tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62062955597398598412024-03-13T14:21:50.485+11:00one lover's appendixleftover details that didn't fit in the other blog.sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.comBlogger64125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-76090652245043743262009-12-16T14:32:00.002+11:002009-12-16T14:40:10.156+11:00newborn writechild<a href="http://www.stainedfingers.wordpress.com/">www.stainedfingers.wordpress.com</a><br /><br />I'm still unsure of the survival potential of today's birth.<br />I'm floating in and out of blogs trying to find myself as well as a "correct" way and place to write and type and love and hate. I don't know very much of late, only that I learn much more when I observe those around me who I do and don't know. But as opposed to judging from my observations, I'd like to think I am instead constructing new/different or building on old understandings of people. We are a strange species, and one I couldn't be more in love with!sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-62500433733973347852009-12-15T00:10:00.005+11:002009-12-15T01:08:00.395+11:00reassurance reacquainted<span style="font-size:130%;">So finally these many waves<br />Crashed upon my plastic caves<br />Tell me why they wouldn't hold<br />These pressures are a little old<br />These broken shards of plastic shields<br />These obsolete and aging fears<br />These mechanisms of defense<br />Impersonal, fearful immense.<br /><br />But wash me over salty waves<br />With songs and Psalms to make me brave<br />You whispered love, swiftly disarmed<br />Validating me without need of charm<br />Your concrete truth, I hold to tightly<br />Shared passions urge me, keep on fighting<br />I find in you my greatest peace<br />You bought my life for yours released.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Tell me what I would ever gain</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">If all I did was run from pain.</span>sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-58350705330550663862009-12-12T00:06:00.003+11:002009-12-12T00:25:22.251+11:00never ever cleverI stacked atop the mini wheelbarrow because I tried to transport more junk than the little tike could comfortably manage when it got caught in a crack in the concrete and my momentum carried me forward... my left shin still feels the repercussions twelve hours later. I just thought you'd like to know.<br /><br />Apparently my emotions seem to mirror this awkward, clumsy, somewhat accidental yet self-inflicted amusement forwardslash annoying bruise pain. I don't know what to do with myself and I don't know why I do this to myself. I think I'm much too susceptible to a little bit of...I wouldn't even call it charm or chivalry, but somehow whatever it is encompasses both. Black and white or sepia? I can't decide.<br /><br />Not a fan of wine (red)<br />Though I like nightime's navy blue<br />Bedtime's getting later<br />I also like playing with staples and glue.sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-80621397199717355842009-12-10T23:29:00.002+11:002009-12-10T23:50:37.986+11:00Challenge this!<span style="font-size:180%;">I have the best friends</span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">in</span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">the</span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">world.</span>sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-34449465045097346542009-12-09T01:25:00.003+11:002009-12-09T01:56:32.490+11:00Rhyme and rhythm of she incoherentLate shower<br />Hair dryer<br />Dry skin<br />Sleep in<br /><br />Thoughts on fire<br />Dreams expire<br />Distinguishing, truth from liar<br /><br />Waiting, wanting<br />Temporary<br />Finding, minding<br />Those worth caring<br /><br />Smiles and handshakes<br />Syrup, pancakes<br />Firm but fluffy<br />Tell me nothing<br /><br />What if we all<br />Never looked for<br />Love or told you<br />"You are beautiful"<br /><br />Love aint<br />For the faint<br />Look hard<br />Junkyardssisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-6275058959509786942009-11-30T11:09:00.005+11:002009-11-30T12:19:43.775+11:00The truth felt like overheated concrete on my naked sole.<span style="color:#666666;">Matthew was right, we're in love with the concept of <em>falling in <strong>love</strong></em>, not the person who acted as stimulus for such drama. Hi again, it's your favourite <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">frigit</span>, romance critic. I haven't vomited such opinion in a while so here's to the fresh revisit to why we might never find <span style="font-size:130%;">the one</span>. I was talking to Joshua yesterday about entertaining such notions of who and how, and two sentences in, he begins kicking sand onto my small hopeful bonfire. It's funny how our best friends have capabilities to irritate us with truth. I suppose wishful thinking is for the unprepared, for those who prefer to worry about foreseen and obviously upcoming complications only upon confrontation and not a moment sooner. If you see a glitch in a car you want but know it won't have any apparent problems within the first year and only after, would that not effect your decision to buy it? Why then would I give any less consideration and judge with any less scrutiny if the decision was as potentially permanent as the person I'm to marry and be with for the remainder of my life?</span><br /><span style="color:#666666;"></span><br /><span style="color:#666666;">Seriously <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">nic</span>, your young, ambitious and very...immature. I think I scare myself with talk of marriage. I'm twenty, fresh out of teenage years, with thin knowledge of how to party and little root in common knowledge and social government. Which is probably a good thing in an awkward way.</span><br /><span style="color:#666666;"></span><br /><span style="color:#666666;">I'm still curious though, about love, true love between man and woman. I'm just too unimpressed with generation Y's embedded <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">narcissism</span> (and mine, being part of said generation) to wonder when I will start to truly care about somebody without the need for return. Not because of the attention or the physical attraction or any self-revolving reasons satisfying ME, but for reasons of the ideal picture-perfect marriage print. Oh, and when did purity come into it and does it still exist? Imagine being in love and pure, it's unheard of in the twentieth century western world's sex-selling, body-abusing and media obsessed temperament. I think sexual purity scares me because desensitisation has come into play since childhood was introduced to the beloved magic box within which sex is reinstated again and again and begins to promote itself on the walls of the street and the talk of the town.</span><br /><span style="color:#666666;"></span><br /><span style="color:#666666;">I suppose it's a relief we don't spend forever on this purposeless and cracked moral earth. I want more, I want so much more than I currently hold. I don't want everything quantifiable either. I want things that cannot be seen. I want to care, I want to be generous (alas, funds I have little), I want wisdom to enrich my words, I want the things I do to ripple into challenging those around me, I really want to get over myself, I want not the superficial worries of skin deep perfection to poison my priorities. I want my life to have meant something, as totally cliche and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">daggy</span> as that is, if I look good now, it won't change the fact that I will age, I will grow old and those pimples I previously fretted over simply marked a memory over which to reminisce. I'd go so far to say, however, that every person on this planet, from all manner of peoples and places wants the same, wants better for somebody else, usually their children. But whoever cares little about anybody else should re-evaluate their standing in humanity. </span><br /><span style="color:#666666;"></span><br /><span style="color:#666666;">I don't know what to do when a ten year old girl tells me she thinks she's fat.</span><br /><span style="color:#666666;">I don't know what to do when I see her critiques as consistent to what mine were only earlier.</span><br /><span style="color:#666666;">I can't stand how insecurities ruin everything.</span><br /><span style="color:#666666;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;">Have I told you, you'll look wonderful tonight.</span>sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-14614005168901258782009-11-26T20:02:00.004+11:002009-11-26T20:37:21.983+11:00i didn't mean to be so vain<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">i've</span> just exhausted myself with five to six hours of plastic laughs, sucking in, sore feet and a huge zit on my lip. Both the models I requested couldn't turn up today, as planned, as arranged and disarranged within 12 hours prior. So my faithful photographer (Sammie, bless her soul) and I exhausted ourselves with 27 different items of clothing and such.<br /><br />I'm actually really embarrassed about having myself modelling all the clothes I planned to sell. I was really hoping for an array of bodies when fortune would have them whom <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">i'd</span> requested unavailable at the last minute. I was really hanging on passing out this site to everybody for them to boast on my behalf and to cover a greater radius for publicity, but now <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">i'm</span> considerably more reluctant...<br /><br />But if i were to have delayed the shoot, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">i'd</span> never have started, so here's to beginning. Here's to facing this with half a face. I'll keep you posted. I'm darn nervous and pretty <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">freakin</span>' excited!<br /><br />It's funny I seek the limelight, of sorts, and upon finding myself there, freak out and wish I weren't there alone...This is all nervous chatter...<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">God'll</span> light up my path and I'm sure this wont be half bad. it's about time I materialised one of the hundred <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">thngs</span> I said I'd like to do but couldn't gather half an ounce of initiative to do so. SO here. Here's a justification for my hobby/obsession for op-shopping/shopping/<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">thrifting</span>/finding...<br /><br /><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">ahhhhh'm</span> gonna stop <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">yackaty</span>-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">yackin</span> now. I hope you like it. (If I look good, Sammie digitally edited the photos;)sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-10597224109194433012009-11-24T12:42:00.002+11:002009-11-24T12:50:56.047+11:00what's yours?<p><object width="320" height="265"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/J5j-ipGFcko&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/J5j-ipGFcko&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="265"></embed></object></p><p><span style="font-size:180%;color:#333333;">no there's nothing to loose and there's nothing to prove</span></p>sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-5588465570320530812009-11-21T14:55:00.002+11:002009-11-21T15:20:06.159+11:00Things are working out to be <strong>pretty</strong> odd.<br /><br /><a href="http://lookbook.nu/look/68650-a-million-ways">http://lookbook.nu/look/68650-a-million-ways</a><br />I love this. I love these. There's a different sort of impressive that solidifies upon the average person's persona, making said person not so average. It is, to me, the marriage of unashamed creativity and a contentment not having conformed to the typical "barbie". Such a person so sealed with an indifference yet amusement regarding superficiality to not be affected by it, I admire, unequivocally.<br /><br />I am as rich as I perceive with the acknowledgement of my monies in banks totalling $42.75. Apparently I'm along with a carload of asian girls to asian night at a renown asian club coming friday. Planning to wear my aasics. I'm feeling restless enough to cut my hair right now...but I can't reach the back so I think I'll be calling upon Mother's hand since she mercilessly snipped against my will for the first half of my life. Anyway, if it turns out a screw up, I'll appreciate it with serves of humble pie. Whoever doesn't like me after this, didn't like me before and I'm can deal with that.sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-28007829142569549582009-11-11T13:38:00.003+11:002009-11-11T13:50:18.050+11:00He made her famous, she made him loved.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwAq4EcOEKzdsTfmdTDDYsnY8xuA6EFfj08B23KIvf3ctMim11H8Zqlcfth6U4cPTt-MG2CJsTGDM2w_Pb1jQQMILL4emr_hZxytAji2zU8z3eiUMRPd_A4Q82Ktn4tBf1_AGacFUrdTPI/s1600-h/dora+marr.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 279px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402671794266251842" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwAq4EcOEKzdsTfmdTDDYsnY8xuA6EFfj08B23KIvf3ctMim11H8Zqlcfth6U4cPTt-MG2CJsTGDM2w_Pb1jQQMILL4emr_hZxytAji2zU8z3eiUMRPd_A4Q82Ktn4tBf1_AGacFUrdTPI/s400/dora+marr.jpg" /></a> <font color="#333333" face="times new roman">Pablo Picasso and Henriette Theodora <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Markovitch</span>, alias Dora <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Maar</span> were together as a couple for a decade through the 1930s and 40s. The stunningly beautiful French photographer, poet and painter, was most famously known as Picasso’s private muse, model, companion, and intellectual partner. </font><br /><font color="#333333" face="times new roman"><br />Their relationship was wild, stormy, and unconventional. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Maar</span> greatly suffered from Picasso’s mood swings but her love for him was unconditional. Picasso, who was known for the pain that he caused his lovers, often painted and depicted <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Maar</span> in grotesque, appalling forms. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Maar</span> would often deny Picasso’s ethereal love for her by saying, “All his portraits of me are lies. They’re all <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">Picassos</span>. Not one is Dora <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">Maar</span>.”</font><br /><br /><font size="1">(Above text, cut & pasted: </font><a href="http://culturazzi.org/review/art/10-paintings-on-women-immortalised-by-famous-artists"><font size="1">http://culturazzi.org/review/art/10-paintings-on-women-immortalised-by-famous-artists</font></a><font size="1">)</font><br /><br /><font color="#333399">There's something about this piece that absolutely draws me. Perhaps, it's her beauty, perhaps her colour, perhaps the refreshment of seeing beauty outside convention and the story behind it.</font>sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-20165727399610666812009-11-01T14:43:00.000+11:002009-11-01T14:44:22.926+11:00<span style="font-size:180%;">nothing says sorry like change.</span>sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-70280057152134469102009-10-27T11:45:00.003+11:002009-10-27T11:50:21.143+11:00untitled, insignificant.I've just spent the last hour completely lost in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">reminisce</span>.<br />I like remembering<br />who I used to be, what I've left behind.<br /><br />I don't know what to tell you, so nothing will be told.sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-28917372653980763432009-10-21T17:56:00.002+11:002009-10-21T18:08:26.479+11:00currently obsessed with Beyoncé<span style="color:#6600cc;">I'm not sure how much more beautiful a woman can get. She's got an amazing voice and success to match. She's defied the ruthlessness of changing charts and has yet to fall into the artiste obsoletes category, selling out concerts and wowing audiences worldwide, I've wager she's never disappointed at her concerts.</span><br /><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span><br /><span style="color:#6600cc;">My today is a big fan of Beyoncé. I'm mindlessly hypnotised by her videos at the moment.</span><br /><span style="color:#6600cc;"></span><br /><span style="color:#6600cc;">Hopefully I'll be able to afford her next concert...</span>sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-34630255257612884802009-10-19T17:12:00.005+11:002009-10-19T17:34:46.695+11:00oh crumbs! my incredible edible.<span style="color:#333333;"><span style="font-size:180%;">Say Hello to the newest baked cheesecake advocate in town.</span><br /></span><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEcpgaVoVqEXJs6KzvZ8sNV2wJJn4jbpcrCC4OKOnW6GxerL_nugPiMiB5a6DyzFt92LYlh95nFJ6Bn9etsOYOF1MYPal4Xe_eRVLdi-FuW7E7oH9UISDerxUqwHyKUoKQX3A58MrEQbz-/s1600-h/DSC00174.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394191638682063538" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEcpgaVoVqEXJs6KzvZ8sNV2wJJn4jbpcrCC4OKOnW6GxerL_nugPiMiB5a6DyzFt92LYlh95nFJ6Bn9etsOYOF1MYPal4Xe_eRVLdi-FuW7E7oH9UISDerxUqwHyKUoKQX3A58MrEQbz-/s400/DSC00174.JPG" /></a><br /></div><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><span style="color:#333333;">& while you're saying hello, say <strong>happy birthday</strong> to Father (17th oct).</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:courier new;">ps:<span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:180%;">my dad's a genius</span>, nobody has a handier hand, a greener thumb or a more atheistically pleasing backyard. Bite me.</span></div>sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-91591435782447715942009-10-17T16:55:00.003+11:002009-10-17T17:18:55.135+11:00The real deal<span style="color:#333333;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Today I happened upon an organisational clutch with a little bit of character.</span><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvBpYo11zdmqgya6-zvgfHhGrWNMAl5FDts0aem2QDeDoCcecI0nqJlzKUe5rgRBsp4Tdg5t40AYf04Waaq5P19U_MefUTOZQzKoxJRt9_QNfA5vcQ6amB7YsWbGXycAMMnkklgGZGmX8X/s1600-h/clutch.JPG"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393445301686159954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvBpYo11zdmqgya6-zvgfHhGrWNMAl5FDts0aem2QDeDoCcecI0nqJlzKUe5rgRBsp4Tdg5t40AYf04Waaq5P19U_MefUTOZQzKoxJRt9_QNfA5vcQ6amB7YsWbGXycAMMnkklgGZGmX8X/s400/clutch.JPG" /></span></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;">This baby contained a faded receipt dated 11-08-96, a small red comb and three coins: two 2c pieces and one 1c piece.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;">I thought it was a pretty sweet deal for $2. So the $2 I spent, along with another $18 which included 2 necklaces, one earring, one keychain bottle opener, two vintage-ish (I presume and hope are leather) bags, one vinyl, a collar-less jacket, an old-school cardigan and a strangely shaped "sweet good girl" looking retro jumper. Sort of the thing you could imagine Sandra Dee wearing whilst she was naive and innocent.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;">I've been accumulating a separate wardrobe lately, and have run out of coat-hangers. If you care, I accept donations of coat hangers. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;">I'll shut up and drive now.</span>sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-38062693495730735762009-10-16T17:20:00.003+11:002009-10-16T17:37:58.997+11:00Consider a couple of men and inhale appreciation.<span style="font-size:180%;color:#339999;">He's a handsome sort of bugger with a little bit of charm</span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;color:#339999;">Had I already met him, I'd be on his arm.</span><br /><br />Having glanced a photo of a friend of mine (yes, facebook is great for the mindless browsing of photos), I was amused by my sudden realisation that this said friend of mine had a very handsome face, which reminded me of my grandfather. In the last family trip to Malaysia, upon reunion with my father's father, I was astonished at how handsome my grandfather was and wondered how I'd never noticed before. It made me wonder how he must have looked in his youth. Allow me to regale my last memory of him: a sun-spotted, heavily-tanned, soft but wrinkled skin, forever singlet clad, well endowed with generous sort of beer-gut, neither short nor tall, fat not thin sort of man. I just know that his life, as expressed by his 80 something nature was riddled with pain - and every visit sort of sank my heart. He was imprisoned by his heavy dependency for assistance as his body lately manifested complaints from a lifetime of hard labour, confining him to his bamboo chair in front of hours of television. He was not happy, he was just existing. And although it sounds harsh of me to have drawn this sort of conclusion, I'm sure he would agree. He was respected but not loved, not nearly enough. I've never faced such a hard life as I imagine he has. I've heard snippets of my parent's lives and can hardly begin to understand that of my grandparents. Perhaps I should, it would probably make me appreciate the much that I have considerably more.<br /><br />Life is vain, save the moments we spend reflecting on the lives of our predecessors and successors. I'd say it is these moments that fuel our desires to improve, to evolve, to make worthwhile changes so that those who lived before us can be justified and so those who come after us can have better.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;">Well, this post turned out nothing like I expected it to. Oh, the words take on a life of their own!</span>sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-69828126674774660452009-10-14T00:58:00.004+11:002009-10-14T01:16:39.931+11:00I love the Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue variations-ens-ens endlessness.<span style="font-family:arial;">When insecure and vulnerably malleable, I find myself envious of a few people I know little about. I'll mention one, because he's hardly troubled and often given beautiful opportunities I could never imagine. He is superficial as superficial sells and as suave as necessary to engage his audience. So I will dedicate this poem to him:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;">Your row-s are read</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:180%;color:#333399;">Uncouth yet cool</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:180%;color:#333333;">They make me wish</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:180%;color:#006600;">At times I were you</span>sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-27552585429687881452009-10-08T23:03:00.002+11:002009-10-08T23:34:40.211+11:00"hey do you have the time? and umm, will you marry me?"y'know today there was a chance I walked passed my husband-to-be. Just getting it out there, you never know!<br /><br />I emailed my lecturer today asking what would happen if i failed this subject...<br /><br /><object width="480" height="295"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1cGoDns8wTA&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1cGoDns8wTA&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="295"></embed></object><br /><br />I heard this on the radio today and it made me laugh!<br /><br />To whom it may concern: my father is wonderful, he's been working so hard to keep the family in order while the mother holidays in Malaysia (truly asia). I watched "The secret millionaire" with him today and think I'll watch beauty and the geek with the sister when she returns from work.sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-47290021290950941402009-10-03T19:36:00.006+10:002009-10-03T20:45:26.340+10:00updates<span style="font-family:courier new;color:#333333;">I started cleaning up my bedroom floor today....slowly organising my books and the junk under my bed, dumping a handful of discovered clothes into the laundry pile, tying up a bag and a half of rubbish and gathering piles of paper to send along the recycle, all the while sitting deep in daydreams. I also managed to take a squiz at the saturday paper. I hardly read the paper nowadays. A year ago I used to flick eagerly through the moth gray pages with scissors in hand, intent only on cutting out interesting headlines- that strange obsession eased up because I didn't quite know what to do with the headlines once they were cut so they sit dormant in a green manilla folder to this day.</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#333333;">Anyway, these things I only do when I have better things to do. It seems my assignments can wait. Why is it like this? I'll see my children tomorrow. I went to a really good sale today but because I was so rushed I hardly got time to revel in my victorious finds.</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#333333;">ps: I weigh 57kg according to my electronic scale :) I'm about 3kg away from my desire to acquaint myself with the sixties. "Oh, she got meat on her, this one!"</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#333333;">Oh yes, and I've found the make-shift dress I think I'll wear to Elton&Nila's wedding. Cost me a buck. I'm getting real good at being poor yet without having to relinquish frequent shopping habits, but I won't deny I miss being completely financially independant and being able to afford eating out without tasting remorse, but that's just crumbs of humble pie that go down very smoothly :)</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#333333;">I've started organising christmas! It's been a great procrastination task! I figured if I do it gradually, the pinch won't be so painful come december and I'll have time to be creative and thoughtful about gifts. whoo! Last christmas I earned more than I ever had in the history of my life, but I retained none of the nine hundred and something. I was very unwise in my spendage. So the challenge this year is how to keep christmas controlled, thoughtful and similarly generous without exceeding three five oh or forgetting the real reason for christmas.</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#333333;">I'm going to read up on what assignment 2 of 3 is about.</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#333333;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#333333;">I'll see my kids tomorrow. I'll also be seeing my God. </span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#333333;">I'm excited...</span><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-family:courier new;color:#333333;">but not about these assignments.</span></div>sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-50373140018769888172009-09-29T19:52:00.001+10:002009-09-29T19:54:06.286+10:00Moodrings and slippery fingers.Bollywood slow-jams make me want to fall in love.<br />I'll write something worthwhile later.sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-65955302572629765572009-09-26T12:04:00.005+10:002009-09-26T12:36:56.811+10:00vanity vintage<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeStg3K8CQo2pYTdvSMHi0e9Ze2-msWtH_q3WzPUTnIL0L7CCbmcs10oG_Tv7-C4FI-dKwIm0neozDiarxPOPSD9IZU6ZX9I2XQicu_pFLl8e9iD6D8ZaI2cQTd2tlsrr9Z38E6ArMBy30/s1600-h/snow-white2.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 225px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385594955617816546" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeStg3K8CQo2pYTdvSMHi0e9Ze2-msWtH_q3WzPUTnIL0L7CCbmcs10oG_Tv7-C4FI-dKwIm0neozDiarxPOPSD9IZU6ZX9I2XQicu_pFLl8e9iD6D8ZaI2cQTd2tlsrr9Z38E6ArMBy30/s400/snow-white2.jpg" /></a> <div>I did mini shoot yesterday with my cousin's girlfriend (THANK YOU SAMMIE!). I paid her in a necklace and $4 pizzas. I treat my people well, oh yes I do.</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxkgXk_19g-GUOLDMFSUxF7ksSQlRvrirMCPHjBCUEeAMFzpGLpv9-aZqHlTmIDzPqldWMmTJFfQcQElNnfpr93HMVPkjPtux96NZh1hsFkiK-O4JZ8PY7slC4_nN8WL5u_a9Q0dVqQxiW/s1600-h/snow-white1.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 225px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385593580009114962" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxkgXk_19g-GUOLDMFSUxF7ksSQlRvrirMCPHjBCUEeAMFzpGLpv9-aZqHlTmIDzPqldWMmTJFfQcQElNnfpr93HMVPkjPtux96NZh1hsFkiK-O4JZ8PY7slC4_nN8WL5u_a9Q0dVqQxiW/s400/snow-white1.jpg" /></a></div><div>I've decided that since I op shop excessively, and am willing to dig through mountains of musk and pre-loved junk - I might as well make an income of it, selling them at inflated prices to the rest of the vintage loving world.</div><div></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Here is our account of friday the 25th september @ Sister Bella.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;">.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;">.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">ps: the toilet scene was ridiculously fun!</span><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 225px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385593584920136450" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVVfOCek2dcqrMERIt4yF_erYMrOJKKzDky3biasqpxjAC3STj9CjW84HyJowGbIM2GZtVoKlkuxr5CkuqAcAsCd3JBjzxwyEbQ7fVkZPIaAsOYf8geiDjBVdnHTLuX-PNq0BCH_o-thJt/s400/toilet1.jpg" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4lejIgEF9MI59hVQpxdoDOabUwTFQHtLIzBogyBEzOTe6vqwn4eQu-7Ox_K17BUQRyuqiI-6Kse5drtHeMbkMsdeThlOpkmiFAeTG6DcSp6N-gHnPGyPpZBHDo5L8aaVZTU40g96ED1Ap/s1600-h/skirt1.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 225px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385593571963313058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4lejIgEF9MI59hVQpxdoDOabUwTFQHtLIzBogyBEzOTe6vqwn4eQu-7Ox_K17BUQRyuqiI-6Kse5drtHeMbkMsdeThlOpkmiFAeTG6DcSp6N-gHnPGyPpZBHDo5L8aaVZTU40g96ED1Ap/s400/skirt1.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhon_xcsyFLdhKEI2MjnsV7Tx6QogA8AhXfdFw_PzPRv5JdDv05kPC4gsgKsOxtSG-r3Z-8OKUysPp1FwZ38RxRbKEPg-s_GSEcesllLLyKnTFm8I85NfHSjFi43TrciuFlMhu3Pj8t1Fjf/s1600-h/jacket1.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 225px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385593551904057074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhon_xcsyFLdhKEI2MjnsV7Tx6QogA8AhXfdFw_PzPRv5JdDv05kPC4gsgKsOxtSG-r3Z-8OKUysPp1FwZ38RxRbKEPg-s_GSEcesllLLyKnTFm8I85NfHSjFi43TrciuFlMhu3Pj8t1Fjf/s400/jacket1.jpg" /></a><br /></div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv-YMx8Oqwn-7LcSPpgCaIQA0Xir-FevHIIN08JV0thLhW6T7uHcePMT-DHwpa4nLgwsv-cUNePcZQgk0fmEkDcytLy3G2Wys49bK89-jLXsYd68mS84_ImC8Yow4bcH2QUIZ9fowu6k2m/s1600-h/jacket2.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 225px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385593561065601298" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv-YMx8Oqwn-7LcSPpgCaIQA0Xir-FevHIIN08JV0thLhW6T7uHcePMT-DHwpa4nLgwsv-cUNePcZQgk0fmEkDcytLy3G2Wys49bK89-jLXsYd68mS84_ImC8Yow4bcH2QUIZ9fowu6k2m/s400/jacket2.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /> </div><div><br />The prices are still reasonable I promise. </div><div>.</div><div>.</div></div><div><span style="font-family:courier new;">Bookworm jacket: $20AUD</span></div><div><div><span style="font-family:courier new;">Snow-white top: $10AUD</span></div><div><span style="font-family:courier new;">Faker-skirt black shorts: $15AUD</span></div><div><span style="font-family:courier new;">Humble off-white skirt: $15AUD</span></div><div> </div><div><span style="color:#666666;">Oh, and I might add, Sammie's camera makes everyone look good, so I look half-decent here :)</span></div></div></div></div>sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-40420289660011145362009-09-20T23:19:00.004+10:002009-09-21T09:40:17.324+10:00i think it makes sense<span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>& when my very being cried out to him to be held</strong></span><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>he whispered<span style="font-size:180%;"> "give",</span> he whispered <span style="font-size:180%;">"go"</span>.</strong></span></div><br /><span style="color:#336666;">Unfortunately, the comfortable and the preferable doesn't at all resemble the solutions we wish they were. This weekend was testament to that.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#339999;">When you're cold and find yourself in the headspace where solitude becomes most familiar, all you want is to be found in the warm and welcoming arms of someone who would understand. So I told him, "I just want to be held, that is all I want while I am here". Yet what would that have achieved but satisfied <strong>one</strong> (young and selfish) girl's self-prescribed cure? He had intended more, and so sent me to provide that which I felt lacking in my own. He made me focus instead on attending the wounds of others, knowing that in my concentration - awareness of my own uncomforts and splinters would be drawn away from the forefront of my memory.</span> </span><br /><br />In my state of exhaustion, I propose my current cure to brokenness.<br />Apparently the cure to brokenness is the desire to want to put everyone else back together. Because in wanting such- an inevitable belief is conceived that reasons: <em>although my own hands are a little bruised, I can still bandage their wounds</em>. Therefore declaring, "I am not broken enough to be helpless but able enough to help and available because I want that much to", hence our brokenness is hardly a fatal break but an empathy and common ground for understanding. With this in mind, brokenness devolves into an <em>experience </em>and no longer remains a hurting brokenness that complains individual pain; <strong>but rather,</strong> is stimulated by identifying others in like situations, throbbing memory and itching aggravation into doing something about it.<br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="color:#000066;"><strong>So my nonsensical tip for the day:</strong> when you're feeling mighty broken, find somebody to help. Because in doing so, you distract yourself from your own pain, not to mention how helping heal them helps to heal you or something like that...I need to sleep, I have fifteen things I wrote down that I need to do tomorrow.</span></span><br /><br /><strong><em>Goodnight.</em></strong><br /><span style="font-size:180%;color:#666666;">ps: if you're at In Between, I'm here too- think I may be here for a little longer, perhaps we could catch up?</span>sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-85266210200298065232009-09-17T00:44:00.003+10:002009-09-17T00:58:04.191+10:00romona was a waitress<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Cz0Dd6bxhk">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Cz0Dd6bxhk</a><br />i dont need these arms anymore<br />i dont need this heart, not alone<br />i dont need this skin and bone <div> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#999999;">perhaps i'm in love.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#999999;">perhaps i never will be the way i'd like.</span></div>sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-80592077209538119062009-09-15T17:00:00.002+10:002009-09-15T17:16:54.512+10:00All she ever wanted was enough money to buy a love.The opposite of poverty is not wealth.<br />The opposite of poverty is enough.<br /><br />I never seem to have enough love/money, but the little love/money I possess, I spend recklessly or take <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">for granted. So that when I don't have enough love/money, I remember when I did and didn't realise. Then I'll save up, be bold enough and have enough and somehow loose it again.</span><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"></span><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected">May I just express my appreciation of how much my <em>friends</em> spend on me, love and money. It's more than I can afford, and I can't believe the hopes they've risked on me. I love them, I haven't made that clear of late, but if they ever visit here...</span>sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206295559739859841.post-66134360399851814162009-09-10T08:57:00.004+10:002009-09-10T09:16:50.166+10:00mothers don't know everything<span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">This morning I laughed, because today Mother Dear learned of the uses for a handkerchief. Prior to this morning, she never inquired about one - she never needed to, she had never owned one herself. Today, when I mentioned how Dad hadn't yet seen the handkerchief I drew messages on for Father's Day at Sunday School, I asked whether dad used them.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">"Nope"</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">"Do you think he even knows what it is?"</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">"...I don't know."</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">"Do YOU even know what it is."</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">"...Nope"</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">"You don't know what a handkerchief is? Where people blow their noses into it instead of using tissues?"</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">"Oh YUCK! People BLOW THEIR NOSES INTO IT?"</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">"and sometimes carry it around with them for the day"</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">She was unbelieving and when the fact was eventually sunk, she appeared unequivocally shocked and mildly disgusted at the thought of having a washing machine filled with little squares of cloth with variable discharges of snot. <span style="font-weight: bold;">It was the definition of you-had-to-be-there!</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);">Very laugh worthy, my Mother. She's the best.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-family:courier new;">"How do you NOT know this? Isn't this in </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:courier new;" >your</span><span style="font-family:courier new;"> time!?"</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">"<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ooow</span> yuck."</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:georgia;">Oh yes, and while mentioning my mother, be impressed that on the 11<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">th</span> of the 11<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">th</span>, 2000 and 11, my Mother turns half century :) We thought it was cool. We're gonna throw the baddest party in town!</span></span>sisterr enksthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534504733310126204noreply@blogger.com1