perfidious agendas, and who stay annonymous. but it's free choice and we're in cyberspace (so note to self: live with it), and we all have our stories to tell, be they cheery ones, sorrowful ones, maudlin ones, or simply frivolous ones. these emotional multifacets are what will enliven and colour; perhaps deject, even destroy; but hopefully will enrich, ennoble, and edify our short little lives. one facet cannot live without the others, and outsiders inevitably judge based on superficial dope. so the least i could do, is be discriminating when sharing aspects of them.

i'm so glad simon lim's gone. i cringe and shudder and generally vibrate in sheer embarrassment whenever i hear him on air. he probably didnt realise how he was the epitome of who ought not to be a dj. he and his un-witty and uninspiring, insincere, and inarticulate banter was so full of platitudes, trite dictums, and snore-inducing statements. zzz. the sole reason why i switched off 95 at night for most nights, which is a frustration coz 95 is otherwise an awesome place to tune in to, especially at night, where they'd play all the nice lovey-dovey romantic ballads. i happened to catch his last night with the station and i was so jumping for joy and going yesYesYES!BESTOFLUCKANDPLEASEDONTEVERCOMEBACK. so anyway, i like yasmin. definitely da bomb compared to that ex-captain of everyone's heart. great voice and witty too. now those nice lovey-dovey romantic ballads just seem so much more syrupy.

hugs. just got back, freaking high. ASA party. so high, almost gonna puke. what you up to? missing you. and you went missing. missing who? missing me. corn on the cob you. i really dun mind sitting on a strong, sturdy one. hahahaha. ooo... those bunions. muah* ... ooo. what you up to? can i have permission to fall in love? who with. haha.... NO. YOU SO CANNOT. heeeeeeee.... ok... i knew it and u know it. CANNOT AND CANNOT. whats new in your life? a new pimple. but whats new. hia.. i'm so high. baby, i'm gonna shower. before i forget.. you are never far from my mind -*. ok go splash. lemme dive into you later. 50 laps, and i'll send u to heaven.

zhang jiexin where are you?

i miss you.

i dunno if i overshot the deadline but a 13hour time difference between here and mass should automatically provide some window of an excuse. hah. lit review for my thesis was strangely delightful and satisfying a journey. remember how my very first topic was about the containment-engagement of a rising china? it then hopped onto historical perceptions. then while reading david lampton's 'same bed different dreams' and looking for a time period to focus on i stumbled upon the perfect (at least in my instance) case study - the korean conflict.

earlier scholarship explained that america's decision to advance beyond the 38th parallel, which triggered the disastrous chinese intervention, occurred because washington had ignored chinese warnings, failed to understand the security threat the advance posed to china, and underestimated beijing's ability to mount a serious war effort. of late, newly declassified sources have thrown in arguments that miscalculations occured on the chinese side as well, contributing to the failure of deterrence strategies. within the communist camp itself, misperceptions and disputes rendered it predisposed towards confrontation with the us. while mao was believed to have reacted defensively, more recent arguments have contended that america's action provided the justification, rather than the trigger, for chinese involvement.

the years 1949-50 saw sino-us relations at a crossroad. mao and truman were constrained by domestic political forces as they made foreign policy decisions, their choices shaped by layers of inaccurate perceptions. these choices shaped the next two decades in their relations, and they paid a high price for those decisions - hundreds of thousands of dead and hundreds of billions of dollars - with the korean and vietnam conflicts being the most emblematic of this protracted struggle. the korean war particularly, spurred american rearmament not seen since the end of the second world war. it also drove the cold war into asia – in ‘hot’ form, transforming the sino-us estrangement into a political and military conflict of unimagined and unintended proportions.
___

they say it never rains... but it pours. now that this is done and while waiting for EG to comment, i've to prepare for a presentation tomorrow. this whole-day media seminar and ironically i've been assigned the north korean nuclear issue.

then i've to prepare a paper proposal for chinese security policy, due on tuesday during my consultation with LN.

wednesday is the deadline for my paper proposal for RE's class.

no more proposals after this hopefully, methinks, because it's then on to the freaking real thing. did i mention that my exams are on the 14th and 18th of february? oh believe me, i am so not whining but enjoying every minute of these quests for enlightenment.

Jingle Bell Schlock - new york times 5-12-04

If I hear "Frosty the Snowman" one more time, I'll rip his frozen face off.

It's a scientific fact, or should be, that Christmas music can turn you into a fruitcake. It either sends you into a Pavlovian shopping trance, buying stupid things like the Robosapien, or, if you hear repeated Clockwork-Orange choruses of "Ring, Christmas Bells" drilling into your brain with that slasher-movie staccato, makes you feel as possessed with Christmas spirit as Norman Bates.

I've never said this out loud before, but I can't stand Christmas.

Everyone in my family loves it except me, and they can't fathom why I get the mullygrubs, as a Southern friend of mine used to call a low-level depression, from Thanksgiving straight through New Year.

"You're weird," my mom says. This from a woman who once left up our Christmas tree until April 3, and who listens to a radio station that plays carols 24/7 all month.

My equally demonic sister has a whole collection of rodents dressed in holiday clothes that she puts up around her house. There's a mouse Santa Claus and mouse Mrs. Claus and mice elves and a miniature Christmas village with mice, and some rat Cinderella coachmen in pink waistcoats and rats in red velvet vests and more rats, wearing frilly red-and-white nightshirts and nightcaps and holding little candles, leading you up the steps to bed. It's beyond creepy. I keep fretting that it's going to be like "Willard" meets "The Nutcracker," where they come alive and eat her like a Christmas pudding.

My mom and sister both blissfully sat through "It's a Wonderful Life" again on Thanksgiving weekend, while even hearing a mere snatch of that movie makes me want to scarf down a fistful of antidepressants - and join all the other women in America who are on a holiday high - except our family doctor is a Scrooge about designer drugs, leaving me to self-medicate as Clarence gets his wings with extra brandy in the eggnog.

I've given a lot of thought to why others' season of joy is my season of doom - besides the obvious fact that yuppies have drenched the holidays in ever more absurd levels of consumerism.

I think it has to do with how stressed out my mom and sister would get on Christmas Day when I was little. I remember them snapping at me; they seemed tense because of all the aprons to be sashed and potatoes to be mashed. (In our traditional Irish household, women slaved and men were waited on.)

It might be exacerbated by the stress I feel when I think of all the money I've spent on lavishing boyfriends with presents over the years, guys who are now living with other women who are enjoying my lovingly picked out presents which I'm no doubt still paying for in credit card interest charges.

I was embracing my Christmas black dog the other day when I read a Times article so scary it made my hair - and my genes - curl.

It was about how severe stress can make a woman age very rapidly and prematurely, looking years older than her chronological age, because the stress causes the DNA in our cells to shrink, and sort of curl down on itself, until the cells can no longer replicate. "When people are under stress they look haggard, it's like they age before your eyes, and here's something going on at a molecular level" that reflects that impression, said one of the researchers, Dr. Elizabeth Blackburn of the University of California at San Francisco.

So now, on top of all the stress related to having a president and vice president who scared us to death about terrorists to get re-elected, I have to be stressed about the fact that my holiday stress might cause me to turn into an old bat - instantly, just like it happened in Grimm's fairy tales, when a girl would be cursed and suddenly become a crone. Or just like this Christmas doll my sister brought home once that had an apple for a head; her face looked all juicy and white at the start of the week and then by the end of the week, it was all discolored and puckered.

I flipped through the hot new self-help book by Gordon Livingston, a psychiatrist from Columbia, Md., "Too Soon Old, Too Late Smart: Thirty True Things You Need to Know Now."

One of them is the cardinal rule of anxiety: Avoidance makes it worse; confrontation gradually improves it.

Yep. I definitely need to rip Frosty's face off.

while i'm still so caffeinated i'll share this witty bit that's defending Starbucks, snitched from an online coffee forum:

... like this one make me think of wine aficionados. Yes its fun to enjoy a perfect wine, to scour the countryside for it, to talk of its irrefutable bouquet, but sometimes you just want a decent grocery store bottle with a meal. Lets face it, Starbucks serves many purposes to many people. Yes you can have your home brewed, specialty ordered high browed cup, and still pop into a local Starbucks while traveling for a fairly decent cup (especially considering the 7-11 alternative) without, I hope, fear of betraying the almighty coffee gods.

and another:

Finally, for those of you professionals who bemoan people ordering "triple grande caramel double vanillas", I would urge you to take the opportunity to educate these flies who have landed in your web rather than deride them. ("Sir, would you allow me to prepare for you a latte so exquisite that you will never again set foot in Starbucks, and here's why...") Just a thought...

Date:	2004-11-30 03:01
Subject:	coffee + coffee + faye. ooo...
Security:	Public
Mood:	cold
Music:	faye. new tenant live

andrew was telling about this coffee shop in clementi central that sells lavazza coffee. i was piqued because lavazza's not common in singapore. i know there are lil corners here and there, more usually where the expats frequent, and quite a bit of hotel coffeehouses get their supplies from lavazza. but i certainly wouldnt expect it to appear in clementi central of all places. if even Coffee Bean, the only enclave in this decrepit town that brews arabicas closed down...

but that lil coffee shop was interesting. newly opened i reckoned, from those signatures and dates on a particular piece of framed artwork. sitting there reminded me of this certain scene in 2046 where tony leung snogged gong li (and she really looked like a tarantula then) at this certain laneway. that guy, presumably the owner was friend. a little too friendly and servile though, with a lil overthetop accent too. andrew asked for a flat-white. but he had no idea. told him it was latte without-the-froth, and he sunnily said he'd attempt one. took him a long time though, and we speculated he probably had difficulty removing the froth. when he finally came *moans* he told us chocolates had been added. awwww but i really would've preferred it just coffee + milk + two sugars. anything more would've tainted the brilliant brew. anything more would've been sacrilege. was also disappointed he served em in those horrible beer-glasses. they really should take a leaf from the melburnians coz otherwise it's like drinking exquisite wine from a teacup.

pictures reveal a trillion coffee beans and here's one of my bestest best lattes ever. even the foam milk was beautifully patterned. sigh. we have a long long way to go.

:caffeine's my life babe. i'm probably perennially inebriated with triple-shot insomnia more than anything else.

hahaha i love their cheesy lines! oh god. how i miss those summer afternoons sitting in front of the tv gorging into a huge bowl of pasta.

Date:	2004-11-25 20:31
Subject:	in whose beauty
Security:	Public
Mood:	blah
Music:	菲比寻常LIVE! yue ding

anyway, while the philips guy was installing the stuff i suddenly had a thought. that i could understand why julia roberts found love in that camera guy danny moder, whom she eventually married and made babies with. perhaps, after so long at the glitzy top, being so wealthy, so gorgeous, so in the midst of wealthy, gorgeous, successful, glamourous people, the banal and the ordinary can come to appear rather beautiful; and in whose quotidian beauty, happiness does reside.

ok that wasnt something of an epiphany or an intellectually provocative assertion. but as i had just said, perhaps, after so long... the banal and the ordinary can come to appear rather beautiful; and in whose quotidian beauty, happiness does reside.

Date:	2004-11-20 14:17
Subject:	faye's a freaking cockteaser!
Security:	Public
Mood:	hot
Music:	only love strangers

Scorpios are the most intense, profound, powerful characters in the zodiac. Even when they appear self-controlled and calm there is a seething intensity of emotional energy under the placid exterior. They are like the volcano not far under the surface of a calm sea, it may burst into eruption at any moment. But those of us who are particularly perceptive will be aware of the harnessed aggression, the immense forcefulness, magnetic intensity, and often strangely hypnotic personality under the tranquil, but watchful composure of Scorpio. In conventional social gatherings they are pleasant to be with, thoughtful in conversation, dignified, and reserved, yet affable and courteous; they sometimes possess penetrating eyes which make their shyer companions feel naked and defenseless before them.

In their everyday behavior they give the appearance of being withdrawn from the center of activity, yet those who know them will recognize the watchfulness that is part of their character. They need great self-discipline, because they are able to recognize the qualities in themselves that make them different from other humans, and to know their utterly conventional natures can be used for great good, or great evil. Their tenacity and willpower are immense, their depth of character and passionate conviction overwhelming, yet they are deeply sensitive and easily moved by their emotions. Their sensitivity, together with a propensity for extreme likes and dislikes make them easily hurt, quick to detect insult or injury to themselves (often when none is intended) and easily aroused to ferocious anger. This may express itself in such destructive speech or action that they make lifelong enemies by their outspokenness, for they find it difficult not to be overly critical of anything or anyone to whom they take a dislike.

They can harness their abundant energy constructively, tempering their self-confidence with shrewdness and their ambition with magnanimity toward others provided they like them. They relate to fellow workers only as leaders and can be blunt to those they dislike to the point of cruelty. In fact they are not above expressing vindictiveness in deliberate cruelty. They are too demanding, too unforgiving of faults in others, perhaps because they are not aware of the shortcomings within themselves, and extravagantly express their self-disgust in unreasonable resentment against their fellows. They do, however, make excellent friends, provided that their companions do nothing to impugn the honor of which Scorpios are very jealous. Part of the negative side of the Scorpio nature is a tendency to discard friends once they cease to be useful, but the decent native is aware of, and fights this tendency.

They are fortunate in that their strong reasoning powers are tempered with imagination and intuition, and these gifts, together with critical perception and analytical capacity, can enable the Scorpions to penetrate to profundities beyond the average. They have a better chance of becoming geniuses than the natives of any other sign.But charismatic "twice-born" characters such as they can sink into the extremes of depravity if they take the wrong path, and the intensity of their nature exaggerates their harmful tendencies into vices far greater than the normal. Rebelliousness against all conventions, political extremism to the point where hatred of the Establishment makes them utterly unscrupulous terrorists. Brooding resentment, aggressive and sadistic brutality, total arrogance, morbid jealousy, extreme volatility of temperament, these are some of their vices. At the other extreme is the procrastinator, the man or woman who is capable of so much that they do nothing and become indolent and self-indulgent, requiring extravagant praise and flattery from those whom they make their cronies.

Being so gifted, they can find fulfillment in many employments. Their inner intensity can result in the ice-cold self-control and detachment of the surgeon, the concentration of the research scientist, and the heroism of the soldier. Any profession in which analysis, investigation, research, dealing with practicalities, and the solving of mysteries are relevant, can appeal to them. So police and detective work, espionage and counterespionage, the law, physics or psychology may attract them, and they can become masters of the written and spoken word. They may be most persuasive orators and find fulfillment as diplomats or preachers and, if they make the Church their profession, their inner intensity can express itself in the spiritual fervor of the mystic or the thaumaturgy.

Scorpio is the symbol of sex and Scorpios are passionate lovers, the most sensually energetic of all the signs. For them, union with the beloved is a sacrament, an "outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.". Their overriding urge in loving is to use their power to penetrate beyond themselves and to lose themselves sexually in their partners in an almost mystical ecstasy, thus discovering the meaning of that union which is greater than individuality, and is a marriage of the spirit as well as of flesh. They are thus capable of the greatest heights of passionate transport, but debauchery and perversion are always dangers, and Scorpios can become sadistic monsters of sensuality and eroticism. Their feelings are so intense that even when their love is of the highest, and most idealistic kind, they are nevertheless frequently protagonists in tragic, even violent romances, "star-crossed lovers".

Date:	2004-11-16 23:41
Subject:	woohooOoooo~
Security:	Public
Mood:	cold
Music:	faye. an yong

got faye's concert cd previews online... and damn. i forgot all that i had wanted to say, and i'm not gonna get any sleep tonight. her voice is ABSOFUCKINGLUTELYFAYEBULOUS!!!!

that cd is releasing tomorrow Tomorrow TOMORROW!!!!

i was with a friend at heeren's spinelli having coffee late yesterday night, when this young dude walked past me and gave me a wink. i was a little more than surprised when he sent me an email later on through fridae.
___

it was pure fortuity i found another novel that's totally up my alley - arthur nersesian's 'the fuck-up'. perched so innocuously that i almost missed it, the provocative title caught my attention. it was much later i wondered how the title got cleared by MDS. then the back cover read: "arthur nersesian's underground literary treasure is an unforgettable slice of gritty new york city life... and the darkly hilarious odyssey of an anonymous slacker." that was enough for me to grab it to the cashout. and the first few chapters i devoured on my way home did not disappoint. nersesian wrote with humour and verve, at times comical, at times satrical, at times poignant. and that he lived and breathed the struggling writer's life was all too palpable, all too endearing. frankly, of the many books i'd read, this would probably rank with salinger's catcher in the rye as that few very brilliant favourites.

Date:	2004-10-28 02:03
Subject:	hands on heart
Security:	Public
Mood:	cold
Music:	wandering red dancing shoes, faye

i miss being loved, wanted, touched
i miss the warm and dizzy feeling
of having a pair of steady hands
safely ensconce my crumbling heart