Welcome to the Blogs section. Below is a list of Blogs posted by members. A Blog is a journal you may enter about your life, thoughts, interesting experiences, or lessons you've learned. Post an opinion, impart words of wisdom, or talk about something interesting in your day. Update your blog on a regular basis, or just whenever you have something to say. Creating a blog is a good way to share something of yourself with others. Reading blogs is a good way to learn more about others. Click here to post a blog.
not asia a man
china, midlle east, indonesia, srilangka,india, bangkok.
Quote
One day Love asked friendship "Y R U in the world when i am here?
Friendshipsmiled and said "to spread smiles where u leave tears"
Friendshipsmiled and said "to spread smiles where u leave tears"
hi
what is ur motive to join this site.what is ur hobby.do u like to make friends of asia
Get Real
some of these blogs are so boring full of intellectual nonsense sometimes you gotta break away from all this head stuff and just shoot from your guts. Dont you think that while we are all naval gazing the world is just passing us by . I know that there is a live and let live kinda thing but what stops us from being real. This kinda foum gives us that freedom so why do we fill it with so much bullshit Lets be the people we are!!!
A super serious, fantastical Blog from a station o
I am of course, bored witless and after many hours of looking up funny videos, scrolling through profiles and in the interim bottle feeding a beastly hungry kitten, I have turned to blogging.
My mind seems to be teeming with activity. Static brained, loony tune alert.
There is however, a common denominator in this tyrannical traffic of thought.
I am starting to feel slightly uneasy in my own skin. Something of which, I am not too familiar with.
It doesn’t have to do with any other one person, or even a mass of people.
Now if you’re thinking “What a self indulgent whiny, whorey chestnut…” then I really don’t blame you. I am generally one of those annoying hyper active people, that you assume to be either on Uppers or just not all there.
Since I was around 4, when God didn’t answer my prayers by presenting a horse outside my bedroom window, I began philosophising. Sitting on a swing made of twisted bailer twine, legs crossed, scraped knees, an odd home haircut courtesy of myself, 4 year old Hessy began to break the world down. There were good people. There were bad. Somewhere in the middle, there were good people who sometimes did bad things. The further end of the spectrum were bad people who never wanted to do good. My summation was that I was always going to be a good person. In my over active mind, I conjured a life of school, being grown up, falling in love with a very handsome man resembling my Ken Doll. Although he’d be a fairly useless man if he had the same anatomy or rather lack of it as a Ken Doll. But 4 year old Hessy was not wise in the true way of the world, or was she aware that Ken was the oddest type of trans-something ever mass produced as a children’s toy. One does ponder what Barbie had seen in him all down through the years.
All was good and going well until the night of my 15th birthday. It was this very beautiful August evening, that I first encountered the only thing to remain constant in my life to this day. Heineken. Sacred, blessed Heineken. What a sucky calf I was! 6 bottles, in less than an hour. I could still walk and talk, but the feeling was so liberating. I had no worries, no angst, just sheer and utter confidence and a warmth in my cheeks like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I didn’t puke, I never do. I think I purge myself when my head gets filled up and I have to write something, anything, even if it’s just random sentence after sentence (don’t you dare say, like now). It was this very night, that a long haired, guitar playing, joint smoking adolescent had his wicked way with me. It was very consensual, I was drunk and fearless.
It lasted exactly the length of the song that was playing, Coldplay’s yellow. It was unpleasant and I passed out asleep, a drunken, dead slumber.
I don’t think 4 year old Hessy would have foreseen such a torrid affair.
That relationship ended, then two more L.T.R's ensued. I had kissed others, lied, told selective, self-serving truths. I was too young, obviously but although a lot was done to me, I’d be untrue to the Hessy I am today to say that I was a victim. I was not, everything I did, I got back three fold. Unfortunately, I’ve found that I seem to be keep Karma as my constant bedfellow.
So then, I made a promise that I would always be honest and tell the truth and that I would be myself for myself and that this is what good people do. The good people long ago categorized by an almost mullet headed little girl.
It’s what I have been doing for the past year. But lately, I seem to think that being me isn’t appealing to others. I am sociable, smart, affectionate, loud and proud. None of these things are contrived, I am not pretentious. I’ll be the first to admit, I am incredibly un-ambitious and the most unrealistic realist there ever was. Oxymoron? I doth define it.
My mind seems to be teeming with activity. Static brained, loony tune alert.
There is however, a common denominator in this tyrannical traffic of thought.
I am starting to feel slightly uneasy in my own skin. Something of which, I am not too familiar with.
It doesn’t have to do with any other one person, or even a mass of people.
Now if you’re thinking “What a self indulgent whiny, whorey chestnut…” then I really don’t blame you. I am generally one of those annoying hyper active people, that you assume to be either on Uppers or just not all there.
Since I was around 4, when God didn’t answer my prayers by presenting a horse outside my bedroom window, I began philosophising. Sitting on a swing made of twisted bailer twine, legs crossed, scraped knees, an odd home haircut courtesy of myself, 4 year old Hessy began to break the world down. There were good people. There were bad. Somewhere in the middle, there were good people who sometimes did bad things. The further end of the spectrum were bad people who never wanted to do good. My summation was that I was always going to be a good person. In my over active mind, I conjured a life of school, being grown up, falling in love with a very handsome man resembling my Ken Doll. Although he’d be a fairly useless man if he had the same anatomy or rather lack of it as a Ken Doll. But 4 year old Hessy was not wise in the true way of the world, or was she aware that Ken was the oddest type of trans-something ever mass produced as a children’s toy. One does ponder what Barbie had seen in him all down through the years.
All was good and going well until the night of my 15th birthday. It was this very beautiful August evening, that I first encountered the only thing to remain constant in my life to this day. Heineken. Sacred, blessed Heineken. What a sucky calf I was! 6 bottles, in less than an hour. I could still walk and talk, but the feeling was so liberating. I had no worries, no angst, just sheer and utter confidence and a warmth in my cheeks like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I didn’t puke, I never do. I think I purge myself when my head gets filled up and I have to write something, anything, even if it’s just random sentence after sentence (don’t you dare say, like now). It was this very night, that a long haired, guitar playing, joint smoking adolescent had his wicked way with me. It was very consensual, I was drunk and fearless.
It lasted exactly the length of the song that was playing, Coldplay’s yellow. It was unpleasant and I passed out asleep, a drunken, dead slumber.
I don’t think 4 year old Hessy would have foreseen such a torrid affair.
That relationship ended, then two more L.T.R's ensued. I had kissed others, lied, told selective, self-serving truths. I was too young, obviously but although a lot was done to me, I’d be untrue to the Hessy I am today to say that I was a victim. I was not, everything I did, I got back three fold. Unfortunately, I’ve found that I seem to be keep Karma as my constant bedfellow.
So then, I made a promise that I would always be honest and tell the truth and that I would be myself for myself and that this is what good people do. The good people long ago categorized by an almost mullet headed little girl.
It’s what I have been doing for the past year. But lately, I seem to think that being me isn’t appealing to others. I am sociable, smart, affectionate, loud and proud. None of these things are contrived, I am not pretentious. I’ll be the first to admit, I am incredibly un-ambitious and the most unrealistic realist there ever was. Oxymoron? I doth define it.
SCARS OF LIFE
SCARS OF LIFE
Some years ago,
on a hot summer day
in South Florida ,
a little boy decided to go
for a swim in the old swimming hole behind his house.
In a hurry to dive into
the cool water,
he ran out the back door, leaving behind shoes, socks, and shirt as he went.
He flew into the water,
not realizing that as he swam toward the middle of the lake, an alligator was swimming toward the shore.
His father, working in the yard, saw the two as they got closer and closer together.
In utter fear,
he ran toward the water,
yelling to his son as loudly
as he could.
Hearing his voice,
the little boy became alarmed and made a U-turn
to swim to his father.
It was too late.
Just as he reached his father, the alligator reached him.
From the dock,
the father grabbed his little boy by the arms
just as the alligator
snatched his legs..
That began an incredible
tug-of-war between the two. The alligator was much stronger than the father,
but the father was much
too passionate to let go.
A farmer happened to drive by, heard his screams,
raced from his truck,
took aim and shot the alligator.
Remarkably, after weeks and weeks in the hospital,
the little boy survived.
His legs were extremely scarred by the vicious attack
of the animal.
And, on his arms,
were deep scratches
where his father's fingernails dug into his flesh in his effort
to hang on to the son he loved.
The newspaper reporter
who interviewed the boy
after the trauma,
asked if he would
show him his scars.
The boy lifted his pant legs. And then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter,
'But look at my arms.
I have great scars
on my arms, too.
I have them because
my Dad wouldn't let go.'
You and I can identify
with that little boy.
We have scars, too.
No, not from an alligator,
but the scars of a painful past. Some of those scars
are unsightly and have
caused us deep regret.
But, some wounds,
my friend,
are because God has refused
to let go.
In the midst of your struggle, He's been there
holding on to you..
The Scripture teaches that
God loves you.
You are a child of God.
He wants to protect you
and
provide for you in every way. But sometimes we foolishly wade into dangerous situations, not knowing what lies ahead.. The swimming hole of life
is filled with peril -
and we forget
that the enemy is waiting
to attack.
That's when the tug-of-war begins - and if you have
the scars of His love
on your arms,
be very, very grateful.
He did not and will not ever let you go.
Please pass this on
to those you love..
God has blessed you,
so that you
can be
a blessing to others.
You just never know
where
a person is in his/her life
and
what they are going through. Never judge another
person's scars,
because you don't know
how they got them.
Also,
it is so important that
we are not selfish,
to receive the blessings
of these messages,
without forwarding them
to someone else.
Right now,
someone needs to know that God loves them,
and you love them, too -
enough to not let them go .
Always
Tell Your Family
And Friends
How Much
You Love Them!!!
Some years ago,
on a hot summer day
in South Florida ,
a little boy decided to go
for a swim in the old swimming hole behind his house.
In a hurry to dive into
the cool water,
he ran out the back door, leaving behind shoes, socks, and shirt as he went.
He flew into the water,
not realizing that as he swam toward the middle of the lake, an alligator was swimming toward the shore.
His father, working in the yard, saw the two as they got closer and closer together.
In utter fear,
he ran toward the water,
yelling to his son as loudly
as he could.
Hearing his voice,
the little boy became alarmed and made a U-turn
to swim to his father.
It was too late.
Just as he reached his father, the alligator reached him.
From the dock,
the father grabbed his little boy by the arms
just as the alligator
snatched his legs..
That began an incredible
tug-of-war between the two. The alligator was much stronger than the father,
but the father was much
too passionate to let go.
A farmer happened to drive by, heard his screams,
raced from his truck,
took aim and shot the alligator.
Remarkably, after weeks and weeks in the hospital,
the little boy survived.
His legs were extremely scarred by the vicious attack
of the animal.
And, on his arms,
were deep scratches
where his father's fingernails dug into his flesh in his effort
to hang on to the son he loved.
The newspaper reporter
who interviewed the boy
after the trauma,
asked if he would
show him his scars.
The boy lifted his pant legs. And then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter,
'But look at my arms.
I have great scars
on my arms, too.
I have them because
my Dad wouldn't let go.'
You and I can identify
with that little boy.
We have scars, too.
No, not from an alligator,
but the scars of a painful past. Some of those scars
are unsightly and have
caused us deep regret.
But, some wounds,
my friend,
are because God has refused
to let go.
In the midst of your struggle, He's been there
holding on to you..
The Scripture teaches that
God loves you.
You are a child of God.
He wants to protect you
and
provide for you in every way. But sometimes we foolishly wade into dangerous situations, not knowing what lies ahead.. The swimming hole of life
is filled with peril -
and we forget
that the enemy is waiting
to attack.
That's when the tug-of-war begins - and if you have
the scars of His love
on your arms,
be very, very grateful.
He did not and will not ever let you go.
Please pass this on
to those you love..
God has blessed you,
so that you
can be
a blessing to others.
You just never know
where
a person is in his/her life
and
what they are going through. Never judge another
person's scars,
because you don't know
how they got them.
Also,
it is so important that
we are not selfish,
to receive the blessings
of these messages,
without forwarding them
to someone else.
Right now,
someone needs to know that God loves them,
and you love them, too -
enough to not let them go .
Always
Tell Your Family
And Friends
How Much
You Love Them!!!
Quilt of Holes
As I faced my Maker at the last judgment, I knelt before the Lord
along with all the other souls.
Before each of us laid our lives like the squares of a quilt in many piles; an angel sat before each of us sewing our quilt squares together into a tapestry that is our life.
But as my angel took each piece of cloth off the pile, I noticed how ragged and empty each of my squares was. They were filled with giant holes. Each square was labeled with a part of my life that had been difficult, the challenges and temptations I was faced with in every day life. I saw hardships that I endured, which were the largest holes of all.
I glanced around me. Nobody else had such squares. Other than a tiny hole here and there, the other tapestries were filled with rich color and the bright hues of worldly fortune. I gazed upon my own life and was disheartened.My angel was sewing the ragged pieces of cloth together, threadbare and empty, like binding air.
Finally the time came when each life was to be displayed, held up to the light, the scrutiny of truth. The others rose; each in turn, holding up their tapestries. So filled their lives had been
My angel looked upon me, and nodded for me to rise.
My gaze dropped to the ground in shame. I hadn't had all the earthly fortunes. I had love in my life, and laughter. But there had also been trials of illness, and wealth, and false accusations that took from me my world, as I knew it. I had to start over many times. I often struggled with the temptation to quit, only to somehow muster the strength to pick up and begin again. I spent many nights on my knees in prayer, asking for help and guidance in my life. I had often been held up to ridicule, which I endured painfully, each time offering it up to the Father in hopes that I would not melt within my skin beneath the judgmental gaze of those who unfairly judged me. And now, I had to face the truth. My life was what it was, and I had to accept it for what it was.
I rose and slowly lifted the combined squares of my life to the light. An awe-filled gasp filled the air. I gazed around at the others who stared at me with wide eyes.
Then, I looked upon the tapestry before me. Light flooded the many holes, creating an image, the face of Christ. Then our Lord stood before me, with warmth and love in His eyes. He said, 'Every time you gave over your life to Me, it became My life, My hardships, and My struggles.
Each point of light in your life is when you stepped aside and let Me shine through, until there was more of Me than there was of you.'
May all our quilts be threadbare and worn, allowing Christ to shine through!
God determines who walks into your life...it's up to you to decide who you let walk away, who you let stay, and who you refuse to let go.
along with all the other souls.
Before each of us laid our lives like the squares of a quilt in many piles; an angel sat before each of us sewing our quilt squares together into a tapestry that is our life.
But as my angel took each piece of cloth off the pile, I noticed how ragged and empty each of my squares was. They were filled with giant holes. Each square was labeled with a part of my life that had been difficult, the challenges and temptations I was faced with in every day life. I saw hardships that I endured, which were the largest holes of all.
I glanced around me. Nobody else had such squares. Other than a tiny hole here and there, the other tapestries were filled with rich color and the bright hues of worldly fortune. I gazed upon my own life and was disheartened.My angel was sewing the ragged pieces of cloth together, threadbare and empty, like binding air.
Finally the time came when each life was to be displayed, held up to the light, the scrutiny of truth. The others rose; each in turn, holding up their tapestries. So filled their lives had been
My angel looked upon me, and nodded for me to rise.
My gaze dropped to the ground in shame. I hadn't had all the earthly fortunes. I had love in my life, and laughter. But there had also been trials of illness, and wealth, and false accusations that took from me my world, as I knew it. I had to start over many times. I often struggled with the temptation to quit, only to somehow muster the strength to pick up and begin again. I spent many nights on my knees in prayer, asking for help and guidance in my life. I had often been held up to ridicule, which I endured painfully, each time offering it up to the Father in hopes that I would not melt within my skin beneath the judgmental gaze of those who unfairly judged me. And now, I had to face the truth. My life was what it was, and I had to accept it for what it was.
I rose and slowly lifted the combined squares of my life to the light. An awe-filled gasp filled the air. I gazed around at the others who stared at me with wide eyes.
Then, I looked upon the tapestry before me. Light flooded the many holes, creating an image, the face of Christ. Then our Lord stood before me, with warmth and love in His eyes. He said, 'Every time you gave over your life to Me, it became My life, My hardships, and My struggles.
Each point of light in your life is when you stepped aside and let Me shine through, until there was more of Me than there was of you.'
May all our quilts be threadbare and worn, allowing Christ to shine through!
God determines who walks into your life...it's up to you to decide who you let walk away, who you let stay, and who you refuse to let go.
Anyone seen Vintriliqist Jeff Dunham IN person?
Hi Everyone : ) Has anyone seen the vintriliqist / comdian Jeff Dunham inperson at some of his Live shows?. What is your thoughts on him?.. Did you buy any soveniers?.. refreshments what were they?.. whom did you go with and what was the price of the tickets?.. i personally went on March 27 , 2009 ( Saturday) it was a blast i have bouth the tickets for my sister, her husband and her son, Unfortunatly.. we didnt have ground level seats that were on floor level but well above sky level But he is Verry funny and Highly Reccomened !!.. a Must see show !!
hopes and wishes
im hoping and wishing and praying for a spanish woman 60 to 70 years old in providence pawtucket or central falls not looking for a relationship or and not looking to be just friends either its the other way around any woman fitting this age description wanna hook up with a 25 year old white male in warwick rhode island
Harald
Barfuß oder Lackschuh,
alles oder nichts?
Leg ich mir nen Frack zu,
oder komm ich vor Gericht?
Barfuß oder Lackschuh,
so geht es bei mir zu!
Nie die goldene Mitte,
immer volles Risiko!
alles oder nichts?
Leg ich mir nen Frack zu,
oder komm ich vor Gericht?
Barfuß oder Lackschuh,
so geht es bei mir zu!
Nie die goldene Mitte,
immer volles Risiko!
A Blog is a journal you may enter about your life, your thoughts, interesting experiences, or lessons you have learned. It's your own page on Connecting Singles that you can update on a regular basis, or just whenever you have something to say. You can write about an opinion, impart words of wisdom, or talk about something interesting in your day. Creating a blog is a good way to share something of yourself with Connecting Singles members. Reading blogs is a good way to learn more about members you have met here. Please be sure to read the blog rules before posting.
Would YOU like to post a blog on Connecting Singles? Have you written blogs that you'd like to share with other members? Posting your blogs shows your skill and creativity and helps members get to know you better. Your blog will appear on the Connecting Singles Blogs page and also in a link on your profile page. Click here to post a blog »