Samhain Reading

The Celtic Cross 

1. You now - Four of Swords

The past prevents you from moving on. You feel stuck, paralyzed by your fears and self-doubt generated by pain and heartbreaks from the past. 

2. Obstacle - The Star

Your ideals and expectations are so high that no one, not even you, can live up to them. Freely giving yourself in love because you are idealizing the person.

3. Conscious goal - Ace of Cups

Early stages of love and romance is indicated. You may find that your feelings have intensified, that you are falling head over heels for someone. You can just as easily be infatuated by an idea as you are by a lover.

4. Unconscious influence - Ten of Cups

You crave emotional fulfillment in a relationship. You search for happiness and the promise for more to come. You're looking for a safe haven.

5. Past influence - Queen of Wands

A figure who had came into your life exuding sex appeal and reminding you of your own sexual accomplishments. The person is charismatic and creative, attractive and magnetic.

6. Approaching influence - Knight of Cups

This card appears when we are not honest about our feelings. Do you desire a knight in shining armor to rescue you? It could be time to open up, be more sensitive, play a romantic game, indulge in the most fanciful and protean of love's experiences. Represents someone who is a great lover, full of emotions, charm and desire to please the other.

7. Inner resource or talent - The Chariot

This card is all about confidence, healthy ego and self-belief. You will have the self assurance and spirit to get what you want. Take care not to be too controlling, or let someone who only thinks of himself hamper you.

8. How other see you - Four of Pentacles

People find you mean, possessive, a control freak, stubborn and stagnant. You believe that your way is the only way, and controls others with materialism. You control others very subtly through your ego's need to possess and thereby maintain control. You relate to others by defining your territory, saying 'this is mine, not yours'.

9. Fears - Five of Wands

You fear not knowing where you truly stand with someone. You feel as if the world is against you, that anything that can go wrong has gone wrong.

10. Outcome - The Magician

This card signifies masculine sexual energy. Don't be so focused on yourself that you ignore your deeper needs and values. The Magician always represents an individual that you need to get to know before you hand your heart to him. Recognize that you have the power to create your own reality

The Relationship Right Now

1. Its energy - Temperance

In a sense, you have died and been reborn. The ego has failed you so you finally have the freedom to release it. You are left in total passivity, waiting for the new tools you will need to guide you in evaluating the world.

2. Its communication - Ten of Swords

Before you embark on a new journey, you must liberate yourself from old patterns of behavior, drop emotional baggage and say goodbye to the 'old you'. This is the turning point.

3. Its strength - The Lovers

You may find yourself being tested before you transition into a new phase of life. There may be a new relationship entering your life, one that will have significant impact. Lovers in an upright position indicates that you are emotionally and spiritually ready.

4. Its weakness - Two of Pentacles

You may be juggling too many things at once. Perhaps you need someone else to help balance the psychological books with you.

5. Its reality - Seven of Cups

You have high expectations and expect to get away with anything. You live a life of excess, do not overestimate what someone has to offer you.

6. Its passion - King of Swords

You are excited by a challenge of wits. He is often consumed by his work and has a love for knowledge. He tends to think abstractly and can distinguish truth from untruths. He has an attraction to idealism but may be inhibited by his rational thought processes. His temperament is calm, controlled and objective. He would prefer not to disclose his emotions for fear that it may make him vulnerable. He is cautious and careful as he would like to maintain control and order. He is not always at ease in relationships. Although he can be attentive and charming, he can lose interest quickly. He refrains from giving his emotions too much power. This can at times make him feel defensive and distant.

7. The key to its future - Six of Cups

Relationships may need to become more playful and innocent. Allow yourself to be vulnerable with your partner. Speak from the heart. The Six of Cups urges you to break from past obligations that are holding you back. You may need to let go of old ties and relationships. Be willing to try something new, live in the moment.

Graveyard Musings

Snarling gargoyles bow as I enter
Wintery breezes 
They flirt with my fingers
Sink my feet into burning ice
Conscience is numb
Yet it longs and cries
Cruelty fuels the flame
To ignite all blame
Burn me from the inside
So to you I do the same
Tell me a story, tell me a lie
Make me believe
There's good in goodbye
Carve a pumpkin from a face
Smile to face 
The scythe with grace
Show me longing rips you apart
Show me torn and damaged to start
In a graveyard I make my bed
People don't lie
Are people who're dead
Bouquets of wilted guilt
Sew patches of soul on a wretched quilt
Starlight winks through fog that blinds
Buttercup dew still clouds my mind
I prick my finger to write our names
On a headstone
Where it'll last for a day
A flame flickers with no candle in sight
Muted sorrow brings me a figure in white
My senses know not 
Be it angel or ghost
But kiss me gently
Where it hurts the most
Witches reign yet they bring no peace
Watch me scatter
Piece by piece
Lie with me on a night so still
Lie with me so I feel no chill

Losing Your Metaphorical Virginity, by Stephanie Georgopulos

Who knows when the desire to be someone’s “first” blooms? We decide early on that being the first means something. The first relationship, the first kiss, the first blow job, the first romp, the first love. We assign some heavy meaning to being a pioneer — an expert — in the person we care for. As we grow older, we become desperate for firsts to cling to – at a certain age, they become few and far between.

Logically, the longer our person of interest has been playing the field, the less likely it is that we’ll be their first anything. We know that. We also know, logically, that being first doesn’t strip being second or even third of its meaning. So what if you’re Version 3.0? It just means more thought and attention to detail went into curating your relationship. But love is anything but logical.

That’s why losing your virginity is strange. Most of us believe it’ll be this significant event. And it will be, for some people. But for the rest of us, losing our virginity was just the first time we learned that being “first” doesn’t necessarily mean being “best” or “only.”

It’s a little depressing; that this thing you counted on to add value to your life might eventually become just another stamp in your sexual history passport. Because one day you’ll meet someone who makes time stop and you’ll think maybe they would’ve been worth waiting for, you’ll want to give them one of your firsts. Instead of recognizing that maybe it’s unnecessary to inject our “firsts” with so much meaning, we clamor for new firsts to assign to our relationships.

We get to have a few firsts, but most don’t speak to the metaphorical definition of losing your virginity. Metaphorically, losing your virginity is losing your innocence. Your naivety. After you have sex for the first time, are you less innocent or naïve than you were before? I’d venture to guess that you’re not. I’d venture to guess that, after you’ve slept with someone for the first time, perhaps you’re at your most naïve. Perhaps you believe, “I have won her,” or “He is mine,” or “We are going to be together.” In that way, you haven’t lost your metaphorical virginity – you’ve reinforced it.

The first time you fall in love, and you commit to trusting someone with your secrets and your issues and most of all, your heart … it takes a certain purity to pull that off. That kind of belief is rare, reserved for the Tooth Fairy or religion. To experience it as an adult is sort of a miracle. Your innocence remains in tact.

So when do we lose our innocence? I propose that most of us lose it the first time our heart is broken, the one first we don’t sign up for. When we fall in love with someone, we don’t think, “I want this to ruin me.” We know it might, but we don’t have faith in that. We have faith in love. We are naive, naked, innocent. And when all of our childlike beliefs sit in the palm of someone else’s hand, whether we’ve given them our first time or our first “I love you,” or maybe our second “I love you” or our third “I love you,” they can ball up their fist and crush those beliefs, they can knock you unconscious with that fist (metaphorically speaking, of course). It’s a first beyond our control, the first that teaches us that there is no protecting the things we love, they can be destroyed. We learn to avoid naivety — because if we don’t, if we belligerently believe in love, we’ll be punished for it.

Although it’s likely you’ll lose your innocence to heartbreak, you can find it again. You find it in the eyes of someone new or in the pit of your stomach, thumping wildly like you’ve swallowed your heart whole. You regain your “virginity” every time you overcome the darkness betrayal can breed, every time you find yourself vulnerable in spite of your past, every time you walk around with a stupid grin on your face for no reason and every reason. You take ownership of your innocence when you learn that your first time doesn’t have to be your last time. When someone shows up armed and ready to fight your predilection for distrust, and you, in turn, let your guard down because you desperately want that person to wage war with your common sense, there’s nothing more innocent than that.

Source: Thought Catalogue

Platinum

Hanging Boat Bed

Some of us have dreams about world domination, mass robot slavery or simply to develop the powers of telekinesis. Most of my greatest aspirations, however, all involve beds. And I intended that to be every bit as nasty as you thought it was. Great painters require quality canvas onto which he can unleash his strokes of brilliance - likewise; a master sleeper such as myself require the utmostly sublime bed to rest upon. 

Presenting the hanging boat bed (made with 100% freshly-peeled boats):

 

Just imagine the possibilities. Playing pirate ship on my bed would be a hundred times more realistic when my bed's shaped like an actual nautical, sea-worthy boat!

A Letter To My Future Child

To my dearest darling Michelangelo, 

I would like to begin by addressing this issue: No, you are not named after one of the greatest Renaissance painters of Italy. You are named after an orange-bandana-wearing turtle with ninja abilities and a great love for pizza. Glad we got that out of the way. And no, I had no doubt you would be a son, for I mail-ordered you from Cambodia. All the big stars are doing it, just ask Angelina and Brad. You were in fact a complimentary gift that came along with her 15th purchase, auntie Jolie was nice enough to let me keep you. Apparently there's something about your extra limb that she didn't think 'fit in' with her current freak-show circus, but hey, yay for us, huh!

Now parents don't normally write letters to their imaginary gifted-program-valedictorian-multi-talented children unless they forsee a tragic accident in their futures that involves a treasure hunt and a search for the true murderer behind their mysterious deaths. Like baldy Nic Cage in National Treasure meets sexy Miss Marple. But alas, our circumstances are slightly less thrilling.

The main motivation behind this letter, I guess, is my stint at an After School Program. I know what you're thinking: Daddykins, the great and successful mind behind all the wealth and repute of our great familial empire, had the time to volunteer with children? Yes, it is all true, my sweet three-armed prince. Back in the days where I was ruling the college scene, I volunteered with a housing community for the under-privileged to help with their children's homework. We occasionally play games with them, make arts-and-crafts with them, basically give them the attention they're starving for but unable to obtain from their absent parents. 

That was unfair. Not ever parent can be as attentive and wonderful as I. Remember that when I'm too frail to wipe my own ass. 

Being exposed to all these kids really made me stop and think about what I would do if I had my own children. I'm sure all of their parents had good intentions, but the fact is, some of these children are what we in the grown-up community refer to as little dickheads. Not to be confused with actual small penises, those are referred to as 'failures of mankind'. I honestly have no idea what I would do if my child had grown up to become a racist, inattentive, insubordinate chump who drives volunteers crazy. It's too late for a vacuum-cleaning abortion to dismember his little body now! Do I know the necessary steps I have to take to ensure that my own child never becomes someone that a future blogger would write about? If those children are the future of our society, then we are all done for. I don't want to scare you, honeypuff, 'Gelo dear, but it's true.

By the way, remind me to stop calling you 'Gelo, maybe that's why you eat that much jello and grew so humungous. Maybe if you slimmed down daddy would let you go out in public again. 

Well of course there are just perfect angels at the program that makes everything worth it. Children that grew really attached to me, who would always come clamoring up on me and begging me to play basketball with them. Maybe they ask me because I'm so bad at it and they know they would win. But nevertheless, they're sweet delights to be around. The good ones are always younger, I realized. Would they grow up to lose that sweet disposition and instead take on the grouchiness of awkward pre-teens? That would almost be too much for me to bear. 

So I guess all I ask from you, future light-of-my-life, is for your forgiveness. Parents screw up in every way they can, in all manners whether they want to or not, in every position they can think of. Hang on, that's just for screwing. My point is, I would have given my all in raising you, and all I ask is that you not hold it against me. And to not become an asshole. 

Your loving father,

Father

Kids dig me

Jon McLaughlin Concert

Let us just get one thing out of the way, so you can begin feeling surges of jealousy towards me immediately: I was right up against the stage and Jon did the whole concert looking deeply into my eyes. 

Half of that sentence is true. I actually sat on his lap.

So I heard about his tour back when I was still summer-ing in Singapore. I would have gotten tickets immediately, but of course my bank balance was broke and my credit cards were all cancelled. My checking account was still recuperating from the huge hit it took from the Vegas trip to see Celine. The first thing I bought with my credit card, as soon as I got them reinstated back in Madison, was a ticket to Jon's concert. 

It took place at the Majestic Theater, a really cozy, almost cabaret-esq hall with a moshpit before the stage and tables further back. The environment was really laid back, people were just chilling out, having a beer. Completely unlike any concert I've been to, where it's just overwhelmingly productions with totally focused, zealous fans. Being one of the first to arrive (I don't fuck around when it comes to Jon), I planted myself right by the stage. That walk to the stage was almost dreamlike. You know how in your dreams, everything around you sort of goes fuzzy, and you don't seem aware of what you're doing but you're just kinda floating to your destination? It was just like that. It's almost like my mind still isn't able to process the fact that I'm gonna be that close to Jon McLaughlin. 

He was everything I expected him to be, and then some. Watching him play the piano, with devastatingly quick and powerful bashes on the keys, was like being in the presence of a god. Hearing the songs I've been listening to for years brought to life not 3 feet in front of me by this prodigal genius was just wild. Most of the people there, I know, were there to see the next act, Stephen Kellogg, but I didn't care. I was totally in the zone, mouthing every lyric, grooving and jamming to the lyrics of my star. I drank in as much detail as I could, from the way he grimaces at the piano as if afraid of the keys he were pounding on, to the drops of sweat dripping onto his mic. I was in heaven. 

Some girls shouted "'Human! Play 'Human'!", and he thought about it for a while, and actually did it. I wish they had suggested 'So Close' or 'Beautiful Disaster' instead, and I totally would have made a suggestion but I was alone and mortified that he might actually notice me. 

When the Jon's segment was over, his bassist handed me the setlist they were using on stage. He probably saw how I was the most obvious fan in that section and went, 'Hey you want this?" Hell yeah I want it. 

The only thing that could have made that day even more perfect was if Damian was here. Concerts are infinitely more enjoyable when there's someone that you know would love it as much as you would, someone who's been listening and fanboying that music for as long as you have. Another reason why we should all just move to the US - to watch as many concerts as we can. 



And the setlist personally handed to me by the bassist: 

Berry'gasms

The first order of business is to dig out the insides of some strawberries with a small knife. I have always found this extremely therapeutic, for whatever reason. Maneuvering small knives and chanting out the names of the strawberries (that's right I name them before I gut them) gives me a lot of inner peace.

The next thing you'll wanna do is to fill a piping bag (or a ziplock back with a small hole cut out of a corner) with cheesecake filling and squeeze it into the holes you have just lovingly carved out. 

I like to then sprinkle graham crackers all over a square baking tray and arranging my stuffed strawberries in a 5x5 orientation. Any extras will be mercilessly eaten.

The delicate process of indiscriminately squirting chocolate sauce all over them comes next. Congratulations, you have just created something too beautiful to be eaten. Now step away from the calories and admire from afar, fat ass.

Innovation

My mother has a great mind for new inventions. One time she said to me, someone should invent a device that can shrink people to tiny, tiny objects. Then my dad can be shrunk and put in my pocket, and I can bring him to school with me and he would answer all my test questions and I wouldn't have to fail every single fucking test. Yup, my wonderful and disturbed mother. 

I do love those inventions that are so genius in their simplicity, or sometimes idiotically awesome. Common household items that are utilized in ways even better than its original function, and I am not just talking about carrot-dildos. The following details products I would love to have around the house.

 

Going down blind is a problem we have all faced. You desperately needed to please your partner's special place in that titillating way only a wriggling tongue can, but ended up randomly poking their belly button because you can't see a thing under the covers. Fear no more: The Oral Sex Light makes sure every none of your slurps and licks are wasted on non-erogenous zones. Guaranteed to spice up any dwindling sex-life. Also, if you get bored you could always do a sudoku puzzle down there and they'd never know.

 

If you've ever seen an adorable baby shuffling around on its short stubby legs, I know what must have crossed your mind - all that good effort spent on the floor and nothing is getting any cleaner! Why not stick the bottom of a mop on our darling little Ben here and let the fruit of our loins do some dusting for once? 

 

I don't know about you, but there were dark moments I faced with a runny nose, and I thought, 'I wish a toilet roll was on my head this very instant!" You just reach up and pull down some toilet paper, blow your nose, and keep on walking. Haters gonna hate.

 

The only bad thing about this invention is that the woman seems to be unable to walk forward. And the fact that neither of them seems to be looking at their 'sweat-heart'. Other than that, perfect invention. I can't wait to get it in hot-pink and wear it with my imaginary lover.

 

This is for anyone out there who have always wanted to point a gun at their heads and pull the trigger for a glamorous blow dry. The gun-shaped-blowdryer should be combined with the game of Russian Roulette for a thrilling, all rounded hair drying experience. One out of six chambers would contain a real bullet. So every time you blow-dry, there's a whopping 5/6 chance you'll end up with a gorgeous to-die-for blowout!

 

Isn't it just awful when you have noodle soup during a date, and the soup sauce just indiscriminately spills all over your face and body, as if that prick of a soup wanted you to not get laid or something? Well carry these handsome face guards out to a fancy restaurant - one for you and one for your lovely date - and you'll be guaranteed a clean, soup-free body. Oh and lots and lots of sex, for sure. That thing's hawt. Just look at that sexy sunflower enjoying her sexy noodles if you don't believe me.

I'm In No Rush

"I didn't find the perfect moment. Because I think that today was about just having today. And I think that we are one of those couples with a long story, when people ask how we found each other. I, will see her, every now and then, and, maybe one year she'll be with somebody and the next year I'll be with somebody. And it's going to take a long time ...  and then it's perfect. I'm in no rush." 

- Michael Scott (The Office)

Ticket

I found the tickets
Deathly Hallows part two
You didn't let me throw it away

I found the tickets
In my back jean pockets
Where your hand used to fit

I found the tickets
It made me smile
I kept it in a keepsake box

10 Questions

If money were no object, what kind of house would you get? 

My main issue with houses (as opposed to high-rise apartments) is that your home is right there on the ground, easy picking for anything that wants to break in. Burglar, rapist, bear, bear-rapist ... You name it. I would never feel secure living like that, knowing that I'm sleeping on the same level ground as the hobos down the street. You never know what infectious, poor-people-diseases can be transmitted simply by sleeping on their level. 

Perhaps I'd only feel comfortable in a house that has a moat, so castles are my safest bet.

What's the strangest thing you've seen? 

A hobo-family reunion (featuring terrifyingly-pink-haired men and women embracing and rejoicing about finally seeing each other again. Please, you're homeless, as if you have somewhere to be) in a Jack-in-the-Box, L.A. Actually the entire city of L.A. is pretty fucking weird. 

What's the best restaurant you've been to? 

I don't know about 'best' in terms of food, but one of my favorite is Marche, on top of Vivocity. It's more of the memories there that make it ... memorable. Sitting by the foam-rock cliffs with Damian and plotting ways to get the best value for the variety of food we sample would always be one of my most treasured cranial possessions. 

In terms of good food, the first thing that comes to mind is that little French place at Bukit Timah called La Petite Cuisine. Duck that's so tender and juicy that it simply melts into a puddle of sweet, awesome duckiness as it comes into contact with one's tongue. They have an actual French chef that sprouts random, sporadic French phrases at people (mostly for self entertainment). 

Where is the most exotic place you’ve ever been?

Hiking up a volcano in Hawaii to see lava spewing into the ocean. One of my favorite places in the world, perhaps because it was one of the only times I had a vacation just with my dad. 

What's the biggest event, by number of people, that you have seen in person?

Definitely one of the football games in Wisconsin. Randall Stadium comfortably seats over 80,000 spectators, and dancing and jumping along with the cardinal-and-white crowd is hands-down the biggest-scale event I've ever been to. I'm obviously not a football fan, nor ever will I be, but I'll take any reason to verbally abuse the opposing team ('fuck you, eat shit!') with 80,000 people.

What's the dumbest thing you've ever seen someone do?

See someone attempt to sing Mariah Carey's "Hero" at a school contest in hopes of winning money for that shiteous job. Oh wait, that was me. 

What's the single most expensive item you have ever bought?

An iPod Touch for S$400, with money I don't have. But it eventually led to meeting Aaron, so it reinforces in my mind the potential good that can come out of running yourself into debt.

What's the worst tasting thing you've ever eaten?

The thing that immediately comes to mind is the pasta Damian and I had while we were rushing to see Lea Salonga in Rodger and Hammerstein's Cinderella. It used to be at Raffles Link, but since then closed down, probably cause of the rancid toxic waste they serve to the customers.

What is the most vivid/realistic dream you've ever had?

The dream that stayed with me the longest is the one where I met Jesse McCartney on a pirate ship, back when he was still blond. 

If you could eradicate one thing in the world, what would it be?

All porn music.

Because I Really Need To Be Blonder

Notes on October

October brings about a refreshing change in the weather. The gorgeous but short-lived autumn is just about beginning, and the grounds are already lightly dusted with golden leaves. I love it when the leaves hang precariously on its branches and they all fall down together when a strong gust of wind blows by. Perfect time to pretend your life is a music video. The fifth week of school has unceremoniously and unbecomingly thrown itself upon us. Gone are the days where I can sit before a computer and watch True Blood for 5 hours. I still do it, of course, but now I have to consciously push away that little nagging voice in the back of my mind that specializes in guilt-tripping me.

Living directly on State Street is wonderful. I have the view of the lake to the left of my window, while State is directly beneath me, on the right. Cracking open the soundproof windows lets in the delightful shrieks of squabbling drunk couples, and I often let the sound of dysfunctional romance cradle me to sleep. Urban Outfitters, my main supplier of textile addiction, is directly beneath my building. Just living above all those beautiful clothes makes me feel prettier. If I can't afford it, I can at least absorb its soft fabric-ky spirit as it wafts upstairs. 

Romanticize snow however much you want, I am not falling for it. People who adore snow are people who have never spent a winter in the Midwest. I most certainly do not look forward to the deathly slippery ice that solidifies on the pavements, nor the pelting of ice pellets on my face. Memories of last year's many blizzards maintain frozen in the deep chasms of my fearful mind. Running (and slipping) home in 4-foot-deep snow in the dead of night while the icy wind rips your soul apart is a must-try for faker-snow-enthusiasts. We'll see how much you love snow when it's fucking you up the ass with a 14-inch strap-on. Some make wishes when they see the first snowflake of the season; I pray that it's a particularly large dandruff drifting off someone's head. And don't give me that bullshit about how it gives you a chance to layer up on clothes. You dress up in fall for style, you dress up in winter to avoid death. Big, big difference.

I finally managed to get a hold of The Little Prince. It's a book I've always wanted to read, and have been reading excerpts of it since young, but have somehow never read it in its entirety. I bought a hardcover copy off of Amazon, and devoured it in one sitting. Ever since I got a Kindle, this is one of the first instances where I actually bought a book instead of downloading it. The thing that makes The Little Prince so special is its many illustrations, which would completely be lost in a Kindle. It's intended as a children's book, sure, but there were so many allusions to the grown-up society that it's clear that this book is more of a satire of adult behavior. Through the innocent yet deeply mature eyes of the little prince, we explore the ridiculous nature of grown-up behavior. Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but the author's description of how he cradled the soft, fragile, beautiful, sparkly, golden twink borders of pedophiliac. Tell me I'm not the only one who saw that. 

To the pagans, October symbolizes the last month of a year, with the 31st, Samhain, heralded as the Celtic new year. It is the celebration of darkness, where the loved ones who have departed are remembered and honored. Divination for the coming year is naturally done on that day, for when else would you read your tarot cards other than the day where the boundaries between the spirit and living world dissolves? Common sense, I say. To the layman American, whose Christian ancestors interpreted Samhain as Halloween, that would be they day they dress up to 'blend in' with the spirits. The frat would be having our annual pumpkin-carving party, and for my costume this year I intend to recreate the Warblers' uniform from Glee. I considered being Luke Skywalker, but decided I rather spend money on something I can wear for the rest of the year.

Besides, I dreamt that I was rowing a boat with Darren Criss so it has gotta be a sign, right?