The most unfair thing about life is the way it ends. I mean, life is tough. It takes up a lot of your time. What do you get at the end of it? Death. What's that, a bonus? I think the life cycle is all backwards.
You should die first, get it out of the way. Then you live in an old age home. You get kicked out when you're too young, you get a gold watch and you go to work.
You work forty years until you're young enough to enjoy your retirement. You do drugs, alcohol, you party, you get ready for high school.
You go to grade school, you become a kid, you play, you have no responsibilities. You become a little baby, you go back into the womb, spend your last nine months floating and you finish off as an orgasm.

courtesy: 'K' Factor

who is tisha asher?

must i alter my vantage point? i am tired. i am tense. and trouble isn't over yet.
one last test of concentration and stamina.
i lack.
i have none.

is this miracle territory?

can i sort out a messy situation, say, by running away from it, or better, ignoring it? wouldn't that be a brilliant solution to a knotty problem? but life sucks. i can't even slip quietly out the back door and leave trouble knocking on the front because i know, sooner or later, i will have to return. so now, while i'm still strong i will stay, open the door and tackle, once and forever, the thing that keeps me from living (leave alone enjoying) my life.


i, for once, am definitely becoming aware of my vulnerability.
and i don't feel fine - physically or emotionally. situations to deal with - unhappily precarious. a lot of things do upset me and i can't quite seem to put my finger on the cause of my discontent. why does something so trivial have to have such a big impact? does the situation represent the tip of an iceberg?
sometimes life is like solving a crossword puzzle, i stare at clues for ages and feel not one iota the wiser. i need to rack my brains, rest it and refocus. definitely refocus. i must honestly admit i am out of my depth and must humbly retry. i don't think this is a time to be sorry or sad. is it a crime to feel grumpy though?
i feel as though i am standing on an open sandy beach - unable to plan or build something lest the wind blows it down or the tide sweeps it away. every single person tries to tell me what to do. i am getting so sick of hearing so-called guidance. must i listen less to others and more to myself? and don't i do that often? i definitely am aware of a heavy responsibilty and anxious about an unfolding drama.
if i had the creator's number, i'd be on the line right now, demanding to speak to the complaints department.

This is Ishu. My 4-month old gorgeous baby. Even her doctor says that he hasn't seen such a pretty baby in all his years of practice.


ok. i still am a dog person. i never did like cats. too moody for me. but she's not really like other cats. atleast she doesn't come up to me and rub herself against me. yuck! that was the icky-est thing about cats. but all she wants to do is wrestle and play with her little kangaroo and giraffe. and she doesn't really play with tennis or any other balls. her favorite is the paper ball (preferably made from my notebook).

and her favorite game is PEE-KA-BOO. she loves hiding in all the nooks and cranies.. and when we find her.. she jumps around like a kangaroo!

God. i love her.

when the 9-1-1 ambulance arrived and were checking my blood pressure and blah blah.. she was right next to me.. all worried and making weird noises.

brings up yet another topic.
she doesn't meow.
she growls.
and she moans.
but she never ever meows!

she's a quiet girl. but she is always ALWAYS upto no good. always tearing up my books.. always upto some mischief.

and yes. i love my Ishu.


"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. " - Albert Einstein

yes ma. just live for the moment. it does get hard to let go of the past.. but eventually we find out that life brings along something better. cherish the wonderful moments of the past.. and move on for there is not much we can do. maybe shed a few tears.. and hate the sinking feeling. but wallowing in self-pity is an insult to you.. and you don't deserve that..
so smile.
for life never does give us what we want.
and that may be for the better.

just know that i will always be there for you.
and that i love you very very much.


i am not a passionate person.
but i do derive sadistic pleasure from portraying myself as one.

Congratulations, you're syphilis!

Transmitted by direct contact with one of your infections (usually through unprotected sex), you're one nasty STD! In your initial stages, you cause sores, usually on the genitals or in the rectum, but that's only the delicious beginning. Later on, you'll cause a rash, and then slip away ... but you won't be gone. No no, my friend. You're far too cunning.

You'll still pass yourself on to anyone the poor soul you've infected has sex with (anal, vaginal or oral), and you'll start to erode their muscles and nerves! In fact, you'll eventually lead, if left untreated, to malcoordination, blindness, paralysis, dementia and then death!

Take the Affliction Test Today!

does my perception of myself become a reality through the thoughts, decisions and actions of every moment?

On a lighter note, I was thinking about the song "Matchmaker" from Fiddler on the Roof; "Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match...", which could be replaced by "Foolmaker, foolmaker, make me a fool.." :)

fool, i am not.
fool, i make not.
people are born fools.
they just need a mirror
to show them what they are.

i'm only human.
and i'm just a woman.
with unspeakable powers
to crush
to hurt
to lie
to love
to relish
to forgive

i do have the power.
and i will use it for justice.

and no one willing.. to follow.
sa c'est honteu.

vertigo had me bedridden for a week.
a whole fucking week.
i couldn't stand.
couldn't walk.
couldn't sit.
couldn't do jack shit.

i just sincerely hope this doesn't become a life long problem.


i can't even stand.


We walked to the edge of the water. I, calm. She, nervous. Her eyes questioning mine. Maybe she wanted to spew something that tickled her insides. This I know for sure, she couldn't gather enough courage. Am I that unapproachable? Hm. This definitely did bring up several issues that stumped me in the past. Oh. I digress. This is about her. Definitely not me. I look at her long and hard. She's charming. Not pretty. Not in the conventional sense. But she makes me smile. I try and read her lips. I'm deaf to her words. she mumbles something. and all i can see are her soft lips and all i can think about are her supple breasts. she yells. i snap back to reality. "you never listen to what i have to say.. blah blah blah". hey, i'm me. i don't think i will ever change. so. well, she deserves to be heard. "i couldn't do it. i'm a homey, protective, secure blanket for most people. i'm not the intelligent type who can handle these confrontations. i am submissive and i can't help it.. blah blah". my concentration powers wandered off after hearing that bit. damn. weakness - a concept i definitely don't conform to. and i definitely don't like seeing - in me or others. and here she stands, in my presence, telling me this. when she knows how much i despise it.

that's when i knew.
a time to put a stop to this torture.
i would definitely miss her half moons.
but i will not compromise on my ideologies.

alas. she was slipping away. far from my realm. i look at her longingly.


she stopped. "a last parting kiss i deserve..". she was still hesitant. she still lacks confidence. but i will make this an impossible moment for her.. for i dont want her to go. i bend forward slowly. she cringed. she will not be able to say goodbye. i trace her voluptuousness. sigh. this is it.


she's gone.
and so are my dreams.

i don't exist.


i love mw

he's amazing. he never ever ceases to amaze me.. i could even worship him..
i forget all my troubles, my aches, my pains, when i see that smiling face..

he's not the best. he's the greatest!


she: he is GOD_G_US!
me: eh? did you say something?

more on this after my OS project design review..


i remember thinking this while walking from the 5th floor to the 4th:

one floor below i walk to my doom.

it doesn't matter anymore..


i totally forgot to write what landed me in ER.

since the accident, i've been having to go to the doctor every single day for therapy (which i don't). and then i strain my arm even more by driving and writing (too many assignments in school). so i go to the doctor monday morning (11/12/01) and start complaining of severe pain (aggravated by the many things i'm doing). he pokes me in the shoulder/neck area with his finger.. does the whole peering-into-my-nose-ear-throat thing.. and asks:

"are you allergic to penicillin?"

and i know not what to say, so:

"i don't know because i have never taken it before"

and there starts the story.
not only was the dosage high (250mg), but i was also allergic to it.

and my blood pressure is always on the lower side.. but it had been incredibly low since the past few weeks.. more in the realm of 52/75. which is low.

difficulty breathing
horrendous headache
severe stomachache
cold sweat
extreme dizziness
blah blah

and i passed out for a good bit.

then my ma had to call 9-1-1

and the rest.. as they say..

is in the previous posts..

btw, my blood pressure, before going to ER, was 95/130!


now i wont fucking graduate in may..
all because of one class.

life's a bitch awright.


being in the ER is no fun.

all they do is poke poke poke
needles here and there and every fucking where.

4 voiles of blood.
1 i.v.
1 intravenous medicine.
1 intravenous injection.
2 injections on my poor lil butt.

ouch. that definitely hurt.

and the worst part was i wasn't even conscious till the paramedics came.
i missed out on those cute guys.




fuck osama bin laden.
i have a world war three going on in my house.


i've been planning to update since FOREVER!
but the slacker in me wouldn't permit.

here's something i found that aroused my interest:
(note: this article does not represent my views on the whole war situation.)

This magnificent article by John Pilger was the lead feature and front page article in The Mirror, the second largest circulation daily newspaper in Britain... Previously a staunch supporter of Tony Blair and New Labour, the paper's turn against the war is a huge boost for the anti-war movement in Britain. The Mirror prides itself on acting as the voice for maintream working class opinion in the country.

From www.mirror.co.uk

PILGER: THIS WAR IS A FRAUD By John Pilger, Former Mirror chief foreign correspondent

The war against terrorism is a fraud. After three weeks' bombing, not a single terrorist implicated in the attacks on America has been caught or killed in Afghanistan.
Instead, one of the poorest, most stricken nations has been terrorised by the most powerful - to the point where American pilots have run out of dubious "military" targets and are now destroying mud houses, a hospital, Red Cross warehouses, lorries carrying refugees. Unlike the relentless pictures from New York, we are seeing almost nothing of this. Tony Blair has yet to tell us what the violent death of children - seven in one family - has to do with Osama bin Laden. And why are cluster bombs being used? The British public should know about these bombs, which the RAF also uses. They spray hundreds of bomblets that have only one purpose; to kill and maim people. Those that do not explode lie on the ground like landmines, waiting for people to step on them. If ever a weapon was designed specifically for acts of terrorism, this is it.
I have seen the victims of American cluster weapons in other countries, such as the Laotian toddler who picked one up and had her right leg and face blown off. Be assured this is now happening in Afghanistan, in your name. None of those directly involved in the September 11 atrocity was Afghani. Most were Saudis, who apparently did their planning and training in Germany and the United States. The camps which the Taliban allowed bin Laden to use were emptied weeks ago. Moreover, the Taliban itself is a creation of the Americans and the British. In the 1980s, the tribal army that produced them was funded by the CIA and trained by the SAS to fight the Russians. The hypocrisy does not stop there. When the Taliban took Kabul in 1996, Washington said nothing. Why? Because Taliban leaders were soon on their way to Houston, Texas, to be entertained by executives of the oil company, Unocal.

With secret US government approval, the company offered them a generous cut of the profits of the oil and gas pumped through a pipeline that the Americans wanted to build from Soviet central Asia through Afghanistan. A US diplomat said: "The Taliban will probably develop like the Saudis did." He explained that Afghanistan would become an American oil colony, there would be huge profits for the West, no democracy and the legal persecution of women. "We can live with that," he said. Although the deal fell through, it remains an urgent priority of the administration of George W. Bush, which is steeped in the oil industry. Bush's concealed agenda is to exploit the oil and gas reserves in the Caspian basin, the greatest source of untapped fossil fuel on earth and enough, according to one estimate, to meet America's voracious energy needs for a
generation. Only if the pipeline runs through Afghanistan can the Americans hope to control it. So, not surprisingly, US Secretary of State Colin Powell is now referring to
"moderate" Taliban, who will join an American-sponsored "loose federation" to run Afghanistan. The "war on terrorism" is a cover for this: a means of achieving American strategic aims that lie behind the flag-waving facade of great power. The Royal Marines, who will do the real dirty work, will be little more than mercenaries for Washington's imperial ambitions, not to mention the extraordinary pretensions of Blair himself. Having made Britain a target for terrorism with his bellicose "shoulder to shoulder" with Bush nonsense, he is now prepared to send troops to a battlefield where the goals are so uncertain that even the Chief of the Defence Staff says the conflict "could last 50 years".
The irresponsibility of this is breathtaking; the pressure on Pakistan alone could ignite an unprecedented crisis across the Indian sub-continent. Having reported many wars, I am always struck by the absurdity of effete politicians eager to wave farewell to young soldiers, but who themselves would not say boo to a Taliban goose. In the days of gunboats, our imperial leaders covered their violence in the "morality" of their actions. Blair is no different. Like them, his selective moralising omits the most basic truth. Nothing justified the killing of innocent people in America on September 11, and nothing justifies the killing of innocent people anywhere else. By killing innocents in Afghanistan, Blair and Bush stoop to the level of the criminal outrage in New York. Once you cluster bomb, "mistakes" and "blunders" are a pretence. Murder is murder, regardless of whether you crash a plane into a building or order and collude with it from the Oval Office and Downing Street. If Blair was really opposed to all forms of terrorism, he would get Britain out of the arms trade. On the day of the twin towers attack, an "arms fair", selling weapons of terror (like cluster bombs and missiles) to assorted tyrants and human rights abusers, opened in London's Docklands with the full backing of the Blair government. Britain's biggest arms customer is the medieval Saudi regime, which beheads heretics and spawned the religious fanaticism of the Taliban. If he really wanted to demonstrate "the moral fibre of Britain", Blair would
do everything in his power to lift the threat of violence in those parts of the world where there is great and justifiable grievance and anger. He would do more than make gestures; he would demand that Israel ends its illegal occupation of Palestine and withdraw to its borders prior to the 1967 war, as ordered by the Security Council, of which Britain is a permanent member. He would call for an end to the genocidal blockade which the UN - in reality, America and Britain - has imposed on the suffering people of Iraq for more than a decade, causing the deaths of half a million children under the age of five. That's more deaths of infants every month than the number killed in the
World Trade Center. There are signs that Washington is about to extend its current "war" to Iraq; yet unknown to most of us, almost every day RAF and American aircraft
already bomb Iraq. There are no headlines. There is nothing on the TV news. This terror is the longest-running Anglo-American bombing campaign since World War Two.
The Wall Street Journal reported that the US and Britain faced a "dilemma" in Iraq, because "few targets remain". "We're down to the last outhouse," said a US official. That was two years ago, and they're still bombing. The cost to the British taxpayer? £800 million so far. According to an internal UN report, covering a five-month period, 41 per cent of the casualties are civilians. In northern Iraq, I met a woman whose husband and four children were among the deaths listed in the report. He was a shepherd, who was tending his sheep with his elderly father and his children when two planes attacked them, each making a sweep. It was an open valley; there were no military targets nearby. "I want to see the pilot who did this," said the widow at the graveside of her entire family. For them, there was no service in St Paul's Cathedral with the Queen in attendance; no rock concert with Paul McCartney. The tragedy of the Iraqis, and the Palestinians, and the Afghanis is a truth that is the very opposite of their caricatures in much of the Western media. Far from being the terrorists of the world, the overwhelming majority of the Islamic peoples of the Middle East and south Asia have been its victims - victims largely of the West's exploitation of precious natural resources in or near their countries. There is no war on terrorism. If there was, the Royal Marines and the SAS would be storming the beaches of Florida, where more CIA-funded terrorists, ex-Latin American dictators and torturers, are given refuge than anywhere on earth. There is, however, a continuing war of the powerful against the powerless, with new excuses, new hidden agendas, new lies. Before another child dies violently, or quietly from starvation, before new fanatics are created in both the east and the west, it is time for the people of Britain to make their voices heard and to stop this fraudulent war - and to demand the kind of bold, imaginative non-violent initiatives that require real political courage. The other day, the parents of Greg Rodriguez, a young man who died in
the World Trade Center, said this: "We read enough of the news to sense that our government is heading in the direction of violent revenge, with the prospect of sons, daughters, parents, friends in distant lands dying, suffering, and nursing further grievances against us. "It is not the way to go...not in our son's name."


in the event that you might want to verify the existence of such an article, click here.



yankees lost the world series.



alas. the doctor couldn't make the pain go away.

i don't think anything could.

friday, 4 hours of therapy and doctor and what not.

it still doesn't help.


linear algebra midterm on monday.

only a miracle can save me.

would you be that miracle?