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Wednesday | May 24.2006
Hello everyone. After a very long sabbatical, i've finally managed to update the blog. You can access Lithesome.ICE in its newest manifestation, and in rare form at the link below.
Thank you. Speak to you there *grin*.
niz on 05:54 PM CST
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Monday | April 04.2005
There is no emotion more treacherous than hope. Love can be excruciating, but in a trite kind of way, people expect it to be so, the more sado-masochistic of our specie even immerse themselves in the belief, that love isn't real, unless its bite lives up to its bark, enjoying it accordingly, warped as the notion may be.
But hope... hope is a coin whose two sides are of one face, there is no either-or, no heads or tails, there is just deliverance or despair, and hope will gift or curse you with just one regardless of which side of the coin emerges with its face up. After all, this is a double sided coin.
Figures of speech aside, wary as the tone my words may take when I speak of hope, I can't quite delude myself enough into denying, that what I really fear next to never getting back the 'legacy' which was taken from my family fourteen years ago, is possessing that long lost 'legacy' once again, and seeing a pool of shallowness materialize from the meager reservoir of depth i've managed to accumulate over the years.
niz on 03:45 PM CST
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Monday | March 21.2005
Children don't take themselves seriously, neither are they taken seriously by adults as well.
Teenagers take themselves too seriously, but are not taken seriously by adults.
Quarter-lifers (those in the 20 and above age range) find it difficult to take themselves seriously, yet are taken seriously by adults.
And adults... well... they feel as if no one will take them seriously anyway... so they blog.
niz on 03:34 PM CST
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Thursday | March 10.2005
Though I can hardly spell the word without aid from the dictionary, and the thesaurus, much of my thoughts these days are being transmitted through my brain in the form of 'Algorithms', which explains the lack of activity of the more 'literal' kind, eitherway, it's as good an excuse as any for the laziness which seems to plague me, oh, twenty-six, hours a day, when it concerns doing anything remotely creative.
Underneath however, is a short thought, which managed to swim against the undercurrent of equations and logical expressions racing through the twisted banks of my mind straight to my bowels, hence ending up emerging, gasping for air, in a relatively shallow pool of consciousness, and which I managed to salvage before it dissolved unnoticed into the 'if' 'else' 'endif', 'do case' 'case this' 'case that' rapids of Visual Foxpro induced conditions wreaking havoc in my neural chambers these days, which I thought to be worth posting inspite of its length, or lack, thereof.
The Truth, as it is, is scarcely ever beautiful, or even pretty, imagine how hideous it would be distorted.
niz on 07:03 PM CST
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Tuesday | February 15.2005
Every year for as far back as I can remember, Valentine's day has always been a day of unfathomable and incomprehensible pain for me. For some reason, which I have really yet to rationalize, I have consistently looked upon the coming of February 14 with dread and no small amount of anxiety for it brought on the inevitable attack of the Valentine Malady, that mysterious disease which is also known for some as the Valentine Virus, the Valentine Affliction, the Aphrodite Anemia, and other inane pseudonyms which are brought about by the disease's symptoms, some less creative individuals probably consider it as a Heart Attack, in more ways then one. I find that it causes me to backpedal into an arrested state of immaturity which I normally manage to contain beneath a veneer of silence during the most difficult of ordinary days.
Admittedly, I have also been caught unprepared in recent years inspite of the inevitability of the Valentine Virus, because for the past two years or so, I thought the particular strain which would always manage to afflict me had become extinct, believing as I used to that the Valentine Virus was something caused directly by NOT having a Valentine, a situation I had remedied close to four years ago upon acquiring myself a husband. Attacks of the virus in recent years are starting to make me think that the Valentine Virus has nothing at all to do with loving and being loved, but has more to do with the position of the Earth in reference to the stars and to the moon during Valentine's day, as well as the turning of the tides, and is not in the least connected to whether you receive flowers or chocolates during Valentine's day. I'm starting to suspect that the mood which manages to assail me during every Valentine's day really has more to do with the astrophysical positioning of the earth every February 14. In fairness to Saint Valentine though, it sometimes comes upon me every holiday season as well, and sometimes even during my birthday.
Whatever the cause of this virus is, symptoms usually include grumpiness, a sudden attack of moroseness and sulking, depressive incidents which can turn even a relatively pleasant day, miserable (for no reason whatsoever), an uncharacteristic inability to show appreciation and affection even to those who are held most dear, in fact, tendencies of meaness and cruelty to the former, and a temporary talent for supressing guilt, at least until a new day dawns, and Valentine's day with all its caprices, surrealness, and commercialism, is safely over until the coming of the next year.
As well as finding it practically impossible to post anything in relation to Valentine's day on the day itself, at least until the next day arrives, and the claws and horns and fangs slowly retract, and you find yourself with an overwhelming desire, coupled with an unquenchable urge to tell the one who was hurt the most by the lash of your Valentine mania, how much you love him... even if it's hours too late, and even if you know that the gesture is hardly sufficient enough to make up for the horrible way you've behaved, as you yourself were very much aware that you were indeed being monstrous. And that you're sorry.
I love you so much Qs, and not even Google will find it possible, to find and define all the ways that I love you.
niz on 02:38 PM CST
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Monday | February 14.2005
Retroactive Blog whose actual date of writing was on February 11, 2005.
Earlier on in the week, while I thought it a little on the disconcerting side that I seem to possess the appetite of your average human male coupled with the stomach lining of a goat, it was an oddity which I had come to take in stride, bizarre as the images may be which the idea may evoke. After this evening however, I find that I may very well have to revise that original opinion which I had of myself. I now believe that instead of having an appetite equal to that of an average human male, that I have an appetite akin to that of your average equine horse, not pony, horse, not a miniature horse either, like the kinds which more affluent households keep in their mansions like lap dogs but a full grown horse perhaps like those draft horses with feathered fetlocks and hooves the size of elephant feet who pull wagons filled with beer or ale in the far off regions of Europe where ten wheeled trailers would have a bit of difficulty lumbering through green hills (that is if those horses can consume two pounds worth of blueberry cheesecake in a span of two days, if not, I may have to rectify my second opinion yet again, as I would be doing the horse an injustice).
Putting things in perspective, I now see that there was more than vanity involved when I turned pesco vegetarian. No, my turning away from carbohydrates and barbequed pork had more to do with it than health reasons, or fitness issues, or any other concerns which may be raised regarding my appearance, relevant as they may have been. Circumstances are now leading me to believe that it was God's foresight which caused me to change my ways, for if I have kept on as I used to over the course of the last two years, I probably (or most likely, certainly) would have a girth the size of the earth's circumference to contend with by now, even the Goodyear blimp would be nothing but a blip on the radar in comparison to the worldwide crisis which my anticipated size would've caused, for what then would God have done with a human being larger than the whole planet? It would have been a direct violation of the phi. So no nutrisionist or dietian would've been able to foresee God's plan, or foil it for that matter.
Taking into consideration my cheesecake intake of the past few days, I do wonder though if God's plan includes buying shares in the blueberry cheesecake industry.
Neither would it be explainable from the point of view of most rational individuals how I often wish to hammer into our cook with a spatula or maybe with a rolling pin the message that I would rather go around with holes in my jeans, shirts, shoes, even my underwear then scrimp on food whenever she comes to the dining table to ruin my dinner by regaling me with horror and suspense stories of how pricy food is in the market. How can I possibly pummel the idea into her head that never will I give up my salmon belly even if salmon is declared an endangered species by the Greenpeace, or by any worldwide organization. I already patronize smuggled and pirated DVDs for the sake of my mental matriculation, so why not deal in endangered species for my visceral satisfaction? And incredibly delicious endangered species at that, certainly worth the wrath of many an animal rights activist.
So moral compunction wasn't a factor in my turning pesco vegan either.
The unusually light tone of this particular entry was brought about unexpectedly by how I intentionally drove someone away from our house last night, while my Mom was keeping out of sight slouched in the car's backseat, to unintentionally end up with the cheesecake slice which was suppose to have been served to him.
I guess, 'good deeds', no matter how small, do get their just deserts.
niz on 05:02 PM CST
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Tuesday | January 25.2005
I have at hand any number of things which would benefit from my immediate attention, and yet I find myself unable to deal with any of those urgent matters until I manage to relieve, or rather, absolve myself of an idea which i've been twiddling my thumbs over for the last day or two. Really, I know I shouldn't be blogging about something which is in truth, petty and meanspirited, something which doesn't even have anything which will make it worth salvaging, in principle, or any depth which would make it merit a deeper dissertation, but it's the very meanness, the very cruelty of the idea which makes it so appealing, the undeniable parody of it all.
I don't consider myself a mean person by nature, or cruel in any sense of the word (with the exception of finding myself crossed, the traumatic incident with the chicken which occurred during my formative years having have obliterated whatever trace of a cruel streak I may have developed for life), but I can't help but realize, and acknowledge that there are a few select, and special individuals who manage to draw out the demon in me, and not for any particular reason even, I just happen to enjoy mentally nitpicking these poor, 'defenseless', turds, ehr, people. They don't even have to be in front of me for the desire to torture them to arise. All I have to hear is a mention of their names, or a shadow of some idea or memory remotely related to them just has to drift into my consciousness, and they start to annoy me... and I allow myself to be irked... for the fun of it.
And though these un-named individuals are certifiably a waste of space, time, and matter, these incidents make me start wondering about my own sanity.
niz on 02:08 PM CST
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Wednesday | January 12.2005
These days it's starting to occur to me more and more that my Anal Retentiveness applies not merely to my psyche. For the sake of discretion and to maintain a measure of decency though, and to avoid eliciting adverse reactions from those whose stomachs are less than iron clad, it would probably be best not to go into further detail about my early morning quirks.
Just a hint about the matter though, Freud isn't purely to blame.
After all these years of being possessed by a passionate desire to become a lawyer, I finally realized that given the state of justice in this country, where those in the highest court in the land can't even decide in favor of who is right even if one could see, even with their eyes closed, in fact even if they were blind, provided that they employed even just the slightest amount of common sense, and had in their possession, the smallest bit of integrity, whose cause is morally correct, even without any documents or any evidence, all they would need is their gut instinct to know what is the right thing to do, that I don't have what it takes to become one.
I don't have the stomach to digest what passes as justice in this country. Besides, only chickens have gizzards, and though I may harbor many faults, cowardice isn't among them.
niz on 01:43 PM CST
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This space needs a line for now.