God

This post has been in the waiting for a long time. I keep thinking I want to do it, then decide against it, then consider doing it, then reconsider the reconsideration, and so on.
I figured I'd just do it and get it over with. [Plus, I have a lot of work to do and I'm running out of reasonable methods of procrastination.]
The thing is, this Calvin and Hobbes strip pretty much covers everything I feel.

Calvin's is a valid concern. And it's one of the reasons I love Calvin and Hobbes so much. Like I've said multiple times about John Green (writer, vlogger and human being extraordinairre), the words are so unassumingly profound. Funny, too, but also surprisingly deep at times, particularly for a comic strip.
I believe God exists. I want to believe, I hope that God exists. Because I have to. Not because some religion forces it upon me, but because life makes no sense without God. I suppose one could say that life can be profound and meaningful even without a higher presence. That Man is a means and an end in himself.

But that's so..empty. I need some sort of higher power to pray to, to give me hope to deal with the inevitable, to deal with what I can't change.
To believe in.


At least I think I do.


~Sam

I should probably space out my posts better.

Meh. Management has never been my thing anyway.

~Sam

Why I Want the World to End In December

Because it would be SO COOL, to begin with.
Because I want to know what happens.
Because I want it to happen in my lifetime.
Because I don't want to die alone. I'm the girl who drags someone along with her everywhere she goes [reminds me of Harry's dilemma with Cho in the fourth book, harr harr], so yeah, I would prefer for a couple of billion people to accompany me on my final journey, too.
Because life sucks and then you die. [Had to say that.]
Because I want to know when I'm going to die so that I can plan the remainder of my life accordingly. Even a couple of weeks in advance would be fine. I don't like living in ambiguity (the irony, considering this is my natural state of existence), and how am I supposed to plan out my life if I don't even know how long I'm going to live for? [I have a post on this and I would link you to it but Í'm supposed to be working (surprise, surprise)].
Because I'm a last-minute-r. I've spent most of my life leaving things to the last minute, and I'd like this to happen when I'm relatively young so that when imminent death galvanizes me into finally living out my disproportionately long bucket list, I have the energy and the will to do so in a proper manner.
Because..other things which I don't have the time to articulate. Suffice to say, it is a long and convincing list.


~With a pinch of morbidity,
Sam 

I dream.

Of being on the New York Times bestseller list.
Of having memes of my quotes, fangirls (boys?) of me.
Of being happy.
Of being sexy.
Of finding Him.
Of being beautiful, in love.
Of chocolate cake.
Of opening a bakery. (I can't bake, this won't happen.)
Of marrying a baker.
Of bakery-scented deodorants. (Yes, I like bakeries.)
Of comfortable stilettos.
Of long, beautiful hair.
Of a beautiful house, and an even more beautiful home.
Of a world with no mosquitoes, cockroaches, rats, lizards or hate. (The rest, I can live with.)
Of flawless skin.
Of tasty health-food. (Again, not happening any time soon.)
Of a world of love.
Of a world I love.

I dream of writing something beautiful, something original, something so deep, so profound, that everyone can see its truth, everyone can feel it; that no one has words to express their awe, that everyone will remember always, and quote, and dwell on, and revel in. I dream of writing something that is mine.

~Sam

Though these days of course, I pretty much just dream of sleep. 

The problems with living for today.

That sounds like an essay title.

Bleh.

Anyway.


I've been repetitively listening to Imagine for a few days now, and while I agree with and hope for most of what Lennon says, the line "Imagine all the people living for today",  sounds to me a little..problematic. I mean, if I lived only for today, I wouldn't get anything done at all, and I'm quite sure the rest of the world agrees with me on that. If someone told me I'd die tomorrow (and if I believed everything I was told), I'd hop onto the first flight outta here and go absorb as much Europe as I could in a day. Or go visit my friends, live out my bucket list, something. I certainly wouldn't sit at my desk and work and contribute to the continued functioning of the world as we know it.
And if everyone thought that, everyone would want to go out and have fun, and no one would work, and there would be no one to man the flights, or drive the taxis, or sell fruit, or do anything and then there would be chaos and riots and mobs and the world would collapse and everything would end and the sun would swallow us up and we'd all die.

I could go on, but I think we can all see how Utter Chaos And Death would be a problem.


[Yes, this is what I get from one of the most hopeful songs in the world.
Then again, I'm the one who gets cheered up with Welcome to My Life when I'm depressed, which goes to say something to you.]



Though I guess if you took Lennon a little less literally, and a little more utopia-ic-ally, which I suppose is how he intended himself to be taken, everybody living for today wouldn't sound like such a bad idea after all. Maybe.

~Sam

Let us all take time to see just how passionate, hate-filled this post is.

http://awesomewebe.blogspot.in/2011/11/random-ramblings-by-hate-filled-person.html

Haha. okay. Bye.

I HAD TO.

I was watching the VMA's and I just HAD to pause it(I downloaded the show) to blog about this. This particular thing has been trending  ALL over the world breaking the hearts of twihards(I can't believe I used that word. They sound like a dangerous cult don't they?). The break up of Kristen and Rob. Yeah okay, she cheated on him with Rupert Sanders. Shit happens okay? She made a mistake. Leave the poor girl alone. We have no right to barge in their personal lives. Sometimes, I think people forget that, what happened was their life, not a movie. So yes, here I am, feeling bad for Kristen. Let the girl breathe man. It isn't really our place to judge. That is all.


This is Malko saying,
Maytheforcebewithyou(not too much force though)

Thoughts

Some thoughts are like the phone when a friend calls you and forgets to cut the line when she’s done. You can try as much as you want, but you just can’t cut the call. Can’t sever the connection, can’t get rid of it.

I still haven’t managed to write down, or quite compose my views on God, but I think I’m an agnost. Not an atheist, not a believer; an agnost. Why? Because I apparently revel in indecision, that’s why. It’s like, my natural state of existence: Undecided.

You know what else is my natural state of existence? Guilty. If Barney has an extra awesome gland instead of tear glands, I have guilt glands instead of…every gland.
Talk while the sweet new teacher is teaching? Guilt.
Be a bitch about a bitch? Guilt.
Be generally PMS-y and bitchy? (Albeit belated) Guilt.
Forget to thank Random Guy who gave me directions? Hang up too quick on my mum? Instant guilt.
Skive off on a job? Get yelled at? Let loose the guilt gates.

Yeah, you get the point.

~Sam

Ahcsakjdjkcbjd

I keep getting (arguably) awesome ideas to write on and then I want to write but I don't have my laptop and by the time I get my laptop I'm too tired to do anything except stare catatonically at facebook and then I feel horrible about myself and all I want to do is curl up in my bed to die but then I don't die and I wake up and I still haven't written anything and..please don't hate me? I'll write..something. Soon. Eventually. Promise.

~Sam

In the meanwhile, you're free to hate on Malko all you want. 

There is so much crap on here that I don't even agree with anymore.
I can't even believe I thought, let alone wrote some of it.
Is this what they say about blogs reflecting the way you change?
Because hell, I needed to change.
~Sam

Knowing Someone from the Secret Services.

*Adds to bucket list*

I really wonder though, how would it be like to meet someone from the secret services? Would we know? Would they tell us? Or would they lie to us about their jobs like how we see in the movies and books?  For all you know, your best friend or boyfriend/girlfriend could be secret agents. Freaky huh? 

Well that is all.

...

...

...

Thisismalkosaying

Maytheforcebewithyou.

It's a brand new day.

And lord, if the sun isn't shining.

I love Sundays. =D
Especially when I've had a god-blessed 9 hours of sleep, after a week of near-night-outs.
NINE!
HOURS!
SLEEP!
This is what heaven is. A full night in bed. Almost-finished work. And a clean room. God, I feel so accomplished.

~Sam

Yes, that was all I had to say. Laters, babies! =D
[If you got that reference: I feel for you.]

Something Worthy.

I FINALLY have something worthy enough to blog about. I don't know why I didn't tell you guys earlier, but I recently got my passes to the Poets of the Fall concert. They are so so beautiful, brilliant and amazing. I can't even begin to explain how excited I am. I thought that I'd never get to go to a concert before I leave this city, because honestly, no one EVER comes here. It's just so boring and dull and yeah no one comes! Hey, it's home but yeah...you understand... don't you? I am so psyched. I am-as I type-watching their live performances and getting excited.  Gah! I can NOT wait. I'm going to go insane. Not only is this my first concert, but they are also in my top 5. AHH. FEELS. There is nothing to say about the band really, they are.. ...A work of art. Their words are so creative, so wonderful. You end up weaving a world of your own imagination. Their music makes me fly.

On a personal note, I am almost done with my first song. I've written a lot of music, but this song.. I knew that this was the real deal. I'm sorry but you won't be able to hear it now, but if I'm still this dedicated and serious for the next few years, things could happen. I'm going to try for a long time before I give up.

This is Malko saying,
Maytheforcebewwithyou.

THIS GUY.

YOUHAVETOWATCHTHIS

Catatonic

Mosquitoes bite and suck my blood.
Flies buzz around.
I try to remember what I'd thought earlier.
Try, think and fail.
I stare at the screen.
Look, see, stare.
I move the pictures around.
There.
Now it reflects my mood.
Blank.
Blank as a washed whiteboard, blank as a fortune-teller's gaze.
Empty, headed nowhere.
Drifting away in a daze.

~Sam

Writer's envy, writer's dream.

That awful feeling.
When all you want to say, has already been said.
Said better than you could ever have said it.
Thought better than you could ever have thought.
Put better than you could ever have put.

When you wish you had been born earlier.
That you had spoken, written, thought, put faster.

And that feeling.
When what has been said, becomes what you wanted to say.
What has been thought, what you wanted to think.
What has been written, what you wanted to write.

When you wish that what you love had been yours.
Yours before you had read it, heard it, seen it.
That you had written it, thought it, felt it.
That you had brought it into the world.
That you owned it, because you had said it.


And then that feeling.
When you step back, and you look, and you admire, and you accept that it isn't yours.
And you love it all the more because it isn't.
And you strive all the more because it isn't.
And you hope-just hope-that one day.
One day, you can go from envying, to envied.
From loving, to loved.
From yearning, to yearned for.
From taking, to giving.
And that you can contribute, you can contribute, something, however little, to that brilliance out there.
That you can be on the other side.
The writer's side.


~Sam 

Looking out the library window.

Crows wheel around the sky,
dull, wet clouds inch by-
the tired trite toll of time.

The spokes of the fans rotate,
the race of tapping fingers escalates-
it is already nearly too late.

Figures hunch over every bench,
tired, like soldiers in a trench-
with knowledge, each trying itself to drench.

Voices are hushed,
footsteps rushed-
silence lurks in the carpets lush.

For there is work to be done,
and all else shall be shunned-
until it is time again for joy's return.

But it is not time yet for joy's return.



~Sam
It sucks, doesn't it?

The Necessities of Life As We Know It

• Food/water/meat/coke: For subsistence, and existence.
• Sleep: To make you want to wake up.
• firstname.lastname@gmail.com email id: Because everyone needs one.
• Facebook: To pass that extra time that you inevitably find, no matter how busy you are.
• A celebrity love: To obsess over when all seems lost.
• Chocolate: To make it worthwhile.
• Trees: Because there's no poem as pretty as a tree.
• Air: Because our cells like it.
• A friend to bitch/rant with/at: Because bottling in is Bad.
• Love: For life.
• Music: To erase the noise.
• Books: To cleanse your mind, eyes and heart.
• Drama: To liven things up.
• A soft bed: To languish in.
• Sales: To make you happy without making you broke.
• Hugs: Because we all need someone to hold on to.

~Sam 

Note to self.

I have an idea about a post. Harry potter related. So stay tuned. Should be up by tomorrow, unless I tragically die or something.

Why must you be so cool? *wonders in awe*

As most of you already know, I spend most of my time on the internet. What I do on the internet, is however none of your business(TUMBLR! LOOKFORNEWBOOKS! TUMBLR! LOOKFORTORRENTS! TUMBLR! YOUTUBEEEEE!). So as I was saying, I spend a lot of my time on the internet and youtube watching personalities such as these...

                  AMAZINGGUYONE
Now be honest, don't you want a sub right now?

               AMAZINGGUYTWO
I was going to blog about ^ that, but Dan says it all. Yes, I know I'm cheating. XP Sorry.

Maytheforcebewithyou. (I will not forget to do that from now on.)

Random world, random rules, random ramblings.

Don't take candy from strangers, they say, strangers who might just be innocent, kind-hearted, idiotic people who find you cute and want to share their extra chocolate with you.

Be serious, they say. Be mature. Act your age. Why? Maturity is so overrated. The more mature you are, the sadder. And boring-er. So stay immature, stay awesome. Look at the fun side, and enjoy life.


In other news.

Why does water make everything so much more awesome? Mere glasses become time-traveller-looking swimming goggles. Slides become water slides. Holes in the ground become those amazing, extraordinary things that only a person completely deprived of creativity would have named a swimming pool. Air filled pieces of rubber become water balloons (so much awesomer than normal balloons). Air becomes rain.

I love H20.





~Sam

Feel.

Love. A very cliche four lettered word. They say it's the most powerful feeling. So if we don't feel it, does that mean a very essential part of life has disappeared from us?
I'm not talking about the love you have for your family and friends. I'm talking about the love that exists between two lovers.
The best songs ever written are love songs. Of course those that are in love can relate. And those who don't get so involved in the lyrics don't really care, so it doesn't bother them. Me? I listen to every note, every line. And I can't help getting completely immersed in it. Why does the singer say all things he or she does? Are the   songs about themselves, or someone that they know? Do they sing what they feel? Will I ever actually be able to feel and understand what they want to share with the world?
It's hard. Listening to music the way I do and not wonder how it is. I don't know what love is. I don't know if  I ever will. Even then, I feel so much just by listening to music. It isn't fair. I don't want to feel how much I feel, when I don't even know whether I can have it or not. I just...don't want to feel. 

Dreams and Butterflies

So Malko called me up the other day with a brilliant idea to change our blog name to "Dreamcatchers". Because we're always hankering after dreams, see? Now I don't know what exactly is happening with that, but my brain being my brain, came up with a metaphor.
Butterflies.
They're so similar to dreams, no?
Unreal. A butterfly fluttered by the other day and I could have sworn it looked animated.
Fragile. Hold on to one too long, or too strong, and it will die right there in your hands.
Much much too hard to catch. Run after them, and run, and run. And every time you come too close, they'll flutter away, just a little farther, and a little more, and a little more.
Capricious. Flower to flower to flower. Dream to dream to dream.
Beautiful. Joyous. Lovely.
And oh-so-necessary for life.

~Sam

There will be a time.

When your eyes will tear up at the slightest provocation.
When your heart will be full, and your home empty, abandoned in favor of more meaningful places.
When every moment will be treasured, grasped at, held on to tightly, never to let go of.
When "I'll miss you" will be the word on every lip.
When fevered promises to stay in touch will be made, everywhere, from everyone, to everyone.
When every song will take you back.
When every memory will be recalled.
When a life will end, and a new one begin.
There will always be a time.
When things will change.


~Sam

Right Here, Right Now.

Currently listening to: I was Walking with the Ghost by Tegan & Sara.

Currently Obsessed with: Under the Bridge by Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Love Will Come Through by Travis.

Current Mood: Ambitious.

Just another apology (and a reblog, sort of).

Yeah, we suck, we're sorry. We have no excuse either, except..did you know, if you reach far enough and fast enough, you can actually see the temple being built around you in Temple Run? =O

Anyway, this is a beautiful poem by a beautiful friend of mine that I came across the other day. One of the best I've ever read. Do feel free to comment if you enjoyed it.



Do you know this feeling? 
When you're sitting in your balcony, 
Watching the first rain,
Alone.
(But not alone.
Not really. 
The whole universe is watching this sight with you.) 
And you are the perfect degree of wetness. 
Just enough for the cool wind blowing,
To feel icy-cold,
Not enough to go inside and write a poem.
And the raindrops dance in these intricate patterns,
And you think of surface tension,
(And perhaps, if you're particularly poetic,
You think of the tension between human beings.)
And you see the lightning,
And you think of love and how ruin is so beautiful,
And you think about how fast the clouds are fleeing,
And you know they are going where you are,
Away.
(But they aren't, really.
They have to go north and you are going south,
Because we all of us can go only to the place,
Where we are meant to be.)
And if your new hair cut can't survive this deluge,
You don't really care,
You sit there anyway.
Because you know that feeling,
Of watching the first rain,
On a June evening,
From your balcony,
Alone,
(But not alone)
And the perfect degree of wetness.


~My dear friend Sakhi. 






~Sam

What we did before our exams.

So Sam and I used to text most ALL the time, irrespective of whether we had the same exam day after or not.
We ended up writing poems/songs a couple of times.
For your amusement, may I present...

January 22nd, 2012, 10:17 p.m.
Me:
It's the night before my commerce exam,
and I sit there staring,
 at a page that I've been staring at for the past hour or so.
The clock keeps ticking, and I keep dreaming,
my concentration is dropping low.


And I am certain that there's something behind the curtain,
no there isn't, I'm just trying to pass my tiiiiime.
Please please please, I don't want to study anymore,
my head belongs on my pillow,
Please make it go away.


I'm writing this song the day before my test,
My oh my I'm such a shameless wreck,
because even with an exam tomorrow I don't feel guilty...


but please please please make it go away!
The torture seems to be here to stay,
but please make it go away. 

January 24th, 2012, 11:20 p.m.
Sam: 
My eyes are glazed over, the words don't make any sense.
To my life, my grades tomorrow don't make any difference.
My concentration's dropping lower, my body's less tense,
so why oh why am i not asleep yet like my oblivious parents?


Me:
I probably should be worried, that I'm not getting tensed.
I'm in a hopeless situation, an unshocking revelation.
It happens all the time.
And even though I'm wasting my time in this songs making,
I know I'll do just fine, I think.


Sam:
Tired appear to be, my drooping eyes call out to sleep.
But I shut the book and lo, I'm suddenly lively as a brook!
To this feeling of despair, nothing else can compare,
nothing except, perhaps finding splits in my hair.


Me:
I'm just rambling now,even my words have gone.
So why oh why cant the textbook be gone too?


Oh this torture I cannot bear.
In a moments time, my hair I will tear.


See I get this feeling in the back of my brain,
telling me to study, but the front part is saying,
that I should text my buddy.


Sam:
And so I let my eyes glaze over, and let my speed become even slower.
I let the clock tick by as the time passes me by.
To the world  flick my finger and to my friend the singer,
I text, 
A Song.






From Sam: And this is why I don't write poetry. 

Because it's lovely.

I'd kill to be able to write like that.

"If I should have a daughter, instead of "Mom," she's gonna call me "Point B," because that way she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. And I'm going to paint solar systems on the backs of her hands so she has to learn the entire universe before she can say, "Oh, I know that like the back of my hand." And she's going to learn that this life will hit you hard in the face, wait for you to get back up just so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air. There is hurt, here, that cannot be fixed by Band-Aids or poetry. So the first time she realizes that Wonder Woman isn't coming, I'll make sure she knows she doesn't have to wear the cape all by herself because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I've tried. "And, baby," I'll tell her, don't keep your nose up in the air like that. I know that trick; I've done it a million times. You're just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house, so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him. Or else find the boy who lit the fire in the first place, to see if you can change him." But I know she will anyway, so instead I'll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boots nearby, because there is no heartbreak that chocolate can't fix. Okay, there's a few heartbreaks that chocolate can't fix. But that's what the rain boots are for, because rain will wash away everything, if you let it. I want her to look at the world through the underside of a glass-bottom boat, to look through a microscope at the galaxies that exist on the pinpoint of a human mind, because that's the way my mom taught me. That there'll be days like this. ♫ There'll be days like this, my momma said. ♫ When you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises; when you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you want to save are the ones standing on your cape; when your boots will fill with rain, and you'll be up to your knees in disappointment. And those are the very days you have all the more reason to say thank you. Because there's nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's sent away. You will put the wind in winsome, lose some. You will put the star in starting over, and over. And no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute, be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life. And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting, I am pretty damn naive. But I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily, but don't be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it. "Baby," I'll tell her, "remember, your momma is a worrier, and your poppa is a warrior, and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more." Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things. And always apologize when you've done something wrong, but don't you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining. Your voice is small, but don't ever stop singing. And when they finally hand you heartache, when they slip war and hatred under your door and offer you handouts on street-corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.

Thank you. Thank you.

(Applause)

Thank you.

(Applause)

Thanks.

(Applause)

Thank you.

(Applause)"

-Sarah Kay

~Sam

The Beginning of a New Era?

Well, my copy of George R.R. Martin's "Game of Thrones" has finally arrived. I read about 75 pages so far, and it's pretty promising. Will it be the next big thing for me? Well, I'll just have to read on and find out. As of now, I'm already immersed in the book. I really hope it doesn't disappoint me...and I also hope that it never ends. I hate it when epic books end. It fucks with my brain. Also, I have considered watching the T.V. show. But I'm waiting to finish the books that are out first. So yeah.. I'll keep you guys posted(If you even care).
I just discovered that my thumb hurts when I type. And also that my glee finale torrent is done. And that it's past 3 A.M....well there goes my normal functioning REM cycle.

I used the word "well" a lot. Sorry, I'll try to stop. 

Of Suicide and Apologies

We've been horrible, horrible people. I know. We haven't posted in ages, and I haven't posted something original in even longer. That's more from a lack of things to say than from being busy, honestly, though we've been that, too. I noticed that out of the 50-odd posts I have, I only like about a handful-the ones that came to be spontaneously and not out of this feeling that I needed to blog, ones like this, this, this and maybe this. So I figured I'd rather just not write than write crap.
Anyway, we'll try to be more regular now, now that we're relatively freer.


Now that we've got the apologies are out of the way, let's get down to business. Suicide.
So as I said, we've been pretty busy lately, working on something quite important for us. The importance of the task is relevant and cannot be overstated. National security, life and death, etc, etc, don't even begin to cover it.
This is a paraphrased version of a conversation I had at the time (It was funnier when it happened):

Me: I really hope this works out. If it doesn't, I'm telling you, I think I'll just kill myself. *stretches her back, which aches after a long day of laptop-staring, at that moment* *stares at the ceiling* *laughs at the irony of the situation* Ohmygod, guess what? I just looked up, and what do I see? A hook. A very convenient looking, artfully placed hook. Which I've never seen before, in the million times I've looked at the ceiling since I moved here. Hahaha, maybe it's a sign! Now all I need is to find a rope and learn how to tie that stupid knot. =P"
Friend: *laughs along* *after a moment* Wait, you're not serious are you?

No, I wasn't serious. Of course I wasn't serious. No thing, no matter how important it is, should be enough to make you kill yourself. Make you want to kill yourself, sure. But to actually do it? That's a whole new story. And it's a sad state of affairs in the world if, when you threaten to do that, people actually feel the need to ask you whether you're serious. I can't even blame them, I do the same, because so many people have done it in the past that you just can't be sure anymore.
 I don't pity the people who commit suicide. They might have had crappy lives. They might have felt that they had nobody to help them, nobody to love them, nobody to care. But they had their choice. And they chose. It's the people left behind that I really pity. The mothers, the fathers, the friends, the secret crush-harbor-ers and likers who could never confess their feelings to you. Who never got the chance to. They, they're the ones who'll kill themselves everyday now, the ones who had no choice.
Don't get me wrong. People who commit suicide may have had their reasons. I might have done the same in their position. But really, there are suicide help websites and numbers. Call one of them, if you think you have no one to love you, if you think facing the unknown would really be better than roughing it out on Earth, if you can't think of anything better to do, despite the fact that there are always penguins waiting to welcome you in Antarctica. Go hug your mom. Don't post it on some godforsaken blog and expect God to land you a savior in your comments section, or on facebook, two minutes before you do it. Don't expect people to read your mind.  And don't do things that'll fill them with guilt when you're gone.
Because that, that's just selfish.

UPDATE: For no particular reason apart from maturity and experience, I am now more sympathetic to the plight of suicide-committers. Contemplating suicide when you're happy and when you're irrational and alone are two very different things. However, I do feel the same amount of pity for those left behind, those who didn't have the chance to save their loved one.

~Sam

Our blog is flat-lining, I know, I'm sorry. We're not dead, just busy. We'll hopefully be back in a couple of days. Until then, ~Sam.

Another Reblog

This one I just fell in love with, and I wanted to share it because I think we've all felt this way. 

From: http://thatsjusttthewayitis.blogspot.in/

"I remember the four year old kid who asked her father if he could 'please buy a sister' for her from the market. I remember the five year old who screamed at bawled all the while that she was left alone, till her mother was back from Save-on, which was right next door. I remember the six year old who said 'cheese' everytime there a picture being taken just to show off the huge gap in her mouth where her front teeth used to be. I remember the seven year old who believed that infinity people died when the World Trade Centre was knocked down. I remember the eight year old who felt as though supreme, just because she knew multiplication tables long before her class did.
I remember the girl who dreamed of beating the world record for the youngest child to publish a book. I remember the Dad that told his little girl that a doctor was the greatest person in the world, and I remember the little girl who wanted to be the greatest person in the world. 
She was impractical and maybe even a teeny bit stupid. But she believed in herself so much, and usually proved that she deserved to be believed in. When she didn't, she ignored it and began another mission to prove how amazing she could be. 
I wonder what happened to that girl."






~Sam

Opportunity Crisis.

I'm not a practical person, essentially. But the world turned me into one. I must act as though I'm genuinely practical. But I'm not. I want options. All of them. I want everything the world has to offer. Unearthly beings would think so less of us if we didn't seize the opportunities at hand. Having no sight is not being blind. Being blind is, seeing something but out-rightly ignoring it because your practical mind tells you to. I had dreams. But reality came in the way. Atleast that's what my parents made me believe. That your dreams don't come true, and the sooner you break them, the less it hurts. I don't let go that easily. Then i realized, it doesn't always have to be that way. B Quilliam once said, "There is a fine line between dreams and reality, it's up to you to draw it." What a brilliant way to look at it. If there's one thing I learned, its that, no one can help you. I'm sorry but parents don't help at all. They might offer support, but truth of the matter is, one can only help one self. You do that, and your good. 

You know you're on the other side of the generation gap when..

...

• Your 12 year old cousin informs you that you have no idea what it's like being a sixth grader, and your sixth grade was a long, long time ago.
• You're too tired to out-argue said 12 year old. 
• The little people start grumbling about you instead of with you.
• You frown on what "kids these days" are wearing.
• You're deemed to be "okay" at Temple Run by the 12 year old cousin.
• You remember to look at the price of things before wanting them [as opposed to just telling mommy that you want this, this and that].
• You know what a mortgage is.
• People start having to listen to you whether they want to or not.

~Sam

Books and T.V. Shows.

The title of the post explains exactly what I want to talk about.

So recently I ordered Rachel Vincent's latest book, Blood Bound. It's her new adult novel, and it's bloody brilliant! The only book I've read in a REALLY long time. Damn. Rachel Vincent, you've done it again. You are now the favorite author. How does she manage to write such books?! And the story isn't anything like you've ever read before. The female protagonist is a total bad ass. It has guns and thugs and thrill and romance. If you like action, then this is the book for you.

Moving on to T.V. shows, the last episode of One Tree Hill came out again. A part of me just died watching it. You know that feeling you get when a T.V. show or a good series of books is ending? That aching feeling like you don't know what to do with your life? Yeah, I'm totally feeling that right now. Earlier today when I was talking to Sam, she told me to relax and said that I still had other shows like supernatural. To this, I said that I am a delusional person who lives in various parallel universes and one of them just ended. *dies* You're probably shocked that I watch One Tree Hill. * no comment* 

Power of Words

Words are powerful. Think about it. They mean pretty much the same thing, but doesn't "man" sound so much weirder than "guy"? More distant, somehow. Stranger, more formal, more mysterious. Older, maturer.
"A strange man."  "Some random guy."
Feel the difference?
The power of words, people. The power of words.

[And yes, the whole point of this blog post was so that I could say those last two lines in the spooky, eerie, wise manner. Yes, its spooky, eerie and wise. Shut up.]

~A very jobless, Sam

And we're back to talking about guys.

UPDATE: This post requires way, way, way more context. Suffice to say that neither of us are giggle twelve year old One Direction fans, and that I do not spend all my free time telling Marsh that I love her. The only reason this is still on here is for posterity, and it might be better if you just skipped it.


Fortunately, this time I'm not the one doing the (c)raving.

Remember my friend the Marshmallow? She's back! And she can read Arabic and has an insanely inappropriate crush on Zayn Malik. The rest, I'll leave you to figure out for yourself.




Marsh: So I'm following this blog which states random "amazing" facts about One Direction. Today's fact was "Zayn can read in Arabic" and I was like, "YOU DON'T SAY!" -_-

Me: Ahahahaha! God I love you Marshy! Enough to spend actual balance to tell you that. You just made me literally laugh out loud when I was all depressed about how every other guy out here is hot. [I'm travelling.] I finally got what you mean about hotness being painful.

Marsh: See? You should listen to me more. Hotness was created as a tool for sadism.
Seriously! When I read that fact I was like "OF COURSE he knows how to read Arabic! Half the people in the world know how to read Arabic! His freaking NAME should've been an indiciation to the fact that he knows how to read Arabic! Even I know how to read Arabic! Gah!

Me: Seriously. Annoying. And now I can't even take comfort in the fact that I'm a nice, non-sadistic person anymore.
I LOVE YOU! That message is going in my "epic" folder. And. Being able to read Arabic IS amazing to most people you know. Including me. Like being able to read Chinese or something.

Marsh: Dude, there are more people in the world who can read Arabic than who can read Chinese. But yeah.
I saw this interview in which they asked him that if he was a girl, which guy would he date? And he instantly replied "Channing Tatum". And I was like, "Thats it. This guy is my soulmate."

Me: STOP MAKING ME LAUGH OUT LOUD IN PUBLIC! AND SPEND PRECIOUS BALANCE! DO NOT reply after this. And yes. He's your 17-year old, minor, illegal-to-date soulmate :D

The End.

UPDATE: Sorry, apparently I was wrong about that last bit. Here's Marsh's correction: "HE IS NOT MY 17 YEAR OD MINOR,ILLEGAL TO DATE SOULMATE! HE'S MY 19 YEAR OLD,TOTALLY APPROPRIATE,LEGAL-TO-DATE CRUSH!"

~Sam

Right Here, Right Now

Missed my music posts? *silence* OKAY FINE. Don't answer.

Currently listening to Somebody That I Used To Know - Gotye ft. Kimbra
Currently obsessed with Temple of Thought, Ballad of Jeremiah Peacekeeper , Cradled in Love - Poets of the Fall ; Classical solo- Mark Knopfler
Current mood- Content

Hello Random People

        Hi. Long time no see. I was kind of too busy wasting time, since I couldn't do that before. So yesterday I watched the first episode of  Doctor Who and Dexter. So far I like Dexter better, but I'm keeping an open mind and have decided to watch the second episode (although I think the world is against it because this is the third time I'm trying to download the goddamn torrent). If you want to get mind fucked, watch Dexter or Supernatural or Walking Dead.
         And I don't like how blogger doesn't have automatic spell check.  

An Ode To Boredom

Boredom is when you sit and stare at the screen and speak along with every single Big Bang Theory dialogue just because you have nothing better to do.
Boredom is watching Leonard and Sheldon play around in the ball pen while dreaming about Chinese takeaway.
Boredom is Googling Chuck Lorre because you need to see what the guy who created Big Bang looks like. [He looks like Al Pacino btw. Creepily like Al Pacino.]
Boredom is when you watch the same ads on the same channel over and over again because the remote is too far away, and you're too lazy to check what else is on anyway.
Boredom is when you go back to old blog posts and randomly start writing because the laptop was in front of you and you finally got tired of ads.
Boredom is blankness. Boredom is trying to remember what Macbeth said about sleep. Boredom is staring at your facebook page waiting for something to happen.
Boredom is Googling "troglodyte" because Sheldon said it and you didn't know what it meant, and because it was something to do. [PS: It means "caveman".]
Boredom is stalking Dan Bergstein repetitively, even though you know nothing new has happened since five minutes ago because he, unlike you, probably has a life.
Boredom is writing an ode on boredom.
Boredom is this.

~Sam

Never Say No To Panda!

Hi!
Sorry, I'm desperate to blog so I'm just going to keep posting videos until I find something to say.

Credits: My Noodle-Cat ^_^

~Sam 

Reblogs

I've come across a lot of deep stuff the past few days. Very enlightening, very hope-giving. Here's some of it:

From: wonderingsince1993.tumblr.com

Wishing

Do you know that feeling when you wish and dream and hope and desire for something so much that you feel like it’s slowly killing you from the inside? When every great thing that happens in your life does not seem great enough? When you feel a void in your life even when you’re on your feet and your hands are full 24/7?
Do you know that feeling when no matter how perfect people perceive your life to be,your mind keeps thinking “All that glitters is not gold” in a loop? When you’re convinced that the life you want will never be the life you get? When the sky is ablaze with beauteous sunlight but all you notice is the vexing heat? When no amount of comedy sitcoms are able to make you laugh?
Do you know that feeling when the one person you are willing go to the end of the world-to the end of time itself-for is the one person whose identity is withheld from you by destiny? Or when you’re convinced you have found the one you’re meant to spend the rest of you life with but that person is completely oblivious to your existence? When you’ve realised that the opposite of love is not hatred,it’s indifference? When all you wish for is to be noticed just once? When all you wish for is just a second look? When all you wish for is one chance?
Do you?

The Spirit

What is essential for the survival of a man is an indomitable spirit.
Ever since I can remember,I’ve been this kind of girl who randomly stares off into space and people would ask me what I was thinking or worrying or dreaming about. Well for the most part I just dream about what I’m going to do when I starting earning my own money and the exotic places I’m going to visit and the guy I’m going to fall in love with. Up until a while back,I was convinced that my dreams would just remain that-dreams. Every grand plan that I made was always suffixed with “As if that’s ever going to happen.” First,I just wrote off everything to destiny and convinced myself that if something is meant to happen,it will. Then,as time went by,I convinced myself that none of my dreams  are ever going to come true and signed it all off to reality.
Then,an epiphany happened. One night I was helping my mom out with dinner and I just thought aloud,”I want to see London someday.” And she replied,with a snort of derision,”Get real. If something has to happen,it will. That’s when realised. I thought to myself,”Who is my mom to say that it’s not going to happen? Who is ANYBODY to say that it’s not going to happen?”
I accepted the fact that I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. And neither does anyone else. “Realistic” people are convinced that everything that has been or has not been happening will remain unchanged and that dreaming only leads to disappointment. But then what kind of living is that?
I want to travel the world. It’s too big for me to not go wandering around in it. And I’m the only one who can help me in fulfilling my dream. Who is to say that I won’t? And even if someone does,I have to uphold my conviction that I can do whatever I want with my life. I have to make my own destiny. And ever since I’ve realised that,the future seems like a brighter place. To keep it that way,I have to turn a deaf ear to the people who say that I can’t and preserve my indomitable spirit.

From: Anonymous


The truth is, average people aren't happy. Look at it this way.

What do you do with a life? You think, you do, you feel.

What makes a person average? Average thinking, average doing, average feeling.

These people are not happy, because they are average.

They care about things that only immediately affect them, they don't think with effort.
They don't do the things they want to do, they are afraid,
Their emotions are average too.

They will love, but their love will be selfish, it will be for comfort, for shelter, from all the things that they are afraid of, from all the things that will affect them because of their lack of wisdom.

They will be loved for the same reasons too. Because love requires understanding, and only another average person will understand them.

Wouldn't you rather be someone who thinks harder? Not only about the things that are, but things that will be. Things that will not only affect you, but also others around you. 

Wouldn't you rather be someone who has ambition? Not only to do the things that you have to do, but want to do. Things that will not only help you, but also others around you.

Wouldn't you rather love someone to share your hopes and dreams with, and help each other in achieving them, or indeed achieving them together? And not because they want someone to comfort and shelter them, so that they can feel okay? The same way you would have wanted if you were average.

Oh, and ignorance is not bliss. 
Ignorance is having an infatuation with the star cheerleader in school because you don't know about the absolute angel who lives down the street. 
It's Transformers 3 being your favourite movie because you didn't know about Inception.
It's being preoccupied with movies and seeking attention from the cheerleader when nations are corrupt, and constantly at war. 
It's about thinking these problems are important because you didn't know about Anthropogenic Global Warming.

Ignorance will almost certainly be the reason that you deprived yourself of life’s greatest pleasures and indulged in stupid, trivial things that come at a great cost, for your whole life. And it will also certainly lead to your ruin.

If a little logic and reasoning is utilised, the fact that striving to be more and knowledge/wisdom are very much intertwined, becomes clear. 



~Sam

Clowns and life sized figures.

Isn't it weird how when we were kids, we used to love life sized figures of mickey mouse and Pluto and take pictures with them at Disneyland; and now, they creep you out?
Ever since i was a kid, clowns always creeped me out, but i loved mickey and Minnie and other life sized Disney characters at Disneyland. Now, I avoid them. Freaky much?

Sam Winchester is scared of clowns. (Yay. I'm watching the latest episodes!)

The Danger of the Single Story

Wonderfully put.

~Sam 

I hate. (Now without the four letter words)

Warning: The following post is (UPDATE: used to be) filled with profanity, angst, profanity, hatred and profanity. I don't usually condone swearing, or like it, but extreme provocation (read: a pointless exercise conducted in a very pissed-off sun, coupled with stress and PMS) provides for extremely provoked language. Anyway, read at your own discretion and for God's sake don't leave messed up comments for me.


I hate. I hate the sun, the fact that its a frickin hundred degrees outside, the fact that the stupid weather is so stupidly annoying.
I hate people, stupid, empty, meaningless, shallow, superficial people with no consideration for others, who can't even do the  jobs they're paid to do properly.
I hate yelling. I hate having to yell. I hate stupid dumb blank stares with the heat rushing through your veins. I hate blinding red hot rage.I hate that I'm talking like this.
I hate traffic jams and fifteen minute jobs taking one and a  half hours.
I hate the fact that the hot dog and momo stand behind my house shut and went away.
 I hate the fact that people are so hard to read, so hard to trust. I hate that perfect freaks don't exist in my universe.
I hate the internet screwing with me.
I hate prying stranger-acquaintances.
I hate short tempered hormonal women. I hate being a short tempered hormonal woman. I ' hate hormones.
I hate that the stupid drummer next door doesn't realize that there are people living near by who can hear him who have lives which they'd rather live without a constant bang bang bang as background music. I hate the fact that he doesn't even have the courtesy to be freakin' hot if he's going to be drumming away all the time.
I hate work, sleep deprivation, expectations, judgement, all that jazz.
I hate anger and slamming doors and loud voices.
I hate that I have to password protect everything just to get some privacy. (Okay, that's not exactly true, but whatever. UPDATE: That is now true.).
I hate the words "everything is fine". I hate people who ask you how you are when they don't give a damn about anything except their stupid new car or whatever. I hate stupid social conventions.
I hate the fact that people make stuff up in their head about you without knowing a thing about your life. I hate the fact that when you say you're worried they don't understand that you're worried.
"Oh Sam? Yeah, she's fine, just perfect. What does she have to get scared about?" I hate that.
I hate the fact that I'm so unsure of everything. 
I hate the fact that society thinks that women are some fragile little flowers that need to be protected all the frickin' time. I hate the fact that half the people who think that about their women are the ones who go fuck with other women. I hate the stupid, hypocritical world that we live in. I hate that the sunshine and rainbows are so overshadowed by the stress and mud.
I just..hate. And I hate that I hate.

~Sam

Announcement

Helloooo, my pretty little popsicles!
Its been a while since I saw you, and I'm not here to see you now. I'm sorry, but I still haven't been able to come up with anything I'd like to say. This post is just to tell y'all that Malko has been a hiding a secret blog from us (seinarda.tumblr.com), home of awesome pictures and gifs.

So if you can't access this blog for whatever reason, you can find her there. And me from there, somewhere.
That's all for now!

Sayonara!
~Sam

Yeah,I'm alive.

Hello! I know haven't been posting much, I promise, after 26th I'll post everyday(as long as I have something to blog about). I've been really busy. I actually had something substantial for you guys but it's in my notebook(not the software kind. It's quite dark and moody and long. I think I'll post it soon; although I'm not really sure how the response will be.

Women's Day.

Its women's day!
Here are a few songs which suit the occasion.
Lightening crashes-Live Listen
Daughters-John MayerListen

Two Great tracks.

Das Auto

Because I love this ad.

~Sam

Dear Environment People,

Who do you think you're kidding? No, really. You think you can convince us to go out and look for jute bags when we have plastic right in front of us, to give $5 to Greenpeace instead of buying diamonds, to think about 50 years from now instead of tonight?

Dream on.

Have you even thought about what you're dealing with?

We're the race who needs to be threatened with punitive action to follow even the simplest rules-meant to protect our own lives-and even that we don't always do. Why would we care to fulfill voluntary agreements?

We're the race who skips red lights because reaching a meeting in time is more important than the prospective loss of lives of half a dozen people. Why would we care about the consequences of brushing with the tap on?

We're the race who spends more each year on war than on welfare. Why would we try to save?

We're the race who votes people into power and forgets all about the bigger picture for the next 4 years. Why would we take any responsibility on ourselves, when we can foist it off on them?

We're the race who doesn't study until the night before the exam. Why would we think about the long-term?

We're the race who lies, steals, and kills.
We're the race on top of the evolutionary pyramid.
And we're the race who doesn't care.

So stop wasting your breath. It won't make a difference. We all know all the things that are going wrong, whats going to happen-we're all aware enough. We just don't care.

Because who would rather think about the life of their future grandkids than their next date?


~Sam




PS: Because it apparently wasn't obvious enough-the above post is 100% sarcastic. I strongly believe in being eco-friendly and the above post was just me venting about how much people seem to say and how little do.

Also, because I loved the way that the person who commented below phrased this:

"If you say you shouldn't care about the future, and live in the present-blah. Just blah. If you believe that, then why exactly are you studying to build a career? Why do you have insurance? Why do you dream about a perfect guy whom you would meet in the future?
I don't mean to offend. I just want to say-care for others. Stop and look around you once in a while. If everybody says, "Why should I do this," who would actually do it? Do your bit. Don't ignore it. Don't keep taunting nature. It will, one day, get tired.
Just care. You won't lose anything."

Brains are so annoying sometimes.

Well, most of the times.
I mean, really! You think it could, for once, like what its currently doing right? But no. Always, always it makes me want to do things I can't at a particular time, and then when I can, IT WON'T FEEL.
Ugh.
When you want to work, they wander away to fantasize about Hugh Jackman's mouth, and when you're merrily stalking they sneak up behind you and nag you about how much work you need to do. Make up your mind, stupid brain! Why can't you just focus on one thing?! And your ideas have inordinately bad timing. Every single time. The wonderful blog post comes in the shower. The thing you needed to Google you remember when you switch off the laptop. The soap you needed to buy you remember when you're on your way home. Always. Why?


Equally annoying as brains are brothers. I mean, for 364 days of the year they'll act like total jerks and probably ignore your very existence (exaggerating here, but whatever, exaggerating is fun). And then one fine day they'll go out and do something so absolutely brilliant, sweet, beautiful and unexpected that you forgive them completely for the next 364 days of jerk-i-ness. And no, it wasn't my birthday. Which made it even sweeter. They have the right idea. Get your expectations of them so low that you're thankful when they remember to call you once in a while, and then boom, blow them away with a kind act out of nowhere so that you're walking on air. Stupid, useless, smart, caring, lovable idiots. Hunh.


~Sam

Birdies in the sky.

If I ever got a tattoo, I think I'd get one of a bird, simply because they symbolize so much-both as an inspiration, and as a caution. [Update: As of now, my tattoo status is this: Never getting one, because pain, and AIDS, and permanence, and deciding, and ew, but hypothetically, I'd get a trio of a nightingale, a mockingbird, and a bluejay circling on the part where my wrist meets my palm.]

Love. Fragility. Strength. Perseverance. Peace. Determination. Beauty. Sharing. Togetherness. Simplicity. Belief. Innocence. Naivete.

There's just so much to learn from birds. How to overcome, everything. Rebuild, again, and again, and again. Migrate, again, and again, and again. Love, live, lay.  I sat in my garden today and just watched them. There was a little water on the ground, waste water, left over from when the garden had been watered. They'd creep in, in twos or threes, always in pairs-a bird was never alone for long, even if it came down alone. Some would drink, taking a sip and then looking all around, bobbing their little heads, looking out for danger. Some seemed to be bathing, sinking their upper bodies into the water, then shivering violently to get rid of the droplets, and flying away to perch on a tree, preening. Then again, they'd hop down, repeat the same procedure over and over again, four of them, in a little puddle of water, completely ignoring the little birdbath kept near the tree for their leisure.

Until I looked up once and they were gone.

It would be cliched to say I learned so much from that half an hour's experience, and also false, because I didn't learn anything new. Everything which was to be said about birds, has already been said. We've all thought about being them, and they've been the muses of poets for decades.I even have an unfinished post sitting in my own drafts box, entitled "This is me thinking about being a bird."

And yet, this post.


I would want to be a bird, for their freedom, for their togetherness, for their innocence and for their simplicity, everything I mentioned above. I wouldn't want to be a bird, for their life, for their dangers, for every moment fraught with risk, for their misplaced innocence--sit still for long enough, and a bird will fly its way right into your hand, to be crushed, destroyed, or frightened away.

Birds, butterflies-they were not made for this world, like flies were, or humans. And yet they survive, and they show us how to survive. A tiny, tiny little creature, inquisitive, daring, bright, beautiful--showing us the way of life. And, perhaps, its meaning.



~Sam

More ramblings. (This is what I do when I have things to say but not enough to make an entire post.)

Hi.
If you're a hyper-sensitive guy well aware of his manliness who refuses to carry his girlfriend/mom's handbag, you should probably leave right now.
As should sane persons and other people who like coherence in their blog posts.

----------

So first up, if having a baby is anywhere near as uncomfortable as the processes that make childbirth possible, I'm never doing it. Screw experience, one magical moment is not going to make up for nine months of torture. I'll just adopt and pledge my soul to Greenpeace instead.

(Greenpeace because I'm being all eco-friendly by not adding to the population, and because everything-literally everything, from sushi to sanitation- can be linked to the environment. And therefore by extension to Greenpeace.)
(Also, congratulations. You now know that I've never experienced the joys of childbirth.
 (or have I?)
 Bravo.)

----------

God.
Why, God, why? Why do you hate me? And if you don't, why do you act like you do? Why do you ignore all my sorry's and pleas and thank you's? Do you not care about me? Why did you make me, then, if your plan all along was to leave me?
Why do you not listen to me? Why do you not acknowledge my existence? Why do you ignore all my thousands of thought-messages? Are you not telepathic? But you're God. If you're not telepathic, what hope do the rest of us have?

----------

Google.

If Google was a person (a guy person) I would marry it. It has everything I want. It's amazing and it's popular, it's successful and it knows everything without being an idiot about it, it looks good and it plays pranks on people, it's unique and it's accessible, it's multifaceted and it has a sense of humor, it's ultra-cute and I bet if it had a smile, it would have dimples.
So there you go. My perfect man is a search engine. 

Though I totally love Sergey Brin, too. Marry me?

----------

And that is what PMS and a soppy Valentine video from Google does to me.

This post is probably going to come back to haunt and embarrass the life out of me later.

Meh. I'll go eat my Subway now. (Subway <3)

~Sam

" When I Grow Older, I Will Be Stronger"

I love how we always have more faith in our future-selves than our present-selves. Like, project due in May? No problem! I'll work my ass off in April, work 18 hours a day and get it done with in a week flat. No need to stress myself out ahout that now. 


Come April, and you wonder what the hell you were thinking, putting so much faith in your abilities.

So you know what K-naan? You won't be stronger. Or harder, or faster, or free-er, or better in any way. You'll be exactly the same, only a little older.
And none the wiser.

~Sam

Hypocrite

They tell you to follow your heart; they tell you to use your head.

They tell you to revel in life; they tell you to think twice. 

They tell you everyone makes mistakes; they scream at every one of yours. 

They tell you to do your best; they scorn if it doesn't make you the best. 

They tell you to dream; they expect you to be realistic. 

They tell you to think big; they tell you you're one small voice. 

They tell you you're free; they shackle you with judgement. 

They tell you to believe.
They teach you to behave. 

~Sam

You know what the worst thing is?

I know who my perfect guy is. I know he exists. I know he's out there. I know he's not some unattainable dream.

I know he's out of my reach.

He's perfect.
He has dimples, the most beautiful smile.
He plays the guitar and the piano and sings, and I have every reason to believe he writes well.
He's gorgeous, he's talented; he seems nice.
He's funny, he's modest despite having every reason to be arrogant; he's beautiful.
He's perfect.
His looks, his history, his eyes, his teeth, his hair, his everything.
He's everything I've ever wanted; he's the perfect personification of my ideal man.

Unfortunately, he's also taken.

:'(


~Sam

Shocking News! *gasp*

Hello, people, animals, organisms and aliens! Welcome to my lair. Muahahaha!
No, I'm not a vampire, but I have something to tell y'all non existent readers. But, before I go on to tell you that deep dark secret of mine, I would like to talk to you guys, just talk.
You see, the thing that I don't understand is whether we have regular readers (in which case, we thank you all for putting up with us) or just random people who stumble upon this blog (if you're one of those people and bothered to read this post, thank you).  But there is something you can help us with since we would really like to know how many regular readers we actually have. So if you don't mind, just leave in a comment letting us know whether you're a regular or random. Also, if you want us to write about any specific stuff, ANY special requests,let us know. Feedback, people!
 Okay so now that I've intelligently used an awesome post title to draw your attention to get you to read all of that crap up there ^ , I will move on to what that title actually was about. *sigh* Here it goes. You're all going to enjoy me saying this. I'm just going to go ahead and say it. Idownloadedajustinbiebersongandactuallyenjoyedit. No, really it wasn't all THAT bad. Now I know that those of you who know me, consider me to be a hard rock or ANYTHING apart from bieber type person, but yes , its happened I, Malko, enjoyed Justin Bieber's music. I meant it when I said it wasn't half that horrible. I mean, its just crazy that people listen to Timberlake and Usher but not him. And I've realized that it's the age. Add ten years on him and I bet my life that he wouldnt have half the haters he actually has now. I guess I'm kind of a hypocrite that way or whatever but yeah. The reason that so many people hate him is plainly because they're jealous. How many people get fame at the age he did? Now, don't me wrong, I'm not saying I'm a "belieber"( I recently found out that devoted fans of bieber call themselves that. Wow. Okay.), I'm just saying I don't have anything against the guy. So there you go, a somewhat-sort of interesting post... I guess. This is malko after a LONG time saying maytheforcebewithyou.

Update from Sam: People might also not like Bieber because he's a sixteen (seventeen? eighteen?) year old with a twelve year old's voice. But yeah, I like his songs too (sometimes). Don't go hatin' on the music for the guy.
Also, I've been accused of talking too much (shocking, I know). So if you're planning on actually commenting (doubtful), please tell me if you think my posts are too long. I'll try to cut it down =)
THIS POST IS NOT MEANT FOR PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY KNOW US.
kthnxbye!

The Girl-Guy Conundrum

So I promised something good, and this will hopefully live up to that. It's something I think about quite a lot anyway, I'm actually surprised I didn't do a post about it before now. Anyhow, here ya go!



At least once every month-no, make that twice, once for hair removal and once at that time-I hate being a girl. And by hate, I mean hate. Despise, detest from the bottom of my heart. I know guys have their problems too (though I'm not completely sure they have any which can match up to ours-guys reading this, I'd love your perspective on this), but I'm not usually very rational at those particular times, so being a girl seems like the absolute worst thing in the world. Because, come on. We have to deal with periods (or menstruation or chumps or rags or whatever you call it). We have to give birth, which is supposed to be the thing when it comes to pain. We have to wax. We have to "adjust". We have to deal with wolf-whistles and harassment. We have to deal with being the weaker sex. We have it so bad!

Then of course, the time passes and I'm happy with my gender again. We can shop, we can check out hot guys, we can gossip, we can hug people without everyone thinking we're gay! We're allowed to be childish and we don't necessarily have to work our ass of trying to excel in a career. We have emotional depth, we have makeup, we have it awesome!

And so the cycle continues.

When you see a hot guy. When he sees you, talks to you. When you get flirted with, when you feel all shivery and beautiful. When you shop and get a pretty outfit, when you doll up and feel the eyes on you, when you go to a salon and get stuff done-even if it's just a trim, you still come out feeling prettier! When you have amazing sleepovers and bond with friends from deep inside, when you feel safe and protected. Being feminine seems the best thing in the world at times like that.

Then again, a guy doesn't need to worry about looking refined, or being hairless or even remotely hygienic. What makes a girl a tramp makes a guy "manly". What makes a girl a slut makes a guy a Casanova, a player, and ten times hotter for it. You can chill and party all night without worrying about it getting late, or dangerous. You can fight it out with people and move on, no bitchiness, backbiting or bullshit allowed. It wouldn't be expected of you to be able to cook, and if you lent even the slightest hand to any household work you'd be lauded for your effort.  Doesn't seem all that bad a life.

Then again, you think about the 21st century, and their isn't really all that much of a difference between girls and guys anymore, at least in most places. In others of course, being a girl is pretty much hell on earth. But for the most part, we're more defined now by our personality than our gender, and if we don't like it-well, we can always change it. And even though I'll still hate my ovaries next week, I gotta admit-I think I got it good.


~Sam

      Also, people who didn't understand the title because of the font, it says : The Girl-Guy Conundrum.