Log in

No account? Create an account

Just sharing my new blog


If this may be of some help to any of you , only one soul it would be enough:)
I am sharing to help you find a way towards healing and loving your own.

Blessings and light


"Every night and every morn

Some to misery are born.

Every morn and every night

Some are born to sweet delight.

Some are born to sweet delight,

Some are born to endless night."

-William Blake


"Some are born to sweet delight; some are born to endless night." That speaks so true to me. Sometimes I feel as though there is a universal dichotomy, of those who are happy, and those who are sad. I feel that some are born to simply live a miserable and painful existence, while others are born to a blissful and happy existence—and there is nothing that anyone can do to change their fate.

However, at times I am filled with a strange uplift; I feel as if all time were echoing through me, as though all powers were mine. My vision becomes clear and far, and I feel as though I can change my fate—that I can experience the joy of living—that I can taste the exultation of life—that I may become filled with the effervescence of existence.

But, the inspiration fades; the champagne goes flat. The muscles in my body cease to move, my mind is fed upon by carrion. The effervescence of life filters from my skin. And my blood—that sparkled like so many rubies and diamonds—loses its luster.


I saw the name of this group and thought "whoa, that's me".
I'm quite a bit 'intellectual', and while I wouldn't define myself by being sad, I might just as well define myself by being lonely and these are connected.

I just haven't found anyone who is really on my wavelength. I haven't found anyone who is interested in ancient languages, math, computer science, bio, physics, some chem, religions, history, philosophy.... all at the same time. Back in primary school all the girls wanted to become nurses, teachers, vets, doctors, own a flower shop or so. All the boys wanted to be policemen, firemen, astronauts, construction workers and the like. I wanted to be a mathematician, a historian, a teacher, a poet, an electrical engineer, a philosophy professor, a particle physicist, a cosmologist and an astronaut.

I'm turning out to be a computer scientist/mathematician, but I still haven't lost my love for my other fields of interest.

And you'd think with plenty of interests there are plenty of people to associate with, but everyone seems to think I'm weird, and it's not that I'm particularly good at social contacts. In fact, I find connecting with people astonishingly difficult. There's so much you can do wrong, so many subtle things one can overlook which results in making more mistakes.

Not that I'd expect it but if anyone wishes to, feel free to add me, talk to me and such. I swear, I don't bite!

[Oh, BTW - I beg your pardon for my imperfect command of the English language. I'm a foreigner and entirely self taught.]

I cannot decide what I should do over this long weekend—should I stay here, where I will go for consecutive days without human interaction, and fade slowly, softly, quietly into insanity; or, should I drive eight hours to stay with my Dad, when I may or may not be just as agitated and confused as I would have been if I had stayed here, but will have to spend more money, drive for such a long time, and deal with the aggravating task of dealing with people.

Lately, I have felt as though my mind is on the verge of grasping some great enlightenment about the world. I stand at the top of a walkway that passes over a busy road, and for hours watch the river of cars and faces flow beneath me; I can sense a great knowledge and wisdom lurking there—floating in the air, above the streaming roadway—but it is just outside of my grasp of understanding. I know I can someday gain this knowledge. Even right now—at this very moment—I feel as though my mind is trying to grasp something. And when my mind finally understands, I will be a God, and know every detail of the world and the universe.

But looming just behind this great zenith of understanding, awaits a doom, a sadness, a failure—my downfall. You see, at times, my mind’s hold on reality is precarious, hanging by such a delicate thread; and it’s all I can do just to lay down outside on the grass in some unknown area, and let the fluster and discomfiture pass out of my mind. However, sometimes it can take days to pass. During these spells of agitation, my mind get muddled, my senses are either dulled or intensely aggravated—I can’t tell which—and it’s impossible to think clearly. It’s hard to read, I write in non sequiturs, I can hardly speak; I understand what it is to be absolutely nothing, and I can embrace all of humanity, taking their pain as my burden, since it would be nothing compared to the pain that afflicts my mind and body.

I want to forget the world—escape from it, pretend it doesn’t even exist. But the world is there. And sooner or later it is going to come up and punch me in the face. So I might as well start thinking about it now. What do I think about the world?

Crazy Asian Parent

How many of you people have problems with your mom?

Probably many, more than what people expected.

I had problems with my mother.  And since people had things to do, places to go and people to see, I'll make this one short.
  1. She calls me fat even when I weight 120 lbs at the height of 5'2".
  2. She tells me that I'm stupid at everything, that I don't have common sense and I'm only book smart.
  3. She tells me that I have problems with my temper when in fact she like changes her mood every 5 seconds.
  4. She nags and nags that we waste a lot of money even when we buy her stuff for her birthday or for Mother's day.
  5. She reads my text messages and emails and NEVER asks my permission.
  6. She thinks that when I help her I'm trying to go against her and tell her that she's useless.
  7. But when I don't help her she will scream at me and say that I'm a good for nothing child who has no respect.
  8. She kept on complaining that she doesn't feel well, but when I ask her to go to the doctor she'll accuse me that I want her to die early.
  9. She thinks that all the people in the house is against her or hate her, but in reality she just changes her mood SO MUCH that we really don't know what she really wants.  She's paranoid beyond comprehension.
  10. She screams at me that I'm stupid and that I'm an ungrateful person that she should not have fed me my whole life.
See here, I'm not going to call her crazy.  I'm not accusing her that she's a crazy ass bitch or something like that.  What complicates this situation is that I know what my mother has, and I know what she's feeling.

Because I am a doctor.

No, I'm not just any medical student in their freshmen year trying to impress people that they got into med school.  No - I have my license to prove it.

So I can't do anything about it, because another thing that complicates it is that I'm Asian.  You know traditional Asian people - they're afraid of white/black people, they're afraid of medicine, they accuse doctors of giving them diseases, and they treat their kids like a slaves when they get older because THE ASIAN PARENTS FED THEM WITH RICE AND SOY SAUCE.

I am grateful - I'm not denying that.  But what I am hating silently right now is that they do not listen to my advices even when it's legitimate or logical, just because I'm their child, I AM ONLY THEIR CHILD AND NOTHING MORE.

So, to the readers out there, I want you to leave a comment below and tell me - do you have any problems with your parent/s?  And if you do, what are they?  How do you get by living with them everyday?

Auctions of interest!

Some steampunk, gothic and BPAL items for your pleasure: shop.ebay.com/scarletminded/m.html

A somewhat steamy gothic CD sale

The following are CDs I want to sell, in order to buy more music. They are steampunkish or gothic in nature. Each CD is $7 and that is postpaid. Write me a comment here with the ones you want and I will PM you with my Paypal info in which to pay me. All CDs are brand new unless stated otherwise.

The list is:

Death by Doll --- Gasoline
Death by Doll --- Cabin Fever
Dawn Desiree --- Dancing, Dreaming, Longing
Regan Remy / High Priestess --- Sellisternia
Regan Remy/ High Priestess -- Advanced Bliss / Oaksong
Lavender Diamond - Imagine Our Love/ The Calvary of Light (2 CDs for $7)
Lisa Hammer -- Dakini (it's brand spanking new!)
The World/Inferno Friendship Society -- Live at Northsix
The World/Inferno Friendship Society --- Addicted to Bad Ideas
The World/Inferno Friendship Society --- East Coast Super Sound Punk of Today!
The World/Inferno Friendship Society -- Red Eyed Soul
Sophe Luxe -- Waking the Mystics
Tipton Lea and the Victorian Army --- Spectacle
Lemony Snicket Soundtrack
Rodentia The best of Dark Roots music, 2 CD set $7
The Sad Bastard Book Club -- The collected works of Carrie Anne Crowe (CD)
The Sad Bastard Book Club -- The collected works of Carrie Anne Crowe (Audiobook)

I do have a cheap list of CDs too, each for $3 postpaid!

The Cure -- 3 Imaginary Boys
Daniel Ash -- Foolish Thing Desire
Front 242 -- Front by Front
Best of The Velvet Underground
Swans Related Projects CD, featuring tracks from Drainland and Sacrificial Cake
Bjork -- Homogenic
Nine Inch Nails --- March of the Pigs
The Damned -- Skip School to See The Damned

Thanks for looking!

Mar. 20th, 2008

Oh yeah, and...
Visit me, or summin wot wot

Yo, everyone.

Sad intellectuals! This was shown to me by my twin sister who said it sounded right up my street!
So, yep, let me give a brief run down of my misery:
I find it hard engaging in conversation with most people - they talk about things I have no opinion of, and I'm just generally pretty socially awkward around them (and by that I mean extremely socially awkward.)
I recently moved schools and have yet to make more than a couple of friends. I get pretty fucking lonely sometimes, but I feel like I'd be just as lonely talking about how so and so's mum is out of town this weekend and so they can flood the lower floors with booze and everybody's invited.
While the rest of the school is up the street in the park having a ciggy, I'm either in the library, writing a diary entry of the day's events, and my current thoughts, whatever they may be (I always manage to write pages, too.) or walking up the road to get an Easy Way (It takes exactly half an hour so I can use up my entire break before next period) because I find my company far more interesting and far less stressful .
I mean, I swear I don't mean this in a snobby way - I'm aware that I'M the loser of the situation haha but still.
I'm a passionate feminist, atheist, communist, and a genius. I think far too much about things and need people that have the capability to understand my philisophical ramblings.
I know it's arrogant, but I genuinely think on an entirely different level to most people.
I simply cannot socially relate to most people, and it sucks (sometimes I have wondered how much happier I would be if I was a little stupider)
I wish I COULD talk to people, but I can't. My problem is made worse by my social anxiety disorder (although maybe it's the other way around.) and so even the people I want to talk to I am far too shy to approach and make consistent conversation with.
I suck at small talk, but I fucking rock at discussing the Dictatorship of the Proletariat and contemporary gender roles.
I'm sure you can understand why that would make it hard for me to make friends.
I really wish I had more people to talk to, and my loneliness at school causes me a lot of grief.
Luckily though I have friends outside of school that I talk to. A select few that I really enjoy talking to (besides the other 'lesser' friends).
But yes.
And I'm sorry if the above post made me sound arrogant. I'm sure there are plenty of people here to can relate to me, judging simply by the name of the community.

Dec. 8th, 2007

I am at the close of my first semester as an art student and feel as though my view of art has become unjustly negative.  The last few months have been intense -- magnified like a pressure-cooker by the startling revelation of Martin Beck, a graduate alumni at my school who stated that, "those for whom art is their life become extremely dull."  I'm beginning to question whether art is really the noble pursuit that it appears to be.  I began to think that perhaps art is full of the same paradoxes as life.  More specifically, that who enter college as artists, only to change their major in the course of time are the ones who preserve the basest form and enjoyment of art.  It's the ones who continue in the art profession who ultimately sell out -- not because they're corrupt or even because they're jaded (although that tends to happen anyway) -- but because they're forced to sell themselves to make a living.  The once pure and unadulterated passion becomes tarnished, and that is inevitable when you make a living doing what you love.

The following is a conversation I had with a friend over lunch.  A little armchair economics minus the economics.

What is Art?
Defining something that doesn't make sense.

Art as a Metaphor

Art is creative bullshit.

Art is aesthetically pleasing crap.

Contemporary art is glorified crap.

Performance art is an excuse for exhibitionists to strip naked.

Art is an inventive channel to express everything that does not belong with common sense.

Miscellaneous Art

Art is like an itch that won’t go away.

Art is like Vaseline.  When you put it on, it sticks to everything.

Art is like a black pawn that wants to be white.  No matter what color it is, it’s still a pawn and it’s still going to get trashed.

Art as Food

Art is like bread.  They can be white, brown, or yellow, but when you put them in the toaster, they all get burned.

Art is like an unkosher dumpling.  It’s thin and delicate on the outside, but inside it’s just vulgar.

Art as Sex

Art is like going out at night looking to get laid.  Sometimes you get lucky, and sometimes you don’t.

Art is like prostitution.  The most successful artist has mastered the art of selling herself.

Art is like having sex when your brain has turned to mush.  It doesn’t take any intelligence to do.

Art is like a Las Vegas prostitute: a luxury you can't afford.

Art is like a whore that has reached her prime: it becomes cheapened over time.

Art as a Lesson in Futility

Art is like an addict coming out of an ether binge.  Any effort to resist is futile.

Contemporary art is like counting the hairs on your head.  It’s (f******) pointless.

Real art is like counting the hairs on your head.  It’s (f******) impossible.