Thursday, July 23, 2009


I'll be on tumblr for awhile

Monday, July 13, 2009

How do you spell his last name?

I was on perez's website, reading stuff, and then I came across this. I was wondering, where the fuck are Robert's balls? Yes, it is Robert Pattinson, however you spell his last name. Sorry for this entry. It just made me laugh, and grossed me out. Kind of. ;)

Sunday, July 12, 2009


I love patisseries from Les Tuileries. Sorry if I suck at taking pictures. I was eager to eat these things. :)

Saturday, July 11, 2009

My mom brought home a magazine for me yesterday. Michael Jackson was on the cover, but the picture that I just posted doesn't have anything to do with him (I apologize for the picture quality, but my scanner only costs 50 dollars). Yes, there were articles about Michael Jackson, but there are a lot of others too, that was more interesting.

I've read in the article titled, "A state of terror" that there was two teenage boys and a teenage girl who were sentenced to be lashed a hundred times JUST because of having premarital sex, men who were accused of stealing cellphones had a foot or a hand hacked off with machetes, a 13 year old girl who was stoned to death in front of a thousand spectators. Al-shabab, the Islamist militia who controls much of the country, have also forced women to cover their faces, banned all music and forms of entertainment. Most Somalis don't support the militia, but are ruled by fear. Some still fight against it. Al-Shabab even controls the memory cards of mobile phones, just to make sure there's no pornographic films or films that are anti-Islamic. They even force people to pray. A journalist also said, Somalia under al-shabab is similar to that of Afghanistan during the Taliban's rule.

Somalis are dying from starvation and war, or suffocating under al-Shabab's interpretation of Islam. Somalia is a problem with no easy solutions.
Intimidating. :|

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

he'll live on, forever.

For all the hasty preparations, hand-wringing over security, breathless media competition to scoop details and soul-wrenching performances, the essence of Michael Jackson's memorial servicecame down to 20 poignant, powerful seconds: the moment when 11-year-old Paris-Michael Jackson inched up to the microphone and, in a statement no one saw coming, referred to the late pop superstar as "Daddy."

It was a remarkably humanizing moment. Then again, it was remarkable just to see Jackson's three children in public to begin with.

A fiercely protective father, Jackson rarely brought his brood out into public, covering their faces in veils and party masks to protect their identity when he did.

Now here they were, unveiled, before an audience of thousands at Staples Center and millions more around the globe. Starting out seated in the front row, the three youngest Jacksons eventually joined the rest family onstage as the two-hour service wound to a close.

Dressed in the same dark suits and yellow ties as the rest of the Jackson men, 12-year-old Michael Joseph Jr., known as Prince Michael, chewed gum and toted the memorial service program; 7-year-old Prince Michael II, known as Blanket, held his program and clutched a Michael Jackson doll.

Paris, wearing a black dress with white trim, turned a small patent-leather purse over in her hands as other family members spoke. And then a dramatic hush fell over the crowd as family members whispered that the little girl, whose lifetime of public exposure amounted to a small handful of paparazzi photographs, Paris-Michael wanted to say something.

She furtively emerged from the tight circle of family members, who rushed to lower the microphone to her level. And with her uncle Randy on one side and aunt Janet on the other, Jackson's little girl stood center stage.

"I just wanted to say," Paris began weakly.

"Speak up, sweetheart, speak up," Janet encouraged, sweeping the girl's long hair back. "And get close."

Paris put one hand behind her neck, another on the microphone, and began again.

"Ever since I was born, Daddy has been the best father you could ever imagine," she said, her tiny voice cracking.

Rebbie and Marlon Jackson moved in closer to comfort their niece. She shut her eyes tight.

Then she wrapped her hands — little fingernails painted red — around the microphone and fought back tears as she continued: "And I just wanted to say I love him — so much."

She collapsed in tears into her aunt's arms.

"It's OK, baby. It's OK," Janet Jackson said as she held Paris close. Prince joined in on the hug.

And all at once, Jackson wasn't the larger-than-life King of Pop, orWacko Jacko the tabloid freak. He was a doting father who had left three adoring young children behind.

He was "Daddy."

Monday, July 6, 2009

well, yea, there must be something wrong with me.

Most of us probably prefer going out with friends, but I prefer staying in my house, locking myself in my room and eating banana energy bars made from tofu. That's the only way I can avoid eating bananas. Bananas are a good source of potassium, my father says. But I think I had too much bananas. It's summer, I have no school, I can stay up late, I can wake up whatever time I want. But it's kind of irritating when your father forces you to go out. I understand, maybe he just wants me to enjoy the lovely weather, well, not lovely, it's always raining and it's not that hot, or maybe he just doesn't want to see my face. I really don't get it. He knows that I like staying in my room. I don't like going out, but still he forces me to. It's kind of like.. annoying.

Saturday, July 4, 2009

I'm a dead meat.

I was tagged by my dear, Francesca. Here's what you have to do: Show your readers the tenth photo you find on your photo file folder.
That picture made me miss my old hair. When my classmates found out that I cut my hair, they were like, "aww... why did you cut your hair short?"

Anne, Rachelle, Ate Rain, and Shaii, people who I chose to do this thing next.

Friday, July 3, 2009


I always find myself coming back to Inuyasha. Haha.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Je voulais oublier.

There are just so many things that I can't let go, memories that I want to bring back. I want to talk to friends that I lost. I miss so many things, so many people. I want to forget.. oh wait, I don't. I want to keep them in me, memories that made me happy in the past, and in the present, hurting me. I've lost so many important people. Does that just prove that nothing lasts forever?