Shapes and colors make me happy.
I like abstract paintings. I like Picasso. I like solid colors - blue, red, yellow, green and orange. Sometimes I like neon. I like geometric lines and shapes. I'm particularly fascinated with squares. Not so much with waves and unclosed curves. I don't like Baroque-inspired designs. I don't like paintings of the Madonna and Child, farmers in the field, flowers in vases, and fruits in baskets. They hurt my eyes.
I.AM.SAM
Name::xam From::Metro Manila, Philippines
i'm a pirate at heart. i'm smart, ruthless and greedy. yesterday i navigated the seas and my comrades died in battle. today i am trapped in davy jones' locker. but tomorrow i will find gold, i will be free and i will roam the seas again. Learn more about Sam
"I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge
That myth is more potent than history.
I believe that dreams are more powerful than facts -
That laughter is the only cure for grief.
And I believe that love is stronger than death."
~Robert Fulghum, It Was On Fire When I Laid Down On It
****
You Belong to Me
See the pyramids around the Nile
Watch the sun rise
From the tropic isle
Just remember darling
All the while
You belong to me
See the market place
In old Algiers
Send me photographs and souvenirs
Just remember
When a dream appears
You belong to me
And I'll be so alone without you
Maybe you'll be lonesome too
Fly the ocean
In a silver plane
See the jungle
When it's wet with rain
Just remember till
You're home again
You belong to me
Oh I'll be so alone without you
Maybe you'll be lonesome too
Fly the ocean
In a silver plane
See the jungle
When it's wet with rain
Just remember till
You're home again
You belong to me
****
What's Up
Twenty - five years and my life is still
Trying to get up that great big hill of hope
For a destination
And I realized quickly when I knew I should
That the world was made up of this brotherhood of man
For whatever that means
And so I cry sometimes
When I'm lying in bed
Just to get it all out
What's in my head
And I am feeling a little peculiar
And so I wake in the morning
And I step outside
And I take a deep breath and I get real high
And I scream at the top of my lungs
What's going on?
And I say, hey hey hey hey
I said hey, what's going on?
Ooh, ooh ooh
And I try, oh my god do I try
I try all the time, in this institution
And I pray, oh my god do I pray
I pray every single day
For a revolution
And so I cry sometimes
When I'm lying in bed
Just to get it all out
What's in my head
And I am feeling a little peculiar
And so I wake in the morning
And I step outside
And I take a deep breath and I get real high
And I scream at the top of my lungs
What's going on?
And I say, hey hey hey hey
I said hey, what's going on?
Twenty - five years and my life is still
Trying to get up that great big hill of hope
For a destination
If I Ain't Got You : Hmmm…Hmmmm…Ohhh… Some people live for the fortune Some people live just for the fame Some people live for the power yeah Some people live just to play the game Some people think that the physical things Define what's within I've been there before But that life's a bore So full of the superficial Some people want it all But I don't want nothing at all If it ain't you baby If I ain't got you baby Some people want diamond rings Some just want everything But everything means nothing If I ain't got you yeah Some people search for a fountain Promises forever young Some people need three dozen roses And that's the only way to prove you love them And in a world on a silver platter And wondering what it means No one to share, no one who truly cares for me Some people want it allBut I don't want nothing at all If it ain't you baby If I ain't got you baby Some people want diamond rings Some just want everything But everything means nothing If I ain't got you Some people want it all But I don't want nothing at all If it ain't you baby If I ain't got you baby Some people want diamond rings Some just want everything But everything means nothing If I ain't got you yeah If I ain't got you with me baby Nothing in this whole wide world don't mean a thing If I ain't got you with me baby
Posted by xam ::
Saturday, September 24, 2005 ::
0 Comments:
Spend all your time waiting for that second chance for a break that would make it okay there's always one reason to feel not good enough and it's hard at the end of the day I need some distraction oh beautiful release memory seeps from my veins let me be empty and weightless and maybe I'll find some peace tonight in the arms of an angel fly away from here from this dark cold hotel room and the endlessness that you fear you are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie you're in the arms of the angel may you find some comfort there so tired of the straight line and everywhere you turn there's vultures and thieves at your back and the storm keeps on twisting you keep on building the lie that you make up for all that you lack it don't make no difference escaping one last time it's easier to believe in this sweet madness oh this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees in the arms of an angel fly away from here from this dark cold hotel room and the endlessness that you fear you are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie you're in the arms of the angel may you find some comfort there you're in the arms of the angel may you find some comfort here
Posted by xam ::
Saturday, September 24, 2005 ::
0 Comments:
As much I had liked to find all sorts of justifications to prove that the day of my birth and I are not ordinary, but miraculous in a sort of “God’s gift to mankind” way (for instance, that eight is a lucky number in Chinese feng shui - and I have quite a lot of it on my birthday, being born on the eighth of the eighth month of the 1st year of the eighth decade of the twentieth century; and being a Lion in Pagan astrology and a Rooster in Chinese astrology at the same time made me think I not only may be lucky, but I also have the license to be cocky as well).
Add to this that is something greater - my name is my Daddy’s ultimate choice – he wanted his eldest to be called Salma (it didn’t work out because Mommy decided on something else – Rowaida - and quite a lovely name too), the next girl ought to be Salma then (but didn’t work out again, because poor Mommy didn’t know Arabic very well then and gave her own Muslim name – Fatima – when the nurse asked), and so I came and I was also a girl, and I became the long-awaited Salma. Therefore I am the correction, the culmination, for the past two “mistakes”.
BUT, the truth of the matter is –
(1) That it really is just a matter of fact that I was born that day and time. That some other people got more feng shui or astrologically favorable birthdates than I did. For instance, someone had definitely been born on the eighth of the eighth month of the eighth year of the eighth decade of the eighth century. Eighty more centuries later, someone will get a cosmically better birth date. Consider the possibility of being born the eighth child on the eighth second of the eighth minute of the eighth hour of the eight month of the eighth year of the eighth decade of the eightieth century at the eighth house of the eighth street... well this must stop somehow, and I know you get the picture. It is still just a matter of fact that this person was born under these circumstances. As I was born in my own circumstances, and as everybody was born in their own.
(2) That sometime ago when Daddy first looked at his first-born and saw his genetic composition written all over the face of that little girl, he had had his life’s worth of joy. The first eye-contact dawned in him a reality - that he would protect that little girl from anything and anyone in this world. The name didn’t matter.
(3) That sometime ago Daddy was yet to have another girl, and so he recalls that this would carry the name that he has chosen for her, but when he looked at this huge, adorable, pinkish, almost watermelon-like baby whose namesake is his one true love, he decided that there’s an endless supply of daughter-love, and he could get another one, but maybe he’d like to try it out on son-loving.
(4) That when I came, unlike I imagined it to be, I was not good news. I was supposed to be a baby brother, a toy that my sisters would play with and discover. I was actually rejected for what I was worth. My sisters cried when I was born, and they pleaded and negotiated for a trade-in at the nursery for a boy. They were pointing to a wonderful baby boy in the nursery and they wanted to get him. They didn’t want me. But I got the name. The long-awaited name. They didn’t get it, I and only I did. All girls that would potentially come after me won’t get it, I and only I did. It turned out that I would be the last of the kids, so this gives me more reason to believe that finally, these parents of mine have found satisfaction – through me and only through me. They didn’t stop at my sisters. They stopped at me and only me. They even paid to have an operation just so that nothing, not anything would come by and jeopardize the perfect culmination that is me.
If you come to think of it, my birth was a win-win thing. If I were a girl, finally, there’d be Salma. If I were a boy, well, finally there’d be a boy. If you look at it even more closely, reality has it that gender has a more formative effect on a person than a name. My birth was a win, but not as much as if I were a boy.
Later on, things turned out quite alright. It was just a funny story to tell how we all came into this world. Cliché has it that the first child is borne out of love, the second out of habit, and the last? Tsk, tsk, tsk…a mistake. Maybe that’s also why most of the youngests are treated babies the rest of their lives. Well, I’m all grown up now and I think differently on the matter of our births. In the end, despite all kinds of feelings we triggered by coming out of this world, Mommy and Daddy raised us pretty well. They treated us equally, gave more trust than what is due a mere “child” as we were growing up, some tender loving care here, there and everywhere, and some spanks and scolding here and there (but not everywhere). Today, we all have a strong bond to each other that distance can’t break.
(5) That actually, it didn’t matter who came out, if it’s a girl, it’s Salma. I could have well been Rowaida or Fatima or something else (such as Sausan, and I thank God for the nominal error Mommy made), and it wouldn’t have mattered to Mommy and Daddy. Animal history has proven over and over that parents love their offsprings no matter what and vise versa. Period. (What animal theories haven’t quite explained well is why siblings love each other very much too.)
Post-note: I am special after all, but certainly no one has the license nor the excuse to be cocky – because above all, every one is special in his own right.
Posted by xam ::
Saturday, September 24, 2005 ::
1 Comments:
As much I had liked to find all sorts of justifications to prove that the day of my birth and I are not ordinary, but miraculous in a sort of “God’s gift to mankind” way (for instance, that eight is a lucky number in Chinese feng shui - and I have quite a lot of it on my birthday, being born on the eighth of the eighth month of the 1st year of the eighth decade of the twentieth century; and being a Lion in Pagan astrology and a Rooster in Chinese astrology at the same time made me think I not only may be lucky, but I also have the license to be cocky as well).