The Myrmidon

I used to like to call you my minions. But now, you shall be known as the Myrmidons.

From Wikipedia,

The Myrmidons (or Myrmidones; Greek: Μυρμιδόνες) were an ancient nation of Greek mythology. In Homer’s Iliad, the Myrmidons are the soldiers commanded by Achilles.[1] Their eponymous ancestor was Myrmidon, a king of Phthiotis who was a son of Zeus and “wide-ruling” Eurymedousa, a princess of Phthiotis. She was seduced by him in the form of an ant. An etiological myth of their origins, simply expanding upon their supposed etymology— the name in Classical Greek was interpreted as “ant-people”, from murmekes, “ants”— was first mentioned by Ovid, in Metamorphoses: in Ovid’s telling, the Myrmidons were simple worker ants on the island of Aegina.

Later use of the term
The Myrmidons of Greek myth were known for their loyalty to their leaders, so that in pre-industrial Europe the word “myrmidon” carried many of the same connotations that “robot” does today. “Myrmidon” later came to mean “hired ruffian” (according to the Oxford English Dictionary) or “a loyal follower, especially one who executes orders without question, protest, or pity, unquestioning followers.”

So who’s with me? Identify yourselves. Don’t be shy. 🙂

Thanks JohnB, for the heads up.

PS. My blog still looks like shit and I haven’t had the time to customize since I moved from my old blog. Bear with me as I make this place familiar and comfortable once again.

New Home

I finally decided to move to this blog. I’ve been keeping this one for quite some time, but because it’s such a pain to move my old posts from blogdrive to wordpress, I didn’t bother. 

In effect, I lost my passion for writing. Denied myself, in fact. With my old blog, I can’t be uninhibited as I was before.  

Bear with me as I make my new home comfortable.

Busted!

You, my dear readers, are soooo fuckin busted.

YOU JUST SKIM OVER MY ENTRIES!

Hmph.

Goes to show you (okay, some got it, but MOST OF YOU) didn’t really read. Gah.

I am sooo not pregnant. Pardon my disillusionment, but no, I can’t forgive you to be a voyeur of my life and not really knowing (or reading, for that matter) what I’m all about.

Hmph. *pout pout*

I’ve been receiving messages and emails and what not’s, congratulating me. Sigh. I can’t believe you guys…tsk tsk.

So I’ve been keeping myself busy lately. July has rolled around, and I don’t feel like turning 26 on the 25th *hint hint*. Seriously though, I keep insisting I am a kid, and I oftentimes act like one and whenever I am reminded of THE date, I just wish I could put a stop at it. Can I just be 17 forever?

Cos when I was 17, my dad gave me the most precious gift he could possibly give me: freedom. When I was 17, I got into my beloved sorority and really learned how to enjoy college. I had men wrapped around my finger, oh my god, it was such a high to be a woman-child at that precocious time. I promised myself that I wouldn’t be a virgin when I turned 18, so I got that one pretty much covered a few months before my birthday.

Bitch Goddess Junior is turning 17 soon, and just looking at her and her giggly, Paris Hilton-smelling posse just reminds me how I was way ahead than my peers when I was her age. Sure, we talked about boys during jammy parties, painted our toenails silly and tried to sneak out at night to watch Eraserheads. But I always knew I was wiser; I was an old soul.

I’m lamenting. Sigh. I know, I will get reactions like, “Hey, you’re still young! 26 is not so bad. It gets bad when you’re 40.” RIGHT. That is, if I get to live till 40. I highly doubt that. 🙂

Okay dahlings, this is just a light and silly one. Bitch Goddess not accepting she’s getting old.

Ta ta.