Saturday, January 08, 2005
Firm Says It Collected Brains Ethically
BETHESDA, Md. - A company that collects brains for medical research says it did nothing wrong in paying a six-figure sum to a onetime Maine state employee who supplied dozens of specimens.
But at least one couple has sued and authorities have launched an investigation.
"The institute firmly believes that it's always acted ethically and in good faith in all instances," lawyer Byrne Decker, who represents the Stanley Medical Research Institute, told The (Baltimore) Sun in a Friday story.
Federal law prohibits selling human bodies or organs, but fees often are paid for costs incurred by funeral homes and coroners who provide specimens.
The institute, in Bethesda, paid Matthew Cyr about $150,000 between 1999 and 2003 when he supplied 99 brains for the institute. At the time, Cyr worked as a funeral home inspector and had a contract to handle after-hours calls for the medical examiner's office.
Officials launched an investigation after Lorraine and Frank Gagnon brought a lawsuit last April alleging that the entire brain of their 28-year-old son, A.J., was taken when he died in April 2003 of a drug overdose. Lorraine Gagnon said she had consented only to the removal of a small sample of brain tissue.
The Maine Sunday Telegram of Portland has since reported that 31 of the 99 cases in which brains were provided lacked written consent forms to prove that family members authorized the donations.
Cyr, 35, who has left his funeral home inspector job and now works as a police officer in Bucksport, Maine, has declined to comment on his work.
Maine officials have cited privacy rights and state law in not identifying people whose brains were sent to the Maryland institute.
The Gagnons agreed this week to settle their lawsuit against the institute. Lawyers have identified two other families who plan to file similar lawsuits.
The Stanley Institute says it has the world's largest collection of brain tissue from people with schizophrenia and manic depressive illnesses.
Its brain bank has distributed specimens free to more than 60 research laboratories worldwide.
[yahoo]
But at least one couple has sued and authorities have launched an investigation.
"The institute firmly believes that it's always acted ethically and in good faith in all instances," lawyer Byrne Decker, who represents the Stanley Medical Research Institute, told The (Baltimore) Sun in a Friday story.
Federal law prohibits selling human bodies or organs, but fees often are paid for costs incurred by funeral homes and coroners who provide specimens.
The institute, in Bethesda, paid Matthew Cyr about $150,000 between 1999 and 2003 when he supplied 99 brains for the institute. At the time, Cyr worked as a funeral home inspector and had a contract to handle after-hours calls for the medical examiner's office.
Officials launched an investigation after Lorraine and Frank Gagnon brought a lawsuit last April alleging that the entire brain of their 28-year-old son, A.J., was taken when he died in April 2003 of a drug overdose. Lorraine Gagnon said she had consented only to the removal of a small sample of brain tissue.
The Maine Sunday Telegram of Portland has since reported that 31 of the 99 cases in which brains were provided lacked written consent forms to prove that family members authorized the donations.
Cyr, 35, who has left his funeral home inspector job and now works as a police officer in Bucksport, Maine, has declined to comment on his work.
Maine officials have cited privacy rights and state law in not identifying people whose brains were sent to the Maryland institute.
The Gagnons agreed this week to settle their lawsuit against the institute. Lawyers have identified two other families who plan to file similar lawsuits.
The Stanley Institute says it has the world's largest collection of brain tissue from people with schizophrenia and manic depressive illnesses.
Its brain bank has distributed specimens free to more than 60 research laboratories worldwide.
[yahoo]
Thursday, January 06, 2005
Hayley
Location: San Diego, Cali, United States
This is a what is left over from a stage of my life but now i have to choose between two paths, the one where I move on to bigger and brighter thing or the one where I spiral down......I know all to well which one I shall take
[i shalt evanesce]
this holiday meant so much
i dont know how and where to start. this holiday meant so much, so much happened. my love for you is...i dunno ....on full blast? thanks for everything. been sleeping next to you for the past two weeks, really dont know how i'm gonna fall asleep tonight. and waking up to kiss you and to be in your arms. All these i was treasuring, and i will keep them in my mind during the times i dont see you. I'm only yours baby :)
been with each other for 3 years already. wow. 4 years ago was when i first liked you, at that time, it was so hard to get you. it was more like impossible. it was a dream, and now, look at us. 4 years ago, we just talked online, and we were too shy to even say hi to each other in school. we would sms, and talk online. You go out with other girls, and me going out with other guys, after a big circle, we are together. i love you. it's a gift for us to be together for so long. i will not take anything for granted anymore.
like i said, we aren't even boyfriend and girlfriend anymore, we are companions :) and all those talks we had this holiday, about what will happen if we break up, and aabout us being companions, all those talks, they mean a lot. Thanks for talking. it's nice. i like them cuz they were realistic yet sweet and touching. yes you touched my heart many times this holiday. i feel like i'm the luckiest person on earth. i love you in every way, in every facial expression, ur soul shines through. baby i'll miss you, but it's okay, cuz i'll be strong, and we'll talk on the phone, and we have each other in the heart :)
i love you so much. words cannot express. you are my everything. -98 degree :)
all my life....
[diamondPony]
been with each other for 3 years already. wow. 4 years ago was when i first liked you, at that time, it was so hard to get you. it was more like impossible. it was a dream, and now, look at us. 4 years ago, we just talked online, and we were too shy to even say hi to each other in school. we would sms, and talk online. You go out with other girls, and me going out with other guys, after a big circle, we are together. i love you. it's a gift for us to be together for so long. i will not take anything for granted anymore.
like i said, we aren't even boyfriend and girlfriend anymore, we are companions :) and all those talks we had this holiday, about what will happen if we break up, and aabout us being companions, all those talks, they mean a lot. Thanks for talking. it's nice. i like them cuz they were realistic yet sweet and touching. yes you touched my heart many times this holiday. i feel like i'm the luckiest person on earth. i love you in every way, in every facial expression, ur soul shines through. baby i'll miss you, but it's okay, cuz i'll be strong, and we'll talk on the phone, and we have each other in the heart :)
i love you so much. words cannot express. you are my everything. -98 degree :)
all my life....
[diamondPony]
farm life is not glamorous
"A day is a miniature eternity." - Ralph Waldo Emerson
What to cook for dinner. The current book. Your next intelligent verse. Managing the business. New opportunities. Hidden threats. Taxes. Rising grocery prices. Paying the monthly rent. Justice and equity. The apathy of the affluent. The plight of the masses. The duty of the educated. Making your parents proud. Bettering yourself. The achiever younger brother. Great friends. Tomorrow’s To Do List. A fragile ecosystem. The vastness of the universe.
What dominates your thinking? What occupies your mind?
Thursday
The Elements of Style
I admit farm life is not glamorous. But that doesn’t mean power dressing should remain an alien concept to us amoy-lupas.
While we prefer our more utilitarian dress code when doing backbreaking work, we cannot let our high-tech white-collar counterparts monopolize the art.
And maybe, just maybe, it’s the way to bring prestige to the profession.
So tomorrow, I will report to the bukid wearing leather shoes, dark gray pants, white button-down shirt, and a striped power tie. Armed with a blazingly fast laptop, I shall ride gallantly on the back of a carabao.
Or maybe not.
Wednesday
Misfits of Science
Once in a while, I meet with several high school batchmates for drinks and some reminiscing. Ours is a unique friendship forged not just by our advanced learning experience but our having spent early adolescence living in a dormitory as well.
There we were, a bunch of wide-eyed and impressionable promdis, subjected to a government-run human engineering experiment to produce future messiahs of science. Kidnapped from the nurture of our homes, we engaged in an intensive study of ionic and covalent bonds, mono and dicotyledons, and quarks and antiquarks.
What seeded from a common affinity for math and science eventually bloomed to a deeply rooted, though now-distant, kinship. Probably all the more strengthened by our "extracurricular” activities.
Apparently, we took supplementary lessons outside the confines of the classroom’s four walls. I must say, at times, much to the dismay of school administration. For it was their unenviable task of reporting students’ unscholarly explorations to their parents. These ranged from launching flaming projectiles to reckless, but still gentlemanly and not totally unwelcome, raids of the girls’ dorm.
Our exploits naturally extended through college. Later on, perspectives matured as we became more conscious of the bigger world. The sense of duty and responsibility our ever-patient teachers cultivated in our fertile minds finally overtook us. Until finally we have completely outgrown and discarded our youthful indiscretions. Well, hopefully.
It’s sad that life has reserved for us diverging paths. Time, distance, careers, and for some, marriages have prevented us from pursuing common undertakings. Once in a while, we’re overcome by a strong desire to reconnect.
So we meet for drinks and some reminiscing. And always, the same tireless topics and tales: the time I imprisoned Jxxx in his locker when we were roommates, a totally unscientific research on cannibalistic chickens, the discovery of a library book on various techniques integral to the propagation of the species, Cxxxx’s historic initiation to manhood in college, xTxxx’s expertise on the hallucinogenic property of a certain botanical variety, and the most important breakthrough, our übernerd PhD holder finally developing an algorithm to solve one of life’s great mysteries: women. They’re the only compelling reason fourth row kids study higher mathematics.
One could say each had a big part in shaping what we have become. And it has been a privilege to share our lives with the greatest intellects on the planet. Never mind our sometimes disturbing eccentricities.
Our separation left a feeling that something was displaced. Something precious we have lost. Though the vacuum cannot be filled by mini-reunions, in the few times we’re together, we can be young and playful once more.
Sunday
The Pond
I discovered it when I was nine one lazy summer afternoon. The sun was at its most intense, casting harsh rays on pink bougainvilleas. Sheltered under a makeshift cogon roof, several goats were nibbling overripe papayas. There was no wind to dissipate the merciless heat. Everything was at a standstill.
After several failed attempts to make me take a nap, Inang Salud eventually let me play. Not mindful of the unforgiving humidity, I was off on one of my adventures.
At the edge of the farm, just beyond the ancient mangoes, a narrow path led to a break in the thick wall of Japanese bamboos. I’ve always thought that was the limit to Lola’s property.
Curiosity overwhelming caution, I slithered through the gap and gazed upon an abandoned pool. The swelter had evaporated almost all of its water. Encircled by greenery, there was a distinct peace to it. I instantly knew its seclusion would call me back again and again.
When the rains come, that pond becomes a verdant habitat of water lilies and tilapia. A few times, I shared my reverie with a flock of ducks navigating its surface. They weren’t the least bothered by my presence.
If you stay a bit longer, past the setting of the sun and the lengthening of shadows, you’ll see its real magic. When the enclosure has been swallowed by darkness, the calm surface mirrors the heavens and the rustling of bamboo leaves amplifies the tranquility of the place.
Wednesday
Back to the Barrio
Friends were rather surprised at the announcement I chose not to renew my contract at the University. Little did they know they were still in for a shock when I declared my intention to go back to the barrios.
There I was, highly urbanized and comfortably entrenched in the field of science and technology, telling them my life’s passion is really planting kamote and raising poultry.
Well, I expected them to find this drastic shift in career perplexing. People embark on pilgrimages from the provinces to the cities. They leave their ploughs in the drought-assailed bukids for a chance to find financially rewarding work in air-conditioned cubicles. Not the other way around.
My migration in the reverse direction simply defies logic. Or does it?
To me, it makes perfect sense. I am a son of a farmer who comes from a clan of farmers. My mother’s family also owns agricultural land.
If biotechnologists were to map my DNA, they’d undoubtedly find the magsasaka gene. It’s in my nucleus to till the land.
Wednesday
Going Medieval
Evelyn, one of my more militant and, may I add, much sought-after friends, dropped by the apartment one evening. After a rather sluggish day configuring a project’s network system requirements, her visit was definitely a welcome change of pace.
We really don’t share the same philosophies especially when it comes to gender issues. I actually find it difficult to temper my arguments during our classic clashes. I’m quite sure she restrains herself from not pounding my, in her assessment, stubbornly provincial head.
But however fierce our skirmishes, we remain tactful to each other. This is probably the reason we find disagreeing particularly enjoyable. Or maybe it’s just the thrill of the mental activity.
“You’re still living in the Middle Ages,” she accused me once.
I had actually prepared several sheets on the inherent physiological differences in males and females and their effectiveness in their currently defined roles in marriage. My theory was that adhering to the wisdom of the stable traditional family translates to a strong and progressive society. Even the slightest alteration would be catastrophic.
She declined to read, naturally. Just the part on chromosomes and sex-determination in mammals presented a daunting undertaking.
She eventually changed her mind after realizing my contentions were backed by a meticulous study. But only about me having a narrow-minded perspective. She figured it was not merely a default defense of a male perpetuating an inequitable relationship.
As for my “medieval” views… Well, I thought that battle was already won. There was no need to press for an attack on her beliefs, which I knew she would passionately defend.
One thing I learned when dealing with the opposite sex is that even the most ardent of feminists will exude elegant femininity when accorded proper respect and courtesy. Treating them like delicate kalabasa blossoms gets their most charming lady-like qualities to unfurl.
Then again, with the fortress-like stance of some, you need to lay siege.
[barriotech]
What to cook for dinner. The current book. Your next intelligent verse. Managing the business. New opportunities. Hidden threats. Taxes. Rising grocery prices. Paying the monthly rent. Justice and equity. The apathy of the affluent. The plight of the masses. The duty of the educated. Making your parents proud. Bettering yourself. The achiever younger brother. Great friends. Tomorrow’s To Do List. A fragile ecosystem. The vastness of the universe.
What dominates your thinking? What occupies your mind?
Thursday
The Elements of Style
I admit farm life is not glamorous. But that doesn’t mean power dressing should remain an alien concept to us amoy-lupas.
While we prefer our more utilitarian dress code when doing backbreaking work, we cannot let our high-tech white-collar counterparts monopolize the art.
And maybe, just maybe, it’s the way to bring prestige to the profession.
So tomorrow, I will report to the bukid wearing leather shoes, dark gray pants, white button-down shirt, and a striped power tie. Armed with a blazingly fast laptop, I shall ride gallantly on the back of a carabao.
Or maybe not.
Wednesday
Misfits of Science
Once in a while, I meet with several high school batchmates for drinks and some reminiscing. Ours is a unique friendship forged not just by our advanced learning experience but our having spent early adolescence living in a dormitory as well.
There we were, a bunch of wide-eyed and impressionable promdis, subjected to a government-run human engineering experiment to produce future messiahs of science. Kidnapped from the nurture of our homes, we engaged in an intensive study of ionic and covalent bonds, mono and dicotyledons, and quarks and antiquarks.
What seeded from a common affinity for math and science eventually bloomed to a deeply rooted, though now-distant, kinship. Probably all the more strengthened by our "extracurricular” activities.
Apparently, we took supplementary lessons outside the confines of the classroom’s four walls. I must say, at times, much to the dismay of school administration. For it was their unenviable task of reporting students’ unscholarly explorations to their parents. These ranged from launching flaming projectiles to reckless, but still gentlemanly and not totally unwelcome, raids of the girls’ dorm.
Our exploits naturally extended through college. Later on, perspectives matured as we became more conscious of the bigger world. The sense of duty and responsibility our ever-patient teachers cultivated in our fertile minds finally overtook us. Until finally we have completely outgrown and discarded our youthful indiscretions. Well, hopefully.
It’s sad that life has reserved for us diverging paths. Time, distance, careers, and for some, marriages have prevented us from pursuing common undertakings. Once in a while, we’re overcome by a strong desire to reconnect.
So we meet for drinks and some reminiscing. And always, the same tireless topics and tales: the time I imprisoned Jxxx in his locker when we were roommates, a totally unscientific research on cannibalistic chickens, the discovery of a library book on various techniques integral to the propagation of the species, Cxxxx’s historic initiation to manhood in college, xTxxx’s expertise on the hallucinogenic property of a certain botanical variety, and the most important breakthrough, our übernerd PhD holder finally developing an algorithm to solve one of life’s great mysteries: women. They’re the only compelling reason fourth row kids study higher mathematics.
One could say each had a big part in shaping what we have become. And it has been a privilege to share our lives with the greatest intellects on the planet. Never mind our sometimes disturbing eccentricities.
Our separation left a feeling that something was displaced. Something precious we have lost. Though the vacuum cannot be filled by mini-reunions, in the few times we’re together, we can be young and playful once more.
Sunday
The Pond
I discovered it when I was nine one lazy summer afternoon. The sun was at its most intense, casting harsh rays on pink bougainvilleas. Sheltered under a makeshift cogon roof, several goats were nibbling overripe papayas. There was no wind to dissipate the merciless heat. Everything was at a standstill.
After several failed attempts to make me take a nap, Inang Salud eventually let me play. Not mindful of the unforgiving humidity, I was off on one of my adventures.
At the edge of the farm, just beyond the ancient mangoes, a narrow path led to a break in the thick wall of Japanese bamboos. I’ve always thought that was the limit to Lola’s property.
Curiosity overwhelming caution, I slithered through the gap and gazed upon an abandoned pool. The swelter had evaporated almost all of its water. Encircled by greenery, there was a distinct peace to it. I instantly knew its seclusion would call me back again and again.
When the rains come, that pond becomes a verdant habitat of water lilies and tilapia. A few times, I shared my reverie with a flock of ducks navigating its surface. They weren’t the least bothered by my presence.
If you stay a bit longer, past the setting of the sun and the lengthening of shadows, you’ll see its real magic. When the enclosure has been swallowed by darkness, the calm surface mirrors the heavens and the rustling of bamboo leaves amplifies the tranquility of the place.
Wednesday
Back to the Barrio
Friends were rather surprised at the announcement I chose not to renew my contract at the University. Little did they know they were still in for a shock when I declared my intention to go back to the barrios.
There I was, highly urbanized and comfortably entrenched in the field of science and technology, telling them my life’s passion is really planting kamote and raising poultry.
Well, I expected them to find this drastic shift in career perplexing. People embark on pilgrimages from the provinces to the cities. They leave their ploughs in the drought-assailed bukids for a chance to find financially rewarding work in air-conditioned cubicles. Not the other way around.
My migration in the reverse direction simply defies logic. Or does it?
To me, it makes perfect sense. I am a son of a farmer who comes from a clan of farmers. My mother’s family also owns agricultural land.
If biotechnologists were to map my DNA, they’d undoubtedly find the magsasaka gene. It’s in my nucleus to till the land.
Wednesday
Going Medieval
Evelyn, one of my more militant and, may I add, much sought-after friends, dropped by the apartment one evening. After a rather sluggish day configuring a project’s network system requirements, her visit was definitely a welcome change of pace.
We really don’t share the same philosophies especially when it comes to gender issues. I actually find it difficult to temper my arguments during our classic clashes. I’m quite sure she restrains herself from not pounding my, in her assessment, stubbornly provincial head.
But however fierce our skirmishes, we remain tactful to each other. This is probably the reason we find disagreeing particularly enjoyable. Or maybe it’s just the thrill of the mental activity.
“You’re still living in the Middle Ages,” she accused me once.
I had actually prepared several sheets on the inherent physiological differences in males and females and their effectiveness in their currently defined roles in marriage. My theory was that adhering to the wisdom of the stable traditional family translates to a strong and progressive society. Even the slightest alteration would be catastrophic.
She declined to read, naturally. Just the part on chromosomes and sex-determination in mammals presented a daunting undertaking.
She eventually changed her mind after realizing my contentions were backed by a meticulous study. But only about me having a narrow-minded perspective. She figured it was not merely a default defense of a male perpetuating an inequitable relationship.
As for my “medieval” views… Well, I thought that battle was already won. There was no need to press for an attack on her beliefs, which I knew she would passionately defend.
One thing I learned when dealing with the opposite sex is that even the most ardent of feminists will exude elegant femininity when accorded proper respect and courtesy. Treating them like delicate kalabasa blossoms gets their most charming lady-like qualities to unfurl.
Then again, with the fortress-like stance of some, you need to lay siege.
[barriotech]
not your average girl
Jessica Holland?
i'm 19. i go to college in the city where i was born...and i love it! i compulsively drink diet coke. i listen to classical music for hours everyday and when i don't, i hear it in my head anyway. my friends make my day...everyday. i like the winter, peppermint ice cream, and fashion from the 50s. i like to think that i'm not your average girl.
[some girl]
i'm 19. i go to college in the city where i was born...and i love it! i compulsively drink diet coke. i listen to classical music for hours everyday and when i don't, i hear it in my head anyway. my friends make my day...everyday. i like the winter, peppermint ice cream, and fashion from the 50s. i like to think that i'm not your average girl.
[some girl]
posted by Spike
About a month ago this little angel of a woman walked into my life. Shortly hereafter walked away. Now I'm an atypical male; I'll grant you however I think about this girl all the damn time. She's tiny itty bitty (but don't tell her that), brilliant, well read, a bit bookish (it's turn on for me), a great butt, flexible, and entirely redoubtable.
She's genuine, authentic, and an one and only. She put a spell on me (she is privy to such conundrum). You can be assured I fought back to the best of my ability. All efforts have failed. We have a problem, Houston. This space cowboy fell in love with a one night stand.
The fanciful lie, hath faded. It's colorful plumes bled into the blackness of a moonless night. Alas my soul burns for this woman... I am consumed with this passion I cannot fathom and is beyond my control. There is only prayer. A faith that someday she will come back to me. So I may retell the fanciful lie with her forever.
[honest outlaw]
She's genuine, authentic, and an one and only. She put a spell on me (she is privy to such conundrum). You can be assured I fought back to the best of my ability. All efforts have failed. We have a problem, Houston. This space cowboy fell in love with a one night stand.
The fanciful lie, hath faded. It's colorful plumes bled into the blackness of a moonless night. Alas my soul burns for this woman... I am consumed with this passion I cannot fathom and is beyond my control. There is only prayer. A faith that someday she will come back to me. So I may retell the fanciful lie with her forever.
[honest outlaw]
resolutions
It's not too late to decide my resolutions: I'm going back to school tomorrow and that's a better time to start than the day after a huge New Year's party that you wake up from with a huge hangover and on your friend's couch. So here goes:
* will lose weight so as to make ex-boyfriend's more recent ex-girlfriend feel more threatened. And also to feel better about self.
* will not lose scholarships. i.e., will not fail Italian.
* will stop worrying about finding a boyfriend. This may be the hardest one, because I don't recall ever starting a year without a list of resolutions including "Find a Boyfriend."
* will not engage in high-drama relationships or situations.
[starting over]
* will lose weight so as to make ex-boyfriend's more recent ex-girlfriend feel more threatened. And also to feel better about self.
* will not lose scholarships. i.e., will not fail Italian.
* will stop worrying about finding a boyfriend. This may be the hardest one, because I don't recall ever starting a year without a list of resolutions including "Find a Boyfriend."
* will not engage in high-drama relationships or situations.
[starting over]
I have no boundaries
When you say "I love you," and I believe those words are sincere, I'm going to make assumptions. You shouldn't throw feelings around to see what'll stick. I won't take it well.
The great thing about being psycho is that I have no boundaries.
Now, aren't you sorry you ever cheated on me?
I take it all personally.
[sanguine gestures]
The great thing about being psycho is that I have no boundaries.
Now, aren't you sorry you ever cheated on me?
I take it all personally.
[sanguine gestures]
...why?
like a fool..again..?...no way!
one more time...again..why it happens again??
...why?
why I can see what is going on?..why if I don't wanna see it..
...why?
why life sometimes makes you realize what's the right way...why if u just can't take it...
...why?
why I can't?...why is hard?
...why?
why you r like a dream?..why is not real?...
...why?
I've been feeling hopeless about it...
Can't be this way anymore...I just can't stand it! ...don't like it
I'll just try (my best) to forget it, to forget it at all...even if I don't want to but I know I need to
I won't waste my last hope..not on u
[like a fiorella]
one more time...again..why it happens again??
...why?
why I can see what is going on?..why if I don't wanna see it..
...why?
why life sometimes makes you realize what's the right way...why if u just can't take it...
...why?
why I can't?...why is hard?
...why?
why you r like a dream?..why is not real?...
...why?
I've been feeling hopeless about it...
Can't be this way anymore...I just can't stand it! ...don't like it
I'll just try (my best) to forget it, to forget it at all...even if I don't want to but I know I need to
I won't waste my last hope..not on u
[like a fiorella]
Monday, January 03, 2005
my life is beyond horrible still
British students set a record for the most people to ride a roller coaster naked. (BBC)
Im willing to save myself to shake this feeling that everything sucks, I'm not afraid[TheElyse]
So I took this quiz and it was like supposed to tell if your depressed. I scored moderatly which is some pretty scary shit because there was like 2 ones below that and 3 above. I'm not really worried yet atleast because I still believe that I can make myself happy. Time for another list of things I need to do to help me
1. Talk to B and try insanely hard to make things work this time
2. Figure out who my ture friends are
3. Hang out with some new people
4. Get up to running 6miles
5. Hang out with KS and E again
6. Sign up for lacrosse camp with K
7. Try to hang out with E and SB
8. Try again to have an awesome time on Fri. night
9. Make plans with B and T
10. Get deer hollow CIT form in
11. Don't let things get to me
12. Don't hesitate in any sense..regrets are not good
13. Actually study and do good on my finals
14. Get a grip
15. Don't give up on anything...if I really want it and don't give up..I will get it eventually and take my word for that..so watch out
O yeah but my life is beyond horrible still and I'm not gonna pretend like its not because it is and I just need a guy who is always there and supportive and not going to turn around and be an asshole.I have 3 ideas of who that is..eh maybe 4 but who knows whats going to happen. Don't mess with The Elyse though or you will get burned
Sunday, January 02, 2005
the lover demands a pledge, yet is irritated by a pledge
the love that dares not speak its name
Looking For Sartre and his many lovers, his infidelity to deBeauvoir, her acceptance ofthe same. their choice to live it out... and so . And to be Him and have hundreds of thousands at yer grave. Deleuze says, He was my teacher Il etait mon professeur. Did I spell that right, I Son of Genet, Son of Miller? I love them all.
Cynara, I have been faithful to thee in my way
Here is the quote which I found on another blog called:
reli(e)able signs
"The total enslavement of the beloved kills the love of the lover. The end is surpassed; if the beloved is transformed into an automaton, the lover finds himself alone. Thus the lover does not desire to possess the beloved as one possesses a thing; he demands a special type of appropriation. He wants to possess a freedom as freedom.
On the other hand, the lover can not be satisfied with that superior form of freedom which is a free and voluntary engagement. Who would be content with a love given as pure loyalty to a sworn oath? Who would be satisfied with the words, 'I love you because I have freely engaged myself to love you and because I do not wish to go back on my word.' Thus the lover demands a pledge, yet is irritated by a pledge. He wants to be loved by a freedom but demands that this freedom as freedom should no longer be free. He wishes that the Other's freedom should determine itself to become love--and this not only at the beginning of the affair but at each instant--and at the same time he wants this freedom to be captured by itself, to turn back upon itself, as in madness, as in a dream, so as to will its own captivity." (Being and Nothingness 478-9)
So Sartre then has not died. He was my teacher too, dear Deleuze.
[guattaricomplex]
