I may act crazy sometimes but don’t mistake me to think that I am your fool.
So much has changed in me, and outside of me for the world to see.
I have become familiar with remembering what I am here to be; ME.
Look how things have changed, I was hustling to win the game and I realized that I forgot to maintain my own sane. It is harder to hold on being lonely with the hopes that someone better will come along, someone that could look at you and realize that they had the most precious gift in the world. I will not settle for less than my deserved best. My love and commitment is unwavering, nurturing, intelligent and it will lead you to see the true meaning of being free openly. You once did give me something I could feel, at the time it felt so real. Though you cannot take away from me, the struggle I continue to find someone who will help me to be complete.
I am not in a moment past, I am not in the future. I am present gift to my destiny as it manifests through the maturity of my breasts. Love me, or leave me, hate me, or care for me. This is who I am. I am finally happy with my relationship with me.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
"Get Together" Madonna Live Video
There is only one M, and this is why! One of my favorite feel good songs of all time!
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Mumbai Attacked
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
As you all have heard in the past 24 hrs, the heart of India's culture and economy, Mumbai, has been attacked by a meticulous, well-thought out series of terrorists attacks. Apparently the reasoning for these attacks is the targeting of mainly British and American foreigners.
What ever the case is for these attacks, both you and I know that despite the shield of religious martyrdom these terrorists use to further their extremists views, so far 125 innocent people are dead, and over 325 injured.
If you have not turn on your TVs to watch the destruction that has been going on for over a day, do it. Turn on your radio and listen to the testimonials of the eyewitnesses of these attacks- this is real, this is our world. Six different places have been attacked, 2 hotels, a restaurant and a train station to give example.
I just heard a man speak of how he was staying at one of these targeted areas, the Taj Hotel (one of India's finest), and how he was in the lobby when the young terrorists raided into the building. He proceeded to watch people be forced to their knees and shot in the head execution style. He also described how an elderly gentleman that was injured began to crawl towards the hotel stairs and was gunned down in a pool of his blood.
What are these people accomplishing? Why do we show such dedication towards causing so much pain and destruction, but rarely care to heal and love? OUR world has gone mad, lets face it. As much as I stay hopeful, I fear that cowardly events like this will never end.
The people who are inflicting this terror are described to look like young boys. Neither your god, or mine would send the young to do the work of obviously a grown madman.
I ask you to reach into your humanity, your compassion and send your good energy to my people. India is a place of beauty, colour and home to individuals that have build one of the most vibrant and beautiful cultures.
India is a testament to the beauty that humans can build with their own to hands. I ask you to seek this beauty in you today.
Parul
As you all have heard in the past 24 hrs, the heart of India's culture and economy, Mumbai, has been attacked by a meticulous, well-thought out series of terrorists attacks. Apparently the reasoning for these attacks is the targeting of mainly British and American foreigners.
What ever the case is for these attacks, both you and I know that despite the shield of religious martyrdom these terrorists use to further their extremists views, so far 125 innocent people are dead, and over 325 injured.
If you have not turn on your TVs to watch the destruction that has been going on for over a day, do it. Turn on your radio and listen to the testimonials of the eyewitnesses of these attacks- this is real, this is our world. Six different places have been attacked, 2 hotels, a restaurant and a train station to give example.
I just heard a man speak of how he was staying at one of these targeted areas, the Taj Hotel (one of India's finest), and how he was in the lobby when the young terrorists raided into the building. He proceeded to watch people be forced to their knees and shot in the head execution style. He also described how an elderly gentleman that was injured began to crawl towards the hotel stairs and was gunned down in a pool of his blood.
What are these people accomplishing? Why do we show such dedication towards causing so much pain and destruction, but rarely care to heal and love? OUR world has gone mad, lets face it. As much as I stay hopeful, I fear that cowardly events like this will never end.
The people who are inflicting this terror are described to look like young boys. Neither your god, or mine would send the young to do the work of obviously a grown madman.
I ask you to reach into your humanity, your compassion and send your good energy to my people. India is a place of beauty, colour and home to individuals that have build one of the most vibrant and beautiful cultures.
India is a testament to the beauty that humans can build with their own to hands. I ask you to seek this beauty in you today.
Parul
Monday, November 24, 2008
The Great Annie Lennox
Music has always been my most silent and steady companion. For as far as I remember, I can say that music has been the one thing that has inspired me, fed me, healed me and set my heart free from all the troubles that life has sent my way. Music was my outlet even before writing. My headphones are like my second set of ears.
Tonight I was watching the American Music Awards, and initially I was quite depressed at the performances. I was tapping my controller on the lap and thinking of the music that has pulled my heartstrings over the years. Where has all the good stuff gone?
We all know that there is so much crap mainstream music out there today. It is hard to see past all the rubbish to find musical substance. There is tons of pop out there, some of which I totally do enjoy, but where are the great musicians of the past 30 years?
Enter redemption; Annie Lennox. I just can’t speak enough of how much Annie Lennox has inspired me as an artist. When I often sit and write, the lyrics of this musical genius run through my mind. Her linguistic vulnerability is a rarity. Annie is a source of redemption for me. Her words and the emotions in her messages move my insides and make me feel so much more than even my words can explain.
Her beautiful crescendos of love and pain speak with a heart of contemplation, frustration and universality. Annie Lennox is one of the greatest artists of our time.
Today, when she sang “Why,” at the American Music Awards, the tears started to run from my eyes. This is not the first time I have been this moved by her performance. I recall at Live 8, she was the one singer that provoked the reaction of tears from me. She is the one artist I have not seen live, that I wish to see the most.
Annie Lennox is as timeless as the beautiful songs she gives voice to. She is a perfect mold for a true female musician. Annie played with experimental sounds with the Eurythmics (with longtime partner Dave Stewart) and then became a successful solo artist. Also a fashion icon is her own right, Annie popularized the iconography of female androgyny in popular culture and brought theatrical performance to the music videos. She can tell a story without it ever looking forced or awkward.
No matter what endeavor she taken on over the years, she has always done it with class and compassion. I can continuously listen to anything from the span of her career, whether it be “Here Comes the Rain,” “Who’s That Girl,” “Walking on Broken Glass,” Little Bird,” “No More I Love Yous,” or any work off of her newer albums, which received no attention on North American charts and barely any in the UK.
Annie shows us that you don’t need to strip your clothes off, or sell your soul to the devil to be noticed. Her legacy should be what young women today see. She stands for showing that you can be yourself and express yourself through vulnerability and difficult change.
Rarely in the spotlight for her music now, Annie’s humanitarian work also gets undermined- but that’s just Annie. Never seeking the spotlight, a star that burns brighter than so many around her. Somehow she still seems shy to me when she is not performing. However when she takes the stage, she opens her heart for the world to hear her beautiful stories through song.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Remember, Remember, Never Forget
To her it is always important to remember history, the mystery of antiquities place within modern space. She recalls the day when she really learned of pain, the burning red desires of melting hearts that had fallen apart. That day she learned that not everyone was blessed with the open arms to be free and permeate to a place where they can rest assured that one-day life opens the door.
She was in middle school and she was learning about a time they called the Holocaust at the local Jewish Centre. She knew from the moment that she saw the images of scattered human beings that were made with the same human mechanics as her, she would never be the same again. They all appeared as thin as wafers that one eats at mass. Laying in this pictures were piles of bodies to form one gigantic and devastating monument that truly showed hate with more horror than imaginable, or tangible. There was no salvation to be seen here.
She wandered through the long halls of black & white pictures holding back the tears in her eyes that shuffled from side to side. With no reason for her to explain why, she just felt a little shy but slowly began to cry.
She threw-up in the pit of her stomach when she realized that she was not underprivileged at all. Sure her dad may have drank too much and occasionally thumped out his anger through clenched fists, and the coldness of his permeating devilishly, possessed gray eyes. But though she may have been damaged by the lack of his ability to see how much he had hurt her and her siblings, she could still feel the cold air fill the pressure of her chest. Breathing alive became like a most valuable treasure to her that she had once taken for granted.
How could this be true? How could we ever inflict so much pain, with the reason for nothing except for selfish gain? Even the word Holocaust seemed to communicate pain.
She entered the lecture area where she was soon greeted to the sight of a gray haired, delicate old woman, about 85 and about 5’2. She watched her slowly move towards the wooden chair that resembled the lure of an olden casket promising everlasting peace in the thereafter. Though the old woman moved slowly towards the wooden chair that sat dead center, she, the girl, sat patiently transfixed.
The old woman introduced herself as a Holocaust survivor and asked her and her fellow classmates to give her the courtesy to please be heard. But she was mostly speaking to her; she knew that from the tone of her voice. Her focus was as sharp as an arrow and her legs began to shake as the old woman recounted her story of how she was shipped to a concentration camp with her mother, aunt, her younger brother and her father one cold, merciless, and dreary day. The train ride seemed long and was not comfortable in any manner of the word, the old woman said. She was packed amongst hundreds of other women in one cart. There was nowhere to sit or even spit. She had been split from her brother and father already, but she still had her mother and her aunt close by.
The now old woman recalled how her mother held her tight and assured her that everything was going to be alright. There was no food, there was no water. There was only them. Those who would soon be gone. Those who would soon become the images that appeared in the pictures on the walls that would haunt me many nights in my dreams.
When they arrived they were mutually stripped and examined for health, then they were separated into lines of men and women. She said she clung to her mother’s side and waited for a moment to see the salvation that would surely come to her and her family, and all these people who has ridden the train with her in such miserable condition, but still surrounded her like a warm blanket of kinship.
She was hungry and thirsty, but her hunger and thirst for home was even stronger. From the line of these men and women, they began to divide the young from the old. With the blink of an eye, everything once again changed and she was commanded to leave her mother and aunt behind.
She cried and cried but this did not heal her insides. She was slapped and pushed by a guard aside. Soon enough she was alone, in a place full of uniform stripped outfits of blue and white, with hundreds of young strangers by her side.
She, the girl that was watching, now began to blubber with tears and could no longer hide her fears. She took her sleeve and drowned in the misery.
The old woman continued and told them, but mostly her, that from then she became a slave of the Nazis until she was emancipated at the end of the war by allied troops that rode in with their regal tanks, and told her it would now be alright. Everything had gone oh so wrong.
She ran around the grounds to the area where all the older women were housed. She searched for a familiar face; she found nothing except the marks of soot that covered the identities of these women who looked as empty and clear as glass. She looked even harder, nothing. Her mother and her aunt were gone, gone.
She fell to the floor and began to weep. She surrendered to defeat, even thought she had managed to survive. She eventually found the courage to seek her father and brother. She ran not knowing where she was at all, somewhere in hell, the old woman said, was the most accurate description. She found that her father and brother were no more, no more.
No more. Gone. Alone and young. Broken, abandoned, traumatized. This was her life. From that moment on, the girl who had come to with her class communally to the Holocaust Centre placed her hands on her eyes. She felt so connected to that woman, that she could have laid her body down and died.
No, that was all wrong. The old woman had reminded her, the girl, of the strength that we all possess inside. From that moment in a silent prayer, she promised the old woman and the universe that she would promise to always feel alive, even when she was broken inside. She would not just go down and die without fighting for the memories of those who were forced into the light.
She was in middle school and she was learning about a time they called the Holocaust at the local Jewish Centre. She knew from the moment that she saw the images of scattered human beings that were made with the same human mechanics as her, she would never be the same again. They all appeared as thin as wafers that one eats at mass. Laying in this pictures were piles of bodies to form one gigantic and devastating monument that truly showed hate with more horror than imaginable, or tangible. There was no salvation to be seen here.
She wandered through the long halls of black & white pictures holding back the tears in her eyes that shuffled from side to side. With no reason for her to explain why, she just felt a little shy but slowly began to cry.
She threw-up in the pit of her stomach when she realized that she was not underprivileged at all. Sure her dad may have drank too much and occasionally thumped out his anger through clenched fists, and the coldness of his permeating devilishly, possessed gray eyes. But though she may have been damaged by the lack of his ability to see how much he had hurt her and her siblings, she could still feel the cold air fill the pressure of her chest. Breathing alive became like a most valuable treasure to her that she had once taken for granted.
How could this be true? How could we ever inflict so much pain, with the reason for nothing except for selfish gain? Even the word Holocaust seemed to communicate pain.
She entered the lecture area where she was soon greeted to the sight of a gray haired, delicate old woman, about 85 and about 5’2. She watched her slowly move towards the wooden chair that resembled the lure of an olden casket promising everlasting peace in the thereafter. Though the old woman moved slowly towards the wooden chair that sat dead center, she, the girl, sat patiently transfixed.
The old woman introduced herself as a Holocaust survivor and asked her and her fellow classmates to give her the courtesy to please be heard. But she was mostly speaking to her; she knew that from the tone of her voice. Her focus was as sharp as an arrow and her legs began to shake as the old woman recounted her story of how she was shipped to a concentration camp with her mother, aunt, her younger brother and her father one cold, merciless, and dreary day. The train ride seemed long and was not comfortable in any manner of the word, the old woman said. She was packed amongst hundreds of other women in one cart. There was nowhere to sit or even spit. She had been split from her brother and father already, but she still had her mother and her aunt close by.
The now old woman recalled how her mother held her tight and assured her that everything was going to be alright. There was no food, there was no water. There was only them. Those who would soon be gone. Those who would soon become the images that appeared in the pictures on the walls that would haunt me many nights in my dreams.
When they arrived they were mutually stripped and examined for health, then they were separated into lines of men and women. She said she clung to her mother’s side and waited for a moment to see the salvation that would surely come to her and her family, and all these people who has ridden the train with her in such miserable condition, but still surrounded her like a warm blanket of kinship.
She was hungry and thirsty, but her hunger and thirst for home was even stronger. From the line of these men and women, they began to divide the young from the old. With the blink of an eye, everything once again changed and she was commanded to leave her mother and aunt behind.
She cried and cried but this did not heal her insides. She was slapped and pushed by a guard aside. Soon enough she was alone, in a place full of uniform stripped outfits of blue and white, with hundreds of young strangers by her side.
She, the girl that was watching, now began to blubber with tears and could no longer hide her fears. She took her sleeve and drowned in the misery.
The old woman continued and told them, but mostly her, that from then she became a slave of the Nazis until she was emancipated at the end of the war by allied troops that rode in with their regal tanks, and told her it would now be alright. Everything had gone oh so wrong.
She ran around the grounds to the area where all the older women were housed. She searched for a familiar face; she found nothing except the marks of soot that covered the identities of these women who looked as empty and clear as glass. She looked even harder, nothing. Her mother and her aunt were gone, gone.
She fell to the floor and began to weep. She surrendered to defeat, even thought she had managed to survive. She eventually found the courage to seek her father and brother. She ran not knowing where she was at all, somewhere in hell, the old woman said, was the most accurate description. She found that her father and brother were no more, no more.
No more. Gone. Alone and young. Broken, abandoned, traumatized. This was her life. From that moment on, the girl who had come to with her class communally to the Holocaust Centre placed her hands on her eyes. She felt so connected to that woman, that she could have laid her body down and died.
No, that was all wrong. The old woman had reminded her, the girl, of the strength that we all possess inside. From that moment in a silent prayer, she promised the old woman and the universe that she would promise to always feel alive, even when she was broken inside. She would not just go down and die without fighting for the memories of those who were forced into the light.
Monday, November 17, 2008
The Little Girl Who Was Forgotten By Absolutely Everyone (Even the Postman)
Don't we all just want someone to love us like little Emily?
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Broken Telephone
It is hard to break old habits, but there comes to a time to recognize that sometimes change in your strengths need to be tuned for your own survival.
I am a good person, a kind person, a loving person. For me one of the most difficult challenges is letting go of the past in my present – that is to say that I always desire serenity when it comes to situations past. What I have learned is that this is not necessarily a feasible reality when it comes to all situations.
I will admit that I have my friends that keep me in check when I have an emotional day. This usually consists of me desiring to contact someone from my past. Funny as fate is, it has always lent me the tough slap of not having those who were once special with me really make an honest effort to keep in touch with me. It seems that their pride often leaves them running as far from me as seen to the human eye. In the case of my ex’s, their actions have always spoken louder than their words.
So when I have this yucky moment, I must reach into myself, beyond my human strength, to my faith. I refuse to let anyone take my faith from me. At times I may feel dented and weak, but the biggest struggle for me has always been learning to let go and to some, say NO.
I have changed and I continue to change into a stronger, wiser me.
I will never be someone who hates another. In fact that is that day that I would no longer feel like myself. Yes I admit that I do miss these people and nothing will ever take away the memories we have made – but I can’t forget that if I was once the object of their attention and affection; they to have made a decision about me that best suits the way they wish to live their lives now.
We are at odds. How odd, who would have ever known that we would become such strangers?
Time goes on, memories may fade in preciseness and detail with time. The only hope I have is that they have not forgotten me, the person that I really am.
I am a good person, a kind person, a loving person. For me one of the most difficult challenges is letting go of the past in my present – that is to say that I always desire serenity when it comes to situations past. What I have learned is that this is not necessarily a feasible reality when it comes to all situations.
I will admit that I have my friends that keep me in check when I have an emotional day. This usually consists of me desiring to contact someone from my past. Funny as fate is, it has always lent me the tough slap of not having those who were once special with me really make an honest effort to keep in touch with me. It seems that their pride often leaves them running as far from me as seen to the human eye. In the case of my ex’s, their actions have always spoken louder than their words.
So when I have this yucky moment, I must reach into myself, beyond my human strength, to my faith. I refuse to let anyone take my faith from me. At times I may feel dented and weak, but the biggest struggle for me has always been learning to let go and to some, say NO.
I have changed and I continue to change into a stronger, wiser me.
I will never be someone who hates another. In fact that is that day that I would no longer feel like myself. Yes I admit that I do miss these people and nothing will ever take away the memories we have made – but I can’t forget that if I was once the object of their attention and affection; they to have made a decision about me that best suits the way they wish to live their lives now.
We are at odds. How odd, who would have ever known that we would become such strangers?
Time goes on, memories may fade in preciseness and detail with time. The only hope I have is that they have not forgotten me, the person that I really am.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
The Winds of Change
We all know; yes we can.
Listen to your day as it unfolds.
Sigh when people around you act to brazen and bold to let them know.
Fight for change, not for destruction.
Reflect the light that blesses us with the intuition of love and life.
Love not only yourself, but those who are oceans away that you will never have the privilege to meet.
Be wiser than yesterday remembering that you must elevate the facets of your mind to become even better than you could have ever imagined.
Touch the sky, don't lay without pride.
Education lays within accessing openly the pounding heartbeat of our universal condition, not through dissecting and bigotry of race and sexual orientation.
Revelations can only come through reflections, through removing social constipation, with caring for those who need to be given the same consideration of you and me.
The eyes of democracy.
Fear is manifested into our conscious by the unconscious and destructive desires of those who have blackened their hearts and resorted to desperation in attempt of not falling apart.
Today is our opportunity to change the fates of our children, the fate of our planet; both of which need us to show we can lead with vigor and kindness.
We need to adapt from our past mistakes.
Free as a bird, high as a kite.
Let no one scare you into diminishing your faith in the salvation of the religion of love.
If you were to perish without leaving a ripple of good consciousness behind, it is life that has left you behind.
Life maybe a mystery but love is a simple truth.
We face a time which calls for people to lead us towards the light of brighter days.
Rise my brothers, stay strong my sisters.
YES WE CAN.
Listen to your day as it unfolds.
Sigh when people around you act to brazen and bold to let them know.
Fight for change, not for destruction.
Reflect the light that blesses us with the intuition of love and life.
Love not only yourself, but those who are oceans away that you will never have the privilege to meet.
Be wiser than yesterday remembering that you must elevate the facets of your mind to become even better than you could have ever imagined.
Touch the sky, don't lay without pride.
Education lays within accessing openly the pounding heartbeat of our universal condition, not through dissecting and bigotry of race and sexual orientation.
Revelations can only come through reflections, through removing social constipation, with caring for those who need to be given the same consideration of you and me.
The eyes of democracy.
Fear is manifested into our conscious by the unconscious and destructive desires of those who have blackened their hearts and resorted to desperation in attempt of not falling apart.
Today is our opportunity to change the fates of our children, the fate of our planet; both of which need us to show we can lead with vigor and kindness.
We need to adapt from our past mistakes.
Free as a bird, high as a kite.
Let no one scare you into diminishing your faith in the salvation of the religion of love.
If you were to perish without leaving a ripple of good consciousness behind, it is life that has left you behind.
Life maybe a mystery but love is a simple truth.
We face a time which calls for people to lead us towards the light of brighter days.
Rise my brothers, stay strong my sisters.
YES WE CAN.
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