Right with the suicidal stuff asside -and I know I wrote that wrong, so BITE ME! - would like to draw attention to the fact that I have a new pic in my CLICK ME section entitled 'WHAT IS HAIDO DOING?' yes...you heard that right 'WHAT IS HAIDO DOING?'...need I repeat it again to be an annoying game show host person? 'WHAT IS HAIDO DOING?' he he he...ehem, well the purpose of this new pick -and yeeeeees, there is a purpose- is that it shall be the first in my launch of a new THANG on my blog! I is calling it a THANG coz i is not knowing what else to call it...well actually, perhaps we can call it 'A BIZZARE TOPIC OF DISCUSSION FOR THE COMMUNAL RANT BOARD' coz the communal rant board has been pitiful lately and we need some bizzare-ness...and how does it work? Why I thought u'd never ask, I'll tell u: Every week I post a new pic of Haido doing something unintelligible and everyone makes a suggestion as to what it could possibly be, in the communal rant board...then we all have a big arguement over what could be the closest guess ...and perhaps these beneficial discussions will eventually enable us to grasp the meaning and wisdom in the ways of the Haido, and we, my good friends, may one day see the light!
Ok there is this annoying middle-aged looking asian guy using the printer across me and he's stickin his thumb in his jeans pocket, and hes running his fingers through his hair and trying to catch my eye, but I am ignoring him and he is PISSING ME OFF so I will go now.
Sayonara.

• Maroon 5- she will beloved is playing ceaslessly in my head...and I haven't listened to it. havent listened to music since Ramadan started...of course, except those u can't help hearing like in shops and stuff.
• Eyes are sore, a general feeling of ickyness in the pitt of my stomach, and serious fatigue; I think all of this has to do with the fact that I slept on a sofa for an hour and a half, after 6 in the morning and woke up at 8 to make it to 10:00 seminar.
• So no, my appearance is not very pretty today: no makeup, yesterdays clothes, black circles under eyes...don't think i want to run into anyone cute in uni...actually, scrap that, i don't give a crap, if i did i wouldn't have come in like this in the first place. Screw cute guys.
• Spiritual state is pitiful, so much so that Tas resents and condems some of the stuff I am doing in Ramadan, which don't help, but I thank you tas for your honesty. I hate myself.
• and picking up on that vital point...I HATE MYSELF I HATE MYSELF I HATE MYSELF I HATE MYSELF I HATE MYSELF I HATE MYSELF I HATE MYSELF I HATE MYSELF I HATE MYSELF I HATE MYSELF I HATE MYSELF I HATE MYSELF I HATE MYSELF I HATE MYSELF I HATE MYSELF I HATE MYSELF I HATE MYSELF I HATE MYSELF I HATE MYSELF I HATE MYSELF I HATE MYSELF
• If u think thats scary, then u will be further thrilled to know that non of the above was coppied and pasted, i wrote them out individually...and i can go on, but i won't
• in fact, i should probably stop writing bloggs one of these days, coz the reality of it being read by other people just doesn't register sometimes, and at this rate I'm gonna end up scaring all my friends off with the amount of crap i'm spewing out from the depths of me.
• And i think...I think I need to start making myself believe that there is good in this world still...that there is good in people.
• But post-Richard the III leacture/seminar ponderring, in regards to villains, has conjured up this question: Is it not the villains resignation to being bad which drives him so far in commiting heinous crimes? And isn't it the surety of being iredemably bad which makes him resigned to being so? Isn't it the fact that he can find no good in himself which prevents him from believing that there might be good those that he hurts or commits injustices against so easily, because they have no value, no importance as far as he is concerned? ...Because as far as he's concerned all men are just foul?
• And so the question is: how do you begin to have faith in people when you have no faith in yourself?

If you are increadibly observant like me (Hah!) you probably would have noticed 3 things today. Firstly, that I've added my beautiful Faaria to my contacts list. Secondly, that it is cold and riany outside. and Thirdly, that my click click section now bears the link to Ororon's pic under a new title. Yes, Ororon is dead. He died at the end of the final volume of the Manga. First they pushed him to his limits although he was already weak and wounded, then a big stupid giant boy working for his brother Oscar crushed him. then when he was still standing they tore out his gutts. And still, in his last minute he used his final ounce of strength to conjur up a dragon from the depths of hell, and do away with his enemy..."Oscar we have made too many mistakes now!"
:( never under estimate the power a comic book can have on someone who is increadibly bored.

Ehem...So whats new? Nothing. Nothing's new. I've got some smoked salmon at home, and the thought of it makes me happy :) other than that errr...well Presently I am reading 'The Dragon Can't Dance' by Earl Lovelace and it is a seriously good book. So for those interrested in postcolonial black culture in the slums of trinidad, (and as boring as I've made that sound, you'd be surprised) I urge u to get your hands on a copy of this book. Beautifully written and so vivid, and vibrant and colourfull and culturally sturated, you can almost taste it. Yeah you know I'm hungry, and you knw I been reading this book for hours on end all night and all morning yesterday and today, so that I is not sound upstairs.
With that asside, and on the subject of tasting and hunger (not that I'm hungry really, just badly craving a Ben and Jerry's Milk Shake), so far Ramadan is...well lonely. its especially lonely when i wake up for Sahoor and there aint no one to laugh with at stupid not-funny-things. and no one to squeal with over the bathroom sink, pushing eachother to spit toothpaste foam into the basin. then no one to have water fights with, when somebody getts splattered with toothpaste, or gets wet and gets hungry (damn that word keeps rearing its ugly head) for vengence.
No. Sahoor is quite, and lonely.
And these past few days I've realised how much talking I no longer do.
I miss you guys. I miss you so much. for days after you left I kept feeling like the only 3 people in the world who accept me whole heartedly, in spite of all my flaws and short comings, in spite of the big mess that I am, who accepted me for who and what I am; a girl-boy-woman hybrid clinging to the pitiful excuse of a human being- those people have gone.
I've lost them, and I feel so lost now. For the first time i realise how big the world is and how small I am and how small and insignificant every single person is, and how alone we are, all of us, and I wonder about hope and dreams and expectation. who are we, in our endless wanting? What use is any of it?
Yet the strangest thing is, this sad kind of loneliness is starting to become comfortable, and I don't know if I want to be found.

What words do you choose first, when everything wants to come out at once?
What words do you say when there is so much and not much at all to be said?
I had wished that I could have said something. Anything. I'd wished I could have given you something from me. But, in a world which has desecrated passion with its obsession with sex. In a world which has killed love, with its mass-produced love-songs. Which has killed beauty with its vicious aestheticism and happiness with its hedonist greed. In a world which has destroyed all traces of human compassion within its humans. Which has given me suspicion, cynicism and scepticism, and with these sceptres of its tyranny, taught me to live in the name of its logical ideologies and civilised ethics. Its reasons and duties based on laws. Laws...and fear, they coerce me with, like an animal. So that I have no faith in the power of my own human will, and in the guidance of a faith which calls to my nature.
In a world, which has commercialised sentiment and feeling, which has left no word untainted in its travesty of a vocabulary, what words could I have used to express myself? How could I have said anything at all, without fearing I would sound hollow and untruthful.
Right now, I am afraid. I am alone. And I am gripped by the enormity of knowing I know absolutely nothing.
Sitting with you, during those last hours, holding your hand and watching as you walked away, I felt something which does not belong to me. In spite of all the certainty the reason and the logical convictions which feed a stone composure in the depths of me, I was possessed for those moments and it made me weak.
Now I am filled only with the knowledge of all my inadequacies and shortcomings. Now I am empty and at a loss for what to feel, think or do. To me -the me I have learned to hate yet endure with the wave of disillusionment which has long since hit these shores- you are nothing. But this power, this spark which maintains my existence, ached when you left. It ached to be torn away from its likeness within you...and I was frightened by the presence of something there, which I didn’t know existed. It is gone again now, to some place where I have no access to it at will, to the one whom it belongs to. But I am glad I said nothing. That I gave you nothing hollow, no commercialised expression of sentiment, from the fake, empty self I've become, to better integrate into this cold world. I am glad I was silent and stupid, and that you were silent, and that we didn't presume to define what was not, and can never be, ours.