SynntaClaus - She's in Town. If you are hating, stop staring.™

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If you are hating, stop staring.™

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Desinta Arisade Halid
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generationgirl2030@hotmail.com

Legally 21, soon !
♥ Sexy ♥ Smart ♥ Sophisticated ♥

21 December 1989, Thursday.
Sagittarian/Capricornian.
Events Management Enthusiast.
Branch Secretary.

If you are hating, stop staring.™

Further Description of MYSELF :
She expresses herself through fashion, food, her lyrical writings, music and photography.
She organized her first gig, The Cynosure Theatre at the Singpore Art's House when she was barely 16 years old.
She enjoys meeting up with her dearest girlfriends and enjoy late night sessions of crapping, gossiping and smoking.
A self pro-claimed Facebook addict.
An avid blogger on most days when she doesn't suffer from bitch fits.
A person with flair and personality who doesn't resort to back hand tactics.
It makes her look all timid.
Like she emphasizes, if you are hating then stop staring.
Then, again.
Everyone is a critique.
And, I am extremely vulgar.
Did she mention that she has an obsession and addiction to a one-weird-eight-inch fetish ?

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Check out my books on Goodreads : http://www.goodreads.com/profile/SynntaClaus

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Layout : Jan ani.
Inspiration : Leen. Background : Janice.

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17.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Seventeen by Janis Ian.

I learned the truth at seventeen,
That love was meant for beauty queens;
And high school girls with clear skinned smiles,
Who married young and then retired.

The valentines I never knew,
The Friday night charades of youth;
Were spent on one more beautiful,
At seventeen I learned the truth ...

And those of us with ravaged faces,
Lacking in the social graces;
Desperately remained at home,
Inventing lovers on the phone.

Who called to say "Come dance with me,"
And murmured vague obscenities;
It isn't all it seems at seventeen ...

A brown eyed girl in hand me downs,
Whose name I never could pronounce;
Said : "Pity please the ones who serve,
They only get what they deserve."

The rich relationed hometown queen,
Marries into what she needs;
With a guarantee of company,
And haven for the elderly ...

So remember those who win the game,
Lose the love they sought to gain;
In debitures of quality and dubious integrity,
Their small-town eyes will gape at you.

In dull surprise when payment due,
Exceeds accounts received at seventeen ...

To those of us who knew the pain,
Of valentines that never came;
And those whose names were never called,
When choosing sides for basketball.

It was long ago and far away,
The world was younger than today;
When dreams were all they gave for free,
To ugly duckling girls like me ...

We all play the game, and when we dare,
We cheat ourselves at solitaire;
Inventing lovers on the phone,
Repenting other lives unknown.

That call and say: "Come on, dance with me,"
And murmur vague obscenities;
At ugly girls like me, at seventeen ...

(Fly away.)