Rose Quarter Seat Order

sos

throw me off the pc and cigarettes.
I am convinced that my ruin .

A Diary With Pick's Disease

The chance encounter with a person, has led me to recall a tender remembrance of childhood. In the man who was ahead of me in mesticheria, thanks to some "clues", I recognized the fellow who received asylum from the first marriage proposal ever. I am not surprised that for him my figure has not been a source of such recognition.

My emotional memory has the disease. Hardly is shared.

Moreover, the asylum my visits were reduced arc of about ten days in all.

I know because I was told in later years. In my child's mind, however, those days were endless. In childhood, the perception of time is dilated. In addition to

M ., The "child" of mesticheria of those days I have left a sense of dread. What I stirred up the sisters. Other than

"Magdalene"!

front of my eyes, I still have the little girl with curly hair who refused to eat the white rice. And the grim monacaccia that, by force, he insisted on rice crop forkfuls straight down his throat, heedless of the cries of the almost necking, of being sick and the tragedy of white grains, mouth, radiating all around.

These, however, are unnecessary digressions.

M. gave meaning to those days. It was the first child that I noticed, just arrived. It struck me to see him play by himself. It seems strange that in four years may prove as clear the profound cruelty, el 'injustice, marginalization. I mean, no one teaches it to you at that age. No one had explained some "Do not discriminate! The children are all alike." Like anyone, I suppose, had imposed on my other fellow asylum "Do not play with that baby! not you see that is different?".

(This gave him my arbitrary belief that environmental factors, compared to DNA, count for little or nothing).

The diversity of

M . Consisted of a physical defect. Cleft palate, commonly known as cleft lip. Noted in addition to external appearance of the face, was reflected in a strange way of speaking. This was more than sufficient to justify his play solitaire.

Clearly, it soon became my best friend.

That was an alliance between different?

My "diversity" was not originated from a disability or physical and mental defects. It was the result of my personal perception. Children, notoriously, are carefree. That carefree, when I began to relate to others, not me never really belonged. In short, I felt a world apart.

The day M . asked me to marry him, I found myself in a dilemma. To remember it so well today, it means that I took it seriously. And I analyzed the situation seriously. Résami realize that only love I felt for him, did not seem the case to accept. So do not feed the illusions of good people and then threaten to cause injury. You do not make promises that we already know they can not keep. But, and this was heartbreaking for me, if answered negatively, he would investigate the reasons of my choice. How could I, at that point, be honest and explain "Why I do not like you enough "? I would have mortified. He experienced all the pain of rejection. So, I tried to mediate. I thought that the best solution resided in a witty response, both serious and facetious. Taking advantage of her exhibitionism a little clownish , of his wanting to show off at all costs just to be nice to me and entertain me, I pointed his supposed "unreliability" and a tone that was a hybrid between a joke and a good-natured rebuke, so I giustificai:

"But not you see that you're a clown?"

Her laughter tells me that I gave the right answer ... And I felt very relieved and proud.

However, this morning, I looked at him and tried to get me courage "Now is the time to dare! This time you'll make it to show up! Now you tell him that today ... You could have been his wife."

Of course, shyness has screwed me once again. And I did not say anything.

Adenocarcinoma Chemotherapy Of The Colon

... and we were missing only in Albanian TV rabble struggling with homesickness and other pearls of its prestigious repertoire but I am consoled by the thought that at least since Sunday evening my brother did not quarrel with Carlo Conti and its competitors reciting the obtuse usual string of curses and threatening to splash away the hated glasses conductor with a hard punch in the face ...

Myammee Flavor Of Love Screencaps

rains

Dr.

is a long time no see. Maybe I should think that everything is booming.

I miss them very much, however, our long talks.

While on their practical utility, I never ceased to doubt. Yes, of course. I needed to vent. I help them to place better. To focus. Reassuring results. Meetings we have had many. If I had been suffering from some serious medical condition, if you'd noticed it. Instead, it is a "temperament". What I miss most, perhaps, is your approach to solar energy and positive, your sdrammatizzante smile so. But in times of misery, one has to sacrifice something. And you're part of my "cuts". You often I laugh out loud, with my silly sallies, those that come this way, without being able to control them. It does not matter if they are in the company of a friend, a Nobel laureate, an employer or a luminary of science. I still am. Always the same. I understand it, thanks to your teachings, as the exercises of the ABC, as well as to recognize the errors of thought.

But I'm training. Sometimes, when we talked, we seemed almost an equal relationship. Even at our first meeting, the feeling was immediate. I spoke with your own terminology, not I miss even the smallest detail pertaining to my psyche. I looked like a veteran, sighted, returned from years of psychoanalysis or psychotherapy. In a sense, this is the case. But Freud has nothing to do. Rino Gaetano is right, even those who did not read Freud can live a hundred years. My analysis was self-taught. By scholars of myself. Started in childhood and never abandoned. For this, I think, I'm just seemed so receptive. My history of emotional life in the third person, I loved it. Every time I go back to read it. I continue to amaze me how she cited the episode in four years when I got lost on the beach, and has not made any reference to my failed marriage. But maybe not. I do not pleasantly surprised more much. However, I said. I do not do more exercises. I understand how they are made. But that, apparently, not enough to change my attitude. Every day I plan to focus on the concrete. To tackle one problem at a time. Be a realist. And then I find myself mulling for days on the same detail and reference to the practical and important tomorrow. I continue to digress. Food dreams and hopes and dreams as I have always done. And a moment later, I find myself resizing. Sometimes to demolish them. But if I get rid of, I have the impression that little or nothing remains of me. And I feel the void that swallows me. Then try to recover at least in part. Just as much as enough to keep going. The night time where I struggle to fall asleep, materialize the thoughts more distressing. The first is the inexorable passage of time, I'm missing from his hands. There is no time (but time for what?) I think the idea that I had as a child of what would have been my life for my current age. It is impossible not to consider the extent to which my present is the antithesis of what I had imagined. Of how things, in part by fate (or should I call if ?), Most of my own volition, have taken the opposite direction. Every time I pause to observe the lives of my ex ordered classmates. Let's say at least the majority. But I feel feelings. Now I feel a healthy envy for the peace of mind. But now I wonder whether real or apparent tranquility. At times even provokes me sad. I do not know. In some cases I have the impression that the peace of one who is satisfied. Who goes more or less a compromise. I think those who were already in high school sweethearts. After high school: college, graduation, marriage with longtime girlfriend, a job as a teacher, the children. Methods, linear, so normal. Maybe I should I follow that pattern. Because those, I say, seem to screw themselves. Organic, say. They have a shape. My life, a succession of moments and fragments. Besides, I am the one who longs for rain in summer and winter sun. I look out the window. I will never be a conscientious housewife. The clothes hanging out the other day, I forgot to put them in the first drops fall. Noting that it was too late, I left them where they stood. Rain, however, were joined by the wind. One of the poles that supported the wires collapsed. And with him, bed sheets and clothing. Abandoned, broken. Tangled on the ground. Soaked with water. This morning, I think, I feel so too.

Then I think about last night. The tiny little house of Sandra. For the three glasses on the table already prepared when I arrived, along with the bottle of champagne, cookies and pretzels. Moments. After all, it was my choice. After all, I say, I just so little. Or maybe it's always too much. Why not just simplify my simplicity. Indeed, it is not so simple to be understood. And then disguises himself in spite of himself, standing in complexity (apparent) in the superhuman effort to understand the other's complexity and the complexity of the outside world. Then it becomes really complicated. Increasingly, even in the project seem utopian expectations at times.

picks up the phone and re-read the message of Sandra. I smile. That 's what I received last night, before going to bed. Spontaneous, unexpected. That is worth more.

Thanks for a lovely evening. You are two special friends. In my dark, you see the light.

How To Make My Janam Kundli

the memories

My mother does not speak rarely.
correct me.
I mean "not open"
Speak Like

ET the Extra-Terrestrial (the result of one of its stroke)
and sometimes even exceed

Because of its surreal idiom
has lost all the friendships
(except the Tina)
No one comes to visit her
nor the call because

"not understand" and
, they say, they do not want to mortify

(excess "sensitivity")

In fact, it is a question of mere training
If you listen consistently and with patience, understand
If nothing else, capture a taste of the speeches

However, I said

much talk but everyday facts
the house of fiction

spending
bills

What is not expressed,
are the intimate thoughts and deep ..
those distressing and sad

Sometimes his eyes are shiny
but if you ask "what's ?"
stubborn, she will always respond "nothing."

I do not know how is it that today, instead
externalization of fatigue after an initial
"It would be better to die ... But I have not the dress. Those beautiful I gave them all".
(unconsciously ironic even in the gloomy)
rose to count silently with his fingers like a child in elementary

that focuses diligent in making additions

This secret is an activity that often surprised the intent
and I do not want to ever say what matters.

but what matters today, he told me

After 18 years I have betrayed

said and spoke of my father

surprisingly naive
I trusted both
If only I had slapped

I was a dumb


in front of my astonishment at hearing such remote rehash trauma
confessed

"I think about it every day"


would take too long list of injuries, penalties, anecdotes, regret, words, nuances
it took to recall

But the final turned me crying in laughter when

recalling the day when I Puerto Rico
once again referring to my father
mentioned a fact, so far unknown to me, who apparently never digested

Gift with which he
homage by going to find

puepera For a normally regalan flowers
How could occur with an ashtray
(to her, then, that he never smoked)
in hospital?

Primary Games Cubefiled

Lola Montez

Lola Bella

Lola Bella a little less

After reading the story of Lola Montez (it was she who inspired the way of saying "What Lola wants, Lola gets ") in the book" History of the Other - Concubine, lovers, kept , friends " (this is not a romance), curiosity to ascertain the veracity of the allegations enthusiastic about her legendary beauty was too strong. (Thank goodness that Google exists)

I propose two portraits of the famous man-eater, or rather, handful of men, claiming to be English, when in reality he was Irish by birth (which nerve). I leave you to aesthetic evaluation. I am hesitant. Sometimes it seems fascinating and sometimes very ugly.

fact is that beautiful or not beautiful, some unusual gift he had to have her, he managed to string along even Ludwig I of Bavaria. Men in one piece, shrewd, steely and conscientious in the administration of finances and affairs of state, who, before her, became a lamb, bevendosi without batting an eye, one after another, all the bullshit that she had decided to make him drink. The Life of Lola Montez was nothing short of adventurous. Worthy of a novel.

was called Eliza Rosanna Gilbert, she was born, as already mentioned, Ireland, in 1821, but young, he moved to Spain where, after studying dance, she began a career as a dancer and reinvented from top to toe. Actually, was not limited to Spain. He traveled the length and breadth of Europe. He entered the circle of George Sand, thanks to the 'friendship' with Franz Liszt. When he returned to England, was now Dolores de Maria y Porris Montez, Lola said, English dancer, daughter of a decayed noble (including the history of noble descent was obviously a lie). Contemporary reviews express some skepticism about his real skill in the art of Terpsichore. It seems that Lola, rather than dance, he worked in sinuous sensual movements designed to seduce. His work as a dancer, in truth, be joined by a parallel, and far more intense, a courtesan. Famous lovers do not count, as well as husbands. Squandering the wealth of a man and then passed to a new and more attractive, wins. But the long shot of Lola was winning the heart of Ludwig of Bavaria, a king, but also a man in full midlife crisis. Fact that for her literally rincitrullì (= stoned). I avoid going into details the adventures of the two articulated (I can not omit, however, that the king had the privilege to enjoy the grace of the beloved only twice, it seems, however, on the other hand, she often gave him a kiss on the mouth with lips slightly parted). As expected, the powerful mistress Lola got appanages staggering. Natural Remedy also a noble title, that of the Countess of Landsfeldt, following which further raised the crest and demanded even more. Up to be hated by the entire Bavaria, which bear less and less its growing influence over the king. The "poor" Ludwig realized that he was teased when she now lives in Switzerland with her new lover, where she had moved just to save themselves from the fury of the people who hated it. Unaware of the new emotional situation of the beloved, the king continued to write passionate love letters and give money, mantendendo, unknowingly, in addition to her, also her lover. Until he jumped out of a hot ex-husbands whose revelations could not be denied nor refuted, and Ludwig surrendered evidence of having been deceived. What's more, she was also blackmailed, where, in order to extract a final tranche of money, threatened to publish love letters that would have covered with ridicule.

At the time, read this woman with so much "sleeping on the stomach," I generated a sense of disapproval. Then I gradually changed its attitude, almost to like him.

In principle, I wonder how many of those who plucked chickens, had been hitherto cynical and unscrupulous businessmen arid heart. And if even the most intelligent men and "smart" at some point in their lives, become so stupid before the lure of an attractive young woman who makes her two moine (I would be trespassing into boccacesco with the famous "pulls more a hair etc .... etc.) worse for them ... no? Reaching maturity, also stopped Lola seek fame and wealth and "redeemed". He converted to the religion and to good works. It is adapted to live modestly and had outbursts of generosity and philanthropy that have "ennobled" existence.

He also wrote a memoir, which carry a sentence that struck me the modernity of thought:

"Genius has no sex! ... Great men have come out well enough, I suppose , people of principle does not expect to find as much or little morality in the life of a great man. ... But a woman ah! A woman must be a saint ... I mean, in short, it should. And in this way leaves the men's monopoly of the sin of all sins of the world. "

Reason Factory Breaks

urgent goal

Achievement of total autonomy in the management of joys and sorrows.

The desire to boost my state of grace, or ecstasy, with the sharing or merging with another, can lead me to the opposite result, ie, weakening of the positive impulses that I wanted to outsource, if my enthusiasm is not included (happens in most cases) will not occur and that rare, almost miraculous phenomenon of deep empathy between kindred spirits that isInt recognize one another. In the worst case, resulting in conversion of the original joy treacherous sadness induced by the lack of emotional response from those who I expected would give it to me. Other side effects: feeling of loneliness and stupidity.

However, the desire to find comfort or relief, or hold, in another's empathy in times of sadness, I often lead to infection of the other. So, just who I assumed to be responsible for clearing, mutes and adapts to my melancholy tones. Result: encroachment of sadness in the most sinister despair.

Why risk it?