oh my god, this is linked to google

http://www.xanga.com/hazehei5

got a xanga, i don know, like the red background, so i might start writing on xanga too~

i went to church today. the priest was saying that he had a parish at sunset boulevard, and there is an abortion clinic right opposite. there is always a group of catholic people praying the rosary and putting some signs outside the clinic. finally the clinic closed down, and the building remains empty until now. he says, it is the power of prayer. I cant help but chuckled very cynically at heart. they moved, because they have to find a better location, somewhere the patients would feel more comfortable without people outside telling them you are sinning, repent when you can and go have your baby and ruin your life.
then i started realising i m sitting with a whole room of conservatives, and i m a catholic, i believe in the same god with all these people whose ideology i do not agree with. and that is okay, coz i dont think god cares about politics, i dont think if you are liberal you are going to hell. and it is ok, to collectively think that abortion is bad. and i personally think that, abortion is bad. bad for the family, bad for of coz the mother, and all those emotional wounds it cause, and i don know about the killed baby, he might have a worse life if he was born, or, i don know, if he grew up not loved and not taught and go rape some girls and go to jail and that's it, and what. I dont know, i believe that life is a blessing. and it is wonderful wonderful to see baby thriving and making people happy. I agree that abortion is a sad choice, it is sad, the priest doesnt dare say ti is wrong, which i appreciate very much. but i find it sad too, that to say the abortion clinic closed down because of the power of prayer, i think, superstition will definitely harm credibility. and i don know, i think to preach you have to appeal to more people.
and i told god last night alone, in the same parish church, that i m sorry. like i really tell god that i m sorry and ask him whether he still likes me. I ask him so many time whether he still likes me, becaose i m feeling very insecure since i think no one likes me, no one wants me to live, and wants me to be who i m. It is relaly scary and that's why i need to go to church and get closer to god. and i think god still love me, because i think i heard him say, even if you are in med school or law school you wil never be satisfy with yourself, and even if you do not love the person you love right now, you wont think you are the most beautiful girl, the most attractive girl of all anyway. since there is no way to be the person i want myself to be, why not jsut let it go, just do what you can.
god touches me in mysterious way. it was like, at the end of the alley, out of no where, after all the crying and yelling, you remember you bought a banana cream cheese pie from marie callender this moring, it is stil in the fridge, very seductive and untouched. so for that you get into the car and drive home, open the fridge, get out the cake, eat a slide, watch american idol and laugh like simon cowell says you can sing. it was the night when you need to kill yourself, and at the alley you ask god, why dont you take me home. and he did.

First, i jsut recieved stephanie's email and i m on cloud ninth.
and, the main point of this post is

I would like to give thanks to Stephen, my cousin.

I wasnt sure whether you know this, but talk about butterfly. my kinda pseudonym for my chinese writing days back in singapore, was butterfly, like in chinses of course. it came from one of my short story, that i wrote about a butterfly and a moth, and how they die fighting for freedom, and i won some kinda award with that too, in my old school. And I am the butterfly in my story, no, butterfly was someone else, and i was the moth, but afterall, i m both, and thye are jsut different side of me, the proud and the shameful, the beauty and the beast. and i was enchanted by the fragility of a butterfly, the strenght, to emerge from a coccoon that she had built for herself and emerge, dazzling, narssicist( no idea how to spell that) and she fly her short life liek there is no tomorrow. and i was marvelledby the beautiful cruelty we do to butterflies, like we drug them, nailed it, and display it, making her beauty our own. spread her out all naked and motionless, it is actually as brutal as pornography, but yet we buy it, we collect it, we appreciate, as we call, we appreciate the beauty of a butterfly. I have spent my whole life to escape the little glass box, my little glass box with red neon light, where I stand on my transparent platform heels, taking off pieces after pieces of me, and display myself, exposed and helpless. I guess every writer girl dreamt of being a striper. It is in their subconcious, as i said, literature is a very profound kinda nakedness, it is a very elegant way to strip, and everytime we tear ourself apart, put it in words, we are stripping, and then we dance with our naked body, like poetry, like art. and it is the kinda butterfly I am . Also, the reason why I chose butterfly as the pseudonym, was it has the undertone of a 1920s shanghai prostitute. not the hooker type, the geisha type. but not as gracious as a geisha, not as decadent as a hooker. and there was a boy who accompany me, and i call him duan, and he is my customer in my previous life, that is with the assumption that my previous life is "butterfly" the prostitute. and i had wavy short hair, I wore black eye shadow, red blood red lip sticks, i looked like a typical paris new woman. I dance with a folded fan and I sing. SOmetimes I looked out on the street and i smoke, in my night gown, and a re sequined slippers. I smoked, 555, and my night gown made of shanghai silk. When it is time to come home, i wear a plaid, put on my light blue dress and black leather shoes. I go home, in a cantonese accent. It was the butterfly that I was. And of coz, it was the butterfly that we watched. yes, it was my favourite movie, I like the little beijing accented young girl in white dress. she is like the sexiest thing I ever see, and afterall, I found that, the word freedom, is the sexiest thing I ever wanted. whoever is free is sexy, whoever it is.
Butterfly. It is suppose to be a thank you note, stephen, but I guess, if you need that smile, I can tell you I was smiling reading the letter. I am glad I have a cousin like you, not becoz youare my cousin, becoz that is the way for us to meet, and it is a relation that could probably last forever. you know, if you are not my cousin, we could be friends, and friends stop seeing each other some times, sometimes they grow distant. and if we are not friends we maybe lovers, and that is the even more unreliable relationship. and i dont believe in marriage so forget it. So being relative is the best thing to have a friend for life. there was a boy in singapore i knew. I don know what happen to him, and I thought he was the other side of me. I dont know you enough to think that you are like , an english version of him, but at least,you remind me of him, and I am glad.
Thanks for going through all that to find me three butterfly, and thanks for explaining the three stages of me htat i had almost forgotten. thanks for thinking that my bra-lessness is a sign of freedom, maybe that really is, but you can try wearing a bra for like 24 hour a day, you get sick after like the 5th year you have done that, and you know you gotta do it for the rest of your life.
I m sorry too that i missed out your depression. but it is not the most important part of my life, the most important part is the part that is after that. and i hope you are already in that best part, that emergance. cousin, we are cursed, and we already know the kwok's family is not the best family that we can choose to be born in. however, being born is the kwok's family maybe the best fate I can ever have. maybe i chose it, before I was born, I don tknow, maybe I did. we are cursed too, for we love words, I chose not to call you because saying things out doesnt work for us. and loving words is a veyr bad habit , very bad addiction that could ruin a person's life. and I hope, i hope, i hope you would be free. there is no freedom in our family, in OUR family, no freedom. that is the reason, that we have to be free. I cant tell you what it is, but I am going to be free no matter how it hurts. I see it coming, but it is something I have to do.
thanks again, dear one

love,
stella

It was my birthday.
I dont know why but all my birthday seems crappy.
it is when i start to care about something, about myself, and it is a good sign, to love myself so much to feel other doesnt love me enough.
it is all good. if I wanna think about it.
2005 is the most most most traumatic year in my entire life, considering I would have lost it, if I werent careful enough, i would have left this earth, into the hell fire that is awaiting me. SO i survived. I survivied 2005, and i was rebirthed around after June, and here i am breathing.
I am a still a loser, I am still lonely, I am still bored, and worst still, i am still fighting for freedom. I am still dependent, i am still stupid, and I am still a cry baby whinning for attention. I am 21, and I am not depressed.
I went to a bar after work last night, and I drank alone. I actually feel bored, the sherry was disgusting, i was looking for a vodka shot, but i got a sherry. I actually wanna go home, eventhough my point of sneaking out was to run away. I only drank one, because I knew I had to drive. and it was my birthday, I got my alcohol, and I actually wanna go home. I got so tired by then i fell asleep, and i felt kisses all over me, and I fell asleep, with little kisses all over my face, I fell asleep.
I am 21, I am not exactly happy, I am not exactly free, but I am not depressed. I live and I am not depressed.
Nothing can be worse than what I was, I was like a sick animal, running away from the danger that is actualy within her, get so scared and she hide, until it is too late . And it wasnt. I am glad, I went to a doctor, she handed me a knife, and asked me to disect myself. So i did, bleeding all over, she gave me the sewing kit, clumsy, unsterilized, I sewed myself up, stitches and stitiches of sticky membrane and flesh. I breath, and it smells so different.
this is all I have to give thanks to God for. This one whole year, I got my mind back, and my parent too.

I jsut realise my stressor is the house, like i feel so stressed out in this house. every minute i am pretending to be soemone i m not. until the point where i forgot who I am. like, like you wash off your make up and you look at the mirror, you cant even find your eyes to look back at you, because your face is blank and white.
I hate men, for now. I think i am jsut very persplex by the situation in my house right now. man not doing anything at all, the woman have to work and take care of them parasitic creatures. and they still dare have that fucking attitude n have comment on anything. how can men so disgusting! how can those men in this house be so disgusting. i know it is very political incorrect to generalize, and honestly, i love men, thye are so much easier than women. but the two men in my house are jsut dead bad example, and if you wanna curse me for my generalization, curse them, for setting up worst examples. i dont even greet them now, well one of them, i dont greet the older one, coz he jstu totally doesnt respond. and that is their to greet when the person doesnt wanna recieve it. it is a gesture, and somehow it get tiring, like good morning uncle, and he doesnt even look at you. what is his problem. how can people not be gay if they happen to be their sister or daughter, how can girls grow up like that trust men, how can she rely on any men, if all these male figures are so pathetic. and so far, i think men are jsut horrifying, that other boy i stayed with back up there, and these boy and man i stay with here, they are jstu downright parasitical, i don know why. i think my dad is such a good man, liek he is the only man i wanna defense. and i had known real good male friends and they are wonderful. and i know horrible man who only wanna fuck me, and in a way, they are still better, at least they cook their own food, they work at the garage, they do the christmas lights, and mend the bathroom.
how can she live in a family like that!

alice in the Disneyland 

dorky and jay 

embracing disneyland~~ 

interior of JOCA, lovely food, never fill so blessed~ 

dream makers, Joy and Carol, from the JOCA cafe~ loveliest cafe ever 

I think anyone who blog is some kinda flasher. i mean, ppl who has confessional blog. I watched Gwenyth Paltrow's Sylvia, and it started off alright, first few lines kinda capture the idea, but it jsut tumble off into 2 hour of sex and well, more sex. I don know why a depressed person has to have so much sex, has to be so passionate. has to be so desperate in getting control. I dont think her argument with ted is that much important, her demon is not around , her demon is inside, herself, is the demon, there is no way ted hughs could CAUSE the depression, or CAUSE her suicide. and i totally think that final sex scene is unneccessary, trying to be arty but i find it completely titlating, no value, if i were plath i will switch it of, wat you think i bloody have sex on a sofa, and you think it is very literary to have sex on a sofa? you think poets like to have sex on a sofa, sitting down, like it is the most spiritual position that involve a threesome with the Muse?
and i liked the part when Gwenyth recite Wife of Bath for the cows.It was beautiful, and I guess she would really do that, i don know, if i could memorize Wife of Bath, i would recite to cows. I dont understand why it get to do with Ted hughs so much, i think it get to do with ted because Plath saw him as a Daddy come back. and why doesnt she has female friends, where is sexton? I wish they could make the movie about sexton and plath. Like journey of the two , and their death drive, I fucking care more about their death drive than their sex drive. and i think it should be told in a sexton plath perspective, and cut down tons of ted hughs. I am sorry, i m jsut another feminist cows that was marvelled by wife of bath, I think ted is a supporting actor, in plath's life, his exsitence is purely symbolic, like, she need a husband, she fell in love, felling in love is not wat sylvia plath do, she doesnt care so much. she care about falling out of love, about death, about hurting, some people in this world is incapable to be happy. and they make great poets, ted hughs wasnt so great, because he survived, i din even care whether he cheated.

I feel like i m never good at anything
anything at all.