"I Promise"

Did I promise to always be there for you?
Will I be there for you when you call me?
Take your darkest night and make it bright?
I promised not to hurt you.

Am I to be your Rocks of Gibraltar?
Am I to warm your cold-weary soul?
Will I be the one you call in the night?
I promised not to hurt you.

How can I do all that?
I am not yours to keep
Nor are you mine to claim.

For we are bodies moving
at light-speed to paths of our own
I promised to not hurt you

But I never promised you me.

Of having fierce eyes

Being a slavish follower of America's Next Top Model means I have also developed a taste for reality-TV catfights. And let me tell you something, no one does catfights like models. Or wannabe models. Or modellettes, if you prefer.

For the last episode saw the departure of Isis King, ANTM's first transgendered contestant. She started out strong but continued to drop down the ranks week after week until finally Tyra sent her packing.

This week's judge's choice was Clark Gilmer, a 19-year old South Carolina native. Not to mention this cycle's Resident Skank.

This week's photoshoot concept saved her somewhat as she's been told that her jawline lacks finesse and she had difficulty controlling her lips to make them look soft.

My own personal choice would be the 19-year old loveable bundle of nerves named Marjorie Conrad. She displays a disarming awkwardness and skittish quality that translates beautifully into photos. Kinda reminds me of that psycho Lauren from Cycle 10. She is nothing like Lauren though, thank goodness!

Next week's episode should be interesting as the rest of the modellettes finally had enough of her self-effacing nature and confronted her about it. WTF???

Well, they let the genie out of the bottle cause what the teaser showed was a potty-mouthed Marjorie lashing back at them ... Air yang tenang jangan disangka tiada buaya ...

This cycle's Fey Princess is 20-year old Virginia native Lauren Brie Harding. Ethereal, graceful and quitely confident, Lauren Brie has consistently been at the top of the pack.

It would be interesting to see what the rest of the cycle has in store for our Miss Harding.

This week's episode saw the disappointing lackluster photo of Elina Ivanova from Washington. The 19-year old Seattle native was the top pick last week with her edgy, racially ambigous look but got stuck in one pose for her photo shoot and was deaf to the photographer's promptings.
Looking like she was slumping and about to fall asleep, her passivity earned her a very low spot on this week's queue.


*Photos by the CW

Of bitch-slapping some sense into people

Aaaahh ... don't you just adore children sometimes?

At other times you wish you could stuff them into a microwave oven and watch them explode into a gory splatter ala Gremlins. I am of the opinion that such thing is possible ... if only murder isn't a crime.

I suppose I should admit that I'm a firm believer that people get what they deserve. Perhaps not necessarily immediately, but just desserts will arrive soon after the main repast. Therefore, for those who are impatient for those deserving their comeuppance I implore you to rest easy. Verbal lashings--or even physical ones--can only do so much. If the recipients are receptive, then well and good. More often than not however, they remain unheeding. Such often stems from a deluded sense of entitlement--that the world and its inhabitants owe them for their existence. It is unbecoming for certain but one must take one's victory wherever they may be found and I relish greatly when such persons fall from their lofty perch.

For those who walk tall and proud, may you be deserving of your destination--for good or for ill.

Now all I have to do is make sure I don't trip on my stilleto (or shall I call them still-ego) heels ...

Of doubts

I met someone in the course of the last three weeks.

I was crushed, that I just ended my tie with yet another person who only saw me as a meal ticket—-wine, dine, sixty-nine me?—-and nothing else. It was with a great surprise that I ran into a charming young man who attracted my attention just as I was picking myself up. I would like to say we clicked, but it was too early for me to tell. Truthfully, I’m not sure under which category do I want to lump him under ...

’Friend?’ or ‘Potential Heartache?’

And so, here I am. Beating my masochistic little skull against the Walls of Reason. Perhaps I should launch myself ala RingLing Bros and see if the oft-gossipped diamond heart that I have will shatter against it.

Will that grant me any respite?

Would that the great love story will somehow find its way into my circle and lift my limbs to join the dance of the living. Alas, alack, I am broken from so many visions of death. My eyes are old. My soul ancient and withered. If we are embodiments of seasons, then I am the harshest days of winter.

I don’t want to hide ... yet I find myself shying away from gestures of concern. I snap at people. I’m verbally vitriolic at a moment’s notice. I envy lovers arguing ... simply because I tire of arguing with myself.

Is it even healthy to live this?