Exactly 8.30pm on the 28th of March 2009, my mother insisted on switching off the front light. Even the living room. And yeah, all the lights in the house 'cept the kitchen ('cos we were digging into her yummy pudding at the moment). Told ya' my mom is cool.
It was such a fun thing to do. And yeah very beneficial to mother earth. Clearly millions of people joined in together, and turned off their lights to help make a difference and raise awareness about the issue of global warming.
For maybe some of us who haven’t noticed, weather is changing and in some places like where I live, it is raining during the seasons where we’re suppose to have the sun burning brightly or is it the other way round?
Someone asked me whether I gave my support last night. And proudly I said, Hell yeah!
I repeat, 'Yes I support Earth Hour.'
Totally.
p/s: Check out all the pics taken during the Earth Hour all over the 80 over countries that participated in the noble course. So cool.
I have a confession to make. Remember When You're Engulfed in Flame by David Sedaris?
So here goes. I haven't finished reading it yet. Ouch. (and I've never committed such sin. Ever!)
I know, I know. I put up the pic in my 'Book I'm Reading' slot at the corner of my page about 3 months ago, right.
I stopped the minute I realized that he's gay. Whoa. Okay, here's the thing. I am not being judgemental or anything and that's his right to conduct his sexual life right, but.. geez. I tried.
I tried to be such a sport and laughed at his comical writings and remarks and I assure you, he is good.
Reading the short stories at first is like watching how he thinks. The events are told as a stream of consciousness that somehow ties together beautifully. Each one of it is touching and poignant for me at first. In his special hilarious way, the book is interesting and so original that I thought the characters are obviously taken from real life. Most of them at least.
But.
I started to feel bit uneasy when he continued talking about how the guy he saw while walking on the street made his heart goes 'BAM BAM BAM'.. lol. And how his boyfriend did his thang the night before. EEuuu.
One thing though, he's funny. Trust me, halfway reading it, I was already laughing so hard, my cheeks hurt. It's just that, I didn't have the heart and maybe time to continue eating his words.
About 1/4 away from the ending, after weeks lying so nicely and quietly on the desk in my office, the fiction is now in the hand of a colleague. Ha ha.
I'll give a full report on it once it's home. Lol. (or maybe never)
By the way.
See my new 'Book I'm reading'? Merely just doing my job, pal. He he.
I've just finished reading this email sent by friend from KS and I think I wanna share.
Some years ago, on a hot summer day in South Florida , a little boy decided to go for a swim in the old swimming hole behind his house. In a hurry to dive into the cool water, he ran out the back door,leaving behind shoes, socks, and shirt as he went.
He flew into the water, not realizing that as he swam toward the middle of the lake, an alligator was swimming toward the shore. His father, working in the yard, saw the two as they got closer and closer together. In utter fear, he ran toward the water, yelling to his son as loudly as he could. Hearing his voice, the little boy became alarmed and made a U-turn to swim to his father.
It was too late. Just as he reached his father, the alligator reached him.
From the dock, the father grabbed his little boy by the arms just as the alligator snatched his legs. That began an incredible tug-of-war between the two. The alligator was much stronger than the father, but the father was much too passionate to let go.
A farmer happened to drive by, heard his screams, raced from his truck, took aim and shot the alligator.
Remarkably, after weeks and weeks in the hospital, the little boy survived. His legs were extremely scarred by the vicious attack of the animal. And, on his arms, were deep scratches where his father's fingernails dug into his flesh in his effort to hang on to the son he loved.
The newspaper reporter who interviewed the boy after the trauma, asked if he would show him his scars. The boy lifted his pant legs.
And then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter, "But look at my arms. I have great scars on my arms, too. I have them because my Dad wouldn't let go."
You and I can identify with that little boy. We have scars too, right. Well no, not from an alligator, but the scars of a painful past. Some of those scars are unsightly and have caused us deep regret.
Mortals, y'all.
The father showed his pure love by not giving up, by not letting go of his lil son's arms. And I'm sure it broke his heart having to pull so hard, trying to free the poor id from the alligator, but he did the best he could do.
So I'm thinking, what are the things that we would do to our loved ones?By all means.
My question of the day: Does it matter what others think?
Maybe for some, people think that the answer is not simple. Some seem to say no. Others, yes. Sometimes certain people could not even walk out on the street without thinking what people might be talking about them.
Why should it bother?
I've heard all the time, (and yeah I used to think so too) that we should really behave or else people would start saying things about you. Maybe it's the culture or the orthodox's upbringing but it's all people can think of.
It is true that we are human, and we use the point of being human as an excuse to display our fallibility. What people say to us or about us leaves a big impression on the way we judge ourselves.
Okay, here's the thing. Face it, gossip is engaging, it makes us become a part of the community, it is social, and the more slander there is the more interesting it is. Yes, hands downs, I have myself been guilty about this lowly habit, but we don’t realize its devastating effect on people.
One thing for sure we can’t stop people from talking, but we can definitely shield ourselves from gossip, by not allowing it to affect us.
Let see, here's an example. If someone was to point towards you and say, Hey look at the crazy woman with orange hair. You don’t have orange hair, so it won’t bother you, right. In fact you just may turn around and think that the person saying that is completely crazy. So why when someone criticizes our behavior, should it bother us.
Just as orange or green hair is their perspective, similarly their idea of your character is their perspective. Am I making any sense?
So.
Why should it matter what people think? As long as we are in the right, show ourselves some respect. Never ever allow any one (and very often it is the people who don’t even matter) to affect us. If anyone puts us down, in any manner, it is not about us. Right?
It is just about other person’s perceptions. Blurgh!
A wise man said once that 'If we listen to what people say, we may as well give up living.'
p/s: You think there's a quick effective way to stop worrying about what others think of us?
Gees. It's been so long. I've gone through so many eventful episodes for the past couple of weeks that I have no idea now where to begin.
All I know, I've been succincted alot on life and.. err.. things.
People come into our life for a reason, or maybe only a season, or a lifetime.
When someone is in our life appears for a reason, it is usually to meet a need we have expressed outwardly or inwardly, right. They have come to assist us through a difficulty, to provide us with guidance and support, to aid us physically, emotionally, or spiritually.
They may seem like a godsend, and they are. They are there for the reason we need them to be.
Then.
Without any wrongdoing on our part or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they walk away. Sometimes they die. Sometimes they act up or out and force us to take a stand.
What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled; their work is done. That's one cruel fact of life. When people come into our life for a season, it is because our turn has come to share, grow, or learn.
They may bring us an experience of peace or make us laugh. They may teach us something we have never done. They usually give us an unbelievable amount of joy. I mean, it is real. But, only for a season. And that happens all the time.
Yet.
Lifetime relationships teach us lifetime lessons; those things we must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Our job is to accept the lesson, love the person/people (anyway); and put what we have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of our life. It is said that love is blind but for me it is clairvoyant, still.
Thank you (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE) for being a huge part of my life. Told ya', it's unbelievable. And remarkable.
Earlier today when I was in class, while feasting my eyes on the students’ presentation (final act by the students got me in tears for I laughed so much my cheeks burned), I noticed that my watch indicated that it was 29th. Of February.
'Wait. That doesn't sound right,' I whispered to myself, audible enough that the girl closest to me glanced at my watch.
I then realized that it is already 1st of March. Wow. Time indeed flies fast. And how I’ve missed blogging. It’s been awhile since the last time I was here.
The clouds are rather abit chaotic outside, rent into savage shapes of pale yellow and grey that intermittently showers the earth with a stinging, cold rain.
It is somewhat a confusing state of affairs for one minute the sun is shining bright, and then a minute later it’s raining so heavily I become concerned for the whole episode of last December would replicate. (I haven’t talked about how I/my car got stuck at home soaked with ‘bah’, right. Maybe one day. Lol)
So yeah, I'm feeling good; in contrast to the grayness outside, it's all blue sky in my head. All bubbly and fun.
Yet, despite a fine mood, there's still a full day to fill, even though there is nothing much that I absolutely have to do today. There are plenty of things I could do; I could work on the students’ assignments bundled up there in the corner of my office for example.
I've been gradually going back to painfully recraft almost every single paragraph, removing sentiment and correcting eye-sore grammatical errors. And guess what I think, it needs to be less darned serious.
Oh well. Maybe I should go out a moment or two and grab some drinks and then revert to the papers again later.
