tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37150097239484975182023-06-20T21:32:25.014+08:00Faith of the heartManny CartagenaManny Cartagenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11702575182061219987noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715009723948497518.post-40950435003067788362006-09-26T15:00:00.000+08:002006-09-26T15:02:56.223+08:00Random Thoughts<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/1600/ends.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/400/ends.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);">Stories fill my head: they jump at me, scream at me, and stare at me. The only way to keep them out is by giving them shape, giving them form. I write them as fast as I can. Sometimes, writing them in the computer is not enough; they demand to be printed.</span><br /></div><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);">I am a slave to passing ideas and random thoughts.</span>Manny Cartagenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11702575182061219987noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715009723948497518.post-43707961367103441272006-09-22T11:49:00.000+08:002006-09-22T12:07:52.493+08:00Complete Trust<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/1600/pamangkin.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/400/pamangkin.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><?xml:namespace prefix = st1 /><st1:date month="4" day="29" year="2005"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:Tahoma;"><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; COLOR: rgb(255,255,51)font-family:georgia;" >Enviable trust!<br /></span></span></st1:date><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:Tahoma;"><?xml:namespace prefix = o /><o:p></o:p></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify">The swimming pool is an inviting view from their hotel room. The moment we arrived, she pleads non-stop with her mother and father for a swim. She whispers to me she loves to dip at the pool, even for just awhile, hoping I would ask her mom, my sister, to allow her. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify">Barely into the second day of our weeklong vacation, her mom agrees. Her mom shows her the shallow side of the pool and reminds her to stay there; she nods in agreement. With her favorite swimsuit, she is off, splashing and playing in the water, having the time of her life.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify">Taking a bath had been an ordeal for her, fearing water will get inside her eyes and ears. But since the swimming lessons two summers ago, her desire for pools and beaches became insatiable. Her swimming creates a lot of ripples, as if a tsunami is underway.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify">She continues to swim by herself, although there are other kids, mostly older than her. <span style="font-size:+0;"></span><i>Now, she realizes she has strayed towards the deeper side of the pool</i>. She attempts to stand but her feet do not touch the ground. Forgetting her trainings, she flaps and kicks vigorously, to no avail, as she gulps a lot of water. With the splashes she has been making since entering the pool, no one notices her predicament, not even the older kids near her. She’s swallowing more water now. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"><i>Suddenly a hand reaches out and pulls her up</i>. It’s her mom. She cries, speechless from all the water she just engulfed. Her mom hugs her and tells her everything will be alright.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify">My sister is wet, even though she’s dressed up, jeans and all, for the day’s itinerary. No one realized what was going on; but <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">she</span> did. She ran and dived into the pool to reach her, for what seemed like an eternity.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify">Back in their room, she is her usual self again. She excitedly narrates how her mom had pulled her up; without doubt, she always knew <i>she</i> will save her. She just hates drinking pool water.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify">This trip takes a meaningful turn for all of us. We now have a deeper appreciation of moments spent together; we embrace life and enjoy all it has to offer; and we do the best with the time we are given.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,102); FONT-STYLE: italic; TEXT-ALIGN: justifyfont-family:verdana;" ><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:Tahoma;font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; COLOR: rgb(255,255,51); FONT-STYLE: italicfont-family:georgia;" >A page from my journal<br />April 29, 2005</span></span></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/1600/pamangkin%201.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/200/pamangkin%201.jpg" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/1600/Vacation_1928.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/200/Vacation_1928.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"><br /><st1:date month="4" day="29" year="2005"></st1:date><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:Tahoma;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><img alt="" src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/Manny/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" />Manny Cartagenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11702575182061219987noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715009723948497518.post-39091320299547641662006-09-18T08:30:00.000+08:002006-09-18T08:36:42.310+08:00InchesAl Pacino<br />Any Given Sunday<br /><br />One of my favorite speeches<br /><br /><br /><object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/WO4tIrjBDkk"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/WO4tIrjBDkk" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"></embed></object><br /><br /><em>"Three minutes to the biggest battle of our professional lives all comes down to today. Either we heal as a team or we are going to crumble.Inch by inch, play by play till we’re finished. <br /><br />We are in hell right now, gentlemen believe me andwe can stay here and get the shit kicked out of us orwe can fight our way back into the light. We can climb out of hell. One inch, at a time.<br /><br />Now I can’t do it for you. I’m too old. I look around and I see these young faces and I think I mean I made every wrong choice a middle age man could make.I uh….I pissed away all my money believe it or not. I chased off anyone who has ever loved me.And lately, I can’t even stand the face I see in the mirror.<br /><br />You know when you get old in life things get taken from you. That’s, that’s part of life. But,you only learn that when you start losing stuff. You find out that life is just a game of inches. So is football. Because in either game life or football the margin for error is so small. I mean one half step too late or to early you don’t quite make it. One half second too slow or too fast and you don’t quite catch it. The inches we need are everywhere around us. They are in ever break of the game every minute, every second.<br /><br />On this team, we fight for that inch. On this team, we tear ourselves, and everyone around us to pieces for that inch. We CLAW with our finger nails for that inch. Cause we know when we add up all those inches that’s going to make the fucking difference between WINNING and LOSING between LIVING and DYING.<br /><br />I’ll tell you this in any fight it is the guy who is willing to die who is going to win that inch. And I know if I am going to have any life anymore it is because, I am still willing to fight, and die for that inch because that is what LIVING is. The six inches in front of your face.<br /><br />Now I can’t make you do it. You gotta look at the guy next to you. Look into his eyes. Now I think you are going to see a guy who will go that inch with you. You are going to see a guy who will sacrifice himself for this team because he knows when it comes down to it, you are gonna do the same thing for him.<br /><br />That’s a team, gentlemen and either we heal now, as a team, or we will die as individuals. That’s football guys. That’s all it is. Now, whattaya gonna do?</em>Manny Cartagenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11702575182061219987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715009723948497518.post-53292945230131502972006-09-17T20:35:00.000+08:002006-09-17T20:55:25.270+08:00Wheel power, will power.<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);"><br />Both reach their destinations.<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);">One has it easy.</span><br /><br /></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/1600/bike%202.1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/320/bike%202.1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 102);"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);">The other <span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">sweats </span>it out.</span></span></span></span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/1600/bike%201.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/320/bike%201.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);">One rides his bike. The other, ah well, his bike rides with him.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);">Exhausted from working all day in the banana plantation of <span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Madaum</span>, he longs for the comfort of home. The P8 motorcycle ride is the fastest way of getting there. But he has one big problem; what the hell is he going to do with his bike?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);">He has accepted his fate. He will never enjoy a stroll on the beach or a walk in the park. With his wheelchair, he is used to the pitiful stares from strangers, it no longer bothers him. In the silence of their minds, he knows, he will always be labelled as <span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">incapacitated</span>.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);">But not today. Not while he's on his bike.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);">Today he rides like the wind and conquers a gruelling 35-kilometer climb towards <span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Calinan</span>.</span></span></span></span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/1600/bike%203.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/320/bike%203.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);">Who's <span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">incapacitated</span> now?<br /></span></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);"><br /></span></span></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 204, 153); font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >A page from my journal.</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);font-size:85%;" > </span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 204, 153); font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);font-size:85%;" >November 22, 2003</span><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 204, 153); font-style: italic;"></span>Manny Cartagenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11702575182061219987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715009723948497518.post-34468758187732089342006-09-14T23:38:00.000+08:002006-09-15T00:33:19.721+08:00Now is my time<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/1600/future%20awaits%202.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/400/future%20awaits%202.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">Enough with mediocrity.</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">This is my time.</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">A new year begins.</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">The world awaits.</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">My future beacons.</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span></strong></div>Manny Cartagenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11702575182061219987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715009723948497518.post-43471718678680583152006-09-14T08:38:00.005+08:002006-09-15T13:05:04.463+08:00Let freedom ring<p align="left"><em><span style="color:#ffff66;"><strong>June 12, 1998</strong><br />In celebration of 100 years of Philippine Independence, I made this. The framed declaration still hangs in my old room.</span></em></p><p align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/1600/declare%20black.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/200/declare%20black.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><div align="center"><strong>Declaration of Independence</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>June 12, 1998</strong><br /></div><div align="center">I will not put to waste my God given potentials.</div><div align="center">I will love.</div><div align="center">Grow.</div><div align="center">Dream.</div><div align="center">Triumph over self-defeating behaviors.</div><div align="center">Be contented.</div><div align="center">I will Live.</div><div align="center">Build.</div><div align="center">Reach for the stars.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Create.</div><div align="center">Discover.</div><div align="center">I can Write.</div><div align="center">I can pray.</div><div align="center">Listen.</div><div align="center">Smile.</div><br /><div align="center">Enjoy a sunrise.</div><div align="center">a sunset too.</div><div align="center">Understand.</div><div align="center">Relax.</div><br /><div align="center">Be productive.</div><div align="center">Succeed.</div><div align="center">Express.</div><div align="center">Laugh.</div><br /><div align="center">I am an expression of infinite freedom.</div><br /><div align="center">I am free.</div><div align="center"></div>Manny Cartagenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11702575182061219987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715009723948497518.post-33944441759947125302006-09-14T08:38:00.004+08:002006-09-15T00:41:31.750+08:00A recovery plan<p align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/1600/so%20much%20weight.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/400/so%20much%20weight.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff99;">September 14, 2006</span></em></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><em><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff99;">Somewhere in Davao Oriental</span></em></strong></div><div align="justify"><br /><span style="color:#ffcc33;">The weight of the world on his shoulders. With one more day to sales cut-off, he ponders his next move. Can the heavens lighten this poor man's load? Can any force in the universe change the inevitable? The question is raised, after nine unforgiving months, will September be any different? The gentle breeze, the stillness of the sea seem powerless to calm the turmoil in his soul. The sun is about to set in Mati. He thinks. He searches for answers.</span></div><div align="justify"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/1600/so%20much%20weight.jpg"></a></div>Manny Cartagenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11702575182061219987noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715009723948497518.post-45578019966559958752006-09-14T08:38:00.003+08:002006-09-15T11:27:12.238+08:00Testing our limits<div align="center"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/1600/mt%20apo.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/400/mt%20apo.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> <strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Are we there yet?</span></strong></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcc33;"><strong><em>March 19, 2004</em></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcc33;"></span><span style="color:#ffcc33;"></span> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">What? No paved roads.</div><div align="center">who needs this harsh, unforgiving adventure?</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">I know, our climb is just a half days old.</div><div align="center">But can we stop for a while?</div><div align="center">My vision has left me.</div><div align="center">I need to breathe some more,</div><div align="center">my aching muscles need to rest.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Let us capture this moment of breathlessness.</div><div align="center">Whew. Such brave smiles.</div><div align="center">Go on. Hide your pains.</div><div align="center">Hide your aches.</div><div align="center">A long way to go to the top.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Who needs this adventure?</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">As for me,</div><div align="center">i'm gonna flag down </div><div align="center">any motorized contraption that comes this way</div><div align="center">and bring me to the top.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Oh Mt. Apo.</div><div align="center"></div>Manny Cartagenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11702575182061219987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715009723948497518.post-67406367707687035632006-09-14T08:38:00.002+08:002006-09-15T09:53:15.048+08:00Things to be happy about<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><em>Journal notes. </em></strong></span><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">September 15, 1999</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></em></strong><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><em><span style="color:#ffffcc;">Opened a page from my past. Exactly 7 years ago today. It's funny how the same things still make me happy.</span> </em></strong></span><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Things to be happy about. </span></strong><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffcc33;">your love for me. french playing(?), lying on my back. pic Florida keys. doing my own thing. dinners with you. being a perfectionist <em>(no way). </em>g's spaghetti. remembering the first time i saw you at whoopie. eggs. 50's music. shower. being kind. cotton sheets. our friends. fiesta at g's house. excellence. baby blue's books. romance novels. cnn. reuters. an air of expectancy. <em>"a boat on the line where the see meets the sky",</em> synchronizing ipaq, a thousand fantasies. archie comics. "a one in a million you", no smoking signs, hot chocolates, forgiveness, new haircut, the opposite of long skirts, spontaneity, lip glosses, "take care" notes, will power, sand castles, conversations, french fries, believing in one great love, keeping in touch, vanilla ice cream, la vista del mar, "somewhere in the night", sta. cruz island, silence, sept 4, weekends, justice, estee lauder, great prayers, <em>pnc 225</em> I miss that car, sleepy people, 410 c Sta Maria - Tan's compound, mails from g, the need for imagination, DBP, being sensous, us, making a list of things that money can't buy, DHL, watching the ocean change its moods, adults who baby talk, time tested friends, whistling a duet, g going to davao...</span>Manny Cartagenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11702575182061219987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715009723948497518.post-62120462953910018442006-09-14T08:38:00.001+08:002006-09-15T02:13:26.583+08:00Who are you?At a beach<br />April 24, 2005<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/1600/g.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/400/g.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />having a moment?<br />a sweet gesture?<br /><br />letter g.<br />forever in my hands.<br />forever in my life.<br />A passing impulse?<br />an eternal pledge?<br /><br />Or just playing around.<br />Perhaps, one more scheme to waste dough in this far-away land? Oh g. who are you? what are you? i know. no need to declare your significance in my life. you're my guiding force. my compass. letter g. i'll be forever lost without you.... great. gorgeous. gift. google. goalie. Gem. gee whiz.Manny Cartagenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11702575182061219987noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3715009723948497518.post-36817331870201853482006-09-14T08:38:00.000+08:002006-09-15T01:27:23.417+08:00Passion<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/1600/bike%20carry.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/400/bike%20carry.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/6766/453492397942931/1600/bike%20pic%20friendster.jpg"></a><span style="color:#ffff66;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I want to live.</span><br /></span><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;">No more half-hearted efforts. </span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;">No more half-baked ideas.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;">No more half-full glasses.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;">Just wholehearted, fresh-baked, overflowing life.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;">I want to live on purpose.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;">No more aimless wandering.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;">No more squandered existence.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;">No more squelched ambition.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;">Just on-target, death-defying, carpe diem courage.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;">I want to live in connection.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;">No more superficial engagement.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;">No more destructive pleasures.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;">No more cold rationality.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;">Just bone-deep, life-affirming, stream-fed intuition.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;">I want to live with joy.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;">No more sour grapes.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;">No more jaded cynicism.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;">No more inflated self-importance.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;">Just awe-filled, enthusiastic, open-hearted passion.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;">I want to live on purpose, in connection, with joy.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;">I want to live filled with courage, guided by intuition, centered in passion.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffff66;"><strong>I want to live!</strong></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><em><span style="font-size:78%;">- a friendster testi</span></em></div></div>Manny Cartagenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11702575182061219987noreply@blogger.com0