The Story Of A Murderer

He lived to find beauty. He killed to possess it.

12 wins & 11 nominations- Perfume:The Story Of A Murderer

This movie is a must see. I’ll do a review when I wake up tomorrow. It’s late now.

x

You

When we know we are losing something, it’s almost like being told ‘you have Cancer’.

We wait for that end to come.. and it seems like it’s never going to come, but you know everday is one day less..

Destination Versus Journey

One has to always put the end in mind. But that is not the only significant part of the journey. Keep in mind
that when we start any journey, it is always the destination we look at. But once we reach the
destination, it’s the journey that we will always remember. We should not be too blinded with the
destination that we forget to enjoy the trip going there.

Can We Live Without Love?

There is so much I want to tell you,
But I can’t seem to find the words

There is so much i want in life
But there isnt everything i can afford

We can live with everything
but can we live without love

The Pursuit of Happiness is NOT the pursuit of pleasure

Happiness Is a Moral Obligation

For much of my life, I, like most people, regarded the pursuit of happiness as largely a selfish pursuit. One of the great revelations of middle age has been that happiness, far from being only a selfish pursuit, is a moral demand.

When we think of character traits we rightly think of honesty, integrity, moral courage, and acts of altruism. Few people include happiness in any list of character traits or moral achievements. But happiness is both.

Happiness — or at least acting happy, or at the very least not inflicting one’s unhappiness on others — is no less important in making the world better than any other human trait.

With some exceptions, happy people make the world better and unhappy people make it worse. This is true on the personal (micro) and global (macro) planes.

On the micro plane:

Consider the effects of an unhappy parent on a child. Ask people raised by an unhappy parent if that unhappiness hurt them.

Consider the effects of an unhappy spouse on a marriage.

Consider the effects of unhappy children on their parents. I know a couple that has four middle-aged children of whom three are truly extraordinary people, inordinately well adjusted and decent. The fourth child has been unhappy most of his life and has been a never-ending source of pain to the parents. That one child’s unhappiness has always overshadowed the joy that the parents experience from the other three children. Hence the saying that one is no happier than one’s least happy child.

Consider the effects of a brooding co-worker on your and your fellow workers’ morale — not to mention the huge difference between working for a happy or a moody employer.

We should regard bad moods as we do offensive body odor. Just as we shower each day so as not to inflict our body odors on others, so we should monitor our bad moods so as not to inflict them on others. We shower partly for ourselves and partly out of obligation to others. The same should hold true vis a vis moods; and just as we avoid those who do not do something about their body odor we should avoid whenever possible those who do nothing about their bad moods.

The flip side of the damage unhappy people do when they subject others to their unhappiness is the good that people do when they are, or at least act, happy. Just think of how much more you want to help people when you are in particularly happy mood and you realize how much more good the happy are likely to do.

On the macro plane, the case for the relationship between happiness and goodness is as apparent.

It is safe to say that the happiest Germans were not those who joined the Nazi Party. Nor did the happiest Europeans become Communists. And happy Muslims are not generally among those who extol death. The motto of Hamas and other Islamic groups engaged in terror, “We love death as much as [Americans, Jews] love life,” does not appeal to happy Muslims.

Cults, hysteria and mass movements all appeal to the unhappy far more than to the happy. It is one more example of the genius of America’s Founders to include “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” in the Declaration of Independence. No other major civilization so enshrined happiness as a core value. This American belief in the moral and societal merit in pursuing happiness is a major reason America has developed differently than Europe. The American emphasis on happiness is one reason no fanatical political or religious movement, Left or Right, has been able to succeed in America as such movements have repeatedly succeeded in Europe.

The pursuit of happiness is not the pursuit of pleasure. The pursuit of pleasure is hedonism, and hedonists are not happy because the intensity and amount of pleasure must constantly be increased in order for hedonism to work. Pleasure for the hedonist is a drug.

But the pursuit of happiness is noble. It benefits everyone around the individual pursuing it, and it benefits humanity. And that is why happiness is a moral obligation.

Never Have Regret

Nothing lasts forever
So live it up
Laugh it off
Avoid the crap
Take chances and never have regrets
Because at one point, everything you did was exactly what you wanted.

Bored?

Bored? Don’t fancy doing the above? Well, I may have the thing for you

http://www.bored.com/games/puzzle/1/rollercoaster_creator/

Warning: this game is highly addictive

Another war in the Gulf?

Israel playing with their planes…

Iran playing with their toys…

Kuwait Newspaper saying ‘They are prepared if a Radiation attack occured’

What’s next?

Is this war inevitable?

The Moon Is Always Female

“The Moon Is Always Female”

The moon is always female and so
am I although often in this vale
of razorblades I have wished I could
put on and take off my sex like a dress
and why not? Do men always wear their sex
always? The priest, the doctor, the teacher
all tell us they come to their professions
neuter as clams and the truth is
when I work I am pure as an angel
tiger and clear is my eye and hot
my brain and silent all the whining
grunting piglets of the appetites.
For we were priests to the goddesses
to whom were fashioned the first altars
of clumsy stone on stone and leaping animal
in the wombdark caves, long before men
put on skirts and masks to scare babies.
For we were healers with herbs and poultices
with our milk and careful fingers
long before they began learning to cut up
the living by making jokes at corpses.
For we were making sounds from our throats
and lips to warn and encourage the helpless
young long before schools were built
to teach boys to obey and be bored and kill.

I wake in a strange slack empty bed
of a motel, shaking like dry leaves
the wind rips loose, and in my head
is bound a girl of twelve whose female
organs all but the numb womb are being
cut from her with a knife. Clitoridectomy,
whatever Latin name you call it, in a quarter
of the world girl children are so maimed
and I think of her and I cannot stop.
And I think of her and I cannot stop.

If you are a woman you feel the knife in the words.
If you are a man, then at age four or else
at twelve you are seized and held down
and your penis is cut off. You are left
your testicles but they are sewed to your
crotch. When your spouse buys you, you
are torn or cut open so that your precious
semen can be siphoned out, but of course
you feel nothing. But pain. But pain.

For the uses of men we have been butchered
and crippled and shut up and carved open
under the moon that swells and shines
and shrinks again into nothingness, pregnant
and then waning toward its little monthly
death. The moon is always female but the sun
is female only in lands where females
are let into the sun to run and climb.

A woman is screaming and I hear her.
A woman is bleeding and I see her
bleeding from the mouth, the womb, the breasts
in a fountain of dark blood of dismal
daily tedious sorrow quite palatable
to the taste of the mighty and taken for granted
that the bread of domesticity be baked
of our flesh, that the hearth be built
of our bones of animals kept for meat and milk,
that we open and lie under and weep.
I want to say over the names of my mothers
like the stones of a path I am climbing
rock by slippery rock into the mists.
Never even at knife point have I wanted
or been willing to be or become a man.
I want only to be myself and free.

I am waiting for the moon to rise. Here
I squat, the whole country with its steel
mills and its coal mines and its prisons
at my back and the continent tilting
up into mountains and torn by shining lakes
all behind me on this scythe of straw,
a sand bar cast on the ocean waves, and I
wait for the moon to rise red and heavy
in my eyes. Chilled, cranky, fearful
in the dark I wait and I am all the time
climbing slippery rocks in a mist while
far below the waves crash in the sea caves;
I am descending a stairway under the groaning
sea while the black waters buffet me
like rockweed to and fro.

I have swum the upper waters leaping
in dolphin’s skin for joy equally into the nec-
cessary air and the tumult of the powerful wave.
I am entering the chambers I have visited.
I have floated through them sleeping and sleep-
walking and waking, drowning in passion
festooned with green bladderwrack of misery.
I have wandered these chambers in the rock
where the moon freezes the air and all hair
is black or silver. Now I will tell you
what I have learned lying under the moon
naked as women do: now I will tell you
the changes of the high and lower moon.
Out of necessity’s hard stones we suck
what water we can and so we have survived,
women born of women. There is knowing
with the teeth as well as knowing with
the tongue and knowing with the fingertips
as well as knowing with words and with all
the fine flickering hungers of the brain.

—Marge Piercy

This is a damn powerful piece of writing.

I’d love to get my hands on her book..

I found it on amazon, a few months back but can’t seem to find it now

Someone Else’s Life

Don’t take responsibility for someone else’s actions.

It’s their life, not yours.

Be someone else, don’t be that person.

A nice song by Joshua Radin called Someone else’s life.. got me thinking bout this tonight..

Try downloading it if you can.

Here’s the lyrics

somehow
i'm leading someone else's life
i cut a star down with my knife

and right now
i still see the way the moon plays this tune
though our nights died

my hands shake, my knees quake
it's every day, same way

cos then came you, then there's you
i keep your picture
in my worn through shoes

then there's you
then came you
when i'm lost
i look at my picture of you.

and somehow
i'll make tonight our own
show you every way i've grown
since i met you

and right now
i'll be the boy in your next song
i'll learn the parts and play along
if you let me

my hands shake, my knees quake
it's everyday, the same way
cos then came you, then there's you
i keep your picture
in my worn through shoes

then there's you
then came you
when i'm lost
i look at my picture of you.

if you let me i'll show the world to you
yes if you let me i'll know just what to do
cos then came you then there's you
i keep you picture in my worn through shoes
when i'm lost in your eyes
i see the way for me