This week the local cable tv finally aired the last episode of one of my favorite series of all times: FRIENDS. it was pretty sad... i mean, i didn't even see the whole episode, 'cause i snoozed most of time -- my bed is soooooooooo good!! -- but it was sad anyway! it's sad to know that the show is not coming back in a couple of months and have nothing but memories to live of from now on... it's as if one of your bestest friends were gone for good (for whatever reason) and now everytime you remember that person and want to see him/her, all you can do is to look at old pictures and watch old videos in which s/he appears that you've seen a thousand times before. 

Being parted with all that you love sucks!!

now, if anyone out there has been missing me, i'm sorry. it's just that i'm finally on vacation and i've been really busy trying to figure out what to do with my free time... i was thinking of doing all these crazy things i've never done before... like kissing a very old guy (one that's at least twice my age), bungee jumping, camping, getting sooo drunk i have to go to the hospital, killing myself...

And here's something i already did: i've dyed my hair!! FireQueen, flaming head!!!

one of theses days (don't ask me the exact date, 'cause everyday feels the same lately!) i was watching tv and they were talking about the discovery of some sort of pottery made by ancient indians who lived in the south american continent about 6ooo years ago, mind you!!! now, i don't care what researchers say, but i think it's unbelievable (literally unbelievable) that someone, anyone or anything lived here 6ooo years ago !!! and those theories about dinosaurs: fiction! i mean, i do believe they existed, but not THAT long ago!!!! billions of year?! com'on! do you know anyone who lived at that time so that they could tell you: "kid, i guarantee you that dinosaurs were here then"?! well, i don't. so here's what i think: all these dates: made up! if dinossaurs lived here, it can't have been over 300 ago!!!

then i was talking about it with my sister, and she told me: "yeah, right! so dinossaurs shared a happy life with, let's say, the thinkers of Enlightment." "duh!" that,  only if you believe that those people were real!" I mean, who do you know that lived at that time?? did your grandparents tell you anything about that time?? stories from that time should be so important they'd be passed on thru generations! so your grampa would tell you "you know, my grampa used to tell me that this and that happened during the Enlightment... oh those were good times!"

so here's my conclusion: history is nothing but a bunch of made-up events that never happenend (something like urban legeds) which were created to make men feel a little more special or something!

hey, i've  seen "Van Helsing", and also i've been doing some research on vampires for an assignment and i realized that the man of my dreams is actually a vampire!! any one of them would do, i mean, they're soooooooo hot and raise feelings of.....

concupiscence, lecherousness, craving, desire, lust, aphrodisia, yearning, hankering, passion, sexiness, amorousness, carnality, prurience, lascivousness, erotism..... 

you know when you've got nothing to do, so you start browsing around and finally stumble across something really weird?! weel, here's my last discovery (from eHow -- http://www.ehow.com/how_6900_pick-sailor.html):

How to Pick Up a Sailor 
If a mate in uniform is who you seek, go where the sailors go.... 
  
Steps: 
1. Visit port towns or cities with large, rotating sailor populations. 
2. Frequent bar and restaurant establishments in the vicinity of docking areas. 
3. Visit areas that hold Fleet Week celebrations or similar U.S. Navy-based military events.
4. Keep apprised of current world affairs and the U.S. military's involvement in those affairs. 
5.Learn key sailing terms and become well-versed in navy terminology.
6. Get a clerical job in the U.S. Navy so that you will have access to ship schedules and personnel records. But don't be a stalker; the Pentagon might be watching. 

ok... i don't wanna generalize it, i don't mean all men are stupid -- i'm sure there must be some great guys somewhere in the world (i refuse to believe interesting intelligent wonderful charming men are Santa Clauss' sons!!) -- but right now i feel this huuuuuuuuge need to make fun of men...

here's some jokes i found on the web: 

The Not-So-Secret Male Handbook

Practice grunting 5 times a day. While some may find it acceptable to grunt only before the morning coffee, the true male will only answer in monosyllabic form, except for emergencies, (i.e. when some portion of your body is on fire.)

Never ever show emotion. No exceptions. Including the emergency listed in Rule 1.

Never talk to a female, no matter how long you've known her, when you're with your friends.

Never compliment a girl, unless it's behind her back about the size of her, um...

Tell your girlfriend every dirty joke you can think of -- you know how she loves them!

Tell her, in detail, about all the girls that hit on you.

Automatically assume that she doesn't know a thing about cars or electrical equipment. When she finally gives in and lets you fix something, try your best to completely ruin it.

Blame everything on PMS.

Men are like... alcohol.
They're guaranteed to fuck with your head and make you feel like hell in the morning.

Men are like... Ken dolls.
They are fun for a while and when you are tired of them, you can rip their heads off!

Heart of Darkness

Black clouds fill my mind
I can't cope with this

I wrote my name in dust
No shelter in sight
Still hoping it would last
Only my pride died

Please save me from the heart of darkness
Please save me from the heart of darkness

No more shadows
Not even shades of grey

I wrote my name in dust
No shelter in sight
Still hoping it would last
Only my pride died

Please save me from the heart of darkness
Please save me from my darkest hour
I gave everything I had to give
Please save me from the heart of darkness

Please save me from the heart of darkness
Please save me from my darkest hour
I gave everything I had to give
Please save me from the heart of darkness

Heart of darkness
Heart of darkness

--Lullacry

you know, i like blogs with images and pictures. they remind me of those illustrated books for children... you didn't have to know how to read, you didn't have to worry about words or anything. you'd be happy just to look at the pictures!

Oh, i miss those times.... 

And here's the band i'm listening to/talking about:

so... i think the one thing i can become is a big failure... should i be willing to give up what i am (even if that's not much) for that?!

Anyways, here's my weekend update (i've got nothing else to write about):

THU: Moonspell interview + concert: GREAT!!!!!!!  i'm totally in love with their music, and i wish i could see another show of theirs! wish i could go to Rock in Rio Lisboa... that would be perfect: traveling, visiting new places and listening to great music! (but i can't do that... i've got no money.... God, i'm tired of being poor!!)

FRI: My friend's b-day party... well.... it was..... hmmmm OK. I guess it could've been worse.

SAT and SUN: updating my webzine... it's sooooo great to spend almost 48 hours sitting in front of a computer screen while you could be doing things like going to the movies, watching tv, or just doing nothing at all, isn't it?! especially when i already spent most of my week doing things on the computer!!!

and now i'm back to work... back to school...

Rhyming Suicidal Notes

Reuters

08:55 AM Jul. 25, 2001 PT

WASHINGTON -- The writings of poets who wound up committing suicide contain words and language patterns that serve as precursors to their eventual fate, researchers say.

Using a computer program that examines word usage in written texts, the researchers analyzed 156 poems written by nine poets who committed suicide and 135 poems written by nine poets who did not.

They found that the suicidal poets gravitated toward words indicating their detachment from other people and preoccupation with themselves.

"The key finding is that we were able to distinguish features of people's mental health by the language they use," said James Pennebaker, a University of Texas psychology professor who conducted the research along with University of Pennsylvania graduate student Shannon Wiltsey Stirman.

"The words we use, especially what often appear to be the unimportant words, say a lot about who we are, what we're thinking and how we're approaching the world," he added.

The researchers looked at the works of John Berryman (1914-1972), Hart Crane (1899-1932), Sergei Esenin (1895-1925), Adam L. Gordon (1833-1870), Randall Jarrell (1914-1965), Vladimir Mayakovsky (1893-1930), Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), Sarah Teasdale (1884-1933) and Anne Sexton (1928-1974), all of whom took their own lives.

It compared their works to poets matched as closely as possible by nationality, era, sex and education. All the poets were American, British or Russian.

The comparison group was comprised of Matthew Arnold (1822-1888 ) , Lawrence Ferlinghetti (1919-present), Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918 ) , Denise Levertov (1923-1997), Robert Lowell (1917-1977), Osip Mandelstam (1891-1938 ) , Boris Pasternak (1890-1960), Adrienne Rich (1929-present) and Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950).

The poets who committed suicide used many more first-person singular self-references such as "I," "me" and "my" and fewer first-person plural words than did the non-suicidal poets.

"Issues of identity, isolation and connection to others is revealed in pronoun usage," Pennebaker said in an interview. "One of the most telling words of all is the word 'I.' People who are suicidal or depressed use 'I' at much, much higher rates, and there's also a corresponding drop in references to other people."

The suicidal poets also generally reduced their use of communication words such as "talk," "share" and "listen" over time heading toward their self-inflicted deaths, while the non-suicidal poets tended to increase their use of such words.

The suicidal ones also used more words associated with death, but surprisingly the amount of words with negative emotion (for example, "hate") or positive emotion ("love") did not vary significantly between the groups.

Pennebaker said previous research has found that suicide rates are much higher among poets than among other literary writers and the general public, and that poets are more prone to depression and bipolar disorder, also called manic-depressive illness.

"As a group, no one would call poets a particularly bubbly, chipper group," Pennebaker added.

He said the patterns of language used by the poets who eventually took their lives could serve as "linguistic predictors of suicide" in current poets. "This is not some kind of causal relationship. We're not saying that if you use 'I' a lot, then you'll commit suicide. It's just simply a marker of greater risk," Pennebaker said.

from: http://www.wired.com/news/culture/0,1284,45537,00.html

you know, when i exposed my feelings for pigeons, i may have given people the impression that i'd kill or hurt those birds if i had a chance.... but it is not so. Actually, if i was to kill a living being i'd kill myself... but i guess i could never kill anything or anyone. 

 i'm just a poor wretched soul lost in a world where there seems to be no light shining for me...

We don't need a hero

When you wake up in the fire
And you harbour lies in ruins
You wonder why the giant has been shot
Fired off down from sky

You plead for explanation
Is it accident or rule
And where is you childhood hero
To drive all the demons away

What if the light
Shines in darkness my friend
And darkness just can't comprehend
So blaze the trail on you own
Go it alone

We are falling - falling to rise
Pain is the guide out of the wastelands
We don't need a hero
We are falling - falling to rise
No charlatan to show you the light
We don't need a hero

Indignity is the leader
To escort us to the fen
Where they say the light is endemic
If only I could comprehend

Now you're old enough to face it
Rabble's stones give pain
Hit you as they watch you tracks
Apart from the way that they understand

What if the light
Shines in darkness my friend
And darkness just can't comprehend
So blaze the trail on you own
Go it alone

We are falling - falling to rise
Pain is the guide out of the wastelands
We don't need a hero
We are falling - falling to rise
No charlatan to show you the light
We don't need a hero