Socio-politico rants
That no one will die of diarrhoea, malaria or malnutrition especially for those under five.
Is that asking too much in this day and age?
I don’t think so.
Borrowed From: Byoi in Hong Kong
What I want for Christmas.
Published by Yan Sham-Shackleton
Yan Sham-Shackleton is a Hong Kong writer who lives in Los Angeles. This is her old blog Glutter written mostly in Hong Kong from 2003 to 2007. Although it was a personal blog, Yan focused a lot on free speech issues and democratic movement in Hong Kong. She moved to the US in 2007. View more posts
Yan Sham-Shackleton Online 
My BF, the angry atheist, constantly amazes me, because all he wants to do is work on malaria. He’s going to medical school. It’s strange and wonderful to know someone who actually wants to do something about the world, instead of just, you know, lamenting it.
I write. That’s about it. All I can do is lament, and hope that mine are energizing laments. And if you’re looking for someone to donate extra money too over the holiday season, think Medecins Sans Frontieres. Oh, mais oui.
LikeLike
Merci, mon petite choufleur.
Then I am going to switch to english coz by now, my french and spanish is all mixed up into a hybrid of esperanta. I met a woman whose aunt actually spoke that, what an interesting woman. She must be like 15 people in the world who could speak that made up language.
Writing.
Laments.
All have a place.
Propaganda is like one of the most powerful forces out there. What is it really? Words. Images. Language.
Way I figure it someone has to make people think or at least remind people about whats out there.
Boy this Christmas thing is making me all optimistic again.
Yan
LikeLike
X-Mas is like that.
Weirdest thing I ever heard was Espanrusski. I was on a train from Valencia to Sagunto and the people across from me were a father and son. I wasn’t really listening to them, but I couldn’t help overhear. At first I thought they were speaking Catalan because I thought I could kind of understand but not really. After about half an hour I realized the father was speaking Russian and the kid was answering back in Spanish.
And then I thought…which is weirder? The fact that this father and son don’t speak the same language, or that they happen to be on the same train with an American girl who speaks both?
And then I thought I understood why Russian writing always treats Spain like this weirdo wonderland of insane fun. Because it is.
LikeLike
Right. You have NO CHOICE. You are writing for my identity issue.
What I am looking for is a bunch of mixed up people to write a little of their life stories and “Who I think I am.”
Easy. No word count. Nothing. What you have I take. As I just said to a friend two seconds ago. If you want to write series of posts, even better. Whatever..
Yan
LikeLike