I Got Me a Brand New Jonny

Why are they always called "Johnny"/"Jonny"?...

Alongside my relatively continuous and amorous acquaintance (stricly as a viewer, of course) with Jonny Rhys Meyers, a new Johnny has literally rushed into my life - skated, that it. Figure skater and US champion Johnny Weir caught my enthusiastic eyes at the winter Olympics, and I've been regretting not knowing about him sooner ever since! A true virtuoso of his craft, he reminded me of how much I love this particular sport for displaying such elegance and beauty, while not relinquishing the performance of the most demanding physical routines. I'm reminded now of the numerous times that - whenever in a good, meditative mood - my imagination took me to an icy surface and showed me myself gliding on the ice, feeling the smooth and flowing or, dare I say it, flying motion...
The last time I actually skated was about 14 years ago. I liked it then, though I didn't do much except skate around in a circle, in a manner I can only refer to as "The Penguin Style" - part waddle, part glide. So I guess I'll leave it to the pros, but - by Gaia, that is so inspiring. Thanks Johnny, wherever you are; And just for the record, I thought the judges were way harsh with you, and you should have won the Bronze. Still, if it's any consolation, yours was the most exhilarating performance of the entire competition.
See you at the World Championships, Dude :) And get ready for more gold!

Damaged People (For Ziva, thanks to Martin L. Gore)

You never asked me how I'm doing when you said goodbye,
Did you notice that? Now you will never know,
All that I'm going through, but then if you don't care about Me
Anyway than nevermind. I'll still have Martin though,

He says:
I don't want you to change anything you do
I don't want you to be someone else for me
Stay as you are
The darkest star

I guess some people are just meant to be dark angels, and I
Was always one of them, as you have come to realize. Goodbye

So Much Beauty

I've been thinking a lot about beauty recently. Possibly because I've given up almost entirely on my own. I can see a sort of glowing warmth sometimes when I look into the mirror, or into friends eyes when they show their affection. Still, it's hardly ever reflected in photographs - there's something about a camera, so harsh and callous, that robs the softer aspects of our appearance from our bodies. And I hardly care about it anymore; I know quite well that whomever loves me, does so not based on appearance but something else: my intelligence, my spirits, my loyalty or madness perhaps, who knows. It certainly ain't for my pretty eyes.

Which raises the question... If I acknowledge the fact that beauty is not the most important part of one's existance, and that it is tragically and detrimentally overrated nowadays... Can I still allow myself to appreciate it in others? Some people do work well with cameras, in such a way that is as aesthetically pleasing as watching a beautiful flower or work of art. That does, at the same time, involve some objectification of the people involved... Is it morally wrong, or humanly understandable?

Either way... I love the fact that I'm accepting myself as the ugly witch that I am. Witchy me has power... that has it's own inherent beauty, methinks.

Sisters of Suffrage

Depression is a must on friday nights,
Or so it has been for me for a while,
And yet I'm sitting here with a slight smile.
I'd quite forgotten it's among my rights,
To choose to be befuddled by life's twists.
I've this advice for those who stick to lists,
Expecting all events to march defile:
You think no matter what you do, you'll lose,
If this is true, I envy you indeed:
You're free to do your will, for all paths lead
To doom; all you have left is what you choose.
That right could never be revoked by fate,
You've proved her void with every step you made.