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Buzz Meter: sh*t faced!
 
Level: Soul Slayer (37)
 
Soul SlayerDoppelganger
Points: 449,371,563
Female · From New Zealand · Joined on August 18, 2009 · 4 referrals joined! · 2 different people have a crush on me!

I don't wish to level. If I ever do wish to level, I'll be sure to let you know. Until then, I'm not going to level and there's not a fucking thing you can do about it. So deal with it. Graciously if possible, off my page and out of my earshot if not.

I do not give a fuck about the following things:
- what level you are
- how long you have been on fubar
- who you are 'friends' with
- who you are 'enemies' with
- what you think I should or should not do, be or say.


THIS...still applies.
I don't do bandwagons...save your breath.
I don't do bullshit...save your typing.
I don't do histrionics...shove a fucking sock in it already.


If you NEED anything on this site...you actually NEED help. Get it. And piss the fuck off whilst doing so.


And THIS still applies also:

I'm still not a bad person, I just meet like with like. I still have a lot of attitude, a lot of intellect, and not a hell of a lot of patience. And I still REALLY don't give a flying proverbial whether you like it or not. (I have to keep this in or Peacey's wonderful creations would make no sense, and we couldn't be having that now could we?).






What do your eyes say about you?


Eyes of Passion
Eyes of Passion
Fiery, thats what you are. You have passion in your soul. You are the person that will defend those that you love with your very life, and to the death. You are not a person to piss off. If ever one you loved was in danger you would be the first to offer to take their place, and without a second�s hesitation.
How do you compare?
Take this test! | Tests from Testriffic



Passion has little to do with euphoria and everything to do with patience. It is not about feeling good. It is about endurance. Like patience, passion comes from the same Latin root: pati. It does not mean to flow with exuberance. It means to suffer.
~House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski~

prefer et obdura, dolar hic tibi proderit olim

Female · From New Zealand · Joined on August 18, 2009 · 4 referrals joined! · 2 different people have a crush on me!
Interests
I like passion in all things, laughter in most and a good argument is mind candy. I love the outdoors, being on or in the water, learning new things, understanding my world, and having fun while doing so.

I also like bubbles, balloons, books, music, squishing mud between my toes and verballing idiots.

And quite a bit more. I am never going to be voted Miss Congeniality, but I can cope with that.



Music

No generic angsty crap. Don't try and show me how different and special you are by liking all the same music that all the other different and special dipwads do.

Don't let your music define you...it means you're one-dimensional.

I love music. All sorts. Far too many sorts to put in a box. I don't trust people that don't love music. If music can't touch them, nothing can.






Video Games


Yeah, not so much no.






What's your inner spirit?


Phoenix
Phoenix
You are free, loyal, and caring. You wish to help all those in need and heal all wounds of those you care about, no matter what the cost.
How do you compare?
Take this test! | Tests from Testriffic


I'm only posting these because they're coming up colour coordinated with my page...you can't go past that kinda coincidence...



Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872-1906)

Sympathy

I KNOW what the caged bird feels, alas!
When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
And the river flows like a stream of glass;
When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals —
I know what the caged bird feels!

I know why the caged bird beats his wing
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to his perch and cling
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
And they pulse again with a keener sting —
I know why he beats his wing!

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,—
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings —
I know why the caged bird sings!

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