The last caption really made me laugh.
Click http://funny.jdonuts.com/2010/09/100-acre-drug-use_16.html
I have mental illness. Mind clarity is rare, too briefly and often too late. Old friends and acquaintances would look away when they see me. Yup, that unpopular. Of course, I get angry and hurt but deep down, I know I’d do the same too, if I saw 'me'. That’s the icy cold papercut truth. The illness cuts even deeper. I thank you for your readership. Your presence here makes me feel less alone. This blog helps me remember my true worth as a person, and how my own mind threatens it.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Still I Rise by Maya Angelou
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
Still I Rise by Maya Angelou
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
Still I Rise by Maya Angelou
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Tuesday, March 08, 2011
Taken from RD -By ROSS HARPER ALONSO
With her physical disability, this pastry chef has defied the odds and is truly inspirational
Monday, March 07, 2011
Saturday, March 05, 2011
I really like this
When mind is restless, go back to the source.
When one is upset, go back to the source.
Return, return, return to your inner self.
Do not remain in the periphery, the outer realm.
Do not be influenced by external factors and influences.
Return, return, return to the source.
That is your real being.
Taken from eagle2phoenix
When mind is restless, go back to the source.
When one is upset, go back to the source.
Return, return, return to your inner self.
Do not remain in the periphery, the outer realm.
Do not be influenced by external factors and influences.
Return, return, return to the source.
That is your real being.
Taken from eagle2phoenix
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
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