At the very beginning, there was Ratopia. Then, there's ratology. In ratology, we observe whether psychotic and neurotic people could amount to something. Then came the spinal disc herniation and impingement, bringing forth the stage of physical disability. Could someone like me go anywhere or amount to anything is the question. After the official ending of the second psychotic episode lasted for five years, I am ready to move on to the next phase of Ratology- as the solutions unfold.
Once every so often, I come back to the song Here I go again...
The way I walk now... a whole lot of time, I don't have much control over where my body is moving to the next point... Therefore... lol
Anyways, my mood has come back up pretty much as of today as long as it doesn't swing to much to the other end... 8-O 8-X lol sigh..
Moreover, in my best condition, I was able to walk like ordinary human being 9 steps at a time before having to stop.... Wow... in 2 weeks, from 1 step at a time non-walking kind of walking to 9 steps at a time... Drastic improvement!
Therefore and therefore, My favorite part...
"I don't know where I'm going But, I sure know where I've been." 8-O lol sigh
To be honest, every time I hear this song and since the very first... I hear Beyoncé singing... "I want a cigarette"...... owing it to my ESL status 8-O lol
This also reminds me of my ingenious psychotic propensity to perceive information the way they are NOT... 8-O lol
I went to see Henrik Ibsen's little miss Hedda Gabler today...
Regardless what they say and I have no intention to keep track of what them critics might say....
I walked out of the theater feeling... what a powerful play....
Sitting all the way in the back of the rear mezzanine, I can't really tell you how the actors and actresses have performed...
Yet, walking out of the theater and walking down Time Square along Broadway...
I thought of the little missy Hedda Gabler...
A pretty little spoiled brat who was unhappy about her life...
Having what other people might think of as everything... though still sort of short of perfection... Little missy is far from being content...
To whom, to be overpowered.... "Over my dead body..." So she would say...
Yet, aren't we all Hedda Gabler in our own particular way....
As I walked on, I thought of the interesting contrast between where I was last year and where I have been today...
Last year today, I was locked up in the psychiatric ward overlooking the beautiful Hudson River with a walker as my walking aid (since they don't allow the use of canes inside)....
Today, I took myself and my semi-functional back-- back to Broadway to see little Hedda Gabler in the play...
Then, I thought of the feeling of emptiness Hedda was speaking of...
I thought... we all are presented with the choices at certain point...
Poor little depressed Hedda, I thought...
How unfortunate that you have chosen to go into the dark side while it might actually make you feel better shall you stay on the sunny side of the road....
Just got introduced to these nice girly songs by my friend.... 8-O lol
Eartha Kitt
I Want To Be Evil
Just An Old Fashioned Girl
Je cherche un homme
I Want To Be Evil Eartha Kitt
I've posed for pictures with Iv'ry Soap, I've petted stray dogs, and shied clear of dope (I've petted stray dogs, and I never mope)* My smile is brilliant, my glance is tender But I'm noted most for my unspoiled gender
I've been made Miss Reingold, though I never touch beer, (I've been named Miss Perseverance year after year,)* And I'm the person to whom they say, "Your sweet, My Dear." The only etchings I've seen have been behind glass, And the closest I've been to a bar, is at ballet class.
Prim and proper, the girl who's never been cased, I'm tired of being pure and not chased. Like something that seeks it's level I wanna go to the devil.
Refrain I wanna be evil, I wanna spit tacks I wanna be evil, and cheat at jacks I wanna be wicked, I wanna tell lies I wanna be mean, and throw mud pies
I want to wake up in the morning with that dark brown taste I want to see some dissipation in my face I wanna be evil, I wanna be mad But more that that I wanna be bad
I wanna be evil, and trump an ace, Just to see my partner's face. I wanna be nasty, I wanna be cruel I wanna be daring, I wanna shoot pool
And in the theatre I want to change my seat Just so I can step on Everybody's feet
I wanna be evil, I wanna hurt flies I wanna sing songs like the guy who cries I wanna be horrid, I wanna drink booze (I want to be horrid, I want to make news)* And whatever I've got I'm eager to lose
I wanna be evil, little evil me Just as mean and evil as I can be
Just An Old Fashioned Girl Eartha Kitt
I'm just an old fashioned girl with an old fashioned mind Not sophisticated, I'm the sweet and simple kind. I want an old fashioned house, with an old fashioned fence And an old fashioned millionaire. I want an old fashioned car, a cerise Cadillac, Long enhough to put a bowling alley in the back. I want an old fashioned house, with an old fashioned fence And an old fashioned millionaire. I'll stay weaving at my loom, Be no trouble to my groom, If he'll keep the piles of money mounting. In our cottage there will be A soundproof nursery Not to wake the baby while I'm counting. I like the old fashioned flowers, violets are for me - Have them made in diamonds by the man at Tiffany. I want an old fashioned house, with an old fashioned fence And an old fashioned millionaire. I'm just a pilgrim at heart, oh so pure and genteel. Watch me in Las Vegas while I'm at the spinning wheel! I want an old fashioned house, with an old fashioned fence And an old fashioned millionaire. I'll ask for such simple things when my birthday occurs: Two appartment buildings that are labelled 'Hers' and 'Hers'. I want an old fashioned house, with an old fashioned fence And an old fashioned millionaire. I like Chopin and Bizet And the songs of yesterday, String quartets and Polonesian carols. But the music that excels Is the sound of oil wells As they slurp, slurp, slurp into the barrels. Our little home will be quaint as an old parasol, And instead of carpet I'll have money wall to wall. I want an old fashioned house, with an old fashioned fence And an old fashioned millionaire.
Je Cherche Un Homme
Je cherche un homme, un homme, un homme Un Pierre, un Paul, un Jacques ou Tom Peu m'importe comment il se nomme S'il est un homme, un homme, un homme
Je n'exige pas un Apollon Qui sait briller dans les salons Ni un type fort comme un Samson Pourvu que j'aie un mate un bon
Il n'a pas besoin d'?tre un milliardaire Qu'il soit beau, non, ?a m'est ?gal Il n'a pas besoin d'?tre une grande lumi?re Star du cin?ma ni prince royal
Je cherche un homme, un homme, un homme Qu'il s'appelle Pierre ou Paul ou Tom Pourvu qu'il donne son maximum Je cherche un homme, un homme, un homme
Doesn't have to be prince or movie star A Texas oil man or a french marquis Doesn't have to be handsome as a picture An ordinary guy's all right with me
Je cherche un homme, un homme, un homme Qu'il s'appelle Pierre ou Paul ou Tom Pourvu qu'il donne son maximum Je cherche un homme, un homme, un homme Je cherche un homme, un homme, un homme
Whit
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Whit sounds like wit and according to dictionary.com, it means
a particle; bit; jot (used especially in negative phrases).
I have changed not a whit. I do...
A dream: Backpacking
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On my way back from NYC to Taipei in April, I managed to get myself an
extended layover (over 2 weeks) in Japan, landing at and exiting from the
Narita Air...
Ratprincess in Technology not lost?
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Given my sick-in-the-headness, sometimes it's hard to trust my LTM. Did
Ratprincess in Technology really exist or was it my false memory?
As I was marv...
Traces of the past
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A link I found that has been live online from the Down with Meds age.
Apparently, the past has always been there whether I knew it or not.
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