<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781079255448453764</id><updated>2011-07-07T13:53:01.475-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the c in "crazy"</title><subtitle type='html'>Most people consider things out of bounds, unconventional, unfamiliar, and uncomprehensible as crazy. I say the concept of craziness is just human construct. Crazy is merely a term used by people to refer to things/people that to them are unfathomable or out of convention. :) So what's the C in crazy? It's Christelke. ;-)</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://christelke.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781079255448453764/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://christelke.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Christelke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02520224301122924324</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RzSy6tF68sM/SbXHY8SCksI/AAAAAAAAADo/Py26NhpFPQg/S220/fairy+small+size.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>3</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781079255448453764.post-9091139334436117050</id><published>2008-04-08T02:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T23:56:55.595-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tin Hearts Anyone?</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"So you want a heart? You don't know how lucky you are NOT to have one. Hearts will never be practical until they are made breakable..."&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#333333;"&gt;The Wizard of Oz to the Tin Man&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;I've read &lt;em&gt;The Wizard of Oz &lt;/em&gt;countless times when I was a kid but never really understood what the wizard was trying to say to the Tin Man. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;Now, it is oh so clear to me...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;I wish the message had been clear back then, then maybe I wouldn't be doing the routine of picking up the shattered pieces of my heart, gluing them together and letting them heal, only for the shattered pieces to fall off again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;Maybe I should go on a quest for the yellow brick road and find the wizard --- I would ask for a tin heart to replace mine instead...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781079255448453764-9091139334436117050?l=christelke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781079255448453764/posts/default/9091139334436117050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781079255448453764/posts/default/9091139334436117050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://christelke.blogspot.com/2008/04/tin-hearts-anyone.html' title='Tin Hearts Anyone?'/><author><name>Christelke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02520224301122924324</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RzSy6tF68sM/SbXHY8SCksI/AAAAAAAAADo/Py26NhpFPQg/S220/fairy+small+size.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781079255448453764.post-41514421487271167</id><published>2008-04-08T02:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T02:51:22.241-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stand Still</title><content type='html'>April 6, 2008&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm standing still, afraid to move out of reach of this small ray of light seeping through a hole in this dark lonely bubble I seem to be trapped in...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm standing so still, but my spirit is groping -- moving around, searching for answers, for direction, for the broken pieces of me that have fallen off...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And until my spirit and me reunite, I wish to remain standing still, waiting for such time when there's no more need to seek answers, that there's only one obvious direction to take, and the broken pieces have regenerated -- making me feel whole again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;... Sweet sorrow is the gold tomorrow...&lt;br /&gt;      sweet sorrow is the gold tomorrow...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;      . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;     Am I standing still beneath the darkened sky? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;     Am I standing still -- with the scenery flying by?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;    Oh am I standing still?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;    Out of the corner of my eye, was that you passing me by?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#993399;"&gt;                                                     - Standing Still (Jewel)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781079255448453764-41514421487271167?l=christelke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781079255448453764/posts/default/41514421487271167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781079255448453764/posts/default/41514421487271167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://christelke.blogspot.com/2008/04/stand-still.html' title='Stand Still'/><author><name>Christelke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02520224301122924324</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RzSy6tF68sM/SbXHY8SCksI/AAAAAAAAADo/Py26NhpFPQg/S220/fairy+small+size.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1781079255448453764.post-1223140758918428626</id><published>2007-08-30T21:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-17T00:26:57.405-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my haiku pieces</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love writing haiku. Through them I can express myself, vent my anger, capture my joy, let out my stress... And because a haiku is made up of just three lines with 5-7-5 syllables, I can easily remember the lines I created without jotting them down. I can also write them&lt;br /&gt;on table napkins, bus tickets, Mercury Drug or 7-11 receipts or whatever receipts available, hehehe, or save them in my mobile phone... The play with syllables can be fun and mentally stimulating, when you get the hang of it. Plus, it saves me from being bored (and gives me a good excuse to ignore passengers next to me -- some can be so annoyingly overfriendly).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get the wrong impression that I'm a haiku addict though -- writing haiku 24/7 on walls, tables, placemats, with glazed eyes. I'm just a poet, who has gone lazy enough to write poems longer than three lines (though I do have a collection of self-written poems).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have titles to my haiku pieces -- just dates and decriptions. Here are a few.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;December 27, 2007&lt;/em&gt; (at take off from the domestic airport aboard Asian Spirit from Manila to Caticlan)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Colors shrink 'neath me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;I soar to embrace the sky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;the clouds my cushions &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;July 2, 2007 &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A dumb paradox&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;is to "leave yet stay"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;but a blind heart does&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;October 24, 2005, 4:00 PM (written for a friend from NZ whom I'm meeting that afternoon at Gateway Mall)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;River of knowledge&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;flows behind his dulcet smile&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;and his simple style&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;October 9, 2003, 1:35 PM (wrote this in SIBS' office)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;In the air I see&lt;br /&gt;float discontentment envy&lt;br /&gt;But I can still sing.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;October 3, 2003&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Daylight hurts my eyes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My heart bursts forth with a pang&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;As I pray for clouds&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;(Summertime)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Old Rockingchair sways&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;Back and forth, gently&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;his lap beckoning&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;(Sleepy)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;September 30, 2003, 1:15 PM (on pesky officemates)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mad insects they were&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;buzzing, hovering over&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I took the fly swat&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;11:30 AM&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;(bored at the office)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Glass windows shut tight&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Oblivious to thunderclaps&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Wishing I were home&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1781079255448453764-1223140758918428626?l=christelke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781079255448453764/posts/default/1223140758918428626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1781079255448453764/posts/default/1223140758918428626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://christelke.blogspot.com/2007/08/gay-moments.html' title='my haiku pieces'/><author><name>Christelke</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02520224301122924324</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RzSy6tF68sM/SbXHY8SCksI/AAAAAAAAADo/Py26NhpFPQg/S220/fairy+small+size.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
