This glorious earth

I just downloaded Google Earth.

I think I'm going to go crazy playing with it for the next few days. I can even find my home on it! (Is that good or bad?) SMK USJ 4! MPSJ! Taipan! Hanson's - wait, I meant Yuvha's - house on it too!

Chinese New Year this year came and went so fast that before I was settled in my grandparents' house - reading past years' Readers Digests, heh - I'm back here before the comp as usual, blogging about stuff some people would roll their eyes over. Aiyoh Yeen Lynn, now only getting into Google Earth! What zaman ah?

All right, Chinese horoscopes are - as usual - being disputed again this year. Those Feng Shui masters are really making money disagreeing about whether the Snake is going to be in danger of obesity caused by too much McDonald's or whether the Dragon is going to end up rich because of money falling from a leprechaun-made rainbow over an undisclosed area of Subang Jaya. Ha. Apparently this guy in Malacca has the most accurate predictions, and my grandmother gets the whole family's yearly forecast from the guy every year. (Was that last part redundant? I'm so sleeeeee-peeeeee...) So anyway. Not thinking too much about it. So far, my forecasts range from pretty good to depressingly worrying. Marketing fetishists. Think you're so smart izit, telling me I might be dying this year? Choy!

According to some site, my day is Red Dragon, my month the Green Monkey and my year the White Horse. Wait...what has ceramic tiles have to do with the year I was born? Never mind that.

Like someone said once: Take advice with a pinch of salt. I think I need more than pinches to stop me from going insane over these forecasts though.

And on to one of my favourite topics: Men!

Men by Maya Angelou

When I was young, I used to
Watch behind the curtains
As men walked up and down the street. Wino men, old men.
Young men sharp as mustard.
See them. Men are always
Going somewhere.
They knew I was there. Fifteen
Years old and starving for them.
Under my window, they would pauses,
Their shoulders high like the
Breasts of a young girl,
Jacket tails slapping over
Those behinds,
Men.

One day they hold you in the
Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you
Were the last raw egg in the world. Then
They tighten up. Just a little. The
First squeeze is nice. A quick hug.
Soft into your defenselessness. A little
More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a
Smile that slides around the fear. When the
Air disappears,
Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,
Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered.
It is your juice
That runs down their legs. Staining their shoes.
When the earth rights itself again,
And taste tries to return to the tongue,
Your body has slammed shut. Forever.
No keys exist.

Then the window draws full upon
Your mind. There, just beyond
The sway of curtains, men walk.
Knowing something.
Going someplace.
But this time, I will simply
Stand and watch.

Maybe.

Read her poem Phenomenal Women here.




Jude Law. Hehehe :P