Blasphomous, Yet FUN, Children's Religious Games (0:

So I was talking to a friend of mine earlier today. This got me thinking...what fun games could I make to teach our children, who are our future, the diversity of what various religious icons can teach us. After some thought, I decided what is a better methodology beside interactive games! Be the coolest parent in town! Here is what I came up with:

1) “Pin the Trunk on Ganesha”

Don't mess, this is one serious elephant! One of the most worshipped deities in Hinduism, Ganesha is widely worshipped as the Remover of Obstacles. Don’t make him trunk slap your ass!! So why not have your children help Ganesha defend humankind, through reuniting him with his weapon of choice…his trunk! Also the god of intellect and wisdom, but again, what would he be without his writing trunk. Teach those lil ones about the funny Indians and their even funnier animal gods!

2) “Mary Magdalene Piñata”

She is my most favourite whore, so why not give her some love beats. Deter your children from becoming hoodrats, husslers and skanks. From out the M & M piñata, there will fall an array of sins to remind our lovely children, to stay on a pious path! Do you want to end up being a second-class citizen…no! Fucking slut. (my exploitation of M & M, does not by any means reflect my historical perception of her…she is my boo).

3) “Musical Allah Chairs”

Nothing you say, can take me away from MY GOD! Hail this monotheistic icon! The last chair that is habited by the rear end of a child, proves them as the one “child of God.” This chosen child will be rewarded, with his/her own copy of the Qur’an! The other children will be taught that unless you believe in the power of Allah, they will never find a salvation seat in their lifetime. Next! Beyond gender, beyond pluralism, the truth is in Allah-Allah-Allah, ey ey!

Then, end the party with some….

4) Buddha Cake

What can this humble, jolly man teach our children, you ask? Why, that obesity is something that the Asians stated! Fast food is clearly not the problem in America. This man lived thousands of years ago and he is to be blamed for making fat trendy in modernity! If he were so learned, he would have been enlightened to stop eating so much food! Holy gluttony, batman! Siddhārtha Gautama, the founder of Buddism, was not fat like his predessors. Teach those kids that eating is for the weak and dharma and/or nirvana can only be attained by the skinny. Make an example out of Buddha and keep the spirit of slim-is-in alive!

What ever te occasion, whatever the season, keep your children informed towards healthy discrimination, bigotry and a bright, yet white future! Amen.

TiC ToC, GoEs ThE CloCk.....

Time is our greatest asset, yet the most miserable, mortal mockery. He constantly reminds us that he will not stop, pause or even slow, to allow us to pace ourselves within the motions of life, or even the acceptances of loss.

As I have grown older, and even slightly wiser then yesterday, or even the day before; I have learned to let things develop on there own merit. Place your hands firmly against your desires, but do not stifle the flame. Do not settle for any flame that does not burn with the same intensity as yours, or with the same flicker in its dance. Allow time to be the vizier of the conditions that will unfold before your often, naive eyes. Be the master of your universe, but understand that you can not control the universe itself. What will be, shall be.

All embraces, conversations, good intentions and looks of compassion, will fade with time. This is inevitable. However, we can find some sense of peace with these un-settling truisms, by respecting each moment with a breath of humbleness and a hope that we are being understood. If we have to let go of something, it probably wasn't ours in the first place. If we have to walk away from a thought opportunity, or a place where we once dwelled our creative thoughts, then we must walk away with our heads held high.
We can hold on to our dignity by knowing that we did our best in every circumstance. That we were not cowards or selfish fools.

Time is nor cruel, nor kind. It simple is.

Time is a reluctant and confusing force of nature. We are never quite aware if we have enough time to accomplish and fulfill, all it is that we want to do. But all we can do it try. Try to live a happy life, try to drain out the sounds of madness and tastes of misfortune.

Through the chosen path of time, my story will lay its course. With or without you. Until the end of time.

CROCS KILL!

I am bloody well fed-up! How the hell thought of the idea of wearing these fashion violations in public?? My bet is that is was someone white and from America. That person should be hung, like the Pazzi, from ropes in a public piazza.



Yes, that harsh kids. Crocs were not ever made with the intention of becoming a fashion trend of 2007. They are meant for gardening and medical practitioners to wear. Not everyday people, doing everyday things. I am at a boiling point. The next person I see wearing these BLASTED baskets, I will beat with them. No remorse. None.

Just when I thought that it could not get any worse, I find out that they now have Croc jewellery. Personalize your own style with this load of Croc on your feet! Bang! Will the Gods not have mercy on us innocents and our precious gift of eye sight?? I truly believe that the Croc violators (poor souls that they are are), are under the impression that they are cool and hip in them. That is a Croc of shit! This saddens me. I am here to help you, not to judge you.


Help me out people. Change can only happen if we all bind hands and say: "NO...WE WILL NOT TAKE THIS ANYMORE!" If you see someone with Crocs, slap them with all your might. Tell them it is for there fashion salvation and a less bright future. Damn the people at Croc-headquarters, for ruining the beauty of a rainbow. Too much variety is not necessarily a good thing, in this case.
Actually, the charm of the rainbow has been repeatedly abused, first by the GAYS and now by the Croc-heads.

I hope that this terrible fad will die with the summer season winding down...I hope. I am trying to desperately believe, that there is not a sick person out there who has thought of such a haunting vision as.... CROC BOOTS! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!

May 2008 bring faith for a life without these abominations. Remember, fashion does not come from America...YOU WISH!

Lonely Thinker

There is nothing special about me. I am just an ordinary girl, trying to find her way to a place where I can rest free of pain and disappointment. Find a place where I can lay the seeds of my heart and allow for them to grow into the realities of my dreams.

I am not anything exceptional. I have been battered and bruised, treated like rubbish and left foolishly broken and exposed. My skin is imperfect, for it shows the scars of many broken hearts, many betrayals, many nights pondering why it was that I was made the way that I am and chosen to lead, the life that I blindly lead. A surfacing of what lays beneath my skin is too hard to hide. Covering me up in concealer, will not hide the imagery of my life that embraces every inch of my aging face, every corner of hunched posture.

I am flawed. Sometimes I don't understand the road I have been given.

I am falling from the place of youthful innocence. My body has been diseased by your carelessness, my mind tainted towards the darkness of faithless despair. I am not able to see the light of salvation, when I am full or sorrow and loneliness, when I feel defeated or saddened. At times I wish I could be stronger, though at times I cry because I am strong.

Not many seem to think like me, so what is the use of having a voice? I denounce my mind, for it leads me to think silly thoughts. Not many think like me. I must be a fool.

I continuously make mistakes and wear blinders to the truth. My intentions are always good, but I am naive to the blatant truth. I will hesitate on my telling you who I really am, for I am nothing special. I am just me. A girl. A strong girl, that wants to survive and leave this existence feeling like I mattered to someone. But I don't.

I am no one. For if I was, I still wouldn't be a someone like you would notice. Because I am nothing special. I am just me. If I show you who I am, nothing special, will you run away too? I am ordinary in appearance, I feel just like everyone else. My kiss is not that monumental, I have quite an un-exceptional method of embrace.

I am a no one, that is seeking no one to teach me who I am.

If I was someone special, I would wish to be happy. But happiness is for those who belong. I do not belong here, for if I did, I would not be afraid of you.

You are someone. Someone full of beauty and kindness.

My Body is a Wonderland???!!!!!

...ok here we go! Just for old times sake. Ready for the rides, the bad hair, the women that you judge from a distance because they wear stiletto heals? The amount of baby cruising that goes on between you and cute lazy asses being pushed around in strollers!?

I want one! No, not a baby. A stroller. I am not always THAT maternal.

So I, along with my Asian sistah, half-breeds at side, avec les filles maman...hit the park formerly known as Paramount Canada's Wonderland! Yes, Paramount has once again removed its affiliation with the City of Maple.

We walked in early and ready to take on the magic of Astra Zeneca day at the park!! YAY! Free rides, free food, free fun! Thanks M.A.!

9:30am...no sleep and one coffee down. A power nap it the car with the Ipod on. Huuunnnnay, what a way to begin the day! It has been too long since I have taken on such an ambitious attempt to have my body thrown by the ferocious velocity, of a punish'd roller coaster!

Me and the Asian sistahs have done this in our youth. No problem. Man vs. machine.


After 14 rides, there became a problem.
My old ass body. Shit hurts, that never use to hurt when I was young and not so damaged (The double entendre is intended!). But in the spirit of Thunder Mountain, we held our slightly ailing backs with the palm of our hands, gently massaged in circular motions and moved on. Soldiers don't give up in conquest! We had to show that we could still do this in excess and with youthful grace. Right.

This trip reminded me of when I was young and I would go on Mindbuster and almost get slapped unconcious, by the backlash of my own breasts. The sadistic rush of feeling like you may just fall out of a ride and die! Feeling your stomach in your throat, your knickers in a fancy knot.

Do you remember when the lap bar wasn't clicked tight enough? I do. Do you remember being stuck on the incline of an ascent for 45 minutes. I do. Do you remember seeing masses of irritating people around you when you were tired and sun-buzzed out. I DO.

The moral of the story is such. For those who enjoy some adrenaline rushing, there is still lots of fun and good times to be had! If you have the patience for the line ups, and non-willingly hearing lots of terrible conversation around you, you should definalty go! But don't expect that you will not feel it, like in the resilience of your body in the younger days. Oh you well feel dizzy, dis-oriented and just straight out bruk-up!

Oh and don't forget about the funnel cake....yum, funnel cake.

You have a couple weeks to get your act together, before the season is over. So if you so desire, get ready to ride! I recommend attending, "Halloween Haunt" (formerly "Fearfest") activities. Check it out the week before Halloween, as it gets really busy. A few of the rides are still open during this scaaaary special event. Gather a group of your peeps and prepare for some yummy scares!

http://fearfest.canadaswonderland.com

Here's to a trip down memory lane and a reminder of the innocence of youthful corruption. Sorry park security. Cheers today for having Advil and the gym available to soothe my broken shell (0;

Hollaback and tell me about your favourite Wonderland memory. Note: Kingswood Music Theatre can be included!

Shut the Fuck Up

Hip Hop 101:

“In Hip hop music, people individually and separately vocalize over beats, instrumental tracks, usually consisting of repeated phrases. Hip-hop is considered an important development in the history of music because, for the first time, non-tonal aspects of speech, its emphasis and lyricism, are the most identifiable aspects of vocalizations. Also, syncopation and abstract rhythms are being used in ways never before. In addition, technological manipulation of sound is being used as never before. Hip-hop began as an idea during the 1970s, became a mainstream genre during the 1980s, and an internationally popular genre during the 1990s and 2000s. It is usually divided into three periods: Roots, Old School, and Golden Age. Most agree that the "golden age" ended during the 1990s. The current period is not yet named, though it is commonly referred to as New school hip hop.”
Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_hip_hop_music

So being a huge fan of Hip Hop, I have been bombarded with the images that both 50 Cent (UGH) and Kanye West (UGH) have recently dropped new albums. Now the war begins. In fact, if you give a damn (frankly I don't), they will be battling it out on BET at 6pm, Tuesday. What the hell is wrong with these people?

Did we not learn anything from the senseless deaths of Tupac and Biggie? Enough feuding, you idiots! Why would an educated black man want to project the image of being a cocky mongrel? They claim it is about picking up the mic and battling it out over skill, but why do I not believe that is where it is going to end?
Shit, Foxy Brown just got her hearing aids snatched by Lil'Kim's crew...enough crazziness!

There is no evolution in these men. So 50 is street, who cares?! So is the crackhead woman that collects welfare cheques. Why doesn't anyone sign her and give her a voice?
I have not heard anything interesting drop from his shoot at nine times, brock-up mouth for years. In da club...come on people. Hip Hop or Crap Hop?

Kayne, on the other hand has some interesting and intelligent things to say. I can feel his flow, but the hubristic attitude he harbours is very unattractive. Maybe someone should pull the wire out of his mouth and remind him what it is to be humble to life. Cocky bastard. I like his clothes though. Just cause you look good, it don’t mean you right within. Uh-uh come again! Shoooooooooot! (Respect Lauryn)

So is Hip Hop dead? Yes and no. We still got some real brothas representing: Common, Nas, Talib. Hip hop has obviously evolved into the mainstream, like most under-ground, or street genres. Rather than being an empowerment voice for mainly African-Americans to deal with the struggle of survival of the street, now we talk about bitches and bling. Pastiche is a very interesting concept in music. The merging of white wealth and African American identity has allowed for the success of such artists as 50 Cent and Kanye West. Is it more about keepign it real, or making money bitches? After looking at these fellas, it seems more like suspending, then selling an image of what it is to be "real." Do we need to cater to the white people anymore? They already stole R & B with Elvis, why you have to go steal our tradition of Hip Hop too? Wasn’t Elvis ENOUGH??!!

I am now going to digress.
Amy Freakin Winehouse. Can someone get that bitch to rehab and tell her so stay there? If you recall, I was feeling her when she first came out. But now, through the enlightenment of a special friend of mine, I have re-assessed. As she put it, and I will now paraphrase:
"That bitch is the media for all the wrong reasons. What ever happened to the music? I am sick of people abusing their ability to reach people, after they receive a record contract."
Well put, Miss Thing.
Someone needs to tell that girl to chill out and put the needles and crack pipe down. I have predicted that Amy will die soon--I think 26 is the magical age of martyrdom music deaths. No doubt, she is just a young and tortured soul. She writes about her realities, I can respect that. I still enjoy her, I am just getting agitated by the notion that we all stand by and watch her self-destruct. We are twisted fucks. I hope she can get her act together and continue on a path that involves evolution. Perhaps she can go from Rehab to Jerusalem? Who knows!

I am done now.

Hum(an)ility

I am restless, yet focused. My energy is searching for a place to rest quietly and safely. Away from all this pain and sadness. I wipe my tears and tell myself that this is all a journey of understanding. I fill myself with memories that remind me of what happiness was. I was young then.
When I had not yet been wounded from being too strong. When I had not lost, or had to let go of anything that was of value to me. A time when I had not yet been faced with saying goodbye to someone I love.

Reality is too real sometimes. We all must come undone. Will you be capable of looking back and understanding why all this grief and happiness etched out your course?

I will pray with the utmost faith in mind, to find a place where I belong. I lay hope in the belief that one day, I will find a lover to call my own. She, in all her beauty, will not fear my power, or runaway from my desires or dreams. Together, we will be one powerful entity. I dream of being held in my lovers captivity willingly, and so hold her back. We will spend our dreams together, hold eachother ever so close, kiss with passionate admiration and love with eternal respect.
I lay hope in the belief that one day, I will have children that will stand by my side and hold my hand, when I feel weak in body. That my children will always remember me, no matter where they are or where they go. They will carry a piece of my soul always.
Everything must come full circle.

With my brothers and sisters at my side, I will find my way. I am going to leave this place, where so often people find solace in disorderly nature.
I want to be different. I want to be like her.
Peace can only come to those who understand the nature of suffering. Suffering makes you humble to the pain of others and the power you have in giving. Death reminds us that life is too short. If you want to leave an immortal impact, you must not waste time through hesitation.

We must take control of our destinies. We are the masters of our own happiness and accomplishments.

The True Art of Conversation

To converse, is to reveal your in cling and capacity for knowledge. I stood on the street yesterday night, and decided to take a moment of silence. To take a moment within all the noisy chaos, cars honking, and just listen to others speak. Sometimes, I can find sweet salvation in a moment of pure silence. Similar to the joy I find in a precious moment between two hearts, that speak to another with genuine respect and compassion.

The art of conversation is near dead. Without sounding like a complete cynic, the amount of mediocre and dis-interesting thought that floats frivolously from the tips of our tongues, and falls out of our mouths, is most alarming. Does no one have anything interesting to say? Does no one have anything unique to present to a set of eager ears? I am eager to learn, am I alone? Sex, drugs, rock and roll. There is more to life then just what we see. A realm of feeling that we must awaken within ourselves. I often feel that many individuals are at a complete stand still in terms of creating a cavalry of sturdy and careful tammed words, to rope in to be part of their intellectual arsenal. My belief from observation, is that these individuals so often shy away from challenges in general. Therefore, often the loss and push to permit a conversation to be challenging and educational, is often trumped before it has even unravelled its colourful gifts.

Nowadays, our focus in conversation tends to pivot around things that revolve around our own existence, in the now. We do not tend to think about our neighbours, or even look beyond tomorrow. The hectic pace of life and the toll it can often take on our energies, is clearly consequential to the manner in which we so willingly, bow our heads in blind submission of ignorant and simply boring thoughts. We speak to others with sloppiness and with little conviction of passion.

Don't use words to be evasive. Don't use words to affiliate or cause damage. Open others minds to your experiences and opinions and allow others to do the same for you. If somone deserves and demands your attention, take notice and give them credit. The art of conversation is a rare and most rewarding interaction.

Speak your mind, make your choices in words carefully. Submit yourself to a moment between minds. Encourage the root of knowledge, for knowledge will lead you to harbour the greatest in all other powers. It all starts in our minds. Om shanti.