1001 Ways to Embarrass Yourself While Avoiding Injuries

The happiest day i drink teh tarik in the morning and read the newspaper the sun is gently shining, the house is quiet but not silent a good book writing a script

friends who love and cherish me always a loving, funny partner who desires me, kind and well-read and treats me with respect a healthy, happy family a job <3

You were ashes to ashes dust to dust, my dearest, brown girl skin glistening; listen from what i was borne i will return to; the snake chases it tail and created the world- a never ending loop of karma, rebirth and glory, Mother Mary and her son both holy you light the candle in the many houses of one God. i seek the light and freedom from jealousy, i venture to many lands, begging and seeking succor, but little did i know the biggest journey comes from within. The Wheel of Life spins ten gurus within and without the wonderous lives  i want to understand, the spirituality, the one  path, but is there one path? I apologize for being jealous- I apologize for  not taking responsibility, I apologize for the  ego and the mundane way i threw your name  about dear Lord, but blind faith is a journey the wheel of Life continues to spin the mortal i am i put my jeans on and continue the journey within.

i want to turn my heart inside out for you to see and swim in the warm south china sea with you and go watch the fisherman reel in their catch with you ketam ikan keli ikan bawal sotong and run my fingers through the sand i want to show you my heart and walk through georgetown with you marvel at pre world war two shophouses and the Masjid Kapitan Keling and taste the flavors that abound in this green land of mine and maybe yours

 i hardly know what i'm doing the easy way eludes me makes me reconsider  when he grabs me by the waist and says you make me think of  eating the stars so i can put their light in you I reply no need for their light has already suffused my being, can't you see? he kisses me and says yes i can taste the stars

Is this going where she thinks it is going? Of course it is, there is but one direction for it to go, and it is nowhere. How can she expect someone like that to stop and say that's ok if you don't want sex that's fine and I will love you forever until we eventually get married and pop some half-n-half babes out? so they break up, her and Raul the spicy Salvadoran. He kisses her gently on her forehead before he takes his leave. Suddenly she is craving pupusas that he used to buy for her.  And then she is back in Malaysia, and it is too easy to forget Raul ever existed. That he didn't exist merely on a timeline somewhere on Facebook or on her Instagram. That he used to sleep next to her and smile at her gently.  Instead, she is thrust back into the hectic tempo of the 'doing good' worklife; a lack of work/Netflix balance. She reconnects with Frieda, or Freed as she is affectionately called.  "Why do you spend your time chasing approval?" she asks, chewin

I still have Pinkerton syndrome , chasing white men desiring their approval, its so strange what i thought i had  long ago disavowed.  Masters Programs political science political economy environmental management environmental policy urban planning econs?

The worst thing was not the fear that they were going to come at night to take you away; it was when it morphed into a general unspecified fear that they were going to come any minute. Even worse was not having any idea what they would take you away  for , so that you could not prevent yourself from doing it or preparing excuses beforehand. That was deliberate, I thought, so that when they finally got you, you would be shocked despite yourself, despite knowing in your bones that it was soon or at least someday, and would confess to whatever they dreamed up. But you would always say, or so I heard, that you didn't know it was bad. Which was the worst thing of all, because it was true. Who they were remained an unsolved mystery shrouded in suspicion and superstition and fear. All I knew was that the work I was doing was important, and somehow important things have a way of attracting the wrong kinds of people. Especially when the work you are doing means you have accidentally, qui

. We have hinted at what The Woman Warrior's genre is before--what is it? How would you describe Maxine Hong Kingston's style of prose? How does it function? What are the relationship between the narrator's life, myth, and her mother's background? 'The Woman Warrior' can be classified as 'talk-story,' which has its origins in Haiwaiian, meaning to chat or gossip. It is tempting to relate this to MHK's own life, as she moved to Hawaii after participating in anti-war protests to write 'The Woman Warrior' as well as 'China Men' (1980). MHK has an extraordinarily lucid and poetic style of prose- almost as if she is dreaming, which brings to mind William Blake's messy fever dreams. Her stylistic choice perhaps plays into how she intends to communicate her subject matter- the stuff of legend. However, in 'Shaman,' when she is talking about her American life, instead of relating Brave Orchid's, her mother, stories, t

 if i had a choice i would choose you and you know this, you do but i used to deny myself the one i really wanted because i was used to thinking That i would never get it it being you and you being the one i really want.  You know? But you being in the abstract sense, Not a definite person. Not at all Because as Rumi said what you seek  Is also seeking you and I know this is the universe speaking in  rhymes and I know that everything I want is already contained within me and that patience is a virtue My life whirls as a whirling dervish turkish delights in every bite and the broken halves become whole once more tamam shud

on my knees anno domini the church is silent oscar walks to the priest and weeps, no longer violent the shaved head, the high cheekbones, he is almost beautiful and I long for him to love me virgen de guadalupe mi vida  mi amor he begs for forgiveness  the candles are lit and incense floats  the ache spreads like liquid fire inside of me instead of exploding doing the reverse becoming a blackhole threatening to engulf everything sucking in my emotions until I can feel no more. Our Father who art in heaven and then we fall into each other a fierce tangible but invisible love leaving no permanent trace which almost devastates me more. his teardrop tattoo glistens and appears to give him the look of always crying but never really doing so he looks me in the eye and caresses the small of my back it took me so long to find you, i say and he says so it will take me even longer to leave you and  at this, i understand patience is virtuous gracias virgen de guadalupe our Mother who art in the