God saved me from fire, the first time

It was a beautiful summer afternoon; I had finished cleaning the kitchen – dishes and all. I always loved afternoons because unlike mornings when I had to wake early to prepare the breakfast, serve the table, clean the dishes, cook for lunch, prepare the table and clean the dishes once again – a routine that consumes the entire morning of a holiday – afternoons are long, lazy and free for play. There weren’t many playmates around the neighborhood. I never made friends with other teenagers or children in that place. I always felt that I and my siblings were different. We just didn’t get along with them. Their parents weren’t friendly towards our parents. There was always element of envy.

I and my siblings were climbing a huge Casio nut tree at the back yard, about 100 meters away from my dad’s Furniture and Upholstery shop. At third year high school, I was not very mindful of my looks. The only time I combed my hair and behaved like a lady is when I was in school aware of the presence of the boy who had captured my heart. I climbed every tree possible of climbing. No matter how difficult the track that even my brothers refused to climb, I always dared myself. It gave me feelings of satisfaction to be able to conquer not only heights but also a very challenging path.

While enjoying my conquer that afternoon on top of a very tall tree, I devoured the beauty of an irrigation water that extends to the horizon, the hills on the South and the sight of plenty of trees that were inviting me. The wind blowed my hair restlessly. But I felt that something wasn’t right. There was uneasiness in me that didn’t allow me to fully enjoy my haven against the wind. Something was telling me to go home and check what was wrong. I hurriedly climbed down the tree and headed home.

My instinct told me to check the kitchen. I couldn’t see anything wrong. I went to check the dirty kitchen but everything seemed normal too. I wanted to ignore the weird feeling but it kept telling me to continue searching. I removed some of the woods beside the stove, and there I saw, a growing angry red readying to spark and consume the entire dirty kitchen. A single burning charcoal must had escaped when I was grilling some fish for lunch. It must had hit the back of the stove and then bounced and landed the bottom of the wall made of sawali, woven split bamboo mats. The charcoal silently consumed the bottom of the dried sawali wall and with the help of the wind, was making its way up. It wouldn’t take much time before the charcoal, along with its conquered wall, would turn into an angry roaring fire, consume the rest of the walls and reach for the electric wires. I quickly went to the kitchen to get some water and went back to kill the fire. With intense anger, I drowned the threatening fire. When I was certain that the fire was fully stopped, I felt myself trembling and exhausted. I went inside the house imagining what could have happened. I realized that my youngest sister, a little more than 2 years at the time, was sleeping in my parents room. My dad was in his shop adjacent to the house. I and my other siblings were at the backyard more than 100 meters away from the house. My mom was not around.

That lazy peaceful afternoon could have turned into a tragic one. I would never knew how tragic it could be but God did not allow it to happen. He saved me and my family from fire the first time.

See: God saved me from fire, the second time

How to combat bitterness in life

Have you been at a time felt bitter in life? I know this is quite a direct and bold question; however, it takes so much to feel bitterness in life. It could be caused by a thankless or poorly compensated job, a one-sided relationship, an unhealthy environment, an uncaring and unprotective home or the like. This bitterness can cause sorrow and depression. It makes a person dwell only on the negatives and it is a battle so difficult to endure that without a sign of hope, can cause a person to end his life.

Take a look at some famous suicide stories. We had Daul Kim, a famous Korean model whose achievements at the age of twenty is something every other girl envies. Very recently, we had Lee Alexander McQueen end his life because of unhappiness. These people had money, fame and success. But they had been bitter and that bitterness won over them.

If you feel that you are unhappy and that unhappiness is staying with you for sometime, evaluate yourself. Why are you unhappy? What are the results of your unhappiness? What are the things that can make you happy? How can you get out from this unhappiness? Who can help you out from this unhappiness?

It is very important to understand why you are unhappy because until you come to terms the reasons, only then you would know where and how to start to combat them.

Due to your unhappiness, what other areas in life are affected? Are you bitter with your job? Is your relationship with your boyfriend or spouse affected by this bitterness? Is the unhappiness brought by your unhealthy job is worth over your relationship?

If not, you might as well change your job. Or if not, then you would have to work on other aspects that can help change the course of your job. These are the examples of identifying the ways to get out from your unhappiness. If it is a relationship that burdens you, which I know is very complicated, you can start reading relationship tools from some experts that can guide you through. Or discuss it with your partner if both of you need help from an expert. Whatever the situation, there has to be a way out that you have to figure whether it is quitting your job and looking for another well-compensated or well-acknowledged occupation or quitting the relationship and looking for someone’s better. There has to be a way out other than suicide!

Who can help you out? Oftentimes the battle is too much to handle by ourselves. You have to ask for help. Express what you feel to whoever you can trust. It would be better if you can speak with your parents, or your siblings or you best friend. However, my message for this part goes more to the other parties. If you know someone who is unhappy, be selfless enough to lend your time and help. Some people jokingly talk about suicide and we take it as a joke, but it should never be taken lightly. A talk about ending one’s life is always and is always a cry for help. Look at Daul Kim, she had been crying out for help through her blog, a blog that I actually met after her death, but her fans, oh so many of them who claim to read her words religiously every day, never heard her. She had been crying out for help. People always hear the cry not until it’s too late. However, if you feel that nobody around can be trusted or can understand you, there is always One faithful friend Who is always ready to hear and to help you. Speak to Him in prayer.

And if it’s you who is unhappy, try to google the beautiful words of Desiderata.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself…

No matter how hard the situation can be, there are always people lesser than you. Think of them that are hit by worse catastrophes, who are battling for their lives amidst famine and dehydration, they would make you appreciate your life.

How do I become more comfortable talking to people?

Some people are not comfortable talking to other people. They are especially nervous talking to strangers. Others clearly show this discomfort while others don't.
If you are one who has this discomfort towards conversing to people, you are not alone. Several braves have came up and asked “How do I become more comfortable talking to people?”

These tips to overcome such plight are gathered from the ones who used to be not comfortable talking to people but have overcome it.

•Practice

Make conversation with strangers at the store. If you get nervous just think "who cares what they think, they'll probably never see me again!" Try talking louder, you may think you're being loud enough but your voice is always louder in your own head, so try to raise your voice a bit. This should help with people not responding to you in a group. Hold your head up and make direct eye contact with the people you're talking to! It may be awkward at first but you'll get used to it and you’ll feel a lot more confident.

•Just be yourself.

But if you find that hard enough, maybe you should try reading some books or watching a lot of TV shows. Talk about things you like next time you talk to a stranger. This helps break the ice and boost up the conversation. :)

(Share opinions and talk about the world...but of course, let the other person talk as well...)

•Karaoke

Try doing karaoke at a bar or something and be sure to do it with a song you know by heart. It worked for me now I can talk to anybody because I've already made a fool of myself. [James]

•The stranger feels the same way

Remember that the person you are talking to is probably feeling the same way, we are all human and there are many people just like you. I use to be the same way. You just have to over come it. [Lilia]

•Top your assets

Focus on your strengths. Put in mind that the discomfort you’re feeling is caused by some insecurity. Therefore overcome this insecurity by topping your strengths. When you focus more on your assets and enhance them, you would dramatically feel comfortable of yourself and overcoming conversation with strangers would be a piece of cake. [Gleenn]

Thanks to edwincrozier.com for the photos

Learn to be rude at times

“In order to survive a chaotic world, you’ve got to learn to be rude at times.”

How would you define rude? If we take the decoded meaning of the word “rude”, it is a state of being ill-mannered or discourteous. That, actually, is the lightest definition we can take because the word also means being undeveloped, uncivilized, unlearned, and primitive among others.

How bad is being rude? Who can be rude? Is it only the primitive and the uncivilized that can be rude? What about the people who are well-learned and well-educated? How would you react if you are met by such a person? Someone who thinks that he is above and/or better than you?

Some people believe in themselves too much. They believe that they can be someone or something because they are intelligent and able, however, they refuse to work hard, to train hard, and to devote time. In short, they just want the end but not the means. They want to be a winner but they are not willing to take the pain that comes along. This is a picture of being ambitious without passion and discipline. Sometimes, these people might be intellectually good but emotionally they are not. For example, would you make a good debater if you are good in research and memorizing but you cannot take pressures, stress and criticisms even if they are constructive? Even in the world physical sports, athletes need passion, devotion, discipline and emotional stability in order to get ahead and win. Many good athletes failed to achieve success because they lack these essential elements.

If you are a game maker, would you not demand time from your players? Would you not require their commitment, devotion and above all respect? How would you coach a player who does not show up to practices? A player who does not communicate with you and to his team mates? A player who does not respect you? Would you put him on the first line? Or would you kick him out the team? Now, what happens if he expects to be player No. 1 even if he does not practice? And what about if the parents or family members come and demand that you put their son/relative in the team as a priority player because they want him to? Worst, how about if the parents/relatives start to teach you how to coach and how to train your players when in fact they don’t know anything about the sport? Don’t you think that is totally ridiculous?

This is when the rude meets the rude.

Sometimes, you have to be rude in order to maneuver rude people. If you know what you are doing, and if you know that you are doing the right thing, you are in the right track then it does not matter if you have to be rude as long as you maintain your professionalism. A new argument comes in; “rude” is defined accordingly based on the situation. We differentiate them as the “white rude” and the ‘black rude”. You can choose which color.

In whatever you do, you cannot please everybody; therefore, focus on the common good even if it means being rude to the antagonists. You should not back down to people who underestimate you, show them what you can do.

Is lending hand to elders old fashion?

I was tired and exhausted on my way home from school today. I had not a good sleep last night, I had six classes straight during the day, I had to use my remaining two free periods to complete some paper works, and I had to stay behind for the debate workshop which are always held after school. Evaluating my accomplishments for the day while walking, I noticed ahead that an elder woman was balancing her huge push cart trying to climb it up the road. She was selling barbecues and the cart was carrying a grilling pot and some meat. A good amount of smoke coming from her cart tells of her existence. Two ladies passed and smiled at her while she struggled with the cart. She smiled back. Drawn to the woman’s plight, I hurried to see if I could do anything for her. I grabbed the cart’s handle along side her and helped her push and pull the cart back and forth to find a perfect way for the wheels. It took us about 5 minutes and it demanded some reasonable strength [as if I still had enough strength, must just be the adrenaline]. After she had said her thank you and I had said my welcome, I fixed my hair back to place and walked. Just then I noticed a gentleman sitting beside the road looking at me. I shook my head thinking, he could have helped.

I was walking on a side walk one night heading to a shopping mall. People were bumping each other on that crowded narrow side walk because illegal side walk vendors were consuming too much space. On the other side of the road, a very old man with severe osteoporosis was pushing his cart full of old news papers and books. I saw him hurriedly passed the pedestrian lane and with all his might pushed the cart up the elevated side walk to avoid the approaching cars. Unfortunately, it could be because of lack of strength, his cart slipped and all the papers fell down the road. He saved his cart first and anchored it on the side walk and slowly, oh so slowly, started picking up all the papers and books that fell. Nobody stopped to help. Seeing a very heartbreaking sight, I ran to cross the road avoiding the cars and immediately helped the old man before any car could hit him by mistake. The smile that stretched that wrinkled face was unforgettable. I smiled back and gave a wai.

Thus my question, is helping the elders old fashion? Is it considered not in on today’s time? It is sad to notice that more and more people are not concerned with their elders. It is very hard to take a few minutes from their busy time to lend a hand. I am not sure if it’s only me, or are you also noticing this?

Prayer stopped the bank robber: How powerful is prayer?

Just exactly how powerful is prayer? Do you think a prayer with faith can actually move mountains? If you search the net, I am certain that you will find many accounts on how people found prayer powerful. There are even plenty of unpublished testimonies out there that prove that God indeed listens to prayer.

While writing this post I was reminded of some funny but dangerous experiences that I had in the past where prayer saved me. For example, on one Christmas vacation our family and friends had a retreat in a secluded island in our province. The island was beautiful and untouched. There was a big wooden house beside the beach and a huge meeting hall in the middle of the island which I never saw how it looked in the inside, it was always locked. Unfortunately, all the toilets were located beside the meeting hall. So one morning after breakfast, I was walking towards the toilet not minding the environment; my mind was flying [as it always does], when suddenly I heard barks of an angry female dog. When I focused to see where it was coming from, I was frozen to see the beast, big and scary, approaching me in a leaping manner eager to devour me. Not a panicky person, I took off my sandals and threw them to her to no avail. There wasn’t any stone or anything that I could grab. The last resort was to run. I ran screaming “Papa, papa!” but everyone in the house was too far to help. My mind was thinking about how many injections I would get. However, what frightened me more was the thought of ruining my legs, my biggest assets. While running I was looking back and saw that every time the beast was about to bite a leg, each leg just move to run. I then remembered to pray. So while my mouth was screaming my mind was praying, “Jesus, help me.” Just then I bumped into a huge tree, and then fell. I waited for the pain, but there was none. I raised my head to look at her; I was met by two lamb eyes. And then she moved away. I gathered myself up with bleeding knees, but it was far better than getting non-bleeding bites.

These scenarios I mentioned above happened ten years back, were refreshed to me today after I saw a yahoo video featuring the woman, who, through prayer, was able to unarm her robber. I wanted to download that video of her interview because she left such good message towards the people who have nobody that are becoming hopeless. She said that things can’t be so bad to just throw away your life in prison or in death. There are people who care. There is God who cares. She also addressed company owners saying that they should also give chance to people who are desperate to get a job to survive. Sometimes, some people are just forced to do crime.

How to defeat burn out from work?

Did you ever find yourself easily angered, depressed and uninspired at some point in your life?

Did you take a moment to evaluate what caused you these negative feelings and found that in fact, you have so many things to be thankful and be happy for? And yet, after a while of figuring out, everything points out to overworking, tiredness and lack of recreation as the root? In a layman’s term that is what we call “burnt out”.

Indeed, it comes once in a while. And recently, I found myself caught up by this situation. I lost my drive to write articles for my literary blog. I felt lazy to do my basic household chores. I go to work with a hard determination of surviving the day when actually, it used to be fun. I need to start the debate training for both my junior and senior debaters for the next debate competition which will be in less than two months, but I could not get the drive to organize anything. I get easily angered by any little things which I knew I could have ignored. And because of these feelings, even my relationship is getting affected.

But it is not a question of whether it comes or not. It is about how to defeat this negativity once it does come.

I thought that I needed something which would help me channel this negativity out. It was my fashion blog. I spent more time blogging about fashion and connecting with other fashion bloggers. It gave me a different world that could make me feel good. But then when I step back into the reality, the same feelings come back.

I confessed this conflict to my girl friends and was surprised to find that they were also feeling the same. We decided we have to make time for ourselves. We need to go out more, hang out and unwind more. Given our busy schedules, this time has to be made. The very functional all work life that we had has started eating in us and is now bearing fruit.

Thus, we dressed up and went out to unwind. We spent our night just dining out, window shopping and chatting about anything. It felt good. We went home tired but relaxed. Eventually, more hanging out are listed in the calendar.

Getting burnt out from work is inevitable, however, if it does come, you should be able to find ways to defeat it.

So how do you handle yours?

Why some women love to gossip a lot?

Women are known to talk more compared to men. They love to gossip among other women and to talk just about anything. Most women love to talk about bags, shoes, make up, clothes and boyfriends or husbands while some prefer to talk about facts and thought provoking topics. Chitchatting among girls and talking about people is what we call gossiping. However, some women go beyond the typical chatting for girls. These women make gossiping an expertise that they can’t seem to live without it. Their hands and feet sweat for any news tossed to them. Their eyes widen and their ears expand when they do malicious ear-droving. And the worst thing about them is that they crave for dirty small or big nonsense. Most of the time, if they can’t dig dirt about someone, they twist some truths [add or minus] and make it a splash. I understand that this is how some tabloids, celebrity magazines or journalists earn their living, and however, even some plain creatures earn their PhDs in gossiping. Let us take a look at why these females love to gossip a lot.

These women are insecure. What can they do more to cover their flaws and broken self-esteem than to talk about other people so as to divert attentions away from them? That’s right. People who gossip more are the biggest insecure on Earth. When they talk, they seem to be perfect and they picture their target as trash. That boasts their self-esteem. Geez!

These women are bitter about their lives. Have you met women who are so bitter about how their lives turned out? I did. I tell you, it is totally unfortunate to have to see them everyday. They have so much garbage that they look for trash cans to empty their load. Gossiping is a way of emptying.

These women are lazy. They have so much free time to spend in gossiping, does that not mean they're lazy? I can’t even get time to finish writing my novel, or finish my cross-stitch, or start my long-time planned yoga, or start revising my TOEFL reviewer not even listen to the CD, or start learning my ‘latest Microsoft Excel Tutorial Modules” because of too many things to do even if I always sacrifice sleep. How could these people find time to search for dirts?

These women are worse than scavengers. Oh, I so love this reason. Why? Scavengers in water search for dirts to eat and absorb them. They are there to clean the seas and oceans. But what about the high caliber gossipers? Well, they also search for dirts, but when they eat them, they release them double dirty.

Would you want to live at old age?

How to spend my old age did sometimes come into my mind. I thought of writing books. Perhaps I would write something about Mathematics since it is my field of expertise; but most probably, I would write more about fiction. I am blessed with abundant imagination and if there is such a thing as mind recorder, I must have had an abundant number of books published by now. Thus, when time comes that I would no longer have to go to work; it would be perfect for writing. But I was wrong. What I thought as old age was actually not “old age” but “retirement age”. I realized this yesterday when our school visited the country’s first ‘home for the aged’ founded as early as 1953, the Social Welfare Development Center for Older Persons. Visiting such a place exposed me to the reality of old age. The beauty and harshness of life were both painted on those extremely wrinkled and some hollowed faces that I saw, mingled and smiled with for half a day. Each had story to tell.

But what really hit me, was the thought of how futile everything would be when old age comes. When you are no longer able to walk, when you are not capable of eating by yourself, or when you have to wear some huge diapers for you to pee and poo-poo. When you harvest the cruelty of Alzheimer’s disease, or when you seem to be mentally ill because you woefully keep replaying that most terrible pain from the past, or when you just have to lay on the bed for the rest of the day looking at the ceiling, or when you just have to sit in a tiny cubicle-like room [if not cage-like] wishing that you have somebody to talk to other than the same old people like you, would you still want to live such an age?

I realized that whatever possessions you would gain, whatever honor or status you would earn through hard work, when old age comes, nothing will matter. How much more when you die? So why not just live and enjoy life?

Lonely woman in the cell photo was captured by Michael Braun.

Lightning at noon time is claiming life …

I was entering the Physics laboratory yesterday on the fourth period for my IGCSE Mathematics class with the year 10 when I noticed some commotions among my students. They looked like something very disturbing has occurred. I asked them what was the problem and when they told me, I was totally disturbed by the news.

A good friend of my students was struck by an unexpected lightning on Wednesday at 3 o’clock in the afternoon while playing football in the field just within his school’s compound. The boy is fifteen years old, one of the tallest in the team and the best soccer player in their school. Just like every normal day, he picked his sports gear after school and headed to the soccer field along with his pals. There was no rain, no sign of any coming storm and the weather was perfectly fine.
The game was very stiff. A mate gave a good pass and the boy jumped high to do a head bat; simultaneously, the goalie of the opponent team jumped as high extending his arm to block the ball. Just then, the treacherous lightning struck furiously hitting both of them at once. The boy’s ear drums burst out; his eye balls came out while his head exploded splashing brain and blood in the field. The goalie was struck in the hand down to his arm. The lightning, seemed content by its damage, left as quick as it came leaving the grasses burned black.

The goalie was unable to move for two days but is now recovering. The boy however is still fighting for life. Report says he was already dead but his heart fought back bringing him back to life. He is supported by machines. There is one deep hole under his right ear and a big hole at the crown of his head. He has as small as two percentage of surviving.

The boy is an Indian Sikh and he wears a turban-like cloth on his head. Since hair are all pulled up and stocked under the turban, the boy uses a “salai”, a metal stick usually about fifteen centimeters long to fix any falling lock of hair. It is inserted inside the hair if not in use. When the lightning struck, the metal caught the current which caused the explosion of his head.

I felt bad after I heard the news. I don’t know anything about the boy but the information was enough for me to imagine the pain that this kid and his parents are suffering right now. Anger and sorrow are inevitable in this situation. But who to blame? Even nature can be hostile at times and that’s a fact in this world of life.

Update: 02/06/09

Eventually, the kid died on the fifth day. It must be very sad to the family and to all friends but almost everyone agreed that it was the best for him. If he did make it, he would be totally paralyzed, no memory, no vision, no hearing and no nothing. That would even be worst than dying.

Yesterday was a big day, 'twas my birthday

Okay, so it was my birthday. Wow, you guys don’t have any idea how happy I was yesterday. I thought it would be a very quiet day. Birthdays stopped to matter a lot to me since I moved out from home and stood on my own at the age of twenty. Oftentimes I celebrated my birthdays quietly and alone. Sometimes, I even tend to forget, lol. But yesterday, I went to school thinking that nobody would know that it was my day. Big mistake… A lot of students were actually waiting for me to greet me “a happy birthday”. How did they know? Hmmm, thanks to all the social networks and they knew my birthday through face book. My own class, year 7a, were all smiling and greeting me well for my birthday. Even my students from Key stage 4, year 10, which students I teach IGCSE Mathematics were all excited to greet a happy birthday. It really feel so good to be remembered on my day especially if I don’t expect people to remember it.

Early yesterday morning, I and Joy [a co-teacher and a close friend] were walking together to school. She said she noticed something on me which she opted not to mention, she says I looked fresh and well dressed [well, just a little more than the everyday look, lol]. She didn’t know it was my birthday and I intended not to remind it to anyone even to close friends [simply because I didn’t want to buy a cake, lol]. Later at school, I passed on the corridors of Key Stage 2 where Joy teaches grade 6. She pulled me inside her room because she got some tiny gossips to tell. When I got into the room, the year 6 students stopped on whatever they were doing and sang a happy birthday for me. I was very surprised because I don’t teach elementary and I don’t know much of the students. But Joy was more than surprised. With wide eyes she inquired the class what was the song for. The class chorused “it’s teacher Glee’s birthday.” Joy hugged me and was giggling despite her embarrassment. That was really touching. Later in the afternoon, I went to year 7b for the last period and when I entered the classroom, the students were already standing singing the happy birthday song while their homeroom teacher Michael was smiling at the back. Again, I was touched.

I received a couple of gifts from my some of my students and the thoughts were simply overwhelming.


One boy from year 4 was in the language room where I was tutoring one student from key stage 3 after school. This boy is the son of my co-teacher who teaches Urdu language. He was hearing all the greetings and best wishes for me during the time that I was tutoring but he was just sitting quietly in the corner. When he’s mom called him because it was time to go home, he came to me and handed me a note [the greetings photo above], said “happy birthday” and ran out the room. It was the sweetest thing I received from the school that day.

After a one hour tutorial at school, hurriedly I head to the next tutorial outside school. I easily got an air-conditioned but and it surprised me that even the traffic was bad; it was not as bad as the other day. I got to my tutee’s house smoothly. The mom heard from her daughter that it was birthday; she prepared some meal for me as treat. After one hour, I then went to the third and the last tutorial. I had to take a bus and a ferry to get to the next tutee’s house. And again, the travel was smooth and I reached the house on time.

On my way home late at eight o’clock at night, sitted in the bus, I was reflecting on how my day went and how life was in the past year. It gave me so many smiles. I got a great life. God is so good to me.

When I reached the apartment, Joy and her baby, baby Alexis, were waiting for me outside and revealed the news that the packages from my boyfriend has come. I couldn’t believe it. I mean, I knew that he sent me some love stuff but we were expecting it to come late. It couldn’t be much better. I was very excited, I took the baby from Joy and we swiftly went upstairs to the fifth floor.

I was opening the packages [both packets came together even if they were sent several days apart] while Joy was ordering some pizzas. I was filled with so much joy when I saw what my hubby has got for me. He’s the most thoughtful and loving guy I ever met [not to mention with the most expensive taste for stuff]. He’s mom sent me a card too wishing me well and happiness for life. We live far apart but he never fails to show his love.



I couldn’t ask more for a birthday. It was completely awesome.

George Carlin made my day ...

He died almost a year ago at age 71, but I never heard about American standup comedian George Carlin until today.
A co-teacher [she’s like a mother to me] asked me to spare her some five minutes time out from my busy day because she wanted me to hear an audio recording of George Carlin. The title is “Love and regards”. In this performance, he made some sense out of what we people are so used to do – sending regards, love, kisses, hugs and even blow jobs to our special someone through a friend giving that person a burden of carrying some bundle around.
I really found it funny. This audio made me laugh some good laugh and it completely made my day. I did some quick research about George Carlin and I found his life quite challenging and extra-ordinary. His complete name was George Denis Patrick Carlin (May 12, 1937-June 22, 2008). He was also an actor and an author, and he won five Grammy awards for his comedy albums.
Anyway, hear for yourself this audio and see what I’m talking about. Hope you’ll find this amusing too.




Well, if crime fighters fight crime and fire fighters fight fire, what do freedom fighters fight? They never mention that part to us, do they? George Carlin

a tribute to mothers...

I bet I’m the worst daughter in terms of thoughtfulness. I feel ashamed in myself that I did not remember that today, the world is celebrating the day for mothers. Thanks to my hubby he reminded me when he texted me informing that he’s on his way to the flower shop to get his mom a big bunch of flowers. Oh boy …

So I hurriedly sent my mom an sms greeting her a happy mother’s day. But unlike my boyfriend, I couldn’t go to the flower shop to get my mom some bouquets this late, she lives a pacific away. Hmmm, that’s quite a thousands of miles, I guess.

But thanks to my blog site, I have a way to express my gratitude to my mom and to all the moms of the world. Needless to say, I thank her for carrying me inside her for nine months and giving me the chance to see the world by risking her life when she gave birth to me. And all the tears she shed in giving me life and raising me well and proper, I would never be able to repay.

I had not seen my mom for four years now. So I’m looking forward to seeing her in July. I’m going to see her at last. There’s a story that I will tell her.

All the while I knew that I’m close to my mom. But that I’m closer to my dad given that I’m the oldest of six and the first girl. It’s a general knowledge that eldest girls are typically, daddy’s girls. But a difficult experience revealed something else to me.

When I first came to Bangkok, my appendix erupted that I had to have an emergency surgery. I went to a hospital and had the surgery all alone [the story is in the article “Living abroad with God]. When I woke up, still lying on the operating table, a terrible pain hit me. I was calling for help, weakly whispering, “Mama, mama!” It was her name and not my dad’s that automatically came out my mouth. It stuck in my head ever since.

Why not? Mothers, regardless of any situation and circumstance, endured so much just to bring you and me in this world. No one can remove that fact.

So today, the world is paying hats off to all mothers of the world. hApPy mOtHeRs dAy to all moms.



[I don't have any good photo of my mom. I just got this one from my brother's site in friendster. In this photo, my mom and dad were having a picnic in one of the beautiful water falls in the island of Palawan, Philippines.]



[My hubby and his mom. A perfect picture of a mother and son. .: Photo used with permision from the owner, Nilda Josko]

What my birth month means...

I was killing time surfing the net one day when I stumbled upon the article that says, “What your birth month means?” I’m not actually a person who believes in horoscope or astrology both by personal point of view and religious principle; but the article struck a good curiosity on me that I click the file and read it. Expectedly, I bothered not to look at other months but simply scrolled down to the very month that I was born, the month of May.

MAY
* Stubborn and hard-headed
* Strong-willed and highly motivated
* Sharp thoughts
* Easily angered
* Attracts others and loves attention
* Deep feelings
* Beautiful physically and mentally
* Firm standpoint
* Easily influenced
* Needs no motivation
* Easily consoled
* Systematic (left brain)
* Loves to dream
* Strong clairvoyance
* Understanding
* Sickness usually in the ear and neck
* Good imagination
* Good debating skills
* Good physical
* Loves literature and the arts
* ! Loves traveling
* Restless
* Hardworking
* High spirited
* Spendthrift
It struck me that all descriptions told about the characteristics of those born in May are true to me. Indeed, they are.

As I walk Through Life I learned ...

That No matter how good your intentions may be, you don't always get a pat on your back.

That in order to survive a chaotic world, you need to learn to be rude at times.

That no matter how much good friends you gained, the oldest best friend will remain the best.

That even if you're tired and you just wanna be free, you can never turn your back on your family.

That no matter how painful frustrations may be, they should be faced head on or they'll remain your monsters your whole life.

That it's not learning how to avoid getting hurt, but it's learning how to let go.

That no matter how much you love a person, if he is not meant for you, he will never be yours.

That no matter how discouraging things may be, just look back and see how much you've done.

That you shouldn't be looking hard for love, it will come if it is meant to come.

That you should keep singing even if you're down.

That there is nothing to be scared in the future, unless you forget how God had protected you in the past.

That Life is simply all about HAPPINESS.

The hassle of time management...

Hmmm, so let’s get started. It’s evening, the Sabbath is over and I’m sitting in front of my computer, blogging. I’ve got so many things to do such as improving the layout of both my blogs and many things in mind to post. The ideas are so jammed up and I can’t decide which to write about first.

But okay, let me get done by the layout editing first … but boy, I get sidetracked by so many sites I ended up visiting around.

And yet, the hubby is on the phone waiting, and is getting impatient. He feels that he’s no longer the priority since I started blogging, and thus, gets irritated easily.

It does not help that I got so many school work [me being the teacher] waiting which I purposely don’t bring at home.

I got the application for my MA waiting [deadline is coming] and who knows what will happen when my schooling starts.

I can’t do much either during the week since at least two tutorials are to be done daily after work.

And the more I feel the pressure, the more that blogging takes time. And what do I mean by this? The more that I want to write something with quality while the back of my head tells me to be quick because something else is waiting in line, the more that I can’t produce quality work.

But isn’t this all about time management? Or is this all about priority?

Let me discuss that in my next post, mean time, I gotta go pick the phone first.

What I want to tell mother, but cannot ...

To my only Mom,

I was five and I was at school on that wonderful day. I was attentively listening to the teacher, she was telling a story. Somebody called me and pointed the window. You were there standing, making signs, asking me to come out. You were showing me something, a beautiful umbrella in your hand. With pride, I walked out the room, slowly. In my mind I was shouting, "My mom bought me an umbrella!" On that very day, I knew I've got a great mom.

It was when I was old enough to know that you were on the verge of death when I was two, my sister was six months, and dad had no money, which I realized, love can endure death. When you were almost dead, saved your mind, but you held on, because you could not accept that a step mom will raise your girls. I then knew, you're a brave mom.

We were sitting in the kitchen one evening, I was very young, you were telling me the story of how you fought for my dad choosing him over your mom, thanks to the kerosene lamp I was seeing your face, and I smiled. You fought for the best dad I could ever have.

I could even picture you carrying a bundle in your arms late at night. It was me in your arms. You left dad because you could not stand his family. You can be so stubborn in your own way but dad loved you so much anyway. He turned his back from his family, for you and me.

It was that pain in your face whenever grandma scolded me; it was that suppressed anger in your heart whenever my elder cousin hurt me, and it was the way you protected me from bullies that made me looked up at you.

You're the best teacher I ever had. Because of you, I was able to realize the talents and skills that I had. You were the one who made me win the first competition that I signed up. When you wrote that winning declamation piece for me entitled "Felipa", you had no idea how much impact it made to my life. You taught me how to take a stage and conquer a congregation of whatever size. You made me feel big within. You had so much faith in me. It was the start and the very reason why I believe in myself so much.

You're the worst debater that I ever met. You don't listen, you always win. You always get your way. And because of that, you always hurt my dad. I saw it, and I made a vow. I would never do that to my future husband. I would never be as stubborn as you are. And I would always say "sorry" when I hurt someone.

Whenever we had a fight, I always tried my best not to answer back. God knows I always did. But ironically, I always had to answer back for you to stop. I'm really sorry about that, but I believed, I had the right to save my ears.

You have a secret. You did not know that I knew it. No one does but me. And nobody will. I will carry it down to my grave.

I take pride of how much you take care of your home. Your skill in handling a house is second to no one. I can bring friends at home at any time, I don't have to fear. Your house is always presentable and you're always the best hostess that I've ever known.

I always long for the time when we make laundry together. It means girls talk' and gossiping'. And I always feel good when we shop together. Our fashion style and taste are very identical. I'm a hundred and one percent certain that you're my mom.

I know that I'm not a perfect daughter. But I also know that you love me just as I am. Whatever I am now, it is because of the way you brought me up. You and dad, the best gift I ever had.

Granny's Palace

Overview:
It was an exciting holiday for Yenyen. Her entire family was going for a week vacation at her grandmother's place. It was going to be a big family reunion. But who would think that she was also about to learn the story behind the land which she named "Granny's palace"?

Granny’s Palace

I felt dizzy when we got off the bus. I wanted to vomit but I hardly eaten anything. I haven’t had breakfast yet. We left home too early in the morning and Mama just gave us milk. I didn’t know how long the journey to grandmother’s place took. I had fallen asleep despite the old morning breeze. I looked around and was greeted by the long cemented highway extended to the horizon. The sun was shining brightly in the east. There were some houses beside the highway but they were significantly apart. Everything was still quiet.

I lifted my knapsack higher on my back and saw Papa collecting all the stuff we brought for a week’s vacation. Mama was carrying the baby, our youngest at the time, while securing the others to stay off the road. There were seven of us then. Mama and Papa, I, and my four younger siblings of whom three were boys and one girl. I weakly went to help Papa carry some of the stuff. He gave me the plastic bag filled with toys.

We went through the narrow road under the thick coconut trees and everything I saw were dried leaves. “Mama!” I called. “Is this part of lola’s place?” She was a way ahead of us.

“Yes. Starting from the highway and straight to the sea.” She called back.

“We haven’t been here for long. It’s too big.” I said loudly in excitement while I quickened my steps. The dizziness went away with the thought of my cousins. “Are Manong Dondon and Manang Darlene coming?”

“Yeah, they’re here now. They arrived yesterday.” Mama said lightly when I got next to her.

“Wow! I missed them so much.” I was smiling but my smile faded remembering what lola said to me during her visit a week ago. “But lola said Manang Darlene is tall and pretty and smart. Unlike me, I’m thin and not pretty.”

“You’re smart too aren’t you? You got good grades. Outstanding grades actually.” Mama was comforting.

“But I’m not pretty. Manang is really …”

My words hanged in the air when someone exclaimed, “They’re here!” It was my Manong Dondon. I haven’t noticed that my brothers ran ahead of us straight to the house. I ran too.

Everything was just as I remembered. A wide garden surrounded by beautiful flowers starting from a complete collection of roses, a variety of ground orchids, the hanging orchids with flowers bowing in the air while the roots embraced the trunk of the big trees around the garden, daisies, and other rare types of flowers beaming in bright colors. Everything was arranged according to their types and beauties, while the thick untrimmed bermuda grass covered the entire garden so that not a single soil was seen. It was my grandmother’s paradise.

My cousins ran to meet me. We missed each other for five long years. Darlene was certainly tall and pretty for her age. She was just a year older than I and Dondon was a year older than her but both were in grade six. Dondon was a bit taller than his sister.

I saw my brothers diving in the bermuda grass. We didn’t have those grasses at home. The boys were really enjoying. Just then grandmother came out from the house with aunt Bebe, her youngest daughter.

“Hello everyone!” Grandma greeted with a grin.

We ran to her and paid respect by taking her hand and putting it upon our forehead as we made a bow. We called it “bless”, a culture that our parents taught us since we were little. Our aunts and uncles blessed us too. Grandma prepared a richly breakfast with the help of aunt Bebe and everyone devoured it not long after we arrived.

We went for a picnic at the beach in the afternoon. We trailed on the little farm at the back of the house, passed the wide vegetable garden, walked beneath the mango trees that bore bountiful fruits for exports, crossed the bridge over the long river filled with nipa trees, then ran on the white sparkling sand decorated with dead corals and shells. The beach was clean with clear blue water.

“Mama, how did lola owned this very big land? Was her papa very rich?” I asked while struggling with a piece of chicken. We rested for a snack after a long play in the water. Grandma was not with us. She stayed at home with aunt Bebe.

“Well, it’s a very long story.” Mama said feeding the baby with some bread.

“Wanna hear it Tita.” Dondon said. He was busy making a floater out of coconuts’ dried shells. “Papa didn’t tell us.”

All kids sat quietly when mama started the story.

“Rosa was climbing down the hill one afternoon with two tiny containers in her hands filled with drinking water she fetched from the spring in the mountain when she got a glimpse of their house. There were horses in front of the house and she saw several men in uniforms entering it. She halted sensing danger in the air. Her mother was alone in the house. Her father and three older brothers visited their farm. She realized the men were Japanese Army. The Philippines was under the Japanese occupation at that time and they were brutal to both the Filipinos and the Americans. They were even more vindictive towards anyone collaborating with the rebellion group called the HUKBALAHAP, the troop against the Japanese.”

“Did they kill her mother?” Gee-ar, my seven-year-old brother, asked in anticipation.

“Ssshh! Quiet!” Jenjen , my sister next to me, scolded him and he sank back to sit. Mama continued the story.

“The Japanese were looking for Rosa’s father because his cousins were members of the HUKBALAHAP and their family was suspected to be collaborators. Rosa saw her mother dragged out of the house and trashed to the ground. Her mother got up slowly into a kneeling position. A soldier took a samurai and aimed it to her neck. Rosa ran swiftly towards her mother to save her but before she was able to come closer, she saw her mother’s head flew in the air shouting “Run my child! Run!

The Japanese took their guns and fired to everyone around killing those on their way. The people ran for their lives hiding in the holes they made incase of attacks. Rosa ran along with other children. She climbed on a hill and saw a huge rock with a foxhole under it. Two kids were already hidden inside.”

“If I were there, I will fire back with my gun. Bang! Bang! Bang!” Gee-ar said aiming his toy gun to the sea.

“Ssshh.” Everyone chorused.

“Many people were killed that day and most of them were children. Rosa survived that day’s slaughter however; the violence she saw changed her from a refine girl into a brave fighter. She grew up to join the ‘Hukbalahap’ along with her brothers. Rosa was a young woman and her brothers prohibited her from fighting with arms. Instead, she became an informer and a deliverer of supply for the troop. She fought for freedom for several years until the day when the American army took the Philippines from the violent hands of the Japanese and gave her freedom. Rosa’s brothers however did not live to taste that freedom. They were killed during one of their battles.

Rosa and her father lived quietly in their farm. They had no one but each other. But one night, Rosa was awakened by the wail of their carabao. She hurried down the hut and saw her father lying on its back bleeding. He was badly beaten and his face was unrecognizable. With all might left, he managed to say the names of his assassins before he let go. “Gardo, Alfredo and Ronnie. You will pay for this. I swear!” Rosa said weeping.”

Rosa wrote to the president of the Philippines expressing her grief and inability to afford for the justice of her father’s death. The president replied shortly sending Rosa a very competitive lawyer. The proceedings started immediately pointing to the land issue as the motive of murder. Much to Rosa’s agony however, the case was dismissed due to lack of evidence.

The suspected assassins went to a restaurant after the trial to celebrate their victory. They drank in mirth until they totally forgot that they were in a public place. The suspects were heard expressing their disbelief that their victim was still able to go home alive. They thought he was dead when they left him. They laughed and ridiculed the spirit of the old man in reaching home. Several customers overheard the conversation and were brave enough to testify against the suspects.

The case was reopened and with strong witnesses, the suspects were sentenced to life and were ordered to pay a big amount to the family of the slain. The suspects couldn’t afford to pay for the amount and it was agreed that a land of the same value will be given to the surviving family member.
Rosa took the land in remembrance of her father and promised to herself to keep the land even for her future great grandchildren so that they too will remember her father.”

“Which land was it mama?” I asked.

“It’s this land Yenyen.” Mama replied. “My parents acquired more lands through enheritance and were also able to buy more but it was in this land where our mother chose to raise us because it's the closest to her heart.”

“Brave lola.” Darlene said shaking her head.

“Yeah, she’s really a fighter.” Dondon added.

“Do you still wanna swim?” Mama asked.

“Yeah.” The three of us chorused. The little ones had fallen asleep on the mat.

“Ok. Now you go and we’ll go home shortly.”

Dondon, Darlene, and I jumped and raced to the water.

Informer

He was awakened. He tried to look around but he couldn’t open his eyes. He considered for a moment if he was blind. “Where am I?” he asked. He couldn’t feel a thing. His body was numb, almost dead. His head was throbbing in pain. He reached for it but to his horror, his hands were tied. His feet were tied too. Panic struck him. He strived to open his swollen eyes. Everything was dark. He felt the cold breeze swaying him in the air. He froze. He was hanging in a tree. Both hands and feet were tied in a branch like a pig tied in a bough. Then with great voltage, the memories flooded back.

They were on their way to pick up their supply of food and ammunition. Suddenly, bullets came from everywhere. Soldiers had surrounded them. The rebels fought with all their lives back but they were squeezed. Many of them died including one of the chiefs. The survivors found their way back to the camp. But the route they took to pick up the supply was a secret one. How could the enemies figure it out? There must be a spy, the rebels had decided. Then, all eyes turned to him.

He was tortured. He was beaten terribly. Fist or paddle, all the same, hit him anywhere. But the most agonizing pain he had ever met was when he was tied in a tree. With his back on the trunk, his arms were tied around it. His legs were forced to split over a hundred-eighty degrees through tugging of the ropes tied to each of his ankles. He screamed. It was the last thing he remembered.

He wondered why they saved his life. He knew that anyone like him, once suspected, is beaten to death. Or perhaps a slow death?

His gut tightened. The picture of his friend flashed in his mind. Jim was like a brother. They were always there for each other. But things changed when one morning, Jim’s lifeless body was found beside the river among other dead rebels. Jim’s death ceased his world for a time. He could have saved him had he known his activities. But he didn’t.

He longed to avenge his friend’s death. Thus, he became one of the rebels’ new recruits. But unlike Jim who fought for blind cause, he was there to stop the terrorism that had ruined so many lives. He was indeed a spy. He supplied information to the military. He was an informer.

He didn’t regret why he took this mission. He knew it would cost his life. His only regret is the idea of not seeing his mom again. He could almost smell the aroma of her coffee that wakes him up every morning. He could feel her warm embrace around him. At twenty years of age, she still showered him with kisses and hugs. He was everything she has. He wondered how she would survive her life without a son. He groaned with the thought.

The pain was eating inside him. Alas! Death is bitter sweet. He craved for the end of his agony. He desired for the mercy of death. Yet in the corner of his mind, he saw his mom smiling. Tears sprung out his eyes. He will never see her again. He will never be there for her.

Suddenly, he heard gun fires everywhere. The rattle sound of guns was deafening. He closed his eyes waiting for his end. But then strong hands lifted him up, untied his feet and hands, and lowered him to the ground.

“You’re now safe, Enrico”, he heard a man said before he was engulfed in total darkness.

Living Abroad with God

Have you ever prayed for something that when given, it’s not what you really want? Or perhaps, you wanted the end but not the means? This unfortunate experience of mine taught me one thing and that is, "Be careful of what you asked in prayer. You might get it the hard way."

Living Abroad with God

"What cannot be changed shall be endured." This was the thought playing in my mind while waiting for the result of my blood and urine tests in that lonely chair of the surgery section. I was waiting for the decision of the doctors. I was praying that God, by His divine power, would take the pain away from my abdomen so that no serious medications shall be needed. I didn't have money, no family around; I was in a foreign land.

I was twenty-two years old. I was eager to see beyond the fence of my native land that I decided to leave my two-year-job as a Math instructor in one of the Universities in the Philippines. With earnest prayer, I went to Thailand where I heard was in need of teachers. I didn't know anyone in the country. I was a total stranger. For forty days I struggled to find a job. I was met with too many hardships, including the difficulty in communication where not many local people speak or comprehend English. But before my money was entirely finished, God gave me a job just within the capital city where I could have easy access to everything, especially the church.

However, my struggle didn't end there. Barely a month in my new job, I woke up one morning with a kick of pain in the right side of my abdomen. It was terrible. I lay still observing if it would go away. But it didn't, so I prayed. That entire day the pain grew neutral but it didn't go away. I was hoping it was nothing. The next day, Monday, I still went to school appearing everything was normal. After the second period however, at around ten o'clock in the morning, the most terrible pain erupted which I couldn't bare anymore. The owner of the school provided me a van to bring me to the hospital. Nobody accompanied me to the hospital except the driver who drove back to school right after I got off the van. I held my breath to control the pain. After some interviews, I was ushered to the surgery section where everything was checked. While waiting for the result of the tests, I was instructed not to eat or drink anything.

No exact words can explain what I felt then while hearing those words from the doctor, "treatment, surgery". Surgery was the last thing I had in mind. The doctor explained that the situation was an emergency. I was suffering from an acute appendectomy. I made a quick call to my foreign head teacher, an American, who was very nice to me. He tried to comfort me by saying it would be a quick surgery, an easy one. And before I knew it, I was on a stretcher on my way to the operating room with dextrose and anti-infection attached to my veins. I was sedated and operated. It was on the first of August 2005, at 6:30 in the evening.

I was dreaming. I heard voices from afar. I heard people talking but I couldn't understand. Then I heard my name called, "Miss Lee, wake up!" I awakened but I couldn't open my eyes. Then a terrible pain hit me. It was from that section of my abdomen. I was shouting, "Mama! Papa!” I was begging for help. But all I could felt around me were people talking in a foreign language. The pain was unbearable even though I had already a shot of morphine. It was an awful four hours before I was given another shot of painkiller. I didn't realize it then that my eyes were fixed on the wall clock, counting hours, and waiting for the mercy of painkiller. If given however, it's another horrifying thing. The dextrose was removed and the drug was injected in the needle connected to my veins. The feeling of contraction of my veins as the drug makes it way in was unforgettable. My other hand held that arm hard. But those pains were even blessings. Fifteen minutes of pain in exchange to four hours of ease free pain. Another struggle I had to face was sitting up and going down of bed to go to the toilet to pee. The muscles in the abdomen contract making the wound shouting of pain. After forty-eight hours with no food intake, I was starving. But then I had to wait for the signal of the doctors when I would be ready for fluid intake.

I was blessed with kind-hearted surgeons and nurses. They treated me well and took good care of me. They giggled every time they had to talk to me because of their English, broken and mispronounced. But they really did their best to comfort me especially if I cried. Even the low profile crews were very dear to me. They took turns in assisting me whenever I needed to go to the toilet. I stayed in the ward where I could save money. I saw other patients whose situations were even worst than me. It was then that I stopped focusing on my pain. I started looking at my co-patients who were suffering more than I did. I felt strength grew inside me and I wanted to comfort them. With small steps, and with my other hand holding the stand of my dextrose, I walked bed to bed to visit the other patients in the ward. They couldn't speak English. It was amazing making friends with them mainly through smiles, actions and warmth.

I went home on the third day. The school paid my bills first which I paid back with my salaries. I didn't get any insurance yet by then since I was still under provision. After two weeks of rest, not fully recovered but strong willed, I pushed myself to go back to work. I needed money to survive my expenses especially for my visa. I needed to go back to work as soon as possible.

I asked God why He allowed me to suffer that much in the very early part of my living abroad. But He answered me back. He reminded me that I had asked Him to remove my fear of hospitalization. I was always terrified even only with the idea of needles, blood and hospitals. My fear was too much it could cause me to faint. But after the experience, I was transformed into a brave strong-willed woman ready to accept fate yet dependent to God's protection. I learned that I must be careful of what to ask in prayer because I might get it the hard way. But above all, I was comforted with the idea that no matter how heavy the challenges that await in my way, God will always be there to help me endure and overcome.