Second, I would like to share a song with you called "Ready for Love" by a wonderful artist named India Arie.

I am ready for love
Why are you hiding from me
I'd quickly give my freedom
To be held in your captivity

I am ready for love
All of the joy and the pain
And all the time that it takes
Just to stay in your good grace
Lately I've been thinking
Maybe you're not ready for me
Maybe you think I need to learn maturity
They say watch what you ask for
Cause you might receive
But if you ask me tomorrow
I'll say the same thing

I am ready for love
Would you please lend me your ear?
I promise I won't complain
I just need you to acknowledge I am here

If you give me half a chance
I'll prove this to you
I will be patient, kind, faithful and true
To a man who loves music
A man who loves art
Respect's the spirit world
And thinks with his heart

I am ready for love
If you'll take me in your hands
I will learn what you teach
And do the best that I can

I am ready for love
Here with an offering of
My voice
My Eyes
My soul
My mind

Tell me what is enough
To prove I am ready for love

I am ready

You know that moment when a song comes on and you just know that song is speaking to you. It is like your soul and the lyrics have become entangled and then it just absorbs you. The music, the lyrics, the melody it all just becomes a part of you. Well this song did it to me today because it expresses my soul like no other.

Am I ready for love? Are you ready for love? Are we ready for the consequences of loving another person with our hearts, souls, and bodies? Are we ready for the responsibility of being depended on? Are we ready for the pain that eventually comes with giving our hearts away?

I cannot answer for you but for me I am not really sure if I am ready for love. I know that I want love, I know I want to love a good man, I want to be loved by a good man, and I want to see what happens with that love. I look out at the world around me and I ask myself where is he? Is he happy? Is he searching for love too? Has he found love? Has he been hurt by love? What is his life like? Is he struggling, suffering, or scared? Or is he happy, free, and at peace? Will I be able to heal him or him heal me? Will he have scars from his past? What will he look like? Will his voice be like a summer breeze...soft and soothing. Or will he be like a raging storm...deep and complex.

The answer is always the same I don't know. I don't know anything about him and it like there is this hole inside of me getting bigger and bigger until it consumes me. I want to meet him, I want to laugh with him, love him, and I just want to be around him. I want to know that when I wake up he'll be there, when I go to sleep he'll be there. I want to find my love, I want to find that man that God created for me to love and be loved by.

I want to find my dream, my happiness, and my future with him. That is why this song really affected me today because it is like my heart was in each verse and my soul the melody. I just want to find that person, that relationship, that wonderful feeling of loving someone and the happiness that comes with loving someone.

Being able to share my life with someone, my dreams, my fears, my hopes, my family. Everything and anything with that person. Someone who sees me in a light that no one else does. Someone who would stand by me and for me in the midst of any storm. I know most of us all want that, but in my heart it is like this all consuming dream.

No matter how much I write, it is like I cannot truly express this entity inside of me. I feel like I am ready for love, but then again is anyone ever truly READY FOR LOVE? Maybe God doesn't think I am ready, maybe I missed my love...I don't know but I do know that it is tiring waking up alone, it is tiring no being able to share my heart with someone who'd understand it, it is tiring waiting and waiting for that person to appear in my life. I am very tired of feeling miserable and sad because no one is there to catch me if and when I fall.

I know that I am young and that I have a whole life ahead of me, but who truly knows that? If I died tomorrow, I would die not knowing what it feels like to kiss someone, love someone, be held by someone. I wouldn't know the happiness and sadness that comes from opening your heart to someone else. If I died tomorrow I would die without ever knowing what it means to love someone else completely.

I get scared of never finding my love, never meeting my love, never experiencing that love. I get scared I will grow older and still be having these same fears. I get scared that my life was never meant to collide with his. I get scared that I will be like my mother. My mother gave her whole heart to one man, and that one man destroyed it to a point that can never heal.

I don't want to end up like my parents. It seems like these days there are so many children like me from homes that are broken. Some like me blamed themselves...but I hope they like me realized we are never the cause of our parents mistakes. It took me years to realize that my father is the only one to take on the blame for his actions.

I cannot lie and say that my parents story hasn't affected my own life story. I don't trust people easily, I have insecurities I shouldn't have, and I guard myself from this world. I am a ripple of my father's misdeeds and my mother's sadness. I have seen what love can do, and it is a powerful being. Some use it for good and other's use it for bad like my father.

I look at my mother sometimes and my heart breaks for her. She never got to experience the beauty of love. She has only seen the pain, and it has scarred her for life. I have prayed to God with all my soul to bring someone into her life that will love and cherish her the way my father never did.

My siblings and I have been denied so much love because of him. I don't know what a father's love is like or the love that parents have for one another. I don't know what it is like to have family vacations or any of those bonding experiences.

It hurts at times like know when I think about all that I have missed out, and then it hurts more when I think about all the other souls out there who feel the same way. The things we all experience from our parents are wounds that for some may never heal.

I get scared of giving my heart to someone because there is that chance that I could end up with a man like my father and end up like my mother. I get scared because there is so much cruelty in this world. It is like people have forgotten what is means to love one another. I mean to truly love someone for who they are. People take love  and marriage as a joke these days.

Leaving behind a stream of broken homes like the one I came from. For some it makes us stronger, but in a lot of ways it makes us weaker. I have learned a lot about the power and strength of women from my mother. She is my Superwoman, she has sacrificed her soul for us and I have been inspired by that strength to become a woman of greatness. Someone who is successful in all aspects of m life. At the same time I have no clue about the goodness of love, I only glimpse the flaws.

Even so I still believe that love is the most immeasurably beautiful thing about being alive. I've never been is love...I have never been anywhere close to being in love with another human being, but I hope and pray that God has not forgotten about me and one day I won't have to ache like this. One day I will wake up and see my dream sleeping next to me. One day, one moment, one choice, will lead me towards him and him to me.

I used to think I should have been born in a different time and a different world because it is like in this time and in this world people have forgotten that love is the most powerful and wonderful element in this world. It is the love I have for my mother that makes me strive to show her the beauty of life and make her proud that her children have made it because of her hard work. It is the love I have for my family that keeps me grounded even when I am pulled in different directions. It is the love they have for me that makes me feel less alone in this world. It is the love that I have for all of you that keeps me writing and praying that my story, my life, my words can help someone, heal someone, give someone hope. If I can touch someone's life for the better then I have achieved greatness. It is the love I have for this world that encourages me to rise above all the sadness and do things that can change it towards a better direction. It is the love I have for my God that keeps me from losing faith or hope in myself, my world, my life. Love is everything if only people would stop manipulating it into this ugliness that makes us hurt each other, hate each other, kill each other....love was mean to heal and never be used to create scars.

We are all scarred some more than others. My scars stay with me and sometimes they hold me back from living. They are reminders of the past, and they have taught me that we all feel pain, we all get hurt, but that doesn't mean we have to curl into a ball and give up. My parents are my parents. I am not them, and m story doesn't have to end the same.

I don't know what I need to do to be ready for love, or if there is anything that i can do, but I know that when I find my love I won't take him for granted. If my parents separation taught me anything it is that love is something to be cherished when you have it, and you have to deal with the consequences of losing it. I pray that my story will have a happy ending. I don't mean like a fairytale but I pray that I will have found a love to grow old with, and when I leave this world one day I will have those precious memories to take to heaven.

I have never been in a relationship...I have never even been on a date. I'm different from a lot of women my age. I am not looking for a fling, or anything superficial. I am looking for a man I can call my best friend and unconditional love. The kind of man I can introduce to my mom and build a life with. I pray to God that I get to have that precious love. I pray that my sister finds that love, that my brother meets that love. I pray for all of you may love be good and kind to you.

If that person that God created for me is out there I would like to say to him that I will wait till the day our paths intersect and our lives are forever changed. I will wait till my heart recognizes your soul and I find myself next to you. I pray your life is going wonderfully, that your healthy, happy, and heading towards your dreams. I pray that you are close to God and that your heading towards me. I pray for you without knowing you but in my heart I know that God will bring us together. I know we will each have our own pasts but I know that the future will belong to both of us to make.

Thank you all for hearing my heart and listening to its words.

We've entered the darkness. I feel all choked. Trapped. Engulfed. I'm sat here, it's taking ages to touch the keys, press the keys. It's all just bleak blackness. I don't even know where to begin. How to describe it. Where to start. I ache. All of me just aches in that non physical but physical way. How do I explain. Sitting on the edge of tears yet my eyes are just dry. I'm sitting in a void of slow motion. Nothing makes sense. I can't make sense. My thoughts are incoherent, jarring. I don't even know why I'm writing. I'm sorry. None of this will be worth reading, not that previous posts have been either but this, this doesn't have any point or any direction because I'm lost. Terribly lost.

I'm on my way further down. As is the way after any hint of hypomania, I drop further. Fall deeper. Always will there be new depths? I am deeper. Yesterday I was mad. Angry. Raging. Couldn't-stop-moving-shouting-mad. Now I've crumpled. Collapsed. Depression has welcomed me back home. Surprised? Hardly, despondency runs through me; ruins me.

My old friend Suicide is looking beautiful this evening, but I just feel so awful to make the effort even for her. I should of known. I should of done something on the way down before I became this.

I just feel so awful.

Why gay? They hump, grope and fondle. You can feel the steam man! One actually turned to me and said, hey, this is my gay partner. Hahaha!!! And then made a proclamation. "Everyone hgere is gay! We hate women!!" I think they're not serious. But I didn't go to Italiannies to invert my sexual orientation

Arriba! Arriba!! I wanna my tomatoes now!!

Yep, just like in the movies.

Anyway, instead of the placement at either middle or saute, I ended up with pantry. Where starters and salads are done. Not hard. You just need to remember the measurements.

Welcome to Italiannies!! Where everything is measured to the teaspoon, well, almost. To reduce wastage, the use a system whereby the items are fully utilised. Unless you accidently burnt the Garlic Bread for the Filet Mignon because there is a gay sideshow live beside you. Like I did.

My station is helmed by a senior, me and another sort-of trainee who was a steward before. Let's call him Jo. He's Bangladeshi, and has only the most basic mastery of the English and Malay language. So repeating oneself few times is a normal thing.

When shift changes from opening to closing, the senior also change. The closing senior is a UNITAR trainee who's been there for 2 months and a really great guy. He's doing the job full time! Turns out, in UNITAR, there are 2 options. One is the usual Industrial Training, the other one is a full time training, where you go for class in the day but "train" at night as a full time worker.

0_0

And they only have one class/subject for their final term, so it isn't much of a hassle. Crap! I'm earning 300 per month and he's earning 1k plus while studying! And he says the programme structure is almost the same, just that we are getting a French certificate. Of course, theirs is cheaper.

So basically today is just the beginning, and I my leg is starting to ache, as usual. And I'll be in pantry for 2 weeks. It sucks when there's nothing to do (I mean, who orders salad for lunch anyways?), cause you can feel the time crawling slowly. When you're busy, it just zips past like the wind.

But definitely not a slam. Cos' that will be killer. By the way, a slam is when there's a full house and everybody is ordering something, making the whole screen flash red and filled to the brim till you have to scroll sideways so far you'd think it was a dictionary.

So good night!

There's a three minute video below which gives you a participant's perspective of Ultimate Frisbee, and some of the rounders action and a full gallery of pictures is online - be sure to check out the following especially:

• Graham running through a worm-hole...
• ...and jumping back to earth again
• Simon heading the Sun...
• ...and playing on the hop
• Proof that Maddy can throw a frisbee

Great to have some of the Uni bods back and we look forward to the rest returning in the coming weeks. Congratulations to Graham who acheived a First Class Degree - he's set the bar nice and high for those who follow him ;o)

Important Reminders

• Camp
  • the balance of Camp Money was due in last week - please pay up if you haven't already.
• Membership Fee
  • despite having 17 Amicus members on the roll, so far I have only received 5 membership fees - please pay up if you haven't already.
• Hoodies
  • only four people have order Amicus Hoodies - if you would like to order one please download and return the form along with your membership fee (where appropriate) and Hoodie payment.

Next Week: come along and see...

You know, even though Vietnam was kind of a useless war, and our little jaunt to Iraq is beginning to get stale, it doesn't mean that all the soldiers are worthless. People were so mean to those who served in Viet Nam. Just because politicians got us into a mess because of being probably a little too afraid of the Reds doesn't mean that the soldiers who did their bidding were losers.

The noon-day sun was bright in the sky, and I adjusted the sunglasses on my face, their blue lenses protecting my eyes from the heat of the day. Despite it all, however, it wasn't my eyes that seemed to warm, but instead a feeling began to permeate my chest. One that I had thought long-gone, not since... I'm getting ahead of myself.

I checked my watch again, the Citizen quietly reminding me of the seconds that were ticking by. There, on my hood, were the two bottles that I'd purchased, sweating in the sun, their chilled contents expressing distaste at having to sit in the heat, but I paid them little heed. After all, if they were sweating, then I knew that I would be, too.

A glance back at the parking meter confirmed that I still had plenty of time, but even so, the anxiety seemed to be growing within me. A subtle nervousness was causing my hand to start to shake, so I hooked my thumb on my pocket, and forced myself to calm down. After all, this wasn't the first time that I'd seen her.

We'd known each other for nearly two years, actually. But for some reason this felt like the first time all over again. For some reason it felt like I was being introduced all over again, yet my face betrayed no small hint of my inner turmoil. I forced myself to keep my feelings in check, and told myself to just stay calm. After all, she just wanted to talk. It wasn't like we had never done that before. We saw each other all the time before, but after the semester ended, it had been a while, probably somewhere around two months.

I'd spent the better part of a year adjusting, diminishing the flame that had continued to burn in my heart despite itself, until finally there was nothing but a few small embers to remind me of the bonfire that had scorched me before.

Finally she walked out the door. Like many of the others, she walked with purpose, with a definite stride, but it seemed that she didn't so much have a goal in mind, but that she was searching. Her gaze wandered about, scanning the area, but I just watched, waiting. I knew that she was trying to find me, but there I was in plain sight, so I waited for the recognition.

When she finally spotted me, she smiled and waved, and I responded in kind. That feeling in my chest pounded slightly, but I suppressed it again, leaving the past in the past. We said our hellos, and started up the conversation as if there had never been a break at all. She spoke of her family, and about how things had been going, and about how her life was treating her. I shared with her the goings-on in my life, from work to ideas to school and family. There was no pause in the conversation, it was just a sense of belonging, a sense that here were two souls who meshed together. We didn't really have anywhere specific that we were walking, instead it was just whatever spot we happened to be standing on.

And that feeling in my chest continued to hiccup, no matter how many times I kept pushing it down.

Near the end, the conversation turned serious, and I finally realized why she had wanted to talk. I listened with an understanding ear, and agreed with her on every point, at least in my internal responses. But outwardly, I offered the sensible, assuring answers, intentionally not showing the feelings that I truly felt.

And then, with a goodbye and a quick embrace, she was gone, leaving me there wondering where to go. All around me, they continued to walk with purpose, and with a reason. For me, however, the purpose was done. I walked away slowly, holding my head up so as not to betray the feeling in my chest. But inside, I was wracked, as the fire that had for so long been dormant suddenly sprung to life.

I sat quietly in the heat of the sun, and just pondered. I pondered my place, and I pondered my future.

I closed my eyes, and in the darkness of my mind, I swear I could see the glow. In the far recesses of my conscience, I could see the embers.

And those embers were still burning.

- Kyle

Maybe I'll go on a walk. And take my Minolta with me.

Who in this room wants to get hurt?

The short answer is no one. No one wants to get hurt. Getting hurt is tantamount to willfully jamming your hand in a door and allowing it to slam down on your knuckles. Except instead of your knuckles it's, you know, your heart and your dignity and anything that made you feel warm inside. Crunch: then it's all broken in a door jam.

The long answer, believe me, is everyone. We all want to get hurt. Or should want to, a little bit. Being hurt is tantamount to wildly passionate and soul-wrenching sex. It is the complete loss of control for the sake of something organic and beautiful. It is the slow burn of something necessary and thrilling about the human condition. The pain is terrifying, your heart on the line; tied up in strings and pulled apart with pins from an ancient fated sewing kit. It makes you sweaty sick with panic. And, worst of all, the ache is debilitating. But we want it -- we should. I deeply believe we should crave it. You and I. We should rock together, low-slung in the pillows and covered in yarns and needles, pin-prick pains of fear, and the bittersweet fire of longing.

James Carrington ~ Ache

Well here is a little bit about an interesting part of my life: my lovelife. Funny, it's something I rarely talk about, but it's there.

I made a decision this week that I will manifest what I truly want in this area - love.

So, I've been reading books and things while I thought about just what exactly I wanted to manifest.

You know so many of these self-help books go on and on about the baggage that women have and common mistakes they make, and it's just not me. I'm not in denial about the baggage I do have, it's just different from the usual stuff I'm reading here.

In relationships, I was never the clingy, needy, suffocating type who would call a guy 20 times a day just to hear his voice.  No. I always liked having my own space & plenty of it. I always encouraged guys I dated to go hang out with their buddies, because I like my own private alone time, and yes, hanging out with friends and doing stuff like organizing many activities in town for my websites. I actually had one ex-boyfriend tell me I was more like a guy, in the way I liked having my own space. It's just the way I am.

Yes, I am a very out-going person who chats a lot with people and I'm very friendly and like to put people at ease. I would actually prefer to listen to people than talk about my own stuff.  Well, even though I am very sociable, I definitely have my private side as well. So I like to balance it all out when I can - go out and hang out with people, and then sometimes just spend time at home with my own company. I never get bored when left to my own devices.

So here I am having decided to reboot my love life. So I put an ad up again on a very well-known dating site. And signed up for the next party. Because even though I have many different things going on in my life (which is quite hectic right now), I want to find that certain someone special.

So who do I want to find?

Someone who is kind and a good person. Someone who makes me laugh and who likes to make jokes in a good way - not at another's expense. Someone smart and sharp who likes to read and is maybe into geeky things like techie stuff. Someone who is a people person, who can hold their own in a conversation. Someone who likes to give hugs. Someone to make me smile. Someone to hold my hand. Someone who wants to find love. Someone who wants a relationship.

Basic no?

Well, let's see what the seeds I've sown manifest.

I'll keep my fingers crossed. ;)

I am so sorry, but regret nothing, except maybe turning you from me, but maybe it wasn't for me or him, but for you?  Maybe one day we will look back and realise that you gained from all this?  I so hope that you have, that you do, that you will...

I beg the heavens! Oh why? Why did we have to go this path? Why do I go on alone? He does not fill these spaces, spaces I didn't know were empty 'til you carefully, oh so carefully, stepped in to fill, to show, to love, to guide, to wait... and I let you go...

Go, my love, go, I have no more, in time I will not be, nothing for you, even less for me.

at the time i had an addiction to smiths salt & vinegar crinkle cut potato chips. and walking home from my first exam i remember thinking, i am so tired and all i want are chips and i really cannot be bothered going in to buy some. and then i come home, miserable, searching for food to eat somewhere, and i open my bedroom door and on my bed was a big packet and s&v chips! i was ECSTATIC. (mind you at the time i was very miserable) i was so excited i ran into the lounge room continually thanking my dad... 'thank you! thank you! this is like, the best present ever!'. someone had been paying attention to me. 

i know he knew how stressed i was because the night i got my results back, it was late, and i snuck into their room to see if they were awake and they were, and i told them the good news and my dad said "that's so great. i'm so relieved. i can finally sleep now". i know it was kind of weird (keeping in mind at this time he had brain tumours we knew nothing about) so sometimes he did say strange things. but i think what he meant was... thank God my daughter is not failing university, thank God she's on the right track.

Connor takes his daytime naps in my Mum and Dad's room. This afternoon he woke up calling out 'pop pop! pop pop!' and pointing to my dad's side of the bed. and when my sister took him out of the room she asked him where poppy was and he pointed to the bed. i don't know. i think babies/kids have the ability to notice things we are too jaded to see. 

i know it's old.. and whiney.. and it's the same song i always sing, but it is such an ache. where are you? can you get to me somehow? i miss you. three words, so simple to say, so simple to mean. spans such an emotional spectrum. 'i miss you, come over' 'i'll miss you while you're at work today' 'i'll miss you while you're on holiday' 'i'll miss you forever'. 

so the point of the story was, this exam period i am doing spectacularly. so far. i feel positive. i feel somewhat motivated. i know that i have hindered myself by loathing uni this whole time. and i know that all i can do now is my best. i also feel like maybe he's cocooning me. helping me get through this one more time. 

so i bought myself some s&v chips, peanut m&ms and bottles of V. 

Sick today; I'll spend the time on the way home resting and pretending that these various aches and muscle pains don't portend anything too serious.  It feels like minor things -- colds -- hit me that much harder once I passed some invisible age marker:  believe what you will, but my throbbing head tells me the true story.  Ironically, I had a medical exam this morning to requalify for vanpool driving duties, and the symptoms were kind enough to hold off until I'd managed to demonstrate some semblance of fitness.  Or perhaps it was the somewhat suspect two-weeks-expired string cheese I packed as a snack, believing that everything prepackaged is chemically preserved into near-mummification and that I could safely ignore the ominous date.

The days I manage to convince myself that I don't need the fenders inevitably turn out to be the ones with the most threatening atmosphere; it's not cold outside, but the air is heavy with the promise of moisture to fling.  But it's not the stuff falling on me that I mind, it's the stuff my wheels kick up all over my pants and back (during the last rainstorm, the muddy tracks made it look like I'd been run over by several motorcycles, directly over my spine).

Our weekend excursions and dinners may soon find themselves limited to walkable distances; gas keeps rising, the days are longer, and the weather has, besides the unspoken threats, been remarkably cooperative, breezy and sunny, giving you the option of roasting or freezing, depending on the tree cover.  Honestly, maybe it's just a bad case of mondaywork-itis; as the miles interpose between myself and those concrete domes I find my spirits lifting, low clouds or no.  I'm getting a handle on what I need and can do in the absence of those with serious experience.  I can do this, I say.  And for once I believe it.

Mike

aching
arching
yearning
longing
as i lie against your breast

gently tasting
sweet sharp piquant
quietly listening
short laboured breath
drinking in deep
your heady smell
tender touching
on soft smooth skin

watching
throbbing
bleeding
dying
as you get up to leave

"am i not enough a woman?"
the little girl pleads
silently capturing
each visual nuance
knowingly kissing
goodbye again
sadly wondering
but not expecting

Okay, so I am still the right side of 30 but I am seriously noticing the difference between 18 and 28. I played a lot of sport when I was 18 and I play a lot of sport now, the difference being I could walk off a netball court 10 years ago feeling a bit hot and sweaty but generally fine. Now I walk off court looking like a sweat-soaked beetroot, pain in at least two joints and usually needing a walking stick to get out of bed the following morning.

Yesterday, for example, I played in an all day charity volleyball tournament. By the end of the day I was shattered - not helped by the huge amount of cake I consumed (cake stall funds were all for charity and I had to do my bit) - and in a bit of pain. My dodgy ankle was swollen and aching when I removed my trainers, I somehow strained the back of my knee a few weeks back and volleyball only served to aggravate it, and my wrist and my back hurt too.

And last week, when I played netball against a team of 14-year-olds, I seriously felt old. They were young, agile, fit, as tall as me, and ran rings around us. Yes, we were more experienced, but that doesn't mean much when your opponents are three stone lighter and don't yet know the meaning of calorie counting and high BMIs.

Even when I was off court (we rotated players every now and then) sweat was still pouring off me and I could feel my red face physically warming up the room. This never used to happen! I must be getting older.

I'm now sat at my desk at work and my shoulders ache. Moving from my chair is a struggle as I seize up if I sit still for too long. Maybe I'm just not as fit as I should be, or maybe the fact I'm heavier than I used to be means I'm putting more strain on my body and this is its way of complaining?

But I take comfort in the fact I'm not alone. Yesterday's tournament was filled with people limping off court, clutching their backs, wearing ankle and knee supports and generally looking pooped. So I'm in good company!

I wrote this in my journal last night after hanging out with some other girls.  I found such freedom in being able to talk about what happened nearly six months ago with people who had been through long-term, committed relationships that ended.  Being able to talk about how a ring was picked out, a date set, not having that person to call, that it gets better, boys, moving on, and the like.  I gulped in a big breath of fresh air and felt a little bit of myself come alive again.  Yet, I'm such a cry later kind of girl.  I'll embrace the situation, hold the tears back and then once I'm alone BAM the tears flow.  As the tears streamed down my face I found myself sending this text:

"I didn't give up on him right?"

I wrote the text intending to ask if she thought that I had done everything I could to help him, to stay with him, to fight for us, to not give up on him, to not "abandon" him, ect.  For some reason lately this concept has haunted me. My mind runs to the "You could have done more.  You weren't enough.  You abandoned him like everyone else."

My friend, on the other hand, understood the text to mean that I was telling her that I hadn't give up on him/us yet.  Or to put that another way, I'm still holding out for him.  To which her response was why wouldn't you give up on him?

In many ways, I have let go of the promises, hopes and dreams that surrounded our relationship.  I am slowly letting the truth seep into my life and opening my eyes to the light.  I do not sit around pining away by any means, yet I still feel the ache in my heart.  In the words of Jewel: "Dreams last for so long even after you're gone."

The conjunction of these two thought lines lead me to this:

"I didn't give up on him.  He gave up on me, on us."

I fought, I cried, I clung, I pleaded, I called, I waited. I wanted honesty and the honesty was that he had moved on, we were over, we are over.  So now I let go, move on, see truth, pray. And in the end, "I wish you well, I wish you well, on this trip to find yourself, I wish you well, wish I could help, but I can't help you find yourself."  

Bem galera , que a Google é o maior buscador da net todos já devem saber e que o Rapidshare é se não o maior, um dos maiores servidores da net isso 'alguns' devem saber . Bem o intuito agora é junta-los para que possamos achar alguns arquivos hospedados no Rapidshare.com, ai você me pergunta , Como fazer ?

Muito mais simples do que pode estar pensando, a Google tem alguns truques, conhecidos por poucos e desconhecido por muitos que facilitam na hora de procurar um determinado arquivo . Neste caso iremos achar algum arquivo no servidor do Rapidshare .

Primeiro pense em algum arquivo que queira achar no Rapidshare.com seja ele filme , game , música , etc . Após isso , abra o Site da GOOGLE ou clique aqui ! Agora é só digitar o nome do arquivo que procuras e digita na frente do nome dele a seguinte frase "site:rapidshare.com" (sem aspas) .

Concerteza que dependendo do arquivo que estiver procurando , vai aparecer algum resultado, mesmo que não achando o seu arquivo você pode nota que a Google procurou somente no site do Rapidshare.com! Para fazermos um teste , digite la na google.com.br ...

system of a down site:rapidshare.com

Este concerteza irá achar alguma coisa ! :D

Agora é só pensar nos que procuras e digitar lá ! Fui !

In the nineties, I worked for Sydney Pollack as a story editor. When Sydney, who died on Monday at the age of seventy-three, read a film script, he’d look for one word that would become what he called “the spine” of the story. The word that made up the spine of “Out of Africa,” he told me, was “home.” “Home” was the secret meaning of “Out of Africa”—its magnetic north, the direction towards which all compass points could, and would, slide when the film’s writers, actors, or director lost their creative way.

"Finding the spine of a story like “Out of Africa” was important to Sydney for many reasons, the most important of which was that it led to what he called “the ache.” The ache is self-explanatory if you’ve seen Sydney’s films. It is the ache of having one chance at deep love in a lifetime of shallow loves, and losing it too early. It is the ache of perfect, private union destroyed by terrible, worldly circumstance. For Sydney, the ache was about the way that the things we hold most dear always elude us.

One day, Sydney asked me to read Norman Mailer’s gigantic C.I.A. novel, “Harlot’s Ghost,” to see if it contained the ache. I put the huge manuscript on my desk and read all day long, taking occasional breaks for tea and white rice, which were always on offer in the kitchen. (Sydney said you shouldn’t eat rice with a fork, because something about the metal ruined the taste.) Every hour or so, Sydney would come into my office and sit down on my couch, or stand in the doorway, his fingers curled around the molding above the door, and say, smiling, “Well?” And every hour, I told him what was happening in the book. Sydney went out and came back with some tea, which he liked to drink in a glass. He wanted to spend some time talking about what made Mailer great. Then he’d slap my door, give a little wave and head down the hall, promising to be back in time for the next plot twist.

In a tree-shaded little bungalow on the Universal lot, my colleagues and I searched high and low for screenplays and novels with the ache, and rarely found them. And yet Sydney persevered, and while he persevered, we had the opportunity to persevere alongside him. Though Sydney named his production company Mirage Enterprises after an airplane he admired (he was a pilot, and loved to fly), the meaning comes through: You see it there, it’s what you want more than anything, and yet when you go to finally put your hand on it, it’s gone."

"i tell myself that's just life. it's the first time. they're my first experiences, lessons i must learn from so i don't repeat them. it's better i learn now then later. rushing... is something i do. i can't help it. i'm so impatient. things hit me so fast i just fall so deep into things i'm not really ready for. my heart has been aching so badly these passed days. i don't like the feeling. it hurts while it is happy still. waiting... for the answer that will decide. at the end of it all i hope things work out with life filled of happiness in any form."

random conversation...

you-why do you always worry about the future?

me-because it's something to worry about.

you-why don't you just live the present?

me-i do... but i'd like to know my future also.

you-live in the present so you can enjoy it more.

me-ok. i'll try.

***cover all over me***

Sé que en vano luchaste por mantener ese hueco que se abrió despacio en mi magullada destreza para retener lo importante.  Tarde fue que entendiste que todo lo dicho, todo lo escrito -incluso los silencios- dibujaba tu nombre.  Hoy no importa, ahora no importa, en absoluto.  Es mejor descargar las alforjas, así el futuro volverá a llenarlas de inservibles enseres que acumulen polvo y desdicha, trabas a esta vida, disculpas para reutilizar.

En mi pequeña desdicha pinto la huída que protagonizaste tantas veces.  Así fue cómo entendí que, en realidad, sólo querías escapar de mi atroz verdad, de esa forma extraña en la que expreso aquello que tú ocultas, que tú escondes.  Así, sin más, hube de decidir otro presente, más amargo, más sencillo, más vacío,  más lógico, más merecido.  Entendí cada obstáculo como una forma de poner distancia entre lo que supimos nuestro y lo que aprendimos que no podíamos disfrutar; sin ataques a terceros, a cuartos, a tantos como, sin querer, atacamos.

Errando en el camino, lleno de falacias y besos no dados, encontré las respuestas a esas preguntas viejas, malgastadas.  Ahora, hoy, es tarde para rectificar haciendo otras preguntas, menos sabias, menos deudoras, menos trascendentes.

Me queda el tiempo justo para vivir.  Ya gasté con creces el rato de soñar que me tocaba, el espacio donde colocar dolores y sufrimientos, el papel en el que escribía con fervor todas mis reclamaciones.  Me queda lo justo para ser justa conmigo, con lo que de mí es comerciable, con lo que aún guardo en la caja que no abrí, ésa que tú pretendiste tirar al fango del silencio.

Podría dedicarte todos los versos y los suspiros que aún mantengo a buen recaudo, lejos de tu imagen imperecedera.  Podría decidir establecerte en cada presente al que me aventure, salvando las distancias ya sabidas.  Podría enseñarte esa parte que siempre te ofrecí maquillada de mentiras.  Podría.  Y así, quizá entendieras por qué eres un deseo que siempre acaba acampando en mi alma.

Pero hoy, ahora, es tarde.  Tarde para soñar que encontraremos lo que siempre anduvimos buscando.  Tarde porque nunca quisimos aceptar que, de hecho, encontramos hace lo suficiente aquello que anduvimos buscando.  Tarde para cambiar toda esa historia con la que cimentamos ese encuentro previsto que no supimos manejar.

Me voy como siempre, sin ti.  Pero, como nunca, también sin mí me voy.  En busca de otra forma de olvido para mi olvido.  En busca de un silencio que no me siga hablando de ti a cada segundo desprendido del viejo reloj de arena.

Somos viejos y aún más viejos seremos.  Somos sueño y aún más sueño seremos.  Somos tiempo invertido en un futuro que nunca iba a ser nuestro.  Somos algo que nadie conoce, que nadie siente suyo, que nadie teme perder... sólo nosotros, que temerosos entendimos que no habrá forma de voltear esta historia, comerla atragantándonos, digerirla con la pesadez con que envolvimos todo lo que de cierto había en aquellos peros...

Pero ¿qué más da?  Hoy, ahora, ya no nos sirve esta ficha ganadora para continuar la partida.  Tú perdiste tu parte, yo la mía.  Eso nos hace perdedores para siempre, eternos acabados.  Y sin embargo seguimos apostando, aún a sabiendas de que nuestro caballo ganador huyó galopando por las praderas que en el aire, y sólo para él, dibujamos.

Estás en mi lista de querer olvidar para siempre.  Tienes un puesto de honor para que el futuro no te traiga de vuelta ante cualquier obstáculo no planeado, ante cualquier duda.  Estás en mi lista, en ésa que guardo en las mismas cajas donde guardo mi vida.  En ésa que se queda atrás mientras yo avanzo en esta carrera sin sentido que tomé justo en la dirección contraria a tus labios.  Estás para siempre en mi lista.  Y mi lista está para siempre escondida en las paredes del olvido, como camaleón, cambiando de color a cada golpe de vista para que nunca pueda volver a distinguirte del resto.

El resto soy yo... o lo que de mí decidiste dejar cuando me robaste el alma, el corazón, las ganas, las fuerzas, los sueños, el pasado, el futuro, los cambios, lo eterno, lo perdido y el deseo.  El resto es un páramo oscuro, vestido de niebla y secretos que nunca serán tuyos, que nunca serán nuestros.  El resto son mis lágrimas, fieles a las arrugas que ya me asoman en la cara.  El resto, presente para siempre, para otros, para nuevas formas de decirte adiós.

Tú te quedas con esa cualidad tan tuya de permanencia inmóvil, con tu eterno y errático sentimiento de conformidad.  Te quedas justo detrás de mi nueva historia, la que me aleja de ti, la que al fin y para siempre te aleja de mi deseo no convocado a esta noche sin luna.  Te quedas paciente, como sabes, observando mi partir, mi corazón que ya se parte, la parte de mí que lucha contra lo que decido, aquella parte que me abandonó para quedarse siempre ahí, en esa anécdota que decoras con tu risa.  Siempre ahí, siempre contigo.

Everyone seemed pretty down to earth, but you know what I feel like I don't let myself really enjoy the time I spend with others because I am busy worrying about how they view me. There comes a point when you realize that you are your own worst enemy and if you continue on that path you will lead yourself toward endless misery. So at the point you have to make a decision, do you fight the darkness or do you let int consume you. It is not easy to fight something that surrounds you...but letting it consume you will surely lead to your doom.

That sounds a bit ominous...but life is like that. You have to choose whether to seek the light or the dark, to fight or to cower, to live life or to just observe it pass you by. I feel like I am standing at a bridge wondering if I should continue to walk across it or should I just close my eyes and jump into the river below. I don't think the answer will ever be completely clear to me, but I feel that it will be less foggy once I gain my footing.

Why is it that I let the world have this power over me...why can I not believe in the greatness that lies within me. That same greatness that lies in each and ever one of us. I think maybe I am afraid to be great; afraid of the challenges, the responsibilities. I feel like I am scared to have my dreams come true in a way...or maybe I am scared to go after those dreams for fear of failing to reach them.

That kind of thinking is something that disables me from truly being one of the living. They tell you when you are wrong that you never know until you try..but I don't even try because I keep stopping at the what ifs and maybes  and cannots instead of being positive and courageous and taking a chance,taking a risk on myself and my life.

I feel so overwhelmingly disappointed in myself for being like that..I know that in this world everyone cannot be strong or courageous but I don't want to be one of the weak and the scared. I want to overcome my demons and fly freely into this world. I want this weight to be lifted off of my soul. I think some of us experience deeper and greater growing pains than some.

We come into this world pure and free and some of us leave it the same way but others like me become tainted by the world and chained to whatever causes us to be burdened. I just want to find myself, be myself. and stay true to who I am.

That is hard to do when you still haven't figured out who you are, or where your going. I want to stop thinking so much and just be in this world in this life as I am now. People like me end of missing out on the things the world, life, and people have to offer because we can't just stop staring straight ahead and instead look the both sides to see what surrounds us.

My point in all of this is that for all you lost souls out there that feel like I do you have to stop holding yourself back from experiencing life because your scared to live it, scared of what could happen to you. This life is both long an short and it is the only one that we have...so don't you want to live it? Don't you want to love it? Don't you want to absorb as much as you can?

It will never be easy but it can be less hard if you just stop all the self-doubt, all the self-sabotage, and just realize that greatness and beauty that lies within you. We seem to forget that as we get caught up in this crazy world. I am fighting the same battle as you, the same demons and doubts lie within me, but we can never give into the darkness. Let the warmth of the light and the sun guide your path and bless your life.

Some days are better than others and some worse but I know in my heart that it will all make sense...all this struggling and suffering will lead me to an even greater destiny.

I wish you every single happiness that life can give you and more.

The chills and aches responded well to Gelsemium.  My husband retired to bed for a while after taking this and was up and about a couple of hours later.  Sleeping after taking a homeopathic remedy is a good sign of recovery to come.

My daughter's vomiting even after the smallest sips of water led me to prescribe Phosphorous and within hours she was eating and playing again.

I felt nauseous around midnight last night so I took Arsenicum.  I had felt achy and fluey a few days ago and took Gelsemium.  My energy was low yesterday and I have felt much better today.

So far my son is unaffected but I have the remedies to hand if he needs them.  Or I could try out the homeoprophylaxis method and give him Gelsemium to try and ward off the first stages, but it's not a severe illness so there's less need to do so. 

We have benefitted from over 10 years of constitutional prescribing which is why we have bounced back relatively easily compared to my memory of suffering similar illnesses in the past which lasted for several days.

P.S. I forgot to mention that I also tried Arsenicum  and Lycopodium (I don't know why now, it was the middle of the night and it seemed like a good idea at the time!) with my daughter and they didn't help.  She has however often responded to Phosphorous in an acute illness.