disappointing
Guy Sebastian and his worship team from Paradise Live, Aldelaid is coming this Friday. I can't go. ARGH!!!Well, actually I can go to the concert on Sunday because I have a pass for it courtesy of Debbie, but I can't go on Sunday. I can go on Friday, and I was really looking forward to it. Sadly, all the passes were given away and I couldn't seem to get hold of anyone who has any passes for Friday's concert. Every pass was given out. I called every church-attending Christian I know who is living near K.L. I called Full Gospel Assembly, who will be hosting the first concert. I think I even begged Timothy to find me just one pass and one small space in his car so that I can go, but to no avail. So here I am, in front of the computer, thinking of what could have been. *Disappointment overload*Let me sidetrack here.There are many artistes in this world throughout the course of history, and they have sang many songs. Some songs will forever remain in the hearts of the people, and will never grow old. These are songs that have caused evolution in the music world and at the same time, immortalized it's artistes. Some songs are popular for the first few months, and after a period of time, people already forgotten that such artistes existed. Some songs are just plain noise. Nothing but plain noise pollution.However, there are some bright, shining moments in the chronicles of music, where an artiste have found a song that is perfect for him/her. The artiste was able to capture every intense and subtle emotion portrayed by the song and project it for the whole world to hear. And the world stood still, paused, to hear this heavenly and divine gift.For example, no one will be able to sing the song 'Can't Help Falling In Love' the way the King of Rock and Roll, Elvis Presley did. Ever. If you're cruising in the car and this song is being played, you'll realized why this man is given such high esteem and honour even though in many aspects of his life, he is good for nothing. Sure, it has been sang again and reproduced by other singers, but who can ever encapsulate the beauty of the song the way Elvis Presley did? Another example would be Jacky Cheung's 'Wen Bie', translated as Kiss Goodbye. That song, in my opinion, is the most beautiful, heartrending, touching, and heartbreaking song ever created by the world of mandarin pop. It's lyrics is full of sorrow and regret, it's music is a perfect harmony of modern instruments and the traditional, and his voice is heavenly. The song is old and out of date, but it has been translated into English, first by Nuflower, and then recently, by Michael Learns to Rock, although MLTR's version of the lyrics has totally deviated from the original 'Wen Bie'. Nuflower sang the song with lyrics directly translated from the Mandarin version. No wonder Jacky Cheung is dubbed one of the Four Heavenly Kings. Another example still, would be Freddie Aguilar's 'Anak'. The original song was in the Philipino language 'Tagalog', and translated into 77 languages all around the world. SEVENTY-SEVEN. It's melody is simple and repetitive. The harmony is just a combination of strings ochestra and guitars, with the acoustic guitar as it's lead. The lyrics..ahh the lyrics. Meaningful and expressive. Combined with the simplicity of its music, Frankie Aguilar has successfully depict the innocence of a child, or 'anak', and that made Frankie Aguilar a remarkable singer.And then, there was Guy Sebastian, the first-ever Australian Idol.He has the most ridiculous hairstyle (think of Mel B from Spice Girls), the most bushy eyebrows and yet, has high charisma and connection in his singing.He introduced himself to the world with the song 'Angels Brought Me Here'. There will never be another who can sing that song the way he did. Many have tried, including the current American Idol, Carrie Underwood. She was fantastic when she sang her version, but Guy Sebastian can make it seemed like the world just paused for everyone to fully take pleasure in the beauty of his voice. I can't help but fall in love with the song and with his voice. Sigh...There is a genre of music that is perfect for everyone. You can have the voice of a toad or a witch or a banshee, or tune deaf, or even no voice at all, this genre of music will still be absolutely perfect for you. GOSPEL MUSIC. This is because in gospel music, all you need to have to sing well is a heart for God. As long as you mean every word you sing, you will unquestionably please the one who is listening to you: God. However, you do need a decent voice to songlead in worship and to be a backup singer, but you don't need to be that to sing gospel music. Just SING with all of your heart, soul and mind, and you'll sound wonderful.Ah, music!! The greatest good that mortals know. And all of heaven we have below ~Joseph Addison~
This is where the sidetrack joins the maintrack.I love worship sessions. I love huge worship concerts. This is because I can sing all I want, sing as hard and as loud as I want, sing as off-key as I want, and nobody is going to say anything. Nobody cares. Nobody will even notice, because the person sitting next to me is also probably singing it in the wrong key. I'm singing to the one who gives me strength, and nobody is going to laugh at me.And to think that I can't go to a huge worship session with Guy Sebastian as songleader. Gosh...Well there will be other concerts, other opportunities, other big singers. No use crying over spill milk, but at least I've lamented about it. :pSidetrack again.Bart Simpson: Until now, I don't know why I am here on earth. But now I know. TO BUY THAT COMIC BOOK!!Marge Simpson: Honey, you know that we won't give you 100 dollars for a comic book.Today when I was in IKEA, after leaving Popular bookstore, I went and stood outside Anime Tech and marvelled at the Japanese animation merchandises. I was thinking to myself:" Wah.. final fantasy 8 watch, mug and notebook..wahh.. but expensive lah." And then I saw it.I saw Evenstar. Evenstar is the necklace worn by Arwen, daughter of Elrond, said to be the most beautiful elf princess of the Third Age in Middle Earth, the love of Aragorn, and the rumoured reincarnation of Luthien Tinuviel.RM259. I felt my heart sink.And the above scene from The Simpsons came to mind.Did I mention that I'm a huge Lord of the Rings fan? And me, being such a hopeless romantic and full of wild imagination, have a particularly great interest in the tales of Luthien Tinuviel and Beren, and of Arwen and Aragorn. Both of the elf maidens forsaken immortality and the Grey Havens for love. Forsaking all the ages of the world, they chose to live only one lifetime, but accompanied by the one they loved the most. Luthien Tinuviel died in the 2nd Age. Songs about how Arwen was Tinuviel rebirth was sang by the elves, and even Aragorn, when he first saw her, called out Tinuviel! Tinuviel! Nightingale! Nightingale!, thinking that he had strayed into a dream. *Like I said, I'm a hopeless romantic with a wild imagination*I saw Evenstar... but I know it's insanity to pay RM259 for a necklace, no matter how beautiful, wonderful, precious and meaningful that necklace is.There ain't no point in thinking and hoping and yearning about something that I know I'll probably never have. Even if I can afford it, I'll have to be mad to actually take my ATM card, withdraw the money, go to IKEA, walk up Anime Tech, and buy Evenstar. Oh yeah, I'll have to lose my sanity first.
50 things that you may not know about me
1. I'm going to be an accountant but I have no idea what an accountant does.2. I'm an intuitive person. Most of my decisions are based on instincts, and most of the time, the choices are right.3. There was a time when I wanted to be a preacher, but I didn't have the guts to tell my father. My mother's response was: "A preacher? YOU?" -_-4. Come to think of it, I'm not sure whether I have any guts at all.5. I love oldies, and my favourite is I'm Never Gonna Fall In Love.6. My all time favourite is Drops of Jupiter by Train. It won Song of the Year in the 2001 Grammys.7. According to ancestrial records, my father is the 13th generation of the family. And he is the first male in the 13 generations to defy all family customs by marrying a non-Chinese. Males before him have always married pure Hainanese women. (All in the name of love)8. Thus, my family don't really follow any customs, save for those popular ones, like giving red packets during Chinese New Year.9. I'm not close to any of my grandparents.10. I wish I was closer to my maternal grandparents. I know my late grandfather thought of me often.11. My late grandfather was a Roman Catholic Catechist, meaning that he is second in power after the priest in the church.12. I was so so close to becoming a country girl. If my parents didn't relocate to the peninsular, I will be climbing coconut trees now, or maybe riding the family buffalo. Kinda cool eh?13. I'm taking up scrapbooking, and I think I'm gonna love it.14. Scrapbooking costs money because I'm starting from scratch.15. I don't have money. Well, I do have but not much.16. After finishing my diploma I stopped playing the piano completely. I only play it for Children's Church. I wish I didn't stop. Now it's gonna take a lot of work to hone back my skills.17. I can't sing. I really wish I could but I can't, unless I use a fake voice which sounds totally abnormal.18. I can't dance either.19. I hate the taste of beer. However, I drank pepermint wine once, and I love it.20. I have 55 cousins, not including my father's side of the family. The eldest being 33 years old, and the youngest just turned 1.21. I'm not close to any of them. (separated by the South China Sea)22. My favourite historical character is Marcus Aurelius Antoninius.23. My favourite historical event is the American Civil War. Not that I like war, but that war was particularly interesting and touching.24. In theory, communism works. IN THEORY. I totally agree.25. I hate it when artists reproduce songs sang by other artists. Don't these people know that no matter how hard they try, they will never beat the original?26. I like war movies and documentaries. It reminds of the sufferings of war and how important it is to preserve peace.27. I don't drink soft drinks. Not even Coke.28. This is because each time I drink those drinks, the gas will come out from my nose. It hurts.29. I used to have breathing problems when it gets really cold. But I think I'm okay now.30. I get emotional easily. I cried when I listened to Martina McBride's God's Will.31. I cried when my mother told me of a girl who didn't get to finish her English essay paper in a major examination because the school conveniently forgot to classify her under 'disabled'. Thus she was not given extra time for the exam.32. I cried when I watched The Passion of Christ33. Come to think of it, I cry a lot. But I never let it show.34. I've experience deja vu a number of times. (What I dreamt can come true, but I doubt the existence of vampires. *Please refer to my post on dreams*)35. I am terrified of dogs.36. But I love cats.37. I used to rare a fighting fish, but it died.38. I'm really blur. But if you know me, you should know that by now.39. I still watch cartoons. Not only those japanese animation, but those really kiddy cartoons like Bob the Builder.40. I love movies and drama series.41. I find Peanuts by Charles M. Schulz hilarious and I don't understand why people don't find it funny. Ah well, different people have different tastes.42. Warcraft III - Reign of Chaos is the only computer game that I can win. Emphasis on ONLY.43. I'm saving money for a digital camera. Anybody know any good bargains?44. I like musical dramas. Les Miserables is the best ever!45. I am interested in Egyptian mythology.46. I don't believe in astrology.47. But I do believe in God, because God is Almighty and loving. And it's great having someone like that in control of my life instead of a bunch of stars. Stars are just balls of gas.48. My desktop background is that of Hitsugaya Toushiro, 10th Division Captain of the Gotei 13 of the Soul Society in Bleach. He carries the most powerful ice-zanpaktuo, Hyourinmaru. If you don't know what I'm talking about, please come and see me and we'll have coffee. I promise you after I'm done, you'll be hooked.49. My chosen nickname is Luthien Tinuviel, an elf princess from Middle Earth who risked her life for her love, Beren. Death is not all that bad, but watching someone you love die is absolutely devastating.50. I actually read medical encyclopedias. Gosh I'm such a freak.There you go. 50 things about me that you may not know and I hope you have known me better after reading this. There are many more, but let's leave that for another day.
death
The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and for deeds left undone ~Harriet Beecher Stowe~Normally we don't like to think about death. We would rather think about life. Why reflect on death? When you start preparing for death you soon realize that you must look into your life...now...and come to face the truth of yourself. Death is like a mirror in which the true meaning of life is reflected. ~Sogyal Rinpoche~Death is nothing else but going home to God, the bond of love will be unbroken for all eternity ~Mother Theresa~My eyes awoken after a night of disturbed sleep. I sat up on my bed and look around me. Everything remains the same. Nothing has changed. The sun still rises in the east and sets in the west. The flowers are still growing and ever beautiful. The cats are still fat and lazy. Nothing around me is different. Life still goes on. And yet, nothing is really the same either. Everything remained identical, even though somebody is already gone.I still find myself expecting my friends to talk about her antics and behaviour. I still imagine seeing her face in some teenage magazine in the near future. I am still expecting to see her rock the world of mass communication in the next few years. But that's all I can do now: expect and imagine, because she's gone.When her classmates held a tribute to her, their tears and somber faces caused me to feel emotions of pity, regret and helplessness. I pity her family, especially her parents, who are forced to bury their own child. No parent should ever be put through that torture. It's not normal. I pity her friends who never even had the chance to say goodbye. I pity them because they will never hear her bubbly voice in class, or see her debates against the lecturers again. I regret having heard of her often, and yet never seizing the chance to get to know her personally, even though I had ample opportunities. Now, it is no longer possible. I feel helpless, because I don't know when is my turn. I will die sooner or later, but till then, how will my life be? Will people shed tears in my memorial, or will they curse me left, right and center? Will people bring flowers, or will they spit on my tombstone? How will people remember me? What is my legacy? If I walk out the door today and get hit by a car and die on the spot, will people feel sorry for my passing away? I can't avoid death. That is a fact that will never change, but I can change myself so that I will live life to the fullest.I have done things that I regret, and if its possible, I want to go back to my past to change it. I am willing to give up almost anything to turn back time to undo my mistakes, so that I won't have to go through life with feelings of regret, but that is impossible. I carry that burden each and every day, wishing that I hadn't done all the bad things that I've done. I know I'm a sinner, and forever bound to make mistakes. Although I have learnt my lesson, I wished there was something that I can do, but I can't do anything now. I have to learn to forgive myself, and seek absolution and ultimate redemption from God, or else, I will never be truly free. There was one point in my life where God's grace striked me so hard, that my eyes were opened wide, and I saw myself. I saw my true nature, how I really am: ugly, worthless, and possibly the worst sinner in the world. I am forgiven not by my actions, but by grace and love everlasting. And from that point onwards, I promised myself that before death takes me, I will repent my ways so that I will have no regrets. Preparing for death has forced me to look at my own life, and made me determined to change what I can. I am but one small force in this world, but if I can effect some sort of positive change in people's lives, no matter how insignificant it may be, this life is worth living and I know I won't have anything to regret or be sorry for when I breathe my last breath. I don't want to leave anything unsaid or undone. So powerful is the impact of someone's death, that I can't help but be thankful for the lesson that has been taught to me, and for the chance to live another day.To be able to wake up, live the day, and see the faces of the people that I love, is already a miracle.I am sorry if I've caused hurt and pain, and as I pray to God for forgiveness of my sins, I pray that I may be able to receive absolution from those that I've wronged, so that I can have peace among men.For those that I love, there is not a day that goes by when I don't thank God for you, and for your willingness to accept me into your hearts. Your presence in my life has made all the difference, and I thank God for all of you.Those are the things that I want you to know, just in case those bloody aedes mosquitoes caused me to suffer from hamoerrage, or if I get hit by a truck, or if I don't live through the day, or if the big sky falls on our heads.I don't want to leave things undone and words unsaid.Eunice Lee Cay Shing, may you rest in never-ending peace in the wings of God's love. Even in your death, you have taught me lessons that I will remember for life.Datin Endon, the nation will forever be thankful for your courage, perseverance, and for your contributions to the causes that you believed in. You are an inspiration to all.
lies
"I'm happy""He's happy""I can change""I can live with the sins of my past""I can live without him"~Yes, the greatest lies are those that we whisper to ourselves every night before we sleep in desperate, desperate hope that when come morning, it will all be true.~Life is but a play and everybody are actors. When we walk out that door in the morning, all of us are nicely dressed up, standing tall, smiling and confident. Even though our hearts are screaming in pain and our souls are howling in agony we put on a smile, never allowing people to catch us in our moments of weaknesses. Each of us to a certain degree acknowledge that the lives we are living are but for show. But there comes to a point when we try to convince ourselves that this is how it is and we are happy in living that lie.Ever tried looking at the other side of the fence, thinking that the grass is greener? And you say to yourself: "Hey, why can't I be like that? Why do I have to go on living this mundane life and live a lie?"Wake up call: The grass may look greener. Well, that's because there's a lot of shit there for fertilizer. *Sorry if it sounds crude*Sometimes when we look at other people's lives and compare them to ours, we think that they have it all, and that we cannot compete. However, behind those masks that they show the world, who knows what problems they might be facing? Who knows the troubles that they are going through? Humans, by nature will never allow our failings show, so we tell people what we always tell them, what we have been taught to tell them: "I'm doing great!", even though we're not. Then suddenly, someone shot him/herself, then the questions start to rise like mushrooms after a spring shower. "Didn't he have it all?" "She has everything. Why end it?" "If I'm his position, I'll never become that stupid. I'll enjoy my life to the fullest!" And then the rumours start to spread like wildfire. "Oh, really?? I didn't know she was like that!" "Is it true? I didn't realize he was facing depression! He just live across the street. Why didn't he tell us?" "Oh my goodness.. his mother shot herself?" and the list goes on.It is good to share our happy moments with others. Things will be much better, though, if people are willing to share sorrow as well.Thus, we who are not prepared to show that we are human, and will continue to live our perfect lie, will continue to stuff all the worries, tears, and sorrows down out throats when we face the world. When we come back home from the stress and demands of work and school, when we finally return to our own private space after a hard day's lie, we shut the doors, we undress ourselves, we walk into the joined bathroom, we turn on the shower, and we cry, knowing that no one will ever know. Then we emerged from the bathroom, put on our pyjamas, blow dry our hair, spread out the blanket, climb on to bed, lie down, and tell ourselves: "hey, I'm happy.", when we're really not. But nobody knows because nobody wants to know.Someone once told me of a girl named Alice who wished she was living a different life. Her father is only a plumber and had to work as a salesman part time in order to make ends meet. Her mother was a seamstress who takes up orders from rich and fancy ladies who will scream, shout and demanded refunds if the little nitty gritty details are not followed closely. She had a younger brother who is still young and always bugging her, as he tends to take her toys to play, and take her favourite story books and turning it into colouring experiments. Her older brother is a high school student and was working part time in the local diner. Being a poor teenager with shabby clothings and a torn school bag, he was the school's weirdo. Although he did excellent in school and is in the track team, he was the rich kids favourite punching bag.Now, Alice was a beautiful girl. She is on the honours roll and a cheerleader in school. She hangs out with the 'cool' kids and thus get invited to parties, dances and dates with the rich hot kids in town. She dressed herself in MNGs and she loves the perfumes by Armani Exchange. She felt misplaced in her family. Many times she thought to herself: "I think I'm adopted. Why can't I be born in those rich kids families?"She felt her problems caused by her family was overwhelming.Then one night, while she lay sleeping, she met God in her dreams.God asked her: "Alice, do you have any complains with the life that you're living?" And Alice, with absolute certainty that God is in the wrong, answered with full confidence: "Yes I have a few complains I like to make." Then, she told God what she felt. She wanted a better life, a more secured future and a higher income family.God, playing with His beard, looked down at her and squinted his eyes and frowned, as though in deep thought. Then He looked up and smiled, and said:" I have an idea. Do you see the baggage that you're carrying?" Alice felt her back and felt the big, heavy bag that she's carrying. "Yeah." "Well, Alice, that's your burden. And from what you're telling me, you think that you're burden is too much for you to bear, right?" Alice, with her big sparking eyes looked at God and said: "Yeah!!" Then God showed her to a row of bags a few paces away. "Why don't you try one of these baggages. Maybe they are lighter for you. Pick one and see which one you like."Alice examined each of the baggages and read the names imprinted on it. She stopped in front of what to her, was the smallest baggage. "Mrs Walderson. She's the rich lady who lives 3 blocks away. My mother sewed some of her coats. She's always stylish, what with her pearls and diamonds and all. And I heard that her husband is rich. Let me try this one." God just smiled and said: "Go ahead." Alice put it on and immediately sank to the floor. She can't even get up. "It is so heavy!! It's even heavier than mine! I thought she had less burdens..." God smiled even wider and said:" Why don't you take a look what's inside the bag?" Alice opened the bag and she was shocked.Mrs Walderson has a rich husband, but he is sleeping with his secretary, and she is unable to do anything about it because without her husband, she will be penniless. She has been out of the workforce for years and do not have the experience to go back to work and support herself. Mrs Walderson has a son, Josh, who is in a rehab because he was smoking marijuana. Mrs Walderson's daughter, Joan, is 16 and pregnant. She eloped last Wednesday with a man twice her age, who was previously charged with statutory rape. Mrs Walderson went to the clinic last month for her blood test results. She is HIV positive. It seems that her husband has been visiting brothels on his business travels. No money in the world can ever reverse the damage that has been done. All she can do now is put on a smile and tell everyone what she has been telling everyone: "I'm doing great." That's why she's always smiling."I didn't know..." was all Alice can say.She put down that baggage and continued searching for another one. She stopped when she saw the name of her friend, Martha. "Hey, Martha is really lucky you know. She has everything. Looks, brains, money.... I think I'll try this one." God smiled and said, "Go ahead." When Alice try on the baggage, she cried in pain because the baggage was digging into her shoulders. She put it down and opened it. She was shocked again.Martha's parents were divorced and she is living with her mother and stepfather. Every weekend, when her mother was out working, her stepfather will come into her room, undress her and worked himself on her. Martha just stared up the ceiling of her room, which was decorated with clouds and birds, and kept quiet. When she felt pain, she just grip her sheets and grit her teeth. No tears came flowing down. She was already used to it. She didn't dare to talk to her mother because her stepfather threatened her: "One word from your bitchy little mouth and you and your mother will be killed." The reason Martha studies hard is because she knows only a scholarship to a university far, far away from her house is the only path to her freedom. Due to her fear for men, she swore that she will not allow any member of the opposite sex to touch her. She is a lesbian.Alice could only shed tears for her friend and she said:" I didn't know. Everytime I ask her how is she, she will only reply, "I'm doing great.""Don't we all answer the same thing...God then said to her, "Why don't you try this one?" She put on the baggage and stood up. "Hey, this is so much better," Alice said, and she smiled. God answered, "Of course, this is your own baggage. You think you have problems? Look around you first..."The next day when Alice saw Martha in school, she went up to her and asked her, "Hey, do you wanna hang out at my place later? We can.. you know.. do homework.. and maybe talk.. " Martha hugged her and said, " I loved to.."When she saw Mrs Walderson coming into her house to collect her coat from her mother, Alice run up to her and say, "Mrs Walderson, I baked these cookies with my mother yesterday. I want you to have some." Mrs Walderson with tears in her eyes said, "Thank you child. I wished I had a daughter like you."Alice then went up to her older brother's room and knocked on his room door. They chatted and laugh together for the next 2 hours. Later, before leaving his room, she told him, "I'm proud to have you as my brother." He smiled and kissed her on the cheeks.Alice then brought her favourite toys and the story books she bought from the store and went into her younger brother's room. In less than half an hour the toys were destroyed and the books were filled with modern art. But she had the greatest time.You think you have problems? Look around...Call up someone that you feel are going through a rough time. Take them out for tea. Bring them to a movie. Take them for a quiet talk at the beach. Do it before it's too late.
what's in a name?
The meaning of 'Francesca'Gender: GirlProununciation: fran-CHESS-kahOrigin: ItalianNotes: Variant of 'Frances'Similar names: Fanchon, Francesca, Fran, Franny, Fanny, Frannie, Francine, Franchesca, Franceska, Franchesa, FranciscaExtra information: The name Francesca ranked 966 out of 4275 (top 23%) as a first name for females of all ages in the 1990 U.S. CensusMeaning: FREEDOMFreedom has light in the hearts, the actions, the spirit of men and so it must be daily earned and refreshed - else like a flower cut from its life-giving roots, it'll wither and die. ~Dwight D. Eisenhower, Commander of the Allied Forces in WWII~You have no idea how close that name is in defining my life all throughout these years.What is the meaning of your name?
uldukis
I am currently have a serious case of writer's block. I don't know what to write. No ideas. Zero. I was thinking of writing about death but that's just such a depressing topic on such a beautiful day. The sun is shining, my headache is gone, the internet connection is working fine, am reading a wonderful novel about the chinese revolution (Wild Swans written by Jung Chang), have warm grub in my belly.... little things in life can make a person reticent about death. So instead let me share with you a wonderful, stirring and emotional story that I got from Kill The Goat.Uldukis
Uldukis has lived more than nine decades and though she is small and withered, only common sense indicates that this will be her last one. Her mind is sharp, her body is still a vehicle, if a slow-moving one. Her room in the nursing home is small and cramped with 93 years worth of accumulated stuff: photographs of a husband who has been dead nearly thirty years; knick-knacks from dozens of mother's days; primitive preschool paintings, yellowed and curling around the edges, done by grandchildren now in high school; books so numerous that her 6 shelves don't hold them all, so they line the walls at least waist-high, an awkward kind of wainscoting.
It is painful for Uldukis to tie her shoelaces because her knuckles are swollen from arthritis, but she is meticulous about her appearance. She never leaves the confines of her room without a brooch, a silk scarf tied around her neck, and at least 2 barrettes holding back her thin white hair. She is among the oldest residents of her nursing home, but also among the liveliest. She has made many friends during her 25-year stay, and has since watched most of them die. Thank goodness for these friends, though, because despite having 2 sons, 1 daughter, 6 grandchildren and 1 great-grandchild all living within 100 km, she rarely has a visitor.
On this frigid November day, Uldukis is going out. She bundles up in a long coat the colour of an eggplant, and tiny gray boots that you would have otherwise suspected belonged to a child. The senior's van drops her alone at a department store and she gets herself a shopping cart more for its support and aid in walking than for its intended purpose.
Uldukis has shopping to do; Christmas is fast approaching. She wields the cart around the store, the creaky wheel crying only slightly louder than her creaking bones. Every step is an effort, but she works hard to hide it. Uldukis is a proud woman. She is conscious of her decrepit appearance, and even more conscious of the disparity it has with the way she feels. Inside, she is still the caring mother, devoted wife, beloved school teacher, determined cancer survivor (twice), and strong matriarch which defined her all these years. But when death approaches, no matter how subtly, it wipes away all that has come before. Uldukis knows that she has no place in the world. Uldukis knows that she has hardly even a place in the very family that she founded. Uldukis knows she is forgotten.
Forgotten, yes, but Uldukis does not forget. And so she is shopping for a family that she rarely sees. A picture of her great-grandchild burns inside her wallet. She loves him fiercely even if she hasn't met him yet. He's almost 2.
She selects a gift for him first: a conservative woman, her instinct is always towards the practical. She picks out an outfit for him, and closes her eyes to remember how big a 22 month child would be. The clothing is of the sturdy, every-day kind, the kind that will withstand wear, and washing, and life. To balance out the gift, she guides her wobbly cart to the toy section, where she is instantly overwhelmed. Of the many, many things that line the shelves, she recognizes almost none of them as actual toys. And so she goes for what she knows best, a book.
Uldukis teeters around the store thoughtfully picking up gifts for all her family members. Several hours into her shopping, she spots a store employee who is setting up a display of sale merchandise. Uldukis trudges over to her, and asks for her help. She has several blouses in her cart, and she is trying to read the care labels in each one. Her failing eyesight is helped by the giant magnifying glass that she has brought with her for this very purpose, but it's not enough. The employee greets the tiny old woman with a smile, but she works in merchandise, behind the scenes, and this isn't her job. But there are no sales associates around, and so she does her best. Uldukis has several questions stored up: which colour do the young people prefer? Is it probable that her grandson would want a movie on the disc, rather than the tape? Where can she find the tea towels?
The store employee spends the next 3 hours following Uldukis around. Uldukis is so delighted with the company that she invents questions just to keep the shop girl from leaving. She boasts of her family members, and wants the girl's honest opinion on whether her grandson's girlfriend would like particular set of earrings. Even the young girl is exhausted by the time every person has been crossed off Uldukis' list, and her shift has ended long ago.
The girl waits with Uldukis in line at the cash, afraid that Uldukis's short arms won't reach to the bottom of the cart, and aware that she should probably be saved from all the bending and lifting anyway. Before she can get away, Uldukis asks for a favour: will she call the nursing home to let them know that she needs to be picked up now?
The girl calls, and the nurse who answers is gruff. She seems angry at the hassle. The girl aches for her little shopping companion, and the life she must lead, always feeling like an imposition even after such a formidable life.
Uldukis and the girl wait together at the entrance for the nursing home van to arrive. During the long wait, Uldukis shyly hands the girl a gift- a box of chocolates that she has purchased to say thank you for all her help. The girl feels the prickle of tears behind her eyes as she refuses the gift, and tells Uldukis that the pleasure of her company has been reward enough. Uldukis likes this answer so much, she grabs the girl around the waist, and holds on tight.
Finally, the van arrives. The driver is a somewhat friendly man, though he has the annoying habit of talking about Uldukis as though she isn't there.
"Uldukis sure is a generous gift-giver” he notes, as he loads the packages.“Last year all the presents sat wrapped in her room well past Christmas because her family never took her home for the holidays. They sat there until the end of March, when we had to call her son because she had a minor stroke.”
When Uldukis is ready to go, she reaches up to the girl, a virtual stranger, for a hug. The girl hugs her as fiercely as she dares embrace such brittle bones, surprised at her feeling. Uldukis waves at her friend-for-an-afternoon as the van pulls out of the parking lot.
The girl is so moved by this woman that she makes a point of visiting Uldukis before Christmas, and the visit is so well-received it is repeated several times that winter and spring. In fact, when Uldukis quietly passes away in her sleep that June, the department store employee has been her sole visitor that year. The Christmas gifts, so lovingly bought and wrapped brilliantly, are still piled in the room where Uldukis took her last breath.
*sniff sniff* *sobz..*
Don't ever be ungrateful. God is watching you.
why do fogging when it's only white smoke? dried ice is enough
Last week, T'ng Chang went home to Penang. He was admitted into the hospital because he is suspected to have dengue fever. Blood test result - pending.Last week, a junior of mine, Ivan, was admitted into the hospital. Dengue strucked him, too.Last week, government officials came to fog the hostel and areas surrounding it. And then T'ng Chang and Ivan got hit by dengue fever.Either the mosquitoes have evolved, or the 'foggers' (if there is such a word) are using dried ice with a little added chemicals to keep the people's mouth shut.
dreams
Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives. ~William Dement~When you dream, you dialogue with aspects of yourself that normally are not with you in daytime and you discover you know a great deal more than you thought you did. ~Toni Cade Bambara, US writer~I was standing on top of the stone-cut stairs, with my newborn baby in my arms. He was sleeping quietly, snuggled comfortably against my breast. I felt the gushing wind, splashing on my face, flowing through my hair. I felt danger. I smelled jeopardy. Before my brain can instruct my motor functions what to do in the imminent threat, I sensed the creature behind me. The hairs behind my neck stood at attention, and a cold shudder attacked my body. I couldn't move. I was paralyzed with fear.He came running towards me and immediately grabbed my hand. We ran for our lives. He took me around the block, and ran down towards another flight of stairs. I remember hanging corpses at both sides of the stairs. Their skin was peeled. Their flesh and guts were exposed. When we reached the bottom of the stairs, we ran around another block of building. My hands were always in his. He never looked back, but he made sure his grip on me was tight. I remember the ground to be wet and grassy, with water splashing everywhere with each running step I took. The whole place was flooded. "This place look like a paddy field," I thought. I did not feel afraid. The rain continue to pour, but it is slowing to a light drizzle. He led us across the field, and out of the gate. He didn't let go of me. I knew he wouldn't. That's why I felt no fear. We ran, but the creature kept coming close. We didn't look back, but somehow we can sense it behind us, and it's gaining speed. We knew we just need to make it beyond the gate. We just need to cross the gate and we'll be safe. He won't be able to harm us then. We continued running, and when we reach the gate we were extremely happy to see that it's open. We ran across it, and the chasing stopped. The danger was eliminated. We're safe now. Only then did I look back. The place was enchantingly beautiful. Green planes coupled with the rain. It was breath-taking.He was still holding my hand, and my baby is still safe. When I turned to look at the face of the man who saved my life and my baby's, in whom I have felt such security...I woke up.I had this exact same dream for so many times for so many years. Each time when I wake up, I can't remember his face. I remember everything. Every single detail, except for his face.But recently, I stopped having this dream. What does that mean? And I still don't know who the man is.It was the middle of the night. Pitch dark. There were rows and rows of tall, gothic buildings. It was full moon. I was strolling along the pavement, struting with my high heels. I saw my best friend walking towards me. I waved my hand and called out her name. Smiling, I waited for her to respond.She walked towards me, and on her face was a sinister grin. Really evil and threatening. I don't understand it. This is my best friend, but I didn't bother. She kept walking towards me at a frightening speed. Both her hands reached out to me. She smiled, and her teeth showed. There were two extremely long and sharp ones at the corner of her mouth. Her hands encircled my throat. My best friend is a vampire. Great. I ran. Try running in high heels. It can kill ya. But I ran anyway. I didn't know how I've done it. But I kept on running. Ran through some doors, around a few blocks until I finally lost her.When I finally stopped to catch my breath, I saw another good friend of mine walking towards me. Finally a caring face. He is like a brother to me. He came to me and smiled. Again, his hands streched out towards me, his teeth showed, hands encircling my throat, and I ran again. The whole place was filled with those creatures, and all of it are my friends. Ran and ran and ran..I woke up sweating.I had this dream for a few times also. Exact same one. My friends are vampires and they want to eat me. Great. Wonderful. But I don't get it though... humans can't outrun vampires, at least that's what Hollywood told us. But I can outrun them. But I stopped having this dream for a while now.Noticed how my dreams are always about 'running away'? My friend said that it's because I feel insecure. There is something that I fear, and I keep trying to run away from it. But I stopped having these dreams for quite some time now. Does it mean that I'm secure now?I lied awake on the bed. The sheets were white. The walls were white. Everything was white. I rolled on my side and placed my head on his shoulder. I hugged him close. He kissed my forehead and ran his hand down my back. He held me tight. I was in a state of bliss. Exceedingly happy and in love.I looked up and saw his face. He's aged now, not like when we first met but still handsome. He has always been handsome to me. The white strands of hair were visible, and so are the wrinkles on his face. His face.. he had such an angular and strong jaw. Masculine."Fran.. I.." he whispered.I placed my fingers on his lips, as a motion for him to keep the silence. I kissed him..I woke up.I saw his face. I saw it. But I can't remember. I only remember the white strands of hair and a very masculine jaw. But I can't remember anything else. I saw his face, but I don't remember it.I could really use a "Joseph, the interpreter of dreams".When you dream, you dialogue with aspects of yourself that normally are not with you in daytime and you discover you know a great deal more than you thought you did.I know a great deal more all right. I know I have a wild imagination and I'm insane.What do you dream about?
i choose to
Love, like truth and beauty, is concrete. Love is not fundamentally a sweet feeling; not, at heart, a matter of sentiment, attachment, or being "drawn toward." Love is active, effective, a matter of making reciprocal and mutually beneficial relation with one's friends and enemies. Love creates righteousness, or justice, here on earth. To make love is to make justice. As advocates and activists for justice know, loving involves struggle, resistance, risk. People working today on behalf of women, blacks, the aging, the poor in this country and elsewhere know that making justice is not a warm, fuzzy experience. I think also that sexual lovers and good friends know that the most compelling relationships demand hard work, patience, and a willingness to endure tensions and anxiety in creating mutually empowering bonds.
For this reason loving involves commitment. We are not automatic lovers of self, others, world, or God. Love does not just happen. We are not love machines, puppets on the strings of a deity called "love." Love is a choice -- not simply, or necessarily, a rational choice, but rather a willingness to be present to others without pretense or guile. Love is a conversion to humanity -- a willingness to participate with others in the healing of a broken world and broken lives. Love is the choice to experience life as a member of the human family, a partner in the dance of life, rather than as an alien in the world or as a deity above the world, aloof and apart from human flesh. ~Carter Heyward in Passion for Justice~
I love.. because I choose to.
I used to think that love is an emotion that comes naturally. Intense, powerful and passionate, like Scarlett O' Hara and Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind. Or as the king from Walt Disney's Cinderella said, "Love. Bah! It's just a boy meeting a girl under the right conditions. So.. we will ARRANGE the conditions." Or like what Mr. Warren often said in class: "The stars are all in the right places.. the birds are singing the right song..." (Stars only shine during the night.. do birds sing at night?) Do understand that this was my opinion of love when I was a rebellious teenager, thinking that I know everything when I really don't know anything. How stupid and naive I was. Probably read too much Francine Pascal's Sweet Valley High.
There is a woman in church that I admire and look up to. She is probably in her late sixties now, and she has the most fantastic smile. Her smile was comforting, motherly and sweet, and her cheerful and warm personality is always comforting, especially when I feel awkward or somewhat out of place. Furthermore, she always seemed so secure and happy, never grumpy or grouchy, unlike some of the cantankerous people that have so often come into my life and bring about a worrying degree of emotional havoc. I shall not elaborate on that, it makes me depress to even think of it.
Now, I've seen a lot of touching and beautiful moments in church, but only a handful left a deep impact in my life. This happened a few years ago. The guest speaker invited the congregation for altar call, and there were many who stepped up front for prayer. Some wanted healing, some wanted salvation, some needed financial help, some wanted forgiveness... and after a few moments, the pastor asked couples to come to the altar to pray together. Many couples went, and most of them were young or middle-aged couples, who have toddlers or teenage children. The woman that I mentioned earlier came to the altar with her husband. They held hands and they prayed together. You can count using only the fingers of one hand to know how many elderly couples responded to the altar call. This couple was one of the very few. I don't know why I felt so touched and mesmerized at that moment. I didn't understand why I was feeling the way I felt. It wasn't an unusual scenario after all. After church, I shook off that feeling, but deep down I was still pondering.
After a few months, the altar was opened for prayer again. The woman's husband went up for prayer this time. As he was in the midst of prayer, raising his hands to God, his wife came down to the altar, hugged him from behind, and in each other's arms, they prayed. I smiled to myself, and was once again touched. This time, I finally understood my feelings.
I have a mental picture of how I want a marriage to be. It's not about the wedding bells, or the large chiffon dress, or the rings, or the wedding dinner (this is a must if you're Chinese), or honeymoons in exotic islands, or nights of extreme passion, or even growing old together. Marriage is all that and more. A women's magazine once mentioned that most women want the whole wedding shenannigan, not a marriage. Yeah it would be nice to have wedding bells ringing when I walk out of the church hand-in-hand with a brand new hubby, or to have a large chiffon dress (I still prefer the classic white), or flowers or honeymoons etc... about growing old together, well there are elderly couples who blame every single unfortunate and miserable event in their lives on their spouses. Maybe not, but I've seen couples like that and it ain't pretty. One wonders how such relationships survived for so long. My mental picture of a marriage is like that of the couple I've mentioned: married for so many years and yet still caring for one another, praying together, and more in love with each other than ever. Her eyes still twinkle when she talks to her husband, and they still laugh and giggle like young couples in love. I've heard of couples who fell out of love for each other after years of marriage and children, always arguing and bickering and fighting all the time. Some of them even went to the point of telling their kids "Don't grow up to be like your mother!" or "Look at your father! You want to be like that?" It's hard to imagine that they were once so in love and pledged to be together for all times, and the kids are stuck in this endless war. It scares me to know that relationships can be so strong for a moment and so fragile after time passed by, while some grow stronger still. *Glad my parents are not on an all-out war against each other.*
I guess I was touched because such gestures of love after so many years of each other, such as praying together, hugging each other and talking with that special twinkle in each other's eyes, gave me hope. It comforts me to know that I may one day experience such a special bond as well. I have hope. Sure they definitely have gone through rough times. Which couples don’t right? But yet, through it all, their love grew stronger still... because they choose to love. That's what love is. It's a choice. You can either sit around and complain until cows start wearing bloomers, or you can choose to see the best in the person and give it 110% support.
I think also that sexual lovers and good friends know that the most compelling relationships demand hard work, patience and a willingness to endure tensions and anxiety in creating mutually empowering bonds.
I've read a few true stories about love which are sharpen, not dulled by time and hardships, and I've seen it with my own eyes.
I hope that I can experience such love, and will be able to say to my future husband "I love you" and mean it, after 40 years of marriage.. or maybe even longer. Now ain't that sweet, eh?
stuck in between
As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" "Neither this man nor his parents sinned," said Jesus, "but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life. As long as it is day, we must do the work of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world." Having said this, he spit on the ground, made some mud with the saliva, and put it on the man's eyes. "Go," he told him, "wash in the Pool of Siloam" (this word means Sent). So the man went and washed, and came home seeing. John 9:1-6Every Saturday, my father has a class with two of his ex-colleague's children, a girl and a boy. The boy is 10 years old, a Primary Four student. The girl is 13 years old and studying in a private high school.My father is a secondary school teacher. He was trained to major in Physics, but he is far more experienced as a maths teacher, as that is the subject he has been teaching all throughout his career. He is currently teaching Additional Mathematics and Physics. When his ex-colleague and good friend asked him for help to coach his children in maths, without hesitation he said "yes", because that is what friends do, and teaching maths is his specialisation. However, he didn't know what he got himself into when he agreed to help. Saturday came, and hence, his first class with these two kids begin. The class was held in the kitchen, and I was in the living room with my mother.After half an hour, he came out of the kitchen with a bewildered expression, looking totally taken aback. He whispered to us, " the girl is a special child. I don't know how to teach her. I don't know how to help. I'm not trained to do this. I.. I don't know what to do."After the two-hour class, the children's father came, and my father invited him into the house for a chat. My father wanted clarification, and so everything was spilled out.The girl's left hand is crippled, and she is having a lot of problems with simple, basic calculation. When given simple mathematic questions that need a little visualisation and analytical thinking, she can't do it because she doesn't understand, even though the concept has been repeated to her countless times. She couldn't grasp what she is being taught. For example, when given 5 different lines, where only 2 are parallel, she can't tell which are the two lines, even though the concept of parallel lines have been explained to her again and again, in the simplest terms. And this is a question without any calculation. She cannot do maths, or anything that requires calculation, analysis and application of concepts, such as physics or chemistry or even accounting. And because of her left hand, she won't be able to develop her musical intelligence, if she had it, and she can't go to vocational schools because the skills taught in such schools need you to have two good hands. Nobody sews or knits or repair cars with one hand only.However, she is not a special child. After countless medical examinations, the doctors concluded that she cannot be classified as 'special'. Thus, she cannot go to schools specially for such children.She is not a special child because she is not suppose to be this way. She was supposed to be born normal, like you and me. She was supposed to be born with two good hands, so that she can press middle C on the piano with her left hand, and learn how to sew and knit and change car tyres. She is supposed to be born with a high degree of intelligence. High degree of intelligence meaning that she can do maths, understand how gravity works, know the colour of cuprum sulfate, and understand what is debit and credit.But she was born the way she is. She is her parents' first child. When her mother was pregnant and near birth, her water bag broke when she was asleep, but she didn't feel any contractions or labour pain. Her mother thought it was nothing, until it was too late. This was her first pregnancy after all. Her mother didn't know. Her father didn't know.When her daughter was finally born, the baby was already blue, and the forceps were used. Those forceps caused even more damage. The doctors told the first-time parents that a portion of their daughter's brain was already damaged beyond repair. This portion of damaged brain includes the motor functions for the left hand, and the analytical part of the brain, the part of the brain that is used for understanding 1+1=2, parallel lines, trigonometry and how debit and credit works.She is not a special child. If you give her a novel written by C.S.Lewis, she can tell you what she read. She just can't do maths or any calculation. But she's not normal either. The girl is stucked in between.So who gets the blame? Who is to blame? Her parents? Her doctors? Herself? God?But this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in her life.She may not grow up to be a rocket scientist or an accountant or a jazz musician, but she will grow up to be somebody used greatly for the Lord, even though she doesn't know Jesus. And God's power will be manifested through her.She has taught me to be grateful to God for the way I am. Grateful that I have a good left hand, that I can play C on the piano with my left hand, that I may one day learn how to sew and knit, that I may be able to change car tyres, that I can do maths, that I understand gravity, that I can do debits and credits, that I can do reasonably well academically, that I can be an accountant.... these are lessons that no 'normal' human being can teach me. For all these I'm thankful that I met her, this wonderful 'stucked in between' girl. And I have no doubt that she'll be somebody extremely remarkable in the future.
