absolutwillie

Category: Migrations

  • find a way

    i am in a very dark and hurting place right now. still, i have to believe that there is a way through it. the following words might serve you as well:

    Most of the time our happiness is reactive behavior. We let things or people be the cause of our happiness. True happiness has no reason. It’s a choice.

    Today, find one reason for joy. And focus on that for the day.

  • don't be afraid of the dark

    don’t ask why – just know that i’m having a really bad day – and enjoy this little pick-me-upper Francois sent me.

  • a post! a post… nah, more music

    i was honestly going to post something deep and meaningful tonight. and to get me in the mood – i read some of your awesome mails, tweets and blogs for fodder and inspiration.

    some of you struck quite a few chords tonight… a closeted man’s dream of love, a potent farewell, and a billet doux from long, long ago.

    i’m choked up, to be honest.
    so here’s a clip of the song that’s echoing inside.

    love one another. fiercely, openly and enthusiastically.

  • music week continues: Lady Gaga – Bad Romance

    too much?
    i’m sure i don’t know what you mea…

    oh.

  • Auriol Hayes " Take It Slow "

    a little bit of Cape Town in the morning…
    *sigh*

  • the songs in my head: Wonder Girls: "Nobody"

    [youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BA7fdSkp8ds&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&w=320&h=265]

    i’m loving this so much right now! korean girls rock!

    got the song as a gift from Peter (aw schweet) and totally fell in love with it’s sing-along chorus. the video’s a bit on the long side – but it tells a nifty story ;0)

    love from formosa,
    w

  • the songs in my head: solid gold

    [youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IcO4DUSUWcA&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&w=320&h=265]


    woke up with this number from the golden filter looping in my thoughts.
    the video’s not really quite there, methinks.

  • review: i saw SAW 6

    yup – i went and saw it. the latest installment of SAW, that is. (in case you thought i was loosing my mind. then again, that might be proof enough…)

    it was horrible. better than 5, but horrible.

    the acting sucked – none more so than that of Detective Hoffman (Costas Mandylor). the man has the depth and range of a gnat.

    the gore was pretty much the same as anything before. nothing is left of the (for lack of another word) genius of the original move. even the “traps/games” feel rehashed and regurgitated – in some cases to the extent where boredom sets in.

    and the twist that everyone talked about? utterly predictable.

    the only thing that really got to me – and boy did it ever get to me – was the opening sequence. now THERE’s some horror right there! not so much for the visuals, as for the audio.

    THE SCREAMING!!!

    whomever cast the first two “players” should be congratulated,
    and closely monitored!
    THAT scene worked: my stomach turned, i broke out in a cold sweat, i felt nauseous and…
    i passed out…
    on my way to the bathroom…
    two-thirds into the scene.

    yup. my biological operating system crashed.
    sensory overload.

    on reboot i was still sweating, but no longer nauseous.
    i returned to my seat for what turned out to be a boring film.

    so here’s my advice:

    if you want to see it for a gut-wrench – be on time, leave after 10 minutes. it’ll be the best movie-experience you’ve had in a while!

    if you’re a bit more sensitive but want to watch it for the story – be 10 minutes late. skip the hot dog.

  • repost: from Happy Days: the pursuit of what matters in troubled times

    Happy Ending

    By TODD MAY
    In the spring of 2004 I took a flight from my home near Greenville, S.C., to New York to visit my dying step-grandmother. We had been close, and it would be one of the last times I would get to see her. As the flight was about to land, it abruptly ascended and headed toward the Empire State Building. The passengers on the plane became quiet; the aura of 9/11 was hanging in the air.
    We flew over the Empire State Building (but too close to the antenna for my comfort) and circled back to La Guardia. As it turned out, a small commuter plane had decided to land without taking account of our aircraft, so the pilot had had to make a quick move. But in those moments when it seemed I was aboard another human missile, I revisited my life. I realized, almost to my surprise, that I would not have traded it in for another life. There had been disappointments, to be sure, but my life appeared to me to have been a meaningful one, a life I did not regret. This is not to say that I was not nearly paralyzed with fear. I was. At the same time, strangely, my life appeared to me as worth having lived.

    There are two lessons here. The first, and most obvious one, is that death is terrifying. Here in the United States, we have the technology to defer death, so we often pretend it will never really happen to us. There is always another procedure, always a cure in sight if not in hand. But in our sober moments we recognize that we will indeed die, and that we have precious little control over when it will happen.
    The harm of death goes to the heart of who we are as human beings. We are, in essence, forward-looking creatures. We create our lives prospectively. We build relationships, careers, and projects that are not solely of the moment but that have a future in our vision of them. One of the reasons Eastern philosophies have developed techniques to train us to be in the moment is that that is not our natural state. We are pulled toward the future, and see the meaning of what we do now in its light.
    Death extinguishes that light. And because we know that we will die, and yet we don’t know when, the darkness that is ultimately ahead of each of us is with us at every moment. There is, we might say, a tunnel at the end of this light. And since we are creatures of the future, the darkness of death offends us in our very being. We may come to terms with it when we grow old, but unless our lives have become a burden to us coming to terms is the best we can hope for.
    The second, less obvious lesson of this moment of facing death is that in order for our lives to have a shape, in order that they not become formless, we need to die. This will strike some as counterintuitive, even a little ridiculous. But in order to recognize its truth, we should reflect a bit on what immortality might mean.
    Immortality lasts a long time. It is not for nothing that in his story “The Immortal” Jorge Luis Borges pictures the immortal characters as unconcerned with their lives or their surroundings. Once you’ve followed your passion — playing the saxophone, loving men or women, traveling, writing poetry — for, say, 10,000 years, it will likely begin to lose its grip. There may be more to say or to do than anyone can ever accomplish. But each of us develops particular interests, engages in particular pursuits. When we have been at them long enough, we are likely to find ourselves just filling time. In the case of immortality, an inexhaustible period of time.
    And when there is always time for everything, there is no urgency for anything. It may well be that life is not long enough. But it is equally true that a life without limits would lose the beauty of its moments. It would become boring, but more deeply it would become shapeless. Just one damn thing after another.
    This is the paradox death imposes upon us: it grants us the possibility of a meaningful life even as it takes it away. It gives us the promise of each moment, even as it threatens to steal that moment, or at least reminds us that some time our moments will be gone. It allows each moment to insist upon itself, because there are only a limited number of them. And none of us knows how many.
    I prefer to think that the paradox of death is the source not of despair but instead of the limited hope that is allotted to us as human beings. We cannot live forever, to be sure, but neither would we want to. We ought not to mind the fact that we will die, although we really would rather that it not be today. Probably not tomorrow either. But it is precisely because we cannot control when we will die, and know only that we will, that we can look upon our lives with the seriousness they merit. Death takes away from us no more than it has conferred: lives whose significance lies in the fact they are not always with us.
    Our happiness lies in being able to inhabit that fact.

  • list: posters i long to own

    our lease will be up come february, which has me daydreaming about finding the perfect space again :0)
    wooden floors…
    high ceilings…
    kitchen with an oven…
    rooftop patio…
    lots and lots of cupboards for Peter’s clothes *lol*

    this lead me to thinking about decoration.
    does wanting these posters make me weird?