This Point of View is Getting Stale.

Dreams and obsessions. Wishes on my 17th year of living in this earth;

"When you broke-up, you will start to pay attention to all the songs and listen to every single word in there, lyrics will have a new whole meaning." - Raynard. Haha yea true. Somehow im really bored today (I've never been so bored before), this song came up on my head, and I started to google the lyric. And I ended up laughed on myself, keep sayin "Ouch ouch, how true.", and put it in my blog. Ha-ha. Song of the day.

There's not much going on today
I'm really bored, it's getting late
What happened to my Saturday?
Monday's coming the day I hate

Sit on the bed alone, staring at the phone

He wasn't what I wanted
What I thought, no
He wouldn't even open up the door
He never made me feel like I was special
He isn't really what I'm looking for

This is when I start to bite my nails
And clean my room when all else fails
I think its time for me to bail
This point of view is getting stale...

He Wasn't - Avril Lavigne

This is where I start to bite my nails, ...but my red cherry nail polish tastes not too good. What happened to my Saturday? lol. He was sweet. He made me feel special, he was totally made my day, and made me stared at the phone all day. But now im welcoming June. Spending more time alone as i should be, haha.

Oh June! Im goin 17 this month! send me burftday presents, ppl!! Kidding :) I haven't got any wishes to wish for my sweet 17 birthday. Readers, would you give me some ideas, please? Haha. I don't want anything, new gadgets, iPad or bla bla bla. All I have is a heap of dreams and obsessions for all this time. Im a professional dreamer, I dreamt about anything and keep dreamin till now. Im wishin for my future-jobs. I wanna be anything that related with art. Im wishin for best friends, which I haven't found it so far, it's sucks sometimes when I just can share what my heart feels on twitter or write it on the blog. Sad, eh? lonesome me, haha. For love life..., definitely not seekin for anyone right now, too early to get busy for it. Let just wish my Romeo come on time. :B

♥♥♥

"Falling in love is like
jumping off a really tall building.
Your brain tells you
it is not a good idea,
but your heart tells you
you can fly."

>> The point is, falling in love is stupidity. Don't believe your heart or you'll die.


♥♥♥

..She's the one who keep me goin on my obsessions till today. (:

++ pics credits: via here & here.

Woot Woots :)

(error: SMS centre, 08999 1053 19 only ;)

Pom Pom revisited

She won't sit still and is disobedient.She can be persuaded with a quick "Remember that time I drove you downtown in rush hour in the rain to buy you new sketch books and a Copic marker?" She can be bribed with cheap dog treats. She even kept her eyes open for this shot. Good dog!

I'm A Traveler, Not a Tourist

There is nothing, I repeat nothing, worse than looking like a tourist when you're traveling. Thankfully, Madewell has launched their online store and I've been using their looks as inspiration to not get caught wearing a tracksuit and fanny pack when Taylor, Stephanie, and I head out to D.C. to visit Laura in June.

Avoid the following to not look like a tourist:

•  Stonewashed denim, multiple pieces of denim clothing, Mom Jeans
• Chunky-soled, white athletic shoes
• Anything with large, obnoxious logos whether they be designer names or sports logos
• Fanny packs, backpacks, and any other sort of inappropriately giant bag
• Color coordination in outfits worn by your entire group (aka the *NSYNC faux pas) 
• Wearing clothing that is normally used as sleepwear because it's "comfortable"
• Clothing in colors that could be described as retina searing
• Anything that has specific reference to where you are visiting or other touristy destinations i.e. Ciao Bella t-shirts in Italy, I Heart NYC paraphernalia etc. (as suggested by my friend Lesley-Anne)

 And consider these options instead:

• Choose a fairly neutral color palette while you pack, it makes it easier to dress and to blend in with locals
• Black is slimming and makes an outfit look more cosmopolitan
• Invest in a streamlined, dark shoe and if necessary make them more comfortable by using gel insoles
• Bring interesting but inexpensive accessories if you want to make your outfits more reflective of your personal tastes i.e. scarves, costume jewelry, sunglasses etc.

Happy travels!

 

Mastery Defined

Clear. Strong. Polished. Fluid. These accolades describe the voice of soprano Ashley Thomas Adams perfectly.

These videos are from her recent recital. In addition to the music, she gets everything right. The demure gown, the pearl earrings, and the decorations in her hair -- perfection.

"Spirate, pur spirate," Stefano Donaudy



"La Foletta," Salvatore Marchesi



"La Pastorella delli Alpi," Gioachini Rossini

And some selections from a recital last year. I love the coral dress.

"Der Nussbaum," Robert Schumann



"Giunse al fin... Deh vieni, non tardar," Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Upon listening to all these videos, I was struck by the control Ashley has over her voice and the graceful quality of it (especially the Marchesi piece). Unlike the stereotype of how opera singers sound, her voice doesn't sound 'over-cultured'; it's strong, but feminine and light.

If you live in the Savannah, GA, area, you're in luck: she offers voice lessons. More information is on her website. You can also see more of her recital videos on her Youtube channel.

Last Night Was Unreal.

Sorryyy my camera was shakin *I was tryin to turn the camera to Raynard's face
but it was too dark haha* and we barely couldn't hear Chris' voice bcos
we sang louder than him :)

Dashboard Confessional concert was fun, as it's supposed to be (really? yes. Or, not really. Whatever, but overall it was FUN.) we were stalkin over Dashboard Confessional's members but too bad i didn't bring my camera, so this is the only documentary left last night. Reff part of Belle of the Boulevard recorded from my low-batt bb. Last night was lovely. Thanks Raynard and friends for accompanying me yesterday! also Audrio and Bona for driving me to fx after the concert :)

"Jakarta was unreal! What a show! Could that have been real!!!?????!!!!!"
(@ChrisCarraba *Come back soon, DC! :)

♥♥♥

"Please send me anything but signals that are mixed
cause I can't read your rolling eyes
out of touch, are we out of time?"
Again I Go Unnoticed - DC

Weekend weeding

After we tilled the garden, we didn't do anything with it. This weekend we did. We started weeding. I'm sure the dogs thought they had found un-explored lands. We weeded for about 1.5 hours, which means just about 1/2 the garden is weeded. Then we ran some errands, and bought some plants and seeds.He found some treasure in the un-explored lands. After leaving some other treasures behind for us to pick up. Gross.A walnut and some weeds. Gross.

Gross.
Gross.
She found a peony.

These 3 are total goofs. And we survived a weekend of teens.

Trinity Sunday

Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto. Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeculorum!

Even Ugly Things Can Be Made Beautiful - Camilla Basham

I remember when my Grandpa died a couple of years ago. People came to the house, Mom cooked chocolate chip cookies, I got to stay home from school, got loads of presents from everyone like it was my birthday or something. I remember wishing a couple of more relatives would die so I could complete my miniature porcelain tea set.

Mom tried to explain. “Grandpa has gone away and isn’t coming back.”

“Where?” I demanded.

“He’s at peace now, Ruthie. He’s gone to the same place as your goldfish.”

“Ewwww!”

Running to the bathroom thinking they had flushed him, I imagined him just round the U-bend. I spent that summer stuffing bologna sandwiches and T.V. Guides down the toilet. Mom finally decided to call the doctor when she found me with my head down the toilet bowl telling him who Carol Burnett’s special guests would be that week.

Beautiful, If Not So Ugly - John Fetto

The troops moved by, not ten feet below the ridge where all four men lay, clinging to the flat land like men clinging to a cliff with only their fingers digging into the dirt stopping them from sliding off. Hawley lay off to Willie’s, peering over his forearm, not at the troops below but at orange black spider that was climbing his sleeve and was crawling along the fabric of his jersey. Each spiked leg, picked slowly towards the bare skin of his wrist. It would have been almost beautiful if it hadn’t been so ugly, black prickly legs stepping along to the beat of the troops walking down below. Anytime they could look up, see peering through the fronds, and if they did, Hawley and his friend would be pricked by bone shattering lead. No matter what they all must still and not make a sound. Hawley didn’t move, even as his eyes crossed watching the bug, and sweat ran down his cheeks. He didn’t move even as Willie reached over and with pinched the spiders head with fingers black with dirty, grimy nails. Thick ugly hands but just then they looked beautiful as the held the head of the spider and watched as it’s little legs kept wiggly until it stopped.

You're a Horrible Person, But I Like You - Donna Shomer

Fred Cohen taught us to
Find the good in people
And then right after that
You could give them ‘feedback’:

What I like about you
Are the shoes you are wearing
What needs improvement
Is the asshole standing in them.

My mother recited
This one poem to me
again and again –
About the little girl with the curl
In the middle of her forehead
And about how when she was good
She was very very good
But when she was bad
She was horrid.

You know that one?
I always felt sure that
She repeated that hellish verse
because she was trying to tell me something.
You know, first say something nice about the hair –
and then give the ‘feedback’….
I worried about a curl
that would somehow protrude ghoulishly
From my forehead
And I knew I was very very bad.

Imperfection - Judy Albietz

That afternoon, I decided to knit something other than a scarf. I’d already made scarves for my loyal family members. With big needles and big yarn, I could whip up a scarf in a few days. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t perfect. My mom always said that a flaw in the knitting proves that it’s handmade. Anyway, with something you wrap around your neck, a purl instead of a knit stitch really doesn’t matter. When everyone had a scarf, I was ready to move on to the next level. I wanted to make a hat for my year-old grandson. I headed over to the local knit shop. The owner was glad to outfit me with fine baby blue washable wool yarn, a book with an “easy” pattern, calling for narrow-gauge circular needles and four double-pointed needles. I told her I had never used any of these kinds of needles. She promised me it was a piece of cake. I just had to keep count of my stitches. She sold me a white plastic counter for that too. She said to come back if I had any problems.

It took me almost an hour to “cast on” correctly, getting the yarn firmly lined up—not twisted backwards—on the needles. The first rows took much longer than I was used to, since the yarn and needles were thinner and narrower. I told myself that working with this yarn was much more grown-up than the big yarn. The instructions showed me how to start reducing, to form the dome of the hat. Then, many, many hours into the project, I was breathless with excitement to get to the next stage: the double-pointed needles. I was very proud of myself in figuring out what the pictures in the book were telling me what to do to close up the top of the hat. Just as I reached the finish line, I saw it. In the 5th row, there was a tiny hole, probably a knit instead of a purl. I turned the hat around a few times, trying to see if it really showed. It did. But I wasn’t worried because the knit shop lady would know what to do. The shop door chimed merrily as I entered the store clutching my nearly-finished baby hat. The owner didn’t look as friendly as before as I placed the hat on her counter. I showed her the little problem with the hat. I asked her to show me how to fix it. She smiled, “Yes, dear. You need to rip it out and start all over again.”

You're a Horrible Person, But I Like You - Shonna Anderson

I remember a friend back in high school. She wasn’t a horrible person by any means, but was so burrowed so deeply inside her shell that I would try anything to entice her out and be her friend. It was as though I was completely fascinated by her disinterest in having friends or being part of the “in-crowd”. For someone who tried so hard to be liked and to be accepted, to be around someone who seemingly didn’t care, was something I was drawn to. If I could become her friend I thought maybe some of that cool aloofness could rub off on me.

As I’ve gotten older though I’ve realized that what I perceived as being uninterested and unbothered by the cliques of high school was actually more likely a defense mechanism for her own lack of self-confidence. I find myself wondering sometimes what has become of her. Has she come out from behind the wall that she so carefully built around her? Does she let people into her world? Is she happy now?

Imperfection - Maria Robinson

Martha sipped a cuban coffee at Velasquez Cafe in Brooklyn. Stumbling out of the subway and up the stairs, the hurtling ride from Manhattan always felt like crossing a rough sea. Brooklyn had become her hideout, her London, a place as irregular as the City was regular. It was the perfection of the brewed Cafe bustelo, the blue corn mexican tortillas at Maria's, the brick ovens and baby greens filled restaurants, channeling San Francisco. she was drawn to the people, all of the expressionist New Yorkers who could create their own micro neighborhoods. What she was really looking for was another chance, another love. she knew she'd be unable to move to Brooklyn, leave the stability of the her mother's arrangements which included the care and education of her two young children. But something had to give from the perfect reconstruction of her life after her divorce.

Taken By Surprise - Nancy Cech

Wednesday 6:15pm, I’m sitting at my desk trying to wrap up the day and the phone rings. It’s my boss. I’m new to her team I asked for a re-assignment a couple of months ago to get some distance from a psychotic narcissist (you heard about him earlier in the week.) She’s great. I love her. She’s level headed, gives you room to think, appreciates good work and pretty much leaves me to do my job. But she never calls me after 5 so somethings up.

“Hi. How’s it going.”
me...”Oh great, just prepping for this new assignment we get to kick off tomorrow.”

We’re talking in code these days, with fake enthusiasm. See we just did get a new assignment for a project that we know won’t work. Basically we’re trying to woo back clients that decide to leave the firm. It’s sort of like sending flowers to your ex after you’ve signed the divorce papers, along with a letter that talks about how much weight we’ve lost, that we’ve learned to cook fine french food, and that we really miss you. It’s a little too late. But corporations are funny that way. We all agree to have a corporate memory lapse when the project comes down from the president with an emphatic get it done. Okay so there I am prepping for something that I know won’t work and she says “Well your work is going to get even more interesting. I got laid off today.”

My jaw literally drops. I always thought that was some exaggeration, but I feel the muscles get slack and my mouth open. Did drool just pool out? Thank goodness no one is around.

“That’s insane.” I say. Thinking about what this means. We are in the middle of a re-org and quite frankly don’t have enough folks with her depth of experience.

“Yep. I was asked not to say anything, but I had to tell you. You’ll be reporting into my boss and he’ll come by to talk to you tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry. I really have enjoyed working for you. You really bring a lot of value and I think it’s a big mistake. I was really looking forward to working with you this year.” I say this and I mean it. It’s one of the few things that was authentic that I said that day. And then the line everyone has to say “You know it will be better in the long run, everyone lands some place that makes them happier. And jobs are coming back online. Lots of them. Hey did hear about K. her new job is overseeing the European division. She’s going to Paris next week and is staying for 6 months.” We go on to chat about colleagues that have left, some on their own, most at the hand of re-orgs. Almost all have found work. Only one or two haven’t. The conversation ends on a congratulatory note, me to her. We do give good severance.

And with that I get to go to work today to have my new boss tell me the same story. And I look forward to my second interview for a new job at a different company next week.

Self-Portrait - Karen Oliver

What an amazing self-portrait it was. She was seated at the dining room table, facing a mirror propped on an easel and painted what she saw. It was unfathomable what she really saw but what was created awes everyone twenty-five years later. Her single pigtail on the left side of her head, painted in turquoise and outlined half in red and half in orange with a royal blue band holding it to her purple hair. The opposite pigtail was pink, similarly outlined in orange on one side and red on the other. Her forehead was yellow and her glasses, in metallic gold, enclosed a silver area that contained her piercing blue eyes, looking right at you. The bottom of her face resembled a clown in a way. Red clown nose, pink lips with a red line in the center and each cheek was a contrasting color, one turquoise and one purple. The left side of her chest contained a starburst of blue, black, orange and purple with a red center. More heart than I have ever seen. The other side showed a royal blue shoulder and the chest itself was green decorated with gold squares. The background, yellow and gold, orange and purple, light blue and green, with white spaces and even a few small figures, held the portrait in perfect balance. What is it that children see that leads to such freedom and beauty?

Self-Portrait - E. D. James

She pushed against the rail of the ship with her arms and arched her back trying to get out the kinks from forty hours of air travel. The sun beat down strongly in the way it does at high latitudes in late summer and a mild breeze kicked up the musty organic smell of the river. She felt good in her new beach bucket hat, sol shirt, and zip off khaki pants, all made of organic cotton. She’d splurged a bit getting ready for this trip. Even still, it had hardly made a dent in the advance they’d given her. The clothes she’d bought were somewhat nerdy but also were cut in a way that made her feel good about her body. She wanted to project a professional image. Evolutionary biologists weren’t known for their sartorial sense, but Olivia liked to have a bit of style no matter what she was doing. She’d also made sure the shirts all covered the lotus flower tattoo on her upper arm. The yin/yang at the back of her neck she would keep covered by wearing her hair down. Some men, particularly in foreign countries, tended to make some judgments about a woman who wore tattoos. She didn’t want to have to give any of the men she’d be dealing with any more excuse than their own egos to hit on her.

Self-Portrait - Melody Cryns

How weird to see the words “self-portrait” as I sit here and look at my graduation picture proofs, sent to me in the mail last night so that I can decide if I want to order any of them. Of course my graduation hat or whatever it’s called is cocked to one side and falling off my head – it doesn’t sit on my head the way it does on everyone else’s – towards the front. I remember when I was in high school, I always envied the girls with the beautiful, long silky hair that they wore parted in the middle and it would fall just right – while my hair was wild, thick and unkempt and wouldn’t lay right like that – I’d always have to pull it back in a half pony-tail or do something with it. It’s like, why couldn’t I look like the rest of the girls in high school? Why couldn’t I be like any of them?

And there I was 35 years later – after graduating from high school in the huge football field at Washington High in San Francisco up on the hill – trying to get the cap to fit on my head right, but it just wouldn’t work.

I like to think that in the past 52 years, I’ve grown and changed and perhaps learned a few things a lot the way. I’m sure I have, but then again, I’ve always surrounded myself with music and pictures of the Beatles and that has never changed.

As I sit here listening to the Beatles songs on the radio, I find myself wondering why the Beatles are such a big part of my life – why their pictures surround me at home, their music envelops me and how their music seems to follow me wherever I go – if not Beatles music, then some music and it all relates and comes back to them – the Beatles.

When an era ends, a new one begins – and somehow, some way I can’t let the spirit of the Beatles and everything they stand for die – no matter what I must do, I’ve got to keep the spirit alive. Tomorrow is my son Stevie’s 29th birthday – I like to think that I’ve kept his spirit alive somehow, some way.

Self-Portrait - Kate Bueler

Self-portrait. Self-portrait. I used to draw, draw myself, draw my surroundings, paint, paint on the canvas without much thought, thought at all. I had forgotten the freeness I felt as I painted and penciled free of the thoughts of others of what was good or right or the way it was supposed to be. But then I found the proof. The proof in my parent’s garage when I was called to clean out my childhood items. Items. Memories. Art. Artifacts. When I found-the huge cut out peaces of paper-not one but many. I was blown away. Away. That I had painted such pieces on the canvas, the canvas of my preschool. I had forgotten. How to do. It. It. But then it said Katie B. on it and it was in fact in my parent’s garage so it must be mine. I was taken aback that I had created, created something that I would frame and put upon my wall. My wall. Because now I can’t do that. That. The painting freely bubbling colors out of my hand my mind fingertips to the masterpiece. I had forgotten I could paint. Paint. Until I found the proof. The proof. My first memory I remember is being on a field trip with my school, preschool, and it being my birthday, I had a crown and we went to the fire station. Afterwards I taught everyone a song next to the creek. A song I had made up. A brave child I a stood on the rocks of the dry creek of the 80’s California drought and there I sang, sang bravely by myself a song I had wrote and then taught the others. Crown on my head. I smile just thinking about it now.

The bravery of a child I sometimes forget I have. The bravery to really do our self-portrait. Paint it, sing it, just be it. It.

The second piece of proof of my ability to create was a photo a photo of me I found. Found-I thought it had been lost. I had barely any childhood photos; we had thought my mother had took them. But there they were in boxes, with my baby book my mother’s notes written out in her flowery handwriting, pictures of my childhood, but also my mother’s. The detest of cleaning-of clearing-of getting rid of-I found a treasure. A treasure that without it I felt incomplete. I needed pictures of my childhood so I could remember. So I could see the love, the love that I had forgotten. The love of a mother to her child- her almost always behind that camera-but sometimes in the photos I see her smile. I smile remembering the love. The love that did exist. And must still. Must still. My self-portrait. My self. Finding myself was finding my past, these lost items. They are me. I can’t be me without remembering; remembering I can paint and sing and I do in fact have a mother. A mother who let me watercolor all over my face, and run around the house naked, and make mud pies. A mother that poured chamomile lotion on the chicken pox, and let me hair stand on in, let me carry around bags, bags everywhere. I was the bag lady and still am. My self. Self-portrait. Looks a lot like her. Her. Even if I try to forget. Remember who I am. I am. I still her. She is still me.

Ahhh...Friday {photo heavy}

I love taking pictures, I'm sure you've noticed. I don't love processing photos, but the end result is so worth it.
I don't know what Blogger does to the photos but they look so much better in my gallery.
Here are a few of my favourites from the weekend... I like to look at the cars, I like to hang out with Kerry, I like the smell of the exhaust, the chirping, and whistling and rumbling of the cars. And it's about esthetics for me, which is why this CUTE little red car was my favourite. And I can pick them, he won the race at the end of the day!

Being a Ford family, it's no wonder this was also a favourite of both Kerry and I. And it's for sale. For a brief second, we looked at each other and then laughed it off.

This was Kerry's favourite. I can see why, it's cute too!

The starting line.

So Saturday and Sunday, we went to the hill climb, and hiked and hiked, and then we went to weddings afterwards. What a perfect weekend!

I'm going to do them backwards, Sunday's wedding first, it's just the way they loaded and it's more work to move them. They are darker here than in person.

Bryan and Tracy, a very good looking couple!

Not the best one on the wharf, but one of my fav's because of the candidness.

I wasn't sure about the guns, but now it's all good.

Again, much darker on the blog, walking down the aisle.

And then on Saturday it was all about Karla. And Vince. But mostly Karla.

I shot these as a friend and guest at the wedding.

Pronounced man and wife.

I embraced the high ISO, and grain resulting from it, and went black and white. I've printed them out and I am so pleased with them. Live and learn.

The good looking guy behind Karla is her brother Chris. He said his favourite song was The Hamster Dance and the MC told all the kids to stand in a circle. Chris stood in the middle and he danced his butt off while doing the sprinkler. I could have cried, it was hilarious, what a good sport! And then Karla got in the circle with her cousin and dance like crazy.

This is Diana. She's a hoot. I have never laughed so much at a wedding, you could feel the love in the room, it was so amazing. This is Ben and his friend singing a song for Karla. I cried. Karla saw me crying, she did not hit me with her bouquet like she threatened to. They also sang the first dance song too. They were amazing. I'm going to cry just thinking about how special it was.

So all in all, we had a great weekend filled with fast cars, friends, lots of good laughs, good food, and love.

This weekend brings a gaggle of teens to our house. I might not feel the love by Sunday!

A True Inspiration

I received this e-mail from a very good friend of mine. Please take a moment to vote for her Grandmother, she is a sweetheart and it would mean the world to her if she won this contest!!

My 96-year old Grandmother, Grace, is in a contest for older Americans called Age Strong! Live Long! sponsored by the US Administration of Aging.

I wanted to ask you for a favor, if you could please check out the website below and go to the Video Entry #41 to vote for my grandmother ~ I know she would appreciate it!!

As you can tell by the video she is an amazing woman! For those of you who know her personally feel free to send this out to your friends.

Here is the website:

http://olderamericansmonth.org/contest.aspx

Video Entry #41

Voting ends tomorrow night, Friday May 28th, at midnight.

Thanks and God Bless~

Enduromag

Check out my race review from the recent Avanti 6-hour Enduro, at the Enduromag Blog.

History meets the West Coast

Vampire Weekend - New Music - More Music Videos

Holiday by Vampire Weekend

Tennis Freaks...

My USTA women's team tennis season started last week. As you may or may not recall, a member of my team got IN MY FACE a couple of weeks back over a late call.

On Monday she SCREAMED at our coach when he was trying to correct a problem she had.

Today our lineup went out for a match we're playing tomorrow. The "loose cannon" and her partner were not in the lineup.

This is the e-mail my team captain (and friend) received a few minutes ago.

Subject: Making things right...

Dear Sue and Sally-

As captains of a USTA tennis team ourselves, we understand and appreciate all the work that goes into managing a team. We know how tricky lineups can be, with so many schedules to honor, who can partner with who, measuring how strong/weak the opposing teams are, etc. However, we notice that your philosophy and methods of managing lineups are HUGELY different than ours.

We are not proponents of welcoming and inviting players to be on a team and not giving them fair playing time, especially when a player pays for registration, a uniform and puts in many hours and money in practice time. We try to keep the team to only 12 players plus subs, so that everyone can play a lot of matches. If a player makes the investment of time and money, they deserve to play equally. (our 3.0 team chips in and pays for our subs's registration fees).

It was our intention that we were part of your regular lineup, not subs or second string players - if you wanted us to be this type of player for your team, we should have been told this from DAY ONE - we feel like we were terribly misled. Especially since we have done so well in all the practices and been consistently praised by teammates and Sergei, we felt like we earned our stripes and earned your support. Now, though, seeing your lineups for the last few matches, we are forced to make the assumption that you guys do NOT think we are strong enough players to be on your team and maybe you are too focused on the "3.0" next to our names.

Honestly, we feel we have proved worthy to play on your team through:

a) coach recommendations
b) practice play - we've consistently won matches against many of our teammates during practice sessions
c) we gave you both an excellent run for your money when we play you guys in practice runs!

So with all this being said, we would like to withdraw from playing on your team. Please take us off your team's email list. This just isn't working for us. You seem to be winning your matches without us anyway so God bless, don't let us interfere. We'd rather just concentrate on our 3.0 team and play well there, and most importantly keep our confidence up and keep having fun! We do not have hard feelings--it is just better for our psyche not to be put on schedules only to be taken off again, and be disappointed and wondering why.

Yes, we would have enjoyed playing at a level that is more challenging to our tennis skills. However, we prefer to earn our 3.5 status through our own achievements, which we're TOTALLY convinced we can do and maybe already done, and next year join or coach a team that treats players equally and openly, building tennis partners and friensdhips on the way....making this our priority. We are proud to say that we have this relationship with all our 3.0 players. So far, we have not felt this kind of camaraderie on your team.***

Good luck to you all in all your tennis endeavors! We hope you guys earn the really, really big trophy you seem to be striving for!

Wow. As always, flying off the handle.

And the saga continues...as always, the real drama in ladies tennis is usually played out off the courts.

The season has just begun...stay tuned for more backstabbing, outbursts, gossip and hurt feelings. Yeah, yeah, I know, I should take up yoga. What can I tell you? My love for the game is strong enough that I deal with this absolute insanity.

Now that, my friends, is dedication.

*** HINT: You might feel a bit more camaraderie if you didn't SCREAM at people when you disagree with them.

Spotted: Cultured, ~Aware~ Young Adult

Those who read my summer reading list post may recall the formula which I said was necessary to show just what an educated, worldly, and literate person you are; the type of person who sips chai lattes while reading on your Kindle at the local coffee shoppe (Starbucks is so passé). And sure enough, I've already come across one of those aspirants. Today, on the Metro. Rugged backpack that could have possibly come from REI: +3. Rainbow flipflops: +2. Refusal to wear a suit, and instead sporting a rumpled skirt and cardigan, sans hose: +2, mussed up surfer girl/ environmental activist sunbleached hair: +1. The big kicker? The Brothers Karamazov: +10. Not as good as Like Water For Chocolate, but it'll do. I just wish I'd been carrying my camera the day I saw the hipster with the stovepipe legs suit.

I'm So Happy Today, So Here's Paramore Cover For You. (:

Hello, just got home!

And I just upload my 5th Paramore cover :) Ditinggal upload pas berangkat latian tadi. So here's Careful by Paramore (direkamnya 2 bulanan yang lalu sih, waktu rambut masih panjang haha, tapi diuploadnya ditunda, kedeketan sama upload-nya Misery Business :) jadi seperti apa yang dijanjikan di sini, ini dia udah di-upload :D Sorry, got a little messed up the chords, but hope you enjoy it. Thanks!

Soniaaa tumben rapi coverinnya pake kemeja? :D .......itu piyama. :)

* Indonesian Parawhores, join us on twitter, @ParamoreIndo :D

A Bloggy Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, in kingdom called Jersey, there was a lady who had a little blog. She loved the blog with all her heart and devoted many hours writing posts about her life in the magical land of suburbia.

But alas, the lady became distracted and began to neglect her blog. She spent time in other pursuits, while her little blog sat, alone, untouched and lonely. (Much like the mountain of laundry sitting in the corner of her bedroom.)

One fine day in May the lady went back to Caffeine Court. Her heart broke when she recalled all the hours of joy she shared writing and visiting her virtual friends in their kingdoms.

As she scrolled through her archives and relived moments of victory and defeat on the tennis court, happy moments spent at the makeup counter at Saks Fifth Avenue, and sad moments, such as the time her husband almost murdered her in cold blood when she purchased her third dog. She laughed and cried (not really, but it sounds dramatic) as she reflected on her life.

She took comfort in knowing that someday, she and her blog would be reunited, and she began to feel the old feelings of bloggy love stirring within her heart.

to be continued....

Wedding Sneak Peek

A couple of sneaks from Tracy and Bryan's wedding

And Karla's dress and shoes.

I'll Be That Actress; You Be Tarantino

I was inspired by Lulu and Rumi to do a post on my purse and its contents.

- Marc by Marc Jacobs Faridah Hobo

-Keys and Marc by Marc Jacobs Totally Turnlock Key Pouch

- Stila Lipglaze in Fruit Punch; MAC Lipglass in Nymphette & Hush, Hush Rose

-Plastic pouchette for all my pens & markers

- Vogue Italia Accessories supplement

- Daria DVD Set 

- Violet Prada Glasses

- Chloé Wayfarer Sunglasses

- Blackberry Curve 8530

- YSL Parisienne lotion

- Pink satin coin purse from South Korea

My new favorite song, M.I.A.'s music is always perfect for summer!

Whew...

Stick with me. I have so much to upload, and process. The hill climb was lots of fun, but also lots of hiking. My body isn't so happy about the two days of hiking up and down the hill.
The weddings were amazing. So much love!
Karla keeps showing up with more food. Kerry had his hopes on getting some more Cuban Lunch, some chocolatey thing they had for dessert. I'll have to get the recipe from Karla. We have enough cabbage rolls to keep me happy for a month. And enough dessert to keep Kerry happy for a few hours.
I'll upload photos over the next few days or so. I'm recuperating, and I am not going to work today!

I Could Tie My Own Shoe

Cute candid moments I captured when baby-sitting my 2 years old niece, Cheryl, yesterday. A day at the park..., with her new ankle boots. Read more! :) Yes, ANKLE BOOTS! it's her first ankle boots, she picked em herself. This baby obviously has style. :)) Yea, me and my sister were planning to do some kinda photoshoot with Cheryl, and she immediately yelled, "Boots! Boots!!!" haha :)

..I wonder if I could tie this cute shoes myself.

Hmm, seems like a piece of cake...

This is easy. Let me give it a try...



Tryin...



Hang on, still trying...

Hmm.. Somebody.. help..?



Uhh okay, dear cute shoes... maybe we're better off

Woot? Yea, yea I can't tie my shoes... but at least, I'm still cute.

♥♥♥

P:

And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind...

Spiritus domini replevit orbem terrarum, et hoc quod continet omnia scientiam habet vocis!

May your Pentecost Sunday be truly blessed!

Graduating to the High Life

Pavé diamond band & custom made sterling silver monogram ring by Prevost Jewelry

It's the little details that have made my graduation from college all the more special!

(my version of) 20 Facts About Girl That Guys Should Know... Or Some Guys Have Already Know.

So, after Raynard and Dochi put the "90 Guy Facts that Girls Should Know" on their blog, I decided to put what's Girls Facts too. Click the Read More button to continue reading! :)

I googled but because some of them say: "We will always think we are fat, so humor us and tell us we aren't" or "Shave, no matter how cool you think your goatee / beard / mustache looks, we hate it", which is not really true for me, i do love guys with beard. Sometimes.) ....So let's make it MY version of girls facts then -_- Haha, so here it is.


1. GIRLS ALWAYS LOVE FUNNY GUYS (...and you should have know this.)

2. Don't ever lie to us, because we will always know, and it hurts.


3. Don't compare our boobs with Pamela Anderson's, hers are fake (and you should have know this too)

4. Saying something sweet might get you off the hook. Say it frequently and we're gonna think you're an asshole.

5. Make us curious, in a sweet way.

6.Don't sing us corny love songs. (Some girls might loooove that, but I hate that. Just DON'T ever sing me Secondhand Serenade.)

7. Tell us about your secret make us feel special.

8. Don't hide anything. At least don't be suspicious. Don't make us clueless and guessing about what we're afraid of.

9. Make us laugh. But DON'T make fun of us, even if it's a joke. Some girls are just too sensitive.

10. A system in your car only impresses your homeboys not us.

11. We hate your ex- girlfriends.

12. It is not that cool to shoot snot rockets.

13. Even if you think it is cool to burp, fart, or emit other strange gases from your body, it is not.

14. Girls love guy who love his family, especially his mom.

15. BE SPONTANEOUS. Any sweet things you do if you do it on purpose I might just think you did that to all other girls.

16. When you're hanging out with some of your pretty girl friends (or worse, your flirty ex girlfriend), you make us feel insecure, and we hate that.

17. If you remember some of the little things about our habits, we really really think you're super sweet.

18. Give us some space. Shower us with attention, not a terror with SMS / phone call everyday.

19. DON'T apologize if you don't really know what's your fault. (I hate this "Apologize if you did something wrong, or even if you didn't" because yea other girls might forgive you, but it wont work if you're with me.)

20. Most importantly: we are always right; so don't forget it.

♥♥♥

Okay, that's my version of girl facts. Haha. Yea, girls sucks. But we ARE always right. :p

Exquisite

Sasha Pivovarova/Numéro 86/Camilla Åkrans/Scanned by NOIR FAÇADE