Archive for January, 2005
January 6, 2005 at 7:43 am · Filed under Rigamarole
mirrored from madpimp.com
My personal’s ad: SAF [single asian female], 21yrs, 5′, medium build, small breasts, geeky, vulgar, fun, crazy, introspective and brilliant. Seeking SM to have stimulating conversations, try new things, and have fun with. Must be nerdy.
What defines me?
Regardless of what you see in the webcam [since admittedly I can look pretty hot there ..the pictures come out way better than I actually look in real life. It’s more of a gimmick to make people come to my site than anything], I consider myself to be a girl of average to slightly below average looks. When not domineering the internet realm, I have fairly low self esteem.
Of late, I’ve been going out more than I have in the past, in the process exposing myself to the public. As a result of this I have been learning how to mingle with people who in high school who I would probably been hesitant to talk to or would have ignored me.
In these situations in the past, clubs, bars, parties, I’ve contented myself with becoming so incredibly fucked up on drugs that I don’t care about my insecurities anymore. However, since the decline of my alcohol tolerance due to several bouts of overdrinking, and my recent lack of drug use, I have come to drink much less in these group socials which results in great discomfort and feelings of insecurity and embarassment on my part.
I have to ask myself why?
Why do I feel like the nerd that sneaks into the party?
Here are the reasons that I have come to grips with:
1. I feel as if all the people [girls, boys] dressed all nice are part of the “beautiful people” crowd… a crowd to which I do not belong.
2. Everyone seems like they know why they’re where they are. They are standing with purpose. They are sitting in the chair with purpose. I have no purpose.
3. It seems as if most people have mastered the art of smalltalk and/or dancing, smalltalk something which has never been appealing to me and dancing which has never come to me naturally.
How did these insecurities come about? What defines me?
For this and as an ode to the new year, I would like to take a photo-enhanced trip down memory lane.
 |
9 years ago I…
Had really big glasses.
Got bullied in school.
Got gum put in my hair on the bus.
Ran away from home.
Cried myself to sleep every night.
Hadn’t seen my dad in more than a year. |
 |
5 years ago I…
Had smaller, but still big glasses.
Was in love with a boy named Nick.
Was still called a nerd.
Was coming to grips that I would never be ‘cool.
Was making a lot of money through the ‘internet’ |
 |
4 years ago I…
Started college.
Information and Computer Science major.
Met people who were bad influences.
Learned that I could get away from life by doing drugs. |
 |
2 years ago I…
Was in love.
Had been diagnosed with bi-polar disorder.
Finally stopped punishing myself with sharp objects.
Stopped blogging.
Was still a nerd. |
 |
Last year I…
Broke up with my boyfriend of 2.5 years.
Drank so much I threw up for 24 hours straight.
Went to more parties than ever once I turned 21 in March.
Got fucked up every time.
Never got over my insecurities.
Grew out my hair. |
 |
This year I…
Am still a nerd.
Still trying to get over it.
Want to be a ‘cool people’
Will stop fucking around. |
I guess I drifted away from the topic a little bit there. But anyhow… The moral of the story is that I started out a nerd and a geek as a child and that nerdy geeky person will always be me. That is why no matter how I try to shake the image and the feeling, I will always feel like the girl in the first picture 9 years ago.
—————
Links of note: sooji for linking me as inspiration. The following people commented: Stile of stileproject and camwhores (you’ve always been my blog-idol…seriously.), RaSenGan (even though you think i’m dirty.. haha), Michael, Sidric, bob aka merry (?), Lan[crazy amounts of inspiration], property_of_nick, better tomorrow, Eric, John, Clint, Allen {PIMP},, vinh, Josh, minh, Liss [HOT chick], Brett, irene, tim, dA_rEaL_MexApInO, click_here_for_pics, , Wilson, and Megan. Thanks for commenting. StillADick for subscribing to me because I think his writing style is fucking amazing and I hope he gets 1/10th enjoyment being subscribed to me as I’ve had reading his site.
Love,
Kim
shitlinks:[x] [x] [x] [x]
January 4, 2005 at 11:54 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
mirrored from madpimp.com
So I’m going to be a hypocrite
I’m going to be a hypocrite and be one of those people that I find boring. I’m going to tell you what I did yesterday.
Yesterday I changed my sheets and the duvet covers on my bed. I also cleaned the carpet.
It’s hard for me to explain the events that occured which promted this strange behavior… So instead, I created a photo reinactment of what happened.
I was really hungry, so I decided to check out what was in the fridge.
I proceeded to choose a yummy looking 1 dollar banquet salisbury steak TV dinner.
I eventually put it in the microwave, after deciphering the words on the back. I was extremely excited to eat it because I was hungry. This was to be my first meal of the day.
I brought the cooked dinner back to my bed in order to eat it. My roommate was at my computer desk so I decided to eat whilst browsing the internet on my laptop. All of a sudden..
The food decided to jump out of my hands! It then proceeded to flip to the floor.
The following are real pictures of the events described earlier.
Yesterday was a sad day indeed. I was hungry, and my food escaped me. I didn’t even get to eat one bite of that dinner. The saddest part was that there was hair in the mashed potatoes.
On a brighter note, I now know what it feels like to hold a piece of warm meat in a towel.
Love,
Kim
shitlinks:[x] [x] [x] [x]
January 3, 2005 at 9:06 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
mirrored from madpimp.com
Thank you’s
Incidentally, thank you to Lan, Eric, Wilson, TurkShady, Brett, JR, DC, RaSenGan, and John for your comments. 
They were greatly appreciated.
Love,
Kim
shitlinks:[x] [x] [x] [x]
January 3, 2005 at 8:57 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
mirrored from madpimp.com
On a more somber note.
Caution, LONG entry ahead.
Those of you close to me know that recently one of my best friends, someone I’ve known since middle school, came out of the closet recently. Initially, he came out only to his friends — however, due to a certain turn of events, he ended up coming out to his parents this New Year’s Eve.
The details of these events are outlined in the letter that he sent to all of us following this post.
Before going into the post, though, I’d like to say a little something to the first generation Asian society. You know who I’m talking about, Asian parents who came to (not born in) America in the age range of 45-70 with children in the age ranges of 15-40. Yes. I know you’re not listening, and I know that you probably don’t use the Internet… But goddamnit, I need to say this.
I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I know you reared us and took care of us and went through many toils in order to get where you are today. I know you worked hard to become successful and worked damn hard to keep the same family values instilled in us that were pounded into you by your parents, your society.
I know that by the time you were my age you had seen much more pain, anguish and suffering than I am likely to ever see, living in the heart and the height of a florishing, rich society.
Still, I have to say this.
Fuck you, ASIAN PARENTS
(Immediately I feel guilt. I’ve deleted that last line 5 times. and still I have to say it.) I really mean it, though, and I’ve always wanted to say it.
I know you always intended the best, and that your days were days of ideals, and that you came to America for the American dream. But goddamnit, though your children have grown up and assimilated to the American society, inside the home you still haven’t let go.
I realize that you are afraid if you let it go too much that your culture will be lost — but there are some things I will never understand.
Why, why do you force your children to conform to the image that your culture’s society idealizes? We do not all want to be doctors, dentists, engineers… Why is it then that we are so forced to play your games of power and pride, for what? so that we toil in fields that we hate in order for you to gain reputation in your clique of friends that you have raised children who will make a lot of cash?
Why, why do you force your children to conform to the image that your culture’s society thinks is correct? So what if I’m gay? Why does that matter to you? Why does it shame you so much that I like others of the same sex? I have accepted it. Why can’t you? You say it affects you, but how does it affect you as much as it affects me? Why are you so insistant that we conform to your image?
Why, why do you force your children to conform to the image that your culture’s society developed? Why can’t I marry someone who is from a poor family, why can’t I marry someone whose family used to be low class in your country, why can’t I marry someone who is not of our race, why can’t I marry someone who matches your image of beauty, why can’t I fall in love with who I want if they’re not your image of what is right for me without falling out of your grace.
Wasn’t your dream one of freedom? Then why are your children not free? Why are we still bound mentally by your words, your actions, with shackles from a society that we are not even considered to be a part of?
CLICK THE LINK BELOW TO READ MY FRIEND’S EXPERIENCE
| Dear Friends,
Some of you know me as Hyung. Some of you know me as Steve. I am writingto you now to inform you of my current situation at home.
As most of you know, I’ve recently came out as bisexual. To be quitefrank, I’m into the whole “sexuality is fluidâ€Â; that my preference isn’t set. Those close to me know that I swore that I’d never come out to myparents. Unfortunately, on New Year’s Eve, I did.
Throughout the winter break, my mother and I argued on many occasions.During a car ride with her, she demanded to know what was the source ofthe animosity. She asked me if I had secrets from her. She took my silence as an affirmation, and before you know it, I came out of the closet.
So went back home, my mom sobbing as we drove home from church. She told me I was going to get AIDS and die. She didn’t believe me when I told her I’ve never experimented with drugs. She said she felt sorry for my father, and feared for his mental health. She suspected that he would kill himself when he learned of it. Panicked, I told her I’d change if she kept it a secret. She simply told me that I had ruined all of our lives, and that I was as good as dead.
At home, my mother fluctuated between pity, sympathy, and disgust. She said she still loved me. Afterwards, she told me I was a dog and a monster. Most of the time she was incoherently praying. We both cried, we hugged, we sat apart.
My dad, who was at church, called to inquire about our absence. My mother lied and said she sprang her ankle. After their conversation ended, my mom told me that once my father got home, she’d inform him, that she couldn’t handle this alone. Throughout the night, I would apologize
incessantly.
My dad came home. I was asked to leave the room as my mother and he spoke. About forty-minutes later, I was asked back into the room. The first thing my dad asked was if I could quit it. I said that I didn’t think I could. Initially, I suspected a theological argument, so I let him know that I no longer considered myself Christian. However, he chose to argue about society. At first, he told me that I wasn’t normal. My parents both firmly believe that because I don’t meet social standards, I should change. I disagreed; if I’m not harming anyone, I’m not obliged to change. I was breaking no law, hurting no other. Then they explained that I was hurting them; news of my ‘sexual deviance’ would ostracize them from the Korean-American community. That I could not argue. They asked me if I could change. I choice to answer vaguely, stating that from what I’ve read, most men attempting to convert committed suicide, or led lives filled with depression. My parents said that I had to change, that it is the only right choice. I told them that I would try to abstain from sexual relationship with men and pay more attention to women while in Davis. I lied; I just wanted to appease them and flee to Davis. I told them I’d leave for Davis the day after. So we went to sleep.
That next morning, January 1st, they informed me that I had to withdraw from school. They were convinced that it was my surroundings that lead me astray. I told them I had to return, and that stripping me of freedom wouldn’t change me. I told them I had no desire to change, that I didn’t think I was wrong, and that the only thing I regretted was hurting my parents. They seemed dumbfounded that I didn’t find non-heterosexuality to be immoral. My dad suggested I take a vacation in Korea.
Of course, I went hysterical. I yelled. They cried. They told me they loved me and that they didn’t want to imprison me, merely heal me. I don’t doubt their sincerity, only their sanity. They told me that I could spend time working out, going to a junior college, or go abroad. But they insisted that I stay in Davis.
They went about their business for the rest of the day, letting me know that they weren’t sure what to do with me yet. They thought it best if I spend some time outside, alone, and blow off some steam. So I went out, and called numerous friends for support. Thank you all for listening.
That evening, I returned home. At that point, nothing had changed. The situation was exacerbated by our language barrier. I can speak and comprehend Korean fairly well, and they… speak enough English to get by. They called my Aunt Angel to mediate, to translate. She came. While she did clarify both of our points, I was a bit annoyed by the fact that she was also completely against my sexuality. The details aren’t important. Ultimately it comes down to this; if I choose to live my life the way I see it, I will rip our family apart. The alternative is to change (to go hetero) if that’s possible, and maintain family unity – in the process, I would lose my identity, which sucks ass. Really gross ass. The one with dingleberries in it. Ew.
They said they were going to go pray at church. I chose to remain at home. I spoke with some friends, got a hold of some numbers. Thanks to everyone who called and cared, you know who you are.
At that point, my parents returned. We had a rather warm talk about despite our differences, we loved each other. I told my parents if family unity meant my disownment, that I was strong enough to manage on my own. My parents said that they would never ‘throw me away’ (heartening, but vague), and that they would never stop trying to help (vague, not at all
heartening).
Today is January 2nd. As I finish this letter, its just 9 pm. My parents have spent almost all day at church, so have spent little time talking. They still believe that what I’m doing is morally wrong, but they are trying to understand how I think. They are also re-considering my school situation, but are waiting for an answer from God. I think the big guy needs to hurry up; school starts soon. If I am not allowed to attend school this quarter, I will use the time to collect funds so I can pay my own way through college. I am not ready to flee just yet – I want to salvage whatever family love I can from this. But I will return; hopefully by the 5th. If not, I will see you all in Spring quarter.
For all those who have supported me, thank you. I wouldn’t be as super-de- duper cool as I am today if it weren’t for all of you (although some of you would argue against the statement. Well, at least the cool part). For all those who sympathize with my situation, you can help out my spreading the word. I want people to hear about my situation. Although I’d prefer that you kept it out the Christian-Korean-American community in the Bay Area because that would make life really tough for my parents (they aren’t bad people!). Do your part and spread tolerance and love. Feel free to use any part of this letter, except for my phone number and address. Those of you who receive the initial copy of the letter (you can tell because it’ll have the phone number and address on it), please send gifts, letters, baked goods, and strippers to the address shown. But no riots / protests (just yet). I’m 5’8.5, average-build, cute, good with kids, etc.
I am emotionally drained, but I am strong. I will see this through. And I will win.
Hyung |
Love,
Kim
shitlinks:[x] [x] [x] [x]
January 3, 2005 at 8:53 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
mirrored from madpimp.com
On a more somber note.
Caution, LONG entry ahead.
Those of you close to me know that recently one of my best friends, someone I’ve known since middle school, came out of the closet recently. Initially, he came out only to his friends — however, due to a certain turn of events, he ended up coming out to his parents this New Year’s Eve.
The details of these events are outlined in the letter that he sent to all of us following this post.
Before going into the post, though, I’d like to say a little something to the first generation Asian society. You know who I’m talking about, Asian parents who came to (not born in) America in the age range of 45-70 with children in the age ranges of 15-40. Yes. I know you’re not listening, and I know that you probably don’t use the Internet… But goddamnit, I need to say this.
I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I know you reared us and took care of us and went through many toils in order to get where you are today. I know you worked hard to become successful and worked damn hard to keep the same family values instilled in us that were pounded into you by your parents, your society.
I know that by the time you were my age you had seen much more pain, anguish and suffering than I am likely to ever see, living in the heart and the height of a florishing, rich society.
Still, I have to say this.
Fuck you, ASIAN PARENTS
(Immediately I feel guilt. I’ve deleted that last line 5 times. and still I have to say it.) I really mean it, though, and I’ve always wanted to say it.
I know you always intended the best, and that your days were days of ideals, and that you came to America for the American dream. But goddamnit, though your children have grown up and assimilated to the American society, inside the home you still haven’t let go.
I realize that you are afraid if you let it go too much that your culture will be lost — but there are some things I will never understand.
Why, why do you force your children to conform to the image that your culture’s society idealizes? We do not all want to be doctors, dentists, engineers… Why is it then that we are so forced to play your games of power and pride, for what? so that we toil in fields that we hate in order for you to gain reputation in your clique of friends that you have raised children who will make a lot of cash?
Why, why do you force your children to conform to the image that your culture’s society thinks is correct? So what if I’m gay? Why does that matter to you? Why does it shame you so much that I like others of the same sex? I have accepted it. Why can’t you? You say it affects you, but how does it affect you as much as it affects me? Why are you so insistant that we conform to your image?
Why, why do you force your children to conform to the image that your culture’s society developed? Why can’t I marry someone who is from a poor family, why can’t I marry someone whose family used to be low class in your country, why can’t I marry someone who is not of our race, why can’t I marry someone who matches your image of beauty, why can’t I fall in love with who I want if they’re not your image of what is right for me without falling out of your grace.
Wasn’t your dream one of freedom? Then why are your children not free? Why are we still bound mentally by your words, your actions, with shackles from a society that we are not even considered to be a part of?
| Dear Friends,
Some of you know me as Hyung. Some of you know me as Steve. I am writingto you now to inform you of my current situation at home.
As most of you know, I’ve recently came out as bisexual. To be quitefrank, I’m into the whole “sexuality is fluidâ€Â; that my preference isn’t set. Those close to me know that I swore that I’d never come out to myparents. Unfortunately, on New Year’s Eve, I did.
Throughout the winter break, my mother and I argued on many occasions.During a car ride with her, she demanded to know what was the source ofthe animosity. She asked me if I had secrets from her. She took my silence as an affirmation, and before you know it, I came out of the closet.
So went back home, my mom sobbing as we drove home from church. She told me I was going to get AIDS and die. She didn’t believe me when I told her I’ve never experimented with drugs. She said she felt sorry for my father, and feared for his mental health. She suspected that he would kill himself when he learned of it. Panicked, I told her I’d change if she kept it a secret. She simply told me that I had ruined all of our lives, and that I was as good as dead.
At home, my mother fluctuated between pity, sympathy, and disgust. She said she still loved me. Afterwards, she told me I was a dog and a monster. Most of the time she was incoherently praying. We both cried, we hugged, we sat apart.
My dad, who was at church, called to inquire about our absence. My mother lied and said she sprang her ankle. After their conversation ended, my mom told me that once my father got home, she’d inform him, that she couldn’t handle this alone. Throughout the night, I would apologize
incessantly.
My dad came home. I was asked to leave the room as my mother and he spoke. About forty-minutes later, I was asked back into the room. The first thing my dad asked was if I could quit it. I said that I didn’t think I could. Initially, I suspected a theological argument, so I let him know that I no longer considered myself Christian. However, he chose to argue about society. At first, he told me that I wasn’t normal. My parents both firmly believe that because I don’t meet social standards, I should change. I disagreed; if I’m not harming anyone, I’m not obliged to change. I was breaking no law, hurting no other. Then they explained that I was hurting them; news of my ‘sexual deviance’ would ostracize them from the Korean-American community. That I could not argue. They asked me if I could change. I choice to answer vaguely, stating that from what I’ve read, most men attempting to convert committed suicide, or led lives filled with depression. My parents said that I had to change, that it is the only right choice. I told them that I would try to abstain from sexual relationship with men and pay more attention to women while in Davis. I lied; I just wanted to appease them and flee to Davis. I told them I’d leave for Davis the day after. So we went to sleep.
That next morning, January 1st, they informed me that I had to withdraw from school. They were convinced that it was my surroundings that lead me astray. I told them I had to return, and that stripping me of freedom wouldn’t change me. I told them I had no desire to change, that I didn’t think I was wrong, and that the only thing I regretted was hurting my parents. They seemed dumbfounded that I didn’t find non-heterosexuality to be immoral. My dad suggested I take a vacation in Korea.
Of course, I went hysterical. I yelled. They cried. They told me they loved me and that they didn’t want to imprison me, merely heal me. I don’t doubt their sincerity, only their sanity. They told me that I could spend time working out, going to a junior college, or go abroad. But they insisted that I stay in Davis.
They went about their business for the rest of the day, letting me know that they weren’t sure what to do with me yet. They thought it best if I spend some time outside, alone, and blow off some steam. So I went out, and called numerous friends for support. Thank you all for listening.
That evening, I returned home. At that point, nothing had changed. The situation was exacerbated by our language barrier. I can speak and comprehend Korean fairly well, and they… speak enough English to get by. They called my Aunt Angel to mediate, to translate. She came. While she did clarify both of our points, I was a bit annoyed by the fact that she was also completely against my sexuality. The details aren’t important. Ultimately it comes down to this; if I choose to live my life the way I see it, I will rip our family apart. The alternative is to change (to go hetero) if that’s possible, and maintain family unity – in the process, I would lose my identity, which sucks ass. Really gross ass. The one with dingleberries in it. Ew.
They said they were going to go pray at church. I chose to remain at home. I spoke with some friends, got a hold of some numbers. Thanks to everyone who called and cared, you know who you are.
At that point, my parents returned. We had a rather warm talk about despite our differences, we loved each other. I told my parents if family unity meant my disownment, that I was strong enough to manage on my own. My parents said that they would never ‘throw me away’ (heartening, but vague), and that they would never stop trying to help (vague, not at all
heartening).
Today is January 2nd. As I finish this letter, its just 9 pm. My parents have spent almost all day at church, so have spent little time talking. They still believe that what I’m doing is morally wrong, but they are trying to understand how I think. They are also re-considering my school situation, but are waiting for an answer from God. I think the big guy needs to hurry up; school starts soon. If I am not allowed to attend school this quarter, I will use the time to collect funds so I can pay my own way through college. I am not ready to flee just yet – I want to salvage whatever family love I can from this. But I will return; hopefully by the 5th. If not, I will see you all in Spring quarter.
For all those who have supported me, thank you. I wouldn’t be as super-de- duper cool as I am today if it weren’t for all of you (although some of you would argue against the statement. Well, at least the cool part). For all those who sympathize with my situation, you can help out my spreading the word. I want people to hear about my situation. Although I’d prefer that you kept it out the Christian-Korean-American community in the Bay Area because that would make life really tough for my parents (they aren’t bad people!). Do your part and spread tolerance and love. Feel free to use any part of this letter, except for my phone number and address. Those of you who receive the initial copy of the letter (you can tell because it’ll have the phone number and address on it), please send gifts, letters, baked goods, and strippers to the address shown. But no riots / protests (just yet). I’m 5’8.5, average-build, cute, good with kids, etc.
I am emotionally drained, but I am strong. I will see this through. And I will win.
Hyung
|
Love,
Kim
shitlinks:[x] [x] [x] [x]
January 3, 2005 at 2:20 am · Filed under Rigamarole
mirrored from madpimp.com
True Story [a diet]
A few months back I was trying out a new diet. It wasn’t really a diet, but more like a change of eating style. I was eating about 10 “meals” a day in fairly small proportions (carrots, an apple, a bowl of rice, etc.)
So the result of this ‘diet’ was that I felt hungry ALL the time. Seriously, trying to curb your hunger for dinner by eating 10 carrot sticks really does not work that well.
Anyhow, one day I was just chillin at home in front of my computer when my stomach started feeling funny.
“My stomach feels funny,” I thought to myself, “it must be hunger.”
So I proceeded to eat some carrots. This didn’t ease the feeling in my stomach, so I thought, “Maybe I have to go poo.”
At this thought, I tried my best to take a shit. — Seriously, my face was like >_
So I decided that I would just ignore the feeling.
This is where things turned bad. 10 minutes later, all of a sudden as I was sitting at my computer, there was a blinding pain. It was like… A massive hurting. You know the pain that hurts so bad that you dont know exactly where in your body it’s originating from, but you just know that it’s bad?
Yep. That kind of pain.
I ran to the bathroom, in hopes that I could exorcise the demon of pain from my body.
I sat down and there was an A-bomb explosion. A mushroom cloud in reverse. Words cannot express how much shit was expelled from my body due to my excessive eating of carrots and apples and rice. It must have been all the fiber.
Thinkin I had finished and I started to go for the toilet paper when all of sudden, completely unbidden to me there was ANOTHER explosion.
Needless to say, when the ordeal was done, I was completely spent and had to take a nap.
..and the moral of the story is that I can’t tell the difference between hunger and diarrhea.
Love,
Kim
shitlinks:[x] [x] [x] [x]
January 2, 2005 at 9:36 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
mirrored from madpimp.com
True Story [a diet]
A few months back I was trying out a new diet. It wasn’t really a diet, but more like a change of eating style. I was eating about 10 “meals” a day in fairly small proportions (carrots, an apple, a bowl of rice, etc.)
So the result of this ‘diet’ was that I felt hungry ALL the time. Seriously, trying to curb your hunger for dinner by eating 10 carrot sticks really does not work that well.
Anyhow, one day I was just chillin at home in front of my computer when my stomach started feeling funny.
“My stomach feels funny,” I thought to myself, “it must be hunger.”
So I proceeded to eat some carrots. This didn’t ease the feeling in my stomach, so I thought, “Maybe I have to go poo.”
At this thought, I tried my best to take a shit. — Seriously, my face was like >_
So I decided that I would just ignore the feeling.
This is where things turned bad. 10 minutes later, all of a sudden as I was sitting at my computer, there was a blinding pain. It was like… A massive hurting. You know the pain that hurts so bad that you dont know exactly where in your body it’s originating from, but you just know that it’s bad?
Yep. That kind of pain.
I ran to the bathroom, in hopes that I could exorcise the demon of pain from my body.
I sat down and there was an A-bomb explosion. A mushroom cloud in reverse. Words cannot express how much shit was expelled from my body due to my excessive eating of carrots and apples and rice. It must have been all the fiber.
Thinkin I had finished and I started to go for the toilet paper when all of sudden, completely unbidden to me there was ANOTHER explosion.
Needless to say, when the ordeal was done, I was completely spent and had to take a nap.
..and the moral of the story is that I can’t tell the difference between hunger and diarrhea.
Love,
Kim
shitlinks:[x] [x] [x] [x]
January 1, 2005 at 8:50 am · Filed under Rigamarole
mirrored from madpimp.com
Return of madpimp…return of me?
Happy New Year! And happy it is indeed.
It’s only coincidental that the great unveiling of the new madpimp.com should occur on the first of the year. But maybe it means something. Maybe this will be a great new start.
This is what I hope.
The love that went into madpimp.com since 1999 died out sometime between 2002 and 2003. Since then I had a short affair with the domain klover.org. Still, I could not forget my first, my one, and now I realize, my only.
What is unveiled is only a glimpse of what I have planned for my site in the future… but, it is a start.
Love,
Kim
January 1, 2005 at 8:34 am · Filed under Rigamarole
This entry was auto-mirrored from MovableType to Xanga
Background
I’m going to break my silent vow and write directly to and for anyone who may be reading this. This is less for myself as a reflection than an explanation of my motives for writing and why the writing is so few and far in between.
To those who have recently stumbled across my site, I apologize if I seem like an overly negative person. There was once a time that I could write about everything — even good things, and feel at ease about writing. Now, though, it feels as if every entry is tinged with some sort of sadness, malice, or other negatism.
In truth, most of the time I am a fairly upbeat [albeit offbeat] person.
However, several events have occured in my life which have caused me to associate online journals/blogs/personal sites with a feeling of wistful nostalgia. Thus fueling the negative tone behind my posts.
Why do I feel like I need to explain this? — I’m not sure.
I don’t want you [whoever you might be] to think that I am some constantly depressed, deranged, angry person.
Just sometimes.
Just when I write.
———————
With that said, I feel as if I should write about something cheery, something happy to prove that indeed, at times I can be happy. Which I will.
———————
I’ve never been a very romantic person, or never thought I was. Sure I’ve had the occasional wining and dining and flowers et al… But those things never seemed to work out as well, or never impressed me as much as someone giving me the last bite of a burger, or getting me a cheap plastic ring from a vending machine [one of my few romantic fantasies that, actually technically hasn’t come true yet].
I’ve come to just believe that I’m not the romantic type. Afterall, I burp and fart and cause trouble — anything but ladylike.
Of late, though, all of a sudden I feel as if I’ve been innundated with images [I say images, but I mean occurances of making memories, feelings, events] that have made me feel like everything in the background has disappeared and all is left are bubbles, sparkles and overly bright images. [anime lovers, agree]
Even things that seem totally mundane, like seeing a school play for class credit, become complete adventures complete with crashing free buffets, getting lost trying to find a bathroom, a romp through art galleries, some stealing of food, and funky ass music.
Random, but enough to make me smile even when just thinking about it.
And then it makes me realize, I am a romantic person. Along the lines of spontenaity, adventure, impromptu picnics and laughter that doesn’t end.
Silly adventures make me googly eyed.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Love,
Kim
January 1, 2005 at 8:33 am · Filed under Rigamarole
This entry was auto-mirrored from MovableType to Xanga
Beauty
Ever drive in the pouring rain at 3AM in a haze of thoughts?
The lights and signs reflect beautifully on the asphalt, creating distorted and blurry yet more perfect visions of their brothers.
Love,
Kim
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