I am a dreamer.........

"I am a dreamer. I know so little of real life that I just can't help re-living such moments as these in my dreams, for such moments are something I have very rarely experienced. I am going to dream about you the whole night, the whole week, the whole year. I feel I know you so well that I couldn't have known you better if we'd been friends for twenty years. You won't fail me, will you? Only two minutes, and you've made me happy forever. Yes, happy. Who knows, perhaps you've reconciled me with myself, resolved all my doubts.

When I woke up it seemed to me that some snatch of a tune I had known for a long time, I had heard somewhere before but had forgotten, a melody of great sweetness, was coming back to me now. It seemed to me that it had been trying to emerge from my soul all my life, and only now-

If and when you fall in love, may you be happy with her. I don't need to wish her anything, for she'll be happy with you. May your sky always be clear, may your dear smile always be bright and happy, and may you be for ever blessed for that moment of bliss and happiness which you gave to another lonely and grateful heart. Isn't such a moment sufficient for the whole of one's life?"


-Fyodor Dostoevsky (White Nights)

William James

William James, that most American philosopher, once advised: "begin to be now what you will be hereafter". One might ask how? Our deepest guide in our beginning to be, is our imagination. Our ability to project, and mold our future selves from the myriad possibilities before us. And to imagine takes courage and effort. But it gives us hope too, hope that we can author our own destinies, hope that rightness of the decisions we make now will be borne out in the future. As much as we can be overwhelmed by the world, we can also draw hope from it. From beauty, from promise, from the simple fact that we have the talent to imagine our future selves from all the possible lives that pass before our eyes. We must imagine our lives well. We must engage our conscience. Conscience is the voice of God in the nature and heart of man.

When the voices of children are heard on the green.

When the voices of children are heard on the green.
And laughing is heard on the hill. My heart is at rest within my breast.
And everything else is still.
Then come home my children, the sun is gone down.
And the dews of night arise.
Come, come, let us play, and let us away.
Till the morning appears in the skies.
No, no, let us play, for it is yet day.
And we cannot go to sleep.
Besides, in the sky the little birds fly.
And the hills are all covered with sheep.
Well, well, go and play till the light fades away.
And then go home to bed.
The little ones leaped and shouted and laughed.
And all the hills echoed.

BIPOLAR

I'm cruising along day by day,
taking everything and feeling in stride,
All intense feelings kept at bay.
No major depression, no roller-coaster ride

Feeling quite content, this bipolar's version of Heaven.
Seems Medications are working and no insane thoughts lurking.
Despite the side effects one has to contend with.
I can participate in life without being an extremist.
All negative behaviors have ceased and are in check.
All falling by the way side in the pursuit of all that is better.
Suicidal ideations are a thing of the distant past.
The scars I wear no longer make sense.

Affection is welcome and
Touch soothes the soul.
Closeness is invited and intimacy seems to heal all.

Then, without warning
Like the Tsunami in Asia
Everything I know gets washed away.
An uncontrollable wave of emotion crashes down upon the coast of ME.
The skies now gray and angry consuming all that was blue.
As I race to save my life.
Everything I hold dear now in strife
My foundation washed away or buried.
Are you beginning to feel why bipolar's worry?

All the tools acquired over the years,
The relationships invested in fall by the wayside
In confusion and tears.
I question if the only safe place is the hospital.

Insomnia creeps through my backdoor.
Hiding in my bed
Making sleep impossible.
My bedroom no longer a friend,
More like a distant relative.
Meds cease to work as brain chemistry adjusts and tolerances build to the
Very temporary man-made solution
To OUR organic constitution.
And you wonder why I sometimes feel cheated.

Everything within my view becomes a project I must attack and complete
My essence is slipping through and ticking by,
no time to waste.
As my mind races,
my eyes scan my surroundings
Taking note of each and every item out of place.
More projects pile up and less seems to get done.
Overwhelming every inch of my mind
And occupying all your waking time.
My mind seeks sanctuary but there isn't any.

The CONCEPT of sleep becomes a LUXURY that the manic mind
CANNOT
Participate in.
Sleeping while in a mania is like drinking a bottle of vodka while in rehabilitation.
It's not allowed. Against the indoctrination.
The guilt you feel when you manage to sneak in a nap
Perpetuates the mania making one feel more like crap.
Then depression pays a visit.
Adding to the feeling of inadequacy that is already drilled into our core
Because of our LITERAL limitations.
Gotta tell ya, I didn't much miss this shit at all.

The mind keeps moving despite the bodies desire for sleep.
Relaxation, what's that?
I haven't known that for weeks.
Forgotten in the quest to move, go, create,
It's existence is now questionable to me.

Friends and family get concerned.
All of them careful, forlorn.
Wanting to help, but not sure how.

The shrinks schedule is full,
That's nothing new.
Two more days without sleep.
Continual rapid thoughts
And sped speech.
Foggy and clumsy, bruised from bumping into walls that have always been there.
And they expect me to drive?
Is this their version of suicide?

Body itching for sleep,
Try to lay down and my mind revolts.
Eyes start to itch from stale air.
Leg starts kicking,
Fingers twitching,
Jaws start clenching,
Heartbeat rapid.
Mind racing…Gotta get up and keep moving.

Eyes dry from being open for days,
Need fake tears to ease the pain.
Get some coffee to help the body keep up with the mind.
Because nothing else is working.
You tell me, what are my other options?
You just try being bipolar.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,
I dunno.
I've been up through all of them
So why does it matter?

Tensions build as those who care
Watch you deteriorate,
While the illness is picking up pace
Now even your loved ones can see your mind race.
Spinnning like a toy top on speed.
We know you wonder if we'll make it back.
So do we.
And yes, it does add to the panic.

Waited in line in a rather serene lobby,
While reading up on my hobbies.
Saw the doctor,
Took 5 hours, I hope it's worth it.
New meds, bullshit about quitting smoking and a new.

Yeah right.
Um, in a crisis, take your quitting smoking and ……
Meds will be mailed, no need to stress
and "there's a therapy group where you will be sent"

One day goes by.
Still manic and unable to sleep.
No meds yet, still have to wait.
Wanting to stop but unable too.
Two days go by and I begin to wonder why me?
What did I do to deserve this damn disease.

My meds shoulda been delivered to my front door.
Two days ago .
Instead I am banging my head against the wall.
While my mind and body is engaged in a war.

Anxious and exhausted call the pharmacy.
They didn't mail them, like they were instructed.
Another trip to the hospital while exhausted,
They don't care just part of the process.
If you get in a wreck,
It's not their problem.

And this is the life a bipolar lives.

just another episode. mb

I began to feel pressure building up in my chest
Another great episode, I’m put to the test;
I question my life and why I am here
Consumed with distraction and overwhelmed with this fear;
Will it destroy me, hurt all those I know
This feeling of hatred beginning to grow;
And then a glimpse of happiness comes into my life
For a moment no pain, no suffering, no strife;
I live in the moment in hopes it will last
I act out like a child and soon it has past;
I awake to reality and see all the pain
The destruction I have caused, I will live with this shame;
My mind is so sick I hate who I have become
How could I be so selfish, so careless and dumb;
The guilt is overwhelming, it eats me alive
Just another episode I barely survived....

INSOMNIAC

The night is only a sort of carbon paper,
Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars
Letting in the light, peephole after peephole . . .
A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things.
Under the eyes of the stars and the moon's rictus
He suffers his desert pillow, sleeplessness
Stretching its fine, irritating sand in all directions.

Over and over the old, granular movie
Exposes embarrassments—the mizzling days
Of childhood and adolescence, sticky with dreams,
Parental faces on tall stalks, alternately stern and tearful,
A garden of buggy rose that made him cry.
His forehead is bumpy as a sack of rocks.
Memories jostle each other for face-room like obsolete film stars.

He is immune to pills: red, purple, blue . . .
How they lit the tedium of the protracted evening!
Those sugary planets whose influence won for him
A life baptized in no-life for a while,
And the sweet, drugged waking of a forgetful baby.
Now the pills are worn-out and silly, like classical gods.
Their poppy-sleepy colors do him no good.

His head is a little interior of grey mirrors.
Each gesture flees immediately down an alley
Of diminishing perspectives, and its significance
Drains like water out the hole at the far end.
He lives without privacy in a lidless room,
The bald slots of his eyes stiffened wide-open
On the incessant heat-lightning flicker of situations.

Nightlong, in the granite yard, invisible cats
Have been howling like women, or damaged instruments.
Already he can feel daylight, his white disease,
Creeping up with her hatful of trivial repetitions.
The city is a map of cheerful twitters now,
And everywhere people, eyes mica-silver and blank,
Are riding to work in rows, as if recently brainwashed.

-Sylvia Plath

that is why.

because your eyes always bends my knees,

because you always remind me to laugh,
because my world adds colors when you're around,
because i feel like a five year old when im with you,
because you smile even when everything is falling apart,
because you treat me like a queen whom just give birth to her first son,
because of our silly inside jokes,
because even though i cant breath when you hug me you would not let me go,
because you leave sweet notes for me in my purse,
because you look like a little puppy when you're sick,
because when i fell asleep you would wake me up with a kiss in my forehead,
because your tears look like crystals,
because when i'm with you i would forget everything else,
because you promised me you'd take me to the moon someday,
because you wouldn't get off the phone until i sleep,
because our late night talks makes me wanna have a future with you,
because you always hold my hands so tight it hurts so good,
because we can dance to the soundtrack of a walk to the remember together,
and because you would always say i love you,
even when im trying to make you loathe me.
That is why i loved you.

-AGS

DARKNESS

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went--and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light:
And they did live by watchfires--and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings--the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consum'd,
And men were gather'd round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other's face;
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch:
A fearful hope was all the world contain'd;
Forests were set on fire--but hour by hour
They fell and faded--and the crackling trunks
Extinguish'd with a crash--and all was black.
The brows of men by the despairing light
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
The flashes fell upon them; some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil'd;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again
With curses cast them down upon the dust,
And gnash'd their teeth and howl'd: the wild birds shriek'd
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl'd
And twin'd themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless--they were slain for food
. And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again: a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All earth was but one thought--and that was death
Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
Of famine fed upon all entrails--men
Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
The meagre by the meagre were devour'd,
Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one,
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead
Lur'd their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answer'd not with a caress--he died.
The crowd was famish'd by degrees; but two
Of an enormous city did survive,
And they were enemies: they met beside
The dying embers of an altar-place
Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things
For an unholy usage; they rak'd up,
And shivering scrap'd with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame
Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
Each other's aspects--saw, and shriek'd, and died--
Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
The populous and the powerful was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless--
A lump of death--a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still,
And nothing stirr'd within their silent depths;
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp'd
They slept on the abyss without a surge--
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The moon, their mistress, had expir'd before;
The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need
Of aid from them--She was the Universe.

- Byron

.

How come everything turns out,
leaving me with more doubts
I feel like I'm upside down,
and I don't wanna be here
I go right, should have gone left
and I say things I should have not said
Look at me in this big mess,
I don't want to be here.
Everything I do
is making me more confused
Oh it used to be easy, all I had to be was me
now I'm mixed up.
Everywhere I go somewhere that I don't know
I hope that I'm dreaming,
cause I'm sick of this feeling
I'm mixed up.
somebody help me.
Tell me how to fix this
I'd trade my world for one wish, to go back to my other life.
Everything I do is making me more confused
it used to be easy all I had to be was me,
now I'm mixed up.
Everywhere I go
is somewhere that I don't know
I hope that I'm dreaming
cause I'm sick of this feeling
I'm mixed up.
Somebody help me.
To hold me, tell me
everything is gonna be okay
cause today it feels like
I wont make it to the top now
don't know how to get outta this
so mixed up.
Somebody help me.

Gabriel Garcia Marquez- "its raining in this poem"

its raining. the afternoon

is a blade of cloud.Raining.
The afternoon is soaked
in your sadness.
At times the wind comes
with its song, at times...
I feel my soul pressed
against your absent voice.

Raining. And im thinking
of you. And dreaming.
No one will come this afternoon
to my grief, shut tight.
No one. only your absence
that pains me hour by hour.
Tomorrow your presence
will return with the rose.

I think-- the rain falls--
of your tender gaze.
Girl like fresh fruit,
joyful like a fiesta,
today your name is twilighting
here in my poem.

Chanel Perspex Briefcase

This week in Paris, Karl Lagerfeld presented a poised, elegant and mostly black take on power suiting for Chanel that included this fantastically witty take on the working gal's briefcase. We hope that it's not just a prop for the catwalk. We're sure someone out there could pull it off in the real world. It's highly functional, after all. - Laura Demasi

YTL Residence, Kuala Lumpur

Paris-based Agence Jouin Manku took on its first large-scale integrated architectural and interior design commission in 2003, when YTL Design Group from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, invited it to design the residence of a Malaysian power family.



Inside, prominent examples of this curvilinear elegance include the amazing staircases resembling the inside of a shell when viewed from above, and the round ballroom chandelier of 13,000 custom-designed undulating petals of unglazed cast porcelain biscuit.

Three generations of the family inhabit the 3,000 square-meter residence designed to accommodate both private and public functions.



Completed in the latter part of 2008, the residence is the ultimate expression of the taste, influence and industrial-scale capabilities of the prominent family whose entrepreneurial activities have shaped Kuala Lumpur’s skyline.


The curved walls both inside and out have a functional purpose of providing privacy and enclosing each function gently in its own space. The overall sweeping feel inside the spaces invites the viewer in and creates soft, arching vistas.


The concept consists of three layers: the base for public functions, the ring for guests and the private house for the family.

The inside of the magnificent residence is gorgeous with its high ceilings, large windows and abundance of light. White color and natural wood are dominant elements but they allow the view from the vast, mostly retractable, windows to remain the main visual attraction.


The residence is also a wonderful study of contrasts between inside and outside, private and public, traditional and ultra modern, man-made and natural.

"Love, like life, is much stranger and far more complicated than one is brought up to believe."

an unquiet mind.

There is a particular kind of pain, elation, loneliness, and terror involved in this kind of madness.
When you're high it's tremendous.
The ideas and feelings are fast and frequent like shooting stars,
and you follow them until you find better and brighter ones.
Shyness goes, the right words and gestures are suddenly there,
the power to captivate others a felt certainty.
There are interests found in uninteresting people.
Sensuality is pervasive and the desire to seduce and be seduced irresistible.
Feelings of ease, intensity, power, well-being, financial omnipotence, and euphoria pervade one's marrow.
But, somewhere, this changes.
The fast ideas are far too fast, and there are far too many;
overwhelming confusion replaces clarity.
Memory goes.
Humor and absorption on friends' faces are replaced by fear and concern. Everything previously moving with the grain is now against--
you are irritable, angry, frightened, uncontrollable, and enmeshed totally in the blackest caves of the mind.
You never knew those caves were there.
It will never end, for madness carves its own reality.

— Kay Redfield Jamison (An Unquiet Mind)

diamonds arent the only thing that puts a smile on my face.

I was digging through my old books,
and I came across this reviving book,
filled with hilarious animal illustration.
Its called "The Blue Day Book".
It was given to me by the best-est friend i've ever had,
on the worst wretched period of my life.
This book is my life saver.
Its so great, I just had to share.
The absolute best present I've ever gotten.
I owe her one. =)

it goes like this..
oh ps, it helps more when you read it out loud.

Everybody has blue days.
These are miserable days when you feel lousy,
grumpy, lonely and utterly exhausted.
Days when you feel small and insignificant,
when everything seems just out of reach.
You can't rise to the occasion.
Just getting started seems impossible.
On blue days you can become paranoid
that everyone is out to get you.
(This is not always such a bad thing.)
You feel frustrated and anxious,
which can induce a nail-biting frenzy
that can escalate into a triple-chocolate-mud-cake-eating
frenzy in a blink of an eye!
On blue days you feel like you're floating
in an ocean of sadness.
You're about to burst into tears at any moment
and you don't even know why.
Ultimately, you feel like you're wandering
through life without purpose.
You're not sure how much longer
you can hang on,
and you feel like shouting,
"Will someone please shoot me!"
It doesn't take much to bring on a blue day.
You might just wake up
not feeling or looking your best,
find some new wrinkles,
put on a little weight,
or get a huge pimple on your nose.
You could forget your date's name
or have an embarrassing photograph published.
You might get dumped, divorced or fired,
make a fool of yourself in public,
be afflicted with a demeaning nickname,
or just have a plain old bad-hair day.
Maybe work is a pain in the butt.
You're under major pressure
to fill someone else's shoes,
your boss is picking on you,
and everyone in the office,
is driving you crazy.
You might have a splitting headache,
or a slipped disk, bad breath,
a toothache, chronic gas,
dry lips, or a nasty ingrown toenail.
Whatever the reason, you're convicted
that someone up there doesn't like you.
Oh what to do, what to dooo?
Well, if you're like most people, you'll hide behind a
flimsy belief that everything will sort itself out.
then you'll spend the rest of your life
looking over your shoulder,
waiting for everything to go wrong all over again.
All the while becoming crusty and cynical
or a pathetic, sniveling victim.
Until you get so depressed that you lie down
and beg the earth to swallow you up
or, even worse, become addicted
to Billy Joel Songs.
This is crazy, because you're only young once
and you're never old twice.
Who knows what fantastic things are in store
just around the corner?
After all, the world is full
of amazing discoveries,
things you can't even imagine now.
They are delicious, happy sniffs
and scrumptious snacks to share.
Hey, you might end up fabulously rich
or even become a huge superstar(one day).
Sounds good, doesn't it?
But wait, there's more!
There are handstands
and games to play
and yoga
and karaoke
and wild, crazy, bohemian dancing.
But best of all, there's romance.
Which means long dreamy stares,
whispering sweet nothings,
cuddles, smooches,
more smooches, and even more smooches,
a frisky love bite or two,
and then, well, anything goes.
So how can you find that blissful
"just sliding into a hot bubble bath"
kind of feeling?
Its easy.
First, stop slinking away from all those nagging issues.
It's time to face the music.
Now, just relax. Take some deep breaths
(In through the nose and out through the mouth).
Try to meditate if you can.
Or go for a walk to clear your head.
Accept the fact that you'll have to let go
of some emotional baggage.
Try seeing things from a different perspective.
Maybe you're actually the one at fault.
If that's the case, be big enough to say you're sorry
(Its never too late to do this).
If someone else is doing the wrong thing,
stand up tall and say,
"That's not right and I won't stand for it!"
It's okay to be forceful.
(It's rarely okay to blow raspberries.)
Be proud of who you are,
but don't lose the ability to laugh at yourself.
(This is a lot easier when you associate with positive people)
Live every day as if it were your last,
because one day it will be.
Don't be afraid to bite off
more than you can chew.
Take big risks.
Never hang back.
Get out there and go for it.
After all, isn't that what life is all about?
=)
I think so too.

Louis Copolla

The magnificent Ms. Copolla has finally made a debut since the Miss Dior Cherie ad in 08,
and Now she has launched Louis Vuitton top handles and clutches.
They're gorgeous, and to die for..

J'adore les Birkin sacs.

Uhh~laa~laa..
look at the pretty pretty bags!
The black ones are jejune, (since i've got my hands on them)
but gosh! look at the size 50s! they are Drop-Dead-Gorgeous!
the black 45 croco and the pink ostrich!
oooohh...soon babygirl... soon...
my hands will be on all the different colours and leathers. =)

eccentricity.

These are some amazing photographs from one of my all time favorite photographer,

Terry Richardson.

I heart LILO.

I got this cover story since may, and just recently remembered how awesome it is.

Enjoy!

Another Cover Story..

Yea Im so learning those moves.
XO