If yearning has a color, what would it be?

For me?
It would be Chesapeake Blue.

"Women were a dazzling array of colors for him. Mother, sister, lover friend. But he'd never had another woman strike him with such brilliance. He wanted to steep in it, in her until they were both drenched."

And it also has a name.
Seth, Seth Quinn.

If 1 calorie is to 1 sin, will liposuction still be the rage?

It is Ash Wednesday.

The start of the forty days of lent.
Forty days of reflection and sacrifices.
Which would hopefully end up to redemption.

I only figured out what to give up just this afternoon.
For the next forty days, there wouldn't be any chocolates for me.

I tried to give up cake and chocs but since my mother has already brought home 5 cakes, well it would be useless. I would breaking my promise on the first day. And that is not good. So I opted for chocs which is the next best, or should I say, worst thing. I have a mighty taste for chocolates. (just in case you've missed that essential part of me. )

There are a lot of sins that I am asking for forgiveness for. And I wish, God would forgive a sin of mine for every calorie I don't eat. Hah! Just imagine the number of sins that He will be forgiving me for every bar that pass up!

And that would certainly help curb that obesity problem. Wouldn't it?

But kidding aside, Lent is as serious as a needle piercing a vein. And I hope that God would find it in Himself to forgive me and help me forgive myself.

The rain eventually stops. But when? When the floodwater has already killed me?

Compliment.
Hug.
Repartee.
And I feel a little bit better.

Not a whole lot better, just a little bit better.

So why is that when I finally managed to reach the surface and breathe air into my lungs, another couple of inches of rain come pouring in?
Paddling through the water might make me stronger. Stamina is improved. But only to a certain point. For if the paddling doesn't stop, fatigue seeps in, and I'll go down.

Where there is no air and no light.

Why reach for the stars when you know your arms are just a couple of inches long?

Have just watched GATTACA on HBO.
Great Concept. Great Actors. Great Movie.

Inspirational, in a word.

It came close into making me believe that if one would dream enough and work harder, well one can make the dream a reality. But then again, that is just a movie. That is hardly real life.

Real life is just having a couple of inches in between my hand and shoulders while millions of miles is between me and a celestial body.

Perhaps it is because with those hands and arms, I can build something that would take me to the stars.

If God closes a door and opens a window, then how the heck am I supposed to let the UPS guy in?

Get that kinky fantasy out of your mind. This is not some erotic fanstasy turned into real life. For pete's sake, can't you see the G-word in the title?

I have finally found out that I really get the job that I want. To some masochistic extent, I am happy that I finally found out. Not having any closure was certainly driving me out of my mind, you know. So when I found out that I didnt make the cut, well for a second there, a weight was lifted off my shoulders. But then the next second, I felt a sense of devastation. There is the feeling of failure and insecurity, of not being good enough for anything. Heck, I've spent four years in the best damn private university in the country trying to hone that skill and they turned me down? And I applied for two positions! So what does that make me? A certified resident of loserville county?

But I know that I can't wallow in that. Living means getting up even you've knocked out for the Nth time. But I can't deny that I certainly have developed some issues.

There is the issue concerning trust. And this time, with God and myself.

I am having a difficult time trusting God now. I left this job into his oh-so capable hands. I asked him to guide me to the right direction. He led me to this. But at the last minute, he decided to let go. I feel so betrayed. But logic tells me that even if that was what happened, I cannnot not believe and trust in him because life would be a whole lot worse without him.

And I can't seem to trust myself anymore. I can't seem to do anything right. And if that is the case, then what good am I for?

I am having a hard time letting go of not getting that job. A lot of things came with it. And so now, I feel so powerless. I feel that every dream that I have will remain just that, a dream.

So if the only opening left is the window, how can I let the big packages in?

If life is a box of chocolates, what happens to cake?

In my list, Cake comes in first. Chocolate comes a very close second.

The best thing about cake is that it you know that you are having what exactly it is that want. Don't mind the phrase that you can't eat it and have it too. Sheesh... if you've already eaten it, all the more that you have it, right?

So, if you have the life that you've always dreamed of...well, you're having your cake and eating it too.

So why is it that I can't even get myself into the bakeshop?!

I've finally told myself to admit that I didnt get the job that I wanted. Its heartbreaking and I've been pulling my hair from my head, thumping my head against the wall of my bedroom, and crying out the pain that is drying up everything inside of me.

Forrest's mother told him that 'life is a box of chocolates....' to give him hope and instill in him a sense of wonder and excitement for life. But if Forrest was as bit as normal as everybody else, would he have made it his credo?