Happy 29 to us !!!!!

It's our Anniversary !!!!!!!!!


Let's celebrate !!!



o(m ^^)oo(^^ s)o

My, what a week !!

Such a week I haven't been trough since long !!!

Never seen so many slight annoyances, bothering, nagging in such a little period of time.... The telly which goes all funny when I decide to watch it, boss being moody as ever, hiding to us essential information, insomnia, insomnia, insomnia, insomnia...and maybe my getting a cold, and nearly lost my engraved ballpen on top of it all...

Not even talking about that guy who scared the hell out of me this Wednesday.

Hopefully, in the middle of it all, the plane tickets that i gonna buy tomorrow. 66 days left, and all those troubles will be forgotten.

And ranking first on my wishlist, guess who? My special someone...Because, all in all, I could get all the books I want, all the blings, the gadgets, the wealth or the phones I want.... If I have no one to share all that with me.... It would be as useless as a stone in sand desert. I do not want a room full of books, cd's or manga... I would prefer a cosy bed, with one or two books only, a few songs but someone I can cuddle close with, and share my happiness, my fears.... my emotions, in a word...

I learn everyday. I want to learn everday. Especially from the mistakes I do. Be a better person. Be a better friend. Be a better me. Not being afraid to prove wrong, and willing to go further, always. Stand up, again and again, whenever life knocks me down. So that in the end, in front of a God I do believe in, I won't have to be ashamed of my life.


* * * *

[sleep, at last. Inside those arms that, alone, can ease my worries...]

Why Forum matters :

"hmmm on a percentage rating... figure-less... since Do As, besides its music, has been at the origin of the biggest changes in my life...From feeling better in my skin through making friends here, to meeting my Man ...

how bad do i like them? When I think about what my life would be now, not having heard about them ... I would be that everlasting sad girl, shy girl, with no hope of a better future.

There is other musics of course, classical, other J-artits. But none would carry the emotion, the meaning in life the music of DAI has become."


Ichiban, @ DAIforum

Haunting Love

[work notes]

A friend asked me today if I had suggestions about being haunted by a love you are no longer with...

This question made me smile, and for a lot of reasons. Because, yes, I have been haunted by a such kind of love. Even if it was a somewhat adolescent one, the sort of which makes you giggle, when the 30 something years old draw near. But now that I think of it, this kind of love is maybe more haunting than any adult ones. Because to think of love, you think about love with your hopelessly romantic mind, you talk about forever without thinking about marriage, you talk about love without relating it to sex, and if sex comes to the mind, well sometimes you cannot make the difference between the emotions raging on you. This kind of love, dare I say passion, when I comes to an end (and 9 times out of 10, it will), leaves a feeling of destruction deep inside.

Reading a member post in a forum, knowing she is about 17, lost a bf, I could perfectly relate without being able to say anything. Because, you see, some wounds, even if forgotten from long on, can still leave a trace in the soul.

Back to that summer of 95, when I knew I wouldn't see him anymore. The missed rendez-vous, the air of guilt in his face when I caught him back at the train station, told me with more certainty than words that I was never to hear from him ever again. He was my first love, it lasted 3 months in my sweet sixteen HS years, but at 18, I still haven't gotten over him.

Two years of constant presence with him, seeing him with other girls, him being afraid to tell me about them, a constant hide and seek party with my feelings. I used to say to my friends that I lived through him, that I was nothing without him. I had misunderstood love for addiction, for drowning myself into a feeling that was no longer here. I was in love with love instead of being in love with someone.



The feeling of miss was acute though. Like a part of my heart ripped off, living like a robot, eating because mom told me so, studying because hell, that was so part of the game. Going back home with him as an obsession, writing letters (I still have them) unsent, passionate writings I do not even dare re-read now. He was the first guy I told "I love you" to. Puppy love kind. The one that makes you sense the power of feelings your brain cannot comprehend.

[***Never talking about flings I never have the guts to spoke to, here comes my second sweet mistake. The friend/brother I had feelings for, did confess to, but never said I love. There is a flavour of incest about it I have never recover entirely from, so to speak***]

The second time I said I love you was last summer. You could say "coup de foudre", as the French goes. A man, sensible, handsome, and who revealed things in me I never had been aware of. He was giving me confidence, he was giving me friendship, he was giving me more than that. He was giving me so much I could not believe it was true. And as I was keeping the little secret, dreaming, a bit afraid, of what the consequences could be, I said “I love you”, without being aware of what this could trigger. The story ended, two months later. For reasons more complicated than I thought they were. I was ravaged. Something in me had died. Though I had no hard feeling, my reason telling me it was, all in all, the best of ending. I made a brave woman of me. I kept on smiling at days, crying at nights. I kept on talking, staying sensible, until that day of December when I wrote my secret fear. I was game to him, he was the only responsible. He read it. I hurt him. December 1 to December 6 were the worst days of my life. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t work. I refreshed endlessy my mailbox, waiting for an answer. Asking for forgiveness. I hated myself as I never did. And the good moments were nagging on me like knives. I was no better than others, as jealous as everyone. I couldn’t forgive his moving on, while I was stuck in my sadness.

I found solace and comfort on a friend’s shoulder. A person that fascinated me, a person I was happy to be accepted by. As the situation settled slowly with my summer love, the waters grew darker and darker in my heart. I wrote a letter as a last chance to set things clear. I never said "I love" though. Because I knew deep inside this wasn’t love. I knew this would never be.

I must say that I received the most extraordinary answer. The best rejection letter I could have dreamt of. A letter that somehow put an end to those two stories intertwined, at a many levels. It gave me peace at heart, it made me understand that your actions always reflected upon you the same way you triggered it. It made me understand, maybe, the difference between feelings and actions. It set the counter to nil, leaving my heart all fresh and ready. A heart with scars, but that did healed perfectly. Visible still, but not scary.

Of course, those passed love still are somewhere in me. They made me the person I am now. And the man I am with now can see the mix of it all, the person I am, balanced with her genuine feelings that have never changed (passionate I am, passionate I will be), and balanced with the consequences of the mistakes she made.

* * * * * * * * * * *

[Haunted love]

More than “haunting”, I would say “haunted”.

I made this long intro to kinda clear things of.

I think that being haunted by a former love is the worst imprisonment you could think of. You are caught in between feelings that are real, and a situation that isn’t anymore. Your mind is blocked on a “what if” mode, you keep on thinking about the good moments, and you kinda forget expressly the bad ones. You are not yourself, but the self you were with him/her, and now deprived of that second part of you.

Somehow, you cannot but live through the others. You need social feedback to set your actions in reality. You need acknowledgement or dismissal to set yourself balanced amongst the people you are with. Somehow, you are yourself the best amongst your peers, as odd as it might sound.

Haunted love are like invisible chains you set yourself around your ankle. It it what dictates your behaviour, your feelings (who haven’t felt attracted by someone simply because he/she reminded of a lost love?), your thinking , everything. The more you gonna try to break free, the more that lost love will make feel its toll upon you.

I would say that haunted love is like a wild animal. You have to tame it. A bit like the fox, in the “Little Prince” story. If you stick to it, it will engulf you. If you reject it, it will make you feel guilty. But if you tame it, take it as it is, a story that’s over, but that left marks, then you can start to heal. Hand in hand with your love that is not haunted anymore.

Hiatus

Nothing feels good like a doctor saying you ar healthy... And the support of my loved ones is a reason too...

Nothing feels bad like losing you connexion to the world.

As I wonder if 7.0 is alike 5.0, I take a break from writing.


Scents of Provence in my back, I smell the Lavender from time to time.


[I just want you to be happy....]

Patience

I think I am a patient person.

Well, to be accurate, I have learned to be. I have leaned to tame that quick tempered aspect in me, able to get me burst at the tiniest provocation.

Not that I have learned to swallow. Maybe now I can sense provocations with more humour than before. Putting everything into perspective. Like a mindgame where I try to outsmart my opponent.

I think that I have always been fascinated by patience. It dates back of the time when I was fascinated by those anime characters: always getting themselves in the worst situations...and always take it calmly, being mature, not being defeated by insults or naggings.

Best example? Saint Seya. Where the fights would always begin with a sarcasm. The foe judging his ennemy's strenght... Ten times would you hear the hero groan...His eyes trembling, his body tensed. But he would never let anger blind him.

I lost control many times. For reasons that I believed to be true, and that I consider now with a smile. I remember one day, I was around 19 years old, I tear down a book. My body was emprisoned ina cold fury, and my mind was watching my body frantically reducing the book to smithereen. It was an old book about the USSR, a book given to me by a rich man. "this will be helpful in your studies". I took it as an offence, as a rich man's getiing rid of some old book, to a girm struggling with her classes. And underneath struggling with herself, with a life she felt she hadn't chosen entirely.

That time, I remember, my mother wouldn't approach me. She told me she was sincerely afraid I might hurt her, hit her. The I was seeing her fear, the more I was getting out of control. She called my dad. My dad screamed louder than me. I ended up crying away in my room, exhausted. His power only had been enough. Ackowledging his authority upon mine, without hitting me physically, was enough to turn the anger into shame.



I couldn't apologize. Only enprison myslef into a mute defensive attitude. Then, life would go on, smiles would appear again.

Every now and then, my mother recall that afternoon, when some innocent book had been slaughtered without mercy. And as she lightly talks about it, I smile in a pityful way..knowing that under her smile, she remember the anger, the monster her daughter had become...

It is generally enough to make me think twice before getting angry.

Of course, the old reflexes remains... Sometimes some persons (liek my boss XD) seems to know how to push the buttons, leading to that ancient wrath....But hopefully, and little by little, I strenghten myself against my old demons.

And the soothing presence of the man of y life leads me out of this darkness of anger, day after day.

having a life

- pay phone bill

--pay the rent

-BRINGING A CD-RW TOMORROW SO THAT I CAN GET MY OWN PERSONAL AND FREE HOPEFULLY WORKING PHOTOSHOP 5.0 (hey dun tell anyone !!! ;) at the ofc

-hugs monmon. a lot. and some more. endlessly

-uninstall nikon photolab +but keeping panorama maker+

-install cool edit pro

-install photoshop 5.0 (if i get it, this is ^^ )

-install FTP protocol

-fix that pain in my back

-stop making lists that bore everyone ^*^(no way, Jose..)

-USE the post-its i bought

-ditch that radioblog idea

- making a better use of [ ] [like in]

-[there's a good way ] [using this ]

-[right?]

-know that html is not like xhtml [well, that's the feeling i have]

- stop using words and concepts i do not understand[i call this "permanent learning, eheh ]








-taking pics of my ofc

-stop spamming my own blog

"We are family...."

Family gathering...

Or when the passing away of someone ties up family bonds….

I found myself having a little cousin (elder than I) a really nice person, and funniest of all, we have lots in common… ^*^ A same view on life, a same quick tempered reactions sometimes…along with a same sweetness.

It feels good, when being sis and bro’s –less, you get to learn you are -finally- not alone on this planet.

Underground

Lazy Monday today, so here's the fruit of my haunting the web this weekend..

New York

NYC --Subways and other buildings--

NYC --Chambers street--

London

Paris


Since I cannot remember when I have always been fascinated by abandoned places... As far as I can remember, I always been looking around me, taking a little more time when passing by abandoned places,houses, buildings, and wondering what wooden panels or metal gates could possibly hide...

Above all, I have a particular inclination for subways. I guess you can talk about fascination. It all dates backs circa 1993, when I first used the Underground in London,also called the "Tube". I will never forget the sensation of fear, mixed with excitement. I have to say that I am a bit claustrophobic, and that closed spaces, like elevators or crowded places often gets me nervous.

I will never forget the long descent, endless escalator, or crowded huge elevators. Then the heat underground, the sounds magnified by the round walls, the passing by of metallic trains in a wooooooooooooosh, the crowd pushing, the colors of the various underground lines, the fever while watching the stations names rolling by, and the anxiety whenever the train stopped in the middle of a tunnel.

Darkness everywhere, impossible to peek further than half a meter, cables, hissing of the trains sliding along the tracks, signs, stairs, again, then , finally, fresh air.

And the sensation to be born again.

Same feeling in Prague, where I took the subway once. endless escalator plunging down in the heart of the earth, stainless steel-looking walls and trains, heat, and ablurry memory of it.

Brussels, then, and its ugliness. Huge rectangular spaces, endless ceilings, painted faded yellows or dusty oranges. And my nose stuck to the windows, watching the cables, paintings, devices, and tracks. What I like most is the coming out of a tunnel, when you see a cirle of light, ready to save you from darkness.

Paris, at last, my all-time favourite. Old "art-deco" entrances, white and blue pavement, rounded halls and tunnels, but not as stiffling as in London, stairways, halls, stairways and halls again, like a giant labyrinth. I am a lost Ariane in search for the Minotaure...

* * *

I guess abandoned stations have a particular flavour. There is something melancolic when seeing those places, times ago crowded, now reduced to dim-lit empty halls. Covered with dust, filth, and tags. Silent, eerie and rather ominous. I wouldn't dare aventure myself along those forlorn places. So I dive into the images, wondering about the places outside the picture frames, waiting for a phantom train to pick me up.

Repeat mode on

Sometimes she tries. Hard. But sometimes she simply can’t. But she tries again, don’t want to be defeated by a body too weak. And when she gets to it, after sometimes a time longer than usual, she simply feel like staying in bed, waiting for the pounding of her heart to get back to normal.

Sometimes she blames her body she cannot compel to her own will. Sometimes she hates the meds, she hates the little yellow pills. She wish she could do without. But she takes them anyway. She doesn’t want to faint. She doesn’t want to shows people her weaknesses.

So she takes it anyway. With a big glass of water. Every morning. And when she forgets, she hopes she will be allright, and scold herself for being such a light headed girl. And with a little fear, she drinks coffee and tea, hoping the blood pressure won’t play truant.

She senses when the dosage is not enough. Her body works on stand-by and she hardly can find the strength to do anything. She would like better a little too much. That’s how she feels all right, and bouncy. But the doc says otherwise. So she follows. Grumpily, but she follows.


She is afraid, sometimes. Afraid it might get worse. So she thinks positive. She smiles and she stays strong. She seldom cry. And when she does, she does it for every sad event that come across her life. She cries for the sensation of lack, whispering “misshu kita”. But as a rainfall, it passes away. It always does.

Sometimes at night, her body feels stronger. She knows how to trigger the memories that her body recorded on her flesh. She knows what buttons to push. So she tries again, and when it works, she feels relieved.

And a bit sad for not giving all this but to herself.

going "postal" on the Big Screen

Could someone tell me please how come the postal services gather all the most incompetent persons of this country????

Wether it is about sending a package to the Phillipines, or picking up a registered mail sent from Belgium to Belgium, they do not seem to be able to retrieve the items. (aitems ^^).

Had it happened to someone else, I would have said, ok, chill out, keep your cool.... But I can tell you , this morning, even though I was repeating the "don't sweat the small stuff/it's all small stuff" motto pinned on my comp, I got a hard time swallowing the mellow sleepy annoyed i -don't -want-to-help -you tone of the employee.

Wake up, sweet one, it's Monday morning for everyone !!! The sun isn't shining at my place neither !! Hopefully I could get another phone number, and there, holy joy amongst all the earthlian sweetnesses, I could talk to someone willing to do ihis job, and concerned by my story. Sequel to be awaited this afternoon, for that person could not put me trough to the very service (always something amiss I tell you...always .. ^^ )

I feel like Registered Mail Dispatching Department feels like a Quest for the Saint Graal, and that all the enigmas of Da Vinci Cod(e) gonna smell fishy (well, wait they already do ^^) when I finally gonna get in touch with that precious service.


I swear I gonna frame the envelope. And asking for the postman's autograph. Then maybe take pics of us two, happily grinning , holding the marvellous registered mail. the one which would have traveled so far, so strong, and so bravely throughout all the evil postal services.

Then, maybe, I gonna make a movie about it, I can see the big bilboards covering up all the Los Angeles walls :"Going Postal". "the quest of an ordinary girl, for an extraordiary mail". "A Spielberg/Cameron/Lucas production, starring Brad Pitt as the helpful postman, and Nathalie Portman as the damsel in distress". "Storyline by yours truly, and Robert Redford as Director".

I can feel the fever in the Cannes preview. I can sense the heat in the Oscar's celebration. Blockbuster even more godzillesque than the Titanic and Star Wars reunited. Even crushing down little Harry Potter, whose spells prove unable to fasten the postal sevices.

Then , with the royalties brought back by the sequel "The lost package" ("coming out February 2010, your next Valentine's must see", a "heart-wrenching story, of passion and true love") , I shall offer myself the postal services all raw, and I gonna go all muahahahahhahahhahahahhahahahhahahaa and have them fear my power...


Hmmm, wait, maybe this last one is not a good idea, after all....

And all in all, I still haven't got back my precious piece of mail...... ^^

~Tao~

Just got a sad sad news, got me crying for real...



to the friend departing:

take care, okay?
you promise okay?
Be strong, be DAI, be forever.

Inu~

ima haruka na yuuhi no naka kage toketeku
ryoute furu yo kimi ga kieru made
Now, the shadows melt into the distant sunset
I will wave both of my hands until you disappear

saraba tomo yo wasure wa shinai
deaeta koto hokori ni omou
bokura no kawari no kibou no tsue ga
hikari no saki michibiku darou
Goodbye my friend, I won't forget you
I feel proud that I met you
In place of you, the staff of hope
will probably lead us to the end of the light

Do As Infinity
(translated by Cori-chan)

Hana-bi

It was the muffled *thud * that go me away from the blogger drama. So I made it to my parents’ room. The one that overlook our garden from the 3rd storey…

Alone in the dark, I peered through the hazy mist. Grey fumes coming out of the Earth, while a tiny rain damped everything around.

That’s when I saw them, glowing from a distance. The tiniest where hidden by the huge buildings, but a few minutes of patience gave me the chance to see the greatest fire flowers ever. Like an explosion preparing in yellows, then exploding, spreading in reds...Before dying in full splendour.

Fireworks always have a kind of sadness inside. Qomething within reach, but that we cannot touch, no matter how wetry... And if we can do it, then it's only to feel the hurting, the burning of the incandescent powder.

I couldn’t think of anything, but the fireworks blooming in front of me. And my mind felt at peace, enjoying the watching, feeling the fresh air on my skin. A moment of peace, as simple pleasure, and the happiness of feeling alive…

edit: HACKED ?!? HOAXED?!? BACK !!!!!

????????????????????????????????????????

The more I think about it, the more I feel there has been a hoax or something....
Just a feeling, but.....



nevermind...


Happy to see the pink bubbles around again!^^

Fashion Attraction...

I feel like reading HP6 in English....

And get the previous volumes numbered 1 to 5...

"MySpace"

Opening "My Space" and "Friendster", I am amazed at how i still am unable to get out of my shell.. Looks like the forum is the only place where I dare affirm my personality...

I don't know why, but I always feel a bit out of place, out of time... Not that I don't want to talk, or comment, but I feel like I am more a reader than some active member of those communities...

Friendster is so nice to keep in touch though... How many people have I lost in the road. What are they doing now, sometimes I wonder. I imagine them married, having a working life, new friends, new acquaintance. And maybe in the corner of their head, the memory of a girl who sang each year at the school fair.

Singing.

Voicing out a sparkle of my soul. Then again, I make an appearance, then I disappear. I think mostly because, when I listen to the other people singing, I find myslef okay, but certainly not deserving that much attention. So then again, I shy away, ignore the "please sing more", and get to read another thread.

Unless my Mahal asks for it, I seldom indulge in singing for people. Maybe because when doing so, I show too much of myself, I feel too vulnerable.

Maybe Friendster and Myspace do the same to me. I like to stay in touch, but from a distance, I fell like I can never mix in. I do not like it when I feel I unveil myself too much. Only one person has the right to it. Only my loved one knows, and have seen the tiny breaks in my armour.

I made great progress since i have been foruming. But breaking the sheltering bubble around me will take time...

I guess that, up to then, I will be around, watching over from a distance....too reserved to touch the picture, but so happy to stare at it, and to be part of it.

^*^

"Tagalog for Beginners"

Finally found a nice tutorial !!!

Check it out !!!!!

Also check the link down below this page, Miscellaneous section !! ^^

Salamat ! ^*^

Thank you for that sweet weekend, Mahal...I feel strong, again...

Now reading "Hoteru Irisu", by Ogawa Yoko...Weird story..O.o

I feel much better now...^*^

Each rose has its thorns…

Never been so out of it since yesterday. Blame it on terrorism, or P. time, I don’t know, but sincerely I never felt so emotional in weeks. I feel like I do not have power upon my words anymore, that they are living by themselves…

Yesterday I been shocked by someone talking about a passed away person, saying, I quote “how she fell like a sh!it”. I swear I could have slapped this person for being so light about death, so disrespectful about an event that has nothing to be laughed about.

And today, when I read messages by people I miss, I couldn’t help but feel sad, sad sad, and longing for days where everything seemed much more easier, much more simple. I feel like impersonating a power, I feel like I must hide my own feelings and do the job. And sincerely I sometimes wish I wouldn’t have accepted the job. I hate conflicts, I hate hate, and I hate being the lesson giver, when I am myself flawed. I guess that the only thing that makes me stay the way I am, the mod I am, is my will to help. To kinda give something back to a community that gave me so much…

It funnily reminds me of some event that happened in my childhood… I have a clear vision of my asking a girl “okay, can’t we simply be friends?’ and her strongly slapping me in return. No more, no less, I cannot even tell why, or when, or how this thing happened. I just can see me clearly asking, I still can see the place, and should I live a hundred years, I would never forget it…

Sometimes, I wish I could detest some people. It would somehow give me a reason to forget about them, and not longing about friends I lost. But then again, maybe I am fooling myself, maybe I took for granted bonds that never existed. I still believe friendship has nothing to do with respecting rules, or authorities. It’s like when you work with your boss, and if he scolds you because your work is wrongly done (a file lost, a phone call you forgot…), it’s not because of you personally, but simply a work mishappening.

It’s been months now that those friends have disappeared from my circle of relation. Ten times have I decided to send them a message, and ten times have I cancelled it, out of pride, must I say. Maybe it’s me making a whole drama out of it, I don’t know….

* * *

Anyway…. It sometimes feel good to vent out what weighs on my heart. Not that I should complain…. I am happily engaged in a relationship with a man I do love, I am lucking to have a caring family…I know that, amongst a lot of people, I shouldn't be the one complaning, and whining…

But like my mother told me some day… “yes, you never say anything, always hiding your most inner worries behind a smile, or a joke, or, worst of all, silence. Ten times have I wondered if I was being a good Mom, when none of my words seemed to reach you, when you seem to refuse even the slightest hug. Then you go on, exploding, venting your anger and your sadness in shouting, then tears. Don’t you know I hurt the same way, when I see you like this?”

Belive me, when your Mom says so, it makes you think twice...And maybe makes you become even more secretive...

So I don’t know, maybe the way I feel now is simply the result of too much stress ?(I tend to over-dramatize things when I feel stressed). I do not have a clue, but I hope this feeling will ease away.

How I long for the weekend to come, and have some time together with my love. Him only seems to know how to soothe me. Him only knows the secret ways to my soul. Him only can see me cry, unashamed.