:-)

:-)

Life is but many puzzles - whatever the consequences, the pressures, the stupidity, the urgency, the lightness, the significance, .... that comes behind it. Whatever. Big, small, gigantic, minuscule, long, short, tall, short, complex, simple ... Whatever. Getting past them is always, ALWAYS, a joy.

YeeeeeeeeEEEES!!

.

Fast Forward

I am over forty years old, but I wish I was eighty ... no, sixty years old now.

These few years will probably be the happiest time of my life. There's a steady, but could be better, income, and no short to medium term worries about food, clothings or accommodation. I still have my health in good condition, although I am starting to feel that certain screws and nuts within me are starting to loosen. I'm not an ambitious man, so all is fine. I'm happy. Most importantly, I have a lovely family with two adorable kids who, I think, also adores me. By this last blessing alone, I can easily declare that this will be the happiest time of my life.

I'm living in probably the happiest time of my life, yet I cannot fully enjoy it.

Like a swarm of flies, problems and worries, work related or otherwise, would not stop buzzing irritatingly around my head. There are no major issues, they won't kill me and they are not anything that I cannot solve, and I accept them as parts and parcels of life like I accept laughters and sunshines. But their ever-presence and persistence are annoying.

It's easy to say 'The gem cannot be polished without friction nor man without trials', or 'Adversities are the spices of life', or 'The art of living lies less in eliminating our troubles than in growing with them', or 'Rock bottom is good solid ground, and a dead end street is just a place to turn around', or simply 'Don't worry, be happy'. All valid, and all I truly believe. They all work. But, still, easier said than done. It takes times to turn the mentality around and turn those pests into solid grounds, or gems, or spices, or artistic works. And if it takes longer than my patience, I will start to get frustrated.

I'm at the happiest stage of my life, and I want to enjoy it! Fully. Totally. Completely. Every single day. Maybe I am asking too much from life.

As each day passes, I am slowly heading out of my current stage of life towards the next, which will probably be less enjoyable. I want to enjoy my life now as much as possible. In addition to the realisation that 40's is not young anymore, I am a bit desperate. I don't want these problems and worries hanging low above me blocking my full view of a clear blue sky. They might not turn into a storm, or they might get blown away, but nobody can focus in the present for ever without looking up once in a while and ponder upon the future.

Childhood was good. All we do is wake up, eat, play, eat some more, play a little bit more and sleep. Carefree. Adolescence was fantastic - friends, parties, outings, crushes. Vibrant. Early stage of adulthood was great - everyday was an adventure, every step was a new frontier conquered. Exciting. Ah ... great time. Happy time. Enjoyable time. Upon hind sight.

Looking back, reluctance to study during childhood seems petty; peer pressure during adolescence appears insignificant; job worries during early adulthood looks immaterial. Looking back, all seems rosy. But, of course, these problems and worries were as heavy then as the problems and worries that I'm facing now. In retrospect, they are weightless.

So, it would seem that to really enjoy and truly appreciate my present life, I need to be in my 60's this instant and live my life in the 40's now.

Of course, by the time I really get to 60 years old, I would probably wish that I was 80 years old. And at 80's, maybe I would wish that I was dead.

.

Time Is Of Essence

There are posts and there are posts.

There is this post that is trying to decipher the codes of life, and this post that's drawing a picture.

This post is trying to solve a murder mystery.

This post was woven out of threads of fiction, and this post was plucked from the ethereality of Zen. There is also this post about the 'H' word.

Not forgetting this post that is brimming with parental love.

And there's even a post about Entrecards in the old days, and a few on how I used to thank my top droppers back then.

There are so many posts here, each and every one my favourite. And each and every one is, ahem, worth a visit.

But this post is here because of my last post, which if read on any other day than the day it was published, would be less relevant.

This post is here to banish my last post into the posts of the past.

And it gives me a chance to hard-sell my older posts. Buying?

.

My Rainbow Journey

Why are there so many songs about rainbows,

and what's on the other side.

It started when I came across a video somebody posted on Facebook in the morning - a cover version of one of my favourite song. A song that had slipped from my mind for too long - Rainbow Connection.

Jason Mrat and Paul Williams.

(By the way, if you get the song writer to sing a song he wrote, is it still considered as a 'cover version'?)

It's morning, the song slowly pulled my yet-to-be-up mood with its jazzy tempo back to the depth of my mind.

As the song ended, I was left swirling in the song still for a good thirty seconds. Being in the age of internet and all, I then googled (is this an official word yet?) the song. Not surprisingly (although I was surprised), there are numerous cover versions of the song.

Sarah McLachlan.

Sarah McLachlan represents one of the artists whose songs fell into a period of my life where I was slightly detached from the world of entertainment and pop culture. So, her version didn't hit a resonance in me. But Willie's did.

Willie Nelson.

Perhaps it was how the song was told, maybe it was the presentation of the video - how it interspersed between colours and black and white, present and past, youth and age, innocence and wisdom, or the worn out instruments; Willie's lined face, his white beard and his age-scarred voice which painted a hue of melancholy over the song, brought out the harshness of life and expressed the futile and never ending search of what lies beyond ... I was moved.

But not as much as the next version that I found to my pleasant surprise.

Karen Carpenter.

That was the first time I heard her voice over the song.

I grew up with The Carpenters, hearing my elder cousins playing their tapes and records. But their songs didn't endear themselves to me then. And although I vaguely knew about Karen Carpenter's death back then, I felt no sadness.

Years later when I was studying away from home, Karen's voice slowly etched into my heart. And later when I read back about her untimely death, sorrow overflew.

Hearing the Carpenters-like opening, the introduction by the toy piano (and I thought the off-key was an especially nice touch), the familiar arrangement, the filling-in of the flutes, the horns, the strings and the piano, and her voice open the door to a spectrum of familiar and mellow emotions. As soon as she sang, I was immediately drawn into the song. The way her voice carried the words of the song, and how she strung them together kindled an intimate warmth within.

By the end of the song, I was almost in tears. The sentimental fool that was me. Like they said, I hope she found her rainbow.

Although, if the song is not sung by a muppet, my journey would not be complete.

Kermit the Frog.

Childhood. Innocence. Carefree thoughts about what were beyond milk and cereals, playgrounds, books and studies, lunch, friends and laughters, schoolmates, fights, showers and soaps, dinner, bedtimes and stories, and sleeps and dreams.

A rainbow is a rainbow. That's the seven thick lines of different colours magically painted across the sky in a perfect half circle after a rain. Rainbow.

Although, what DO lies on the other side? What's a vision? Illusion? Who painted it? The lovers? The dreamers? Or, me? And yeah, why are there so many songs about rainbows?

~

Rainbows are visions, but only illusions,

and rainbows have nothing to hide.

So we've been told and some choose to believe it.

I know they're wrong, wait and see.

Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection.

The lovers, the dreamers and me.

Who said that every wish would be heard and answered

when wished on the morning star?

Somebody thought of that and someone believed it.

Look what it's done so far.

What's so amazing that keeps us star gazing

and what do we think we might see?

Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection.

The lovers, the dreamers, and me.

All of us under its spell. We know that it's probably magic.

Have you been half asleep

and have you heard voices?

I've heard them calling my name.

Is this the sweet sound that called the young sailors?

The voice might be one and the same.

I've heard it too many times to ignore it.

It's something that I'm supposed to be.

Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection.

The lovers, the dreamers and me.

La La La Li La La Lu,

La La La La La Li La Lu ...

.

Nothingness

That's what it was in the beginning - nothingness.

After a seemingly endless time of straining, two words painstakingly surfaced. They were hardly discernible floating in the darkness emanating from the void. Still, the two words did wonder, having poached the tension of the surface. They started to trickle.

At long last, the void disappeared, swallowed by the bright light flashing from the fusion of six words into an entity.

"I wrote. The void is filled."

There, my desire for creativity was fulfilled. Satisfaction.

Until the next surge ...

.

Hey ...

is it too late to announce that this blog is on a hiatus, having a long break, taking a rest, lying dormant, slumbering in hibernation ...


.

Pssst ...

Miss me??



MUuuuaAA...HAHAHAHAHAHAHA ....


Anyone?


Anyone??


Anyone???



Guess not ...



Sigh ...


.

The Answers to LIFE

What is Life?

Pick up the end called "Birth", pick up the other end called "Death", and it is everything that's dangling helplessly in between.


Where is Life?

It starts at one end of a spectrum marked by the blissful happiness and stops with the unbearable pain of sadness at the other end.


When is Life?

The time between when you fall asleep out of boredom in heaven, and when you wake up in relief at the same place.



Why Life?

It's a long journey between when you step aboard and when you alight, you would need some entertainment during the journey to kill time.



Who is Life?

Your mysterious tour guide in this journey.



How's Life?

Shit as usual.


.

Who Dunnit?

Who killed Noi Taripsni? My beloved Noi Taripsni.

She was by my side the whole day until now. She was whispering into my ears when I woke up this morning. I was smiling all the time during breakfast when she was being funny. On the drive to work, she did the same thing and, with amusement other drivers were staring at me laughing in my car. While I was working, she gave an arousing performance for me and I was grinning sheepishly when no one was watching. I got all excited by her suggestive tease on the way home. I hurried through dinner, impatient for the much anticipated gratifying time I'll be enjoying. But, just when I need her the most, she's gone. Like a puff of smoke, vanished. Dead ...

I was left stranded. Fuming - after all the anticipation and waits, who took her away from me?

Eugitaf is the first name that come to my mind.

I didn't realize he was near until I found her gone. Suddenly, I feel his overbearing presence pressing against me, forcing his way onto me. Little by little, he invaded my mind and my body. I feel helpless.

But I only have myself to blame. Indirectly, I opened the door for him. Actually, I would have no way to resist, not after a hard day spent with his best friend - Krow.

Krow and Eugitaf go hand in hand, like nights follow days and the moon follows the sun. Stay with Krow long enough, Eugitaf will start haunting you, like a jealous lover. There's no escape. To different people, Krow appears in different shapes and sizes. But it isn't Krow that we are interested in, although there is no way to avoid him to get to our target - his attractive daughter - Yenom.

I've been courting Yenom all my life since I lost my innocence regarding how this world spins, and what it spins around. I can't get enough of her, although that's partly due to my own incapability. The more she teases, the more I yearn for her. The more I lust for her, the more I'll approach her father. The more I befriend her father, the more often I'll have the company of the major killjoy - Eugitaf.

However, Eugitaf has a less criminal intention against me, undesirable none the less. Especially on nights when I have special plans.

As he plays his trick on me, I start to weaken. My wall of defense crumbles bits by bits. The erotic tune he's playing into my ears is starting to have its intended effect. I'm slowly staggering towards the arms of his seductive mistress - Peels.

As she exposes herself piece by piece, I find myself drawn closer and closer towards her, like a moth to a fire. I know what she can do. The satisfaction she gives while I'm within her hold, I yearn. I know that after a night spent with her, I will be a new man, fully recharged to face another day. But on a night like tonight, I'll try to resist the temptation, as long as I can.

As the night goes deeper, I finally surrender, perhaps I had always known I would. I was staring at a blank screen anyway, regretting not taking notes when I have the chance. I'm going to throw in the towel and throw myself into her arms, giving myself unreservedly to her.

But before I go the way of the land of dreams and leave the land of creativity fulfillment, the question is still burning in my mind.

Could the real killer be Eugitaf? Or could it be S Senizal? Or maybe I never have her with me, and I was fooling myself all these times? Maybe she's just a dream I willingly let myself yield into? No, dream comes true. A fantasy, maybe?

But whoever it is, I guess the cause is less important than the consequence - I lost my Noi Taripsni tonight.

The name is insignificant. Read it forward or backward, it's still just a name.

After all, my Noi Taripsni will come alive again tomorrow and it'll be a brand new day.



.

Ready?

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Well? Did my blog EXPLODE??


Damn! And they promise it'll Explode ...

Oh well ... Time to GO.






* Probably due to the recent uproars about the controversial paid-ads in Entrecard community, I'm seeing more and more familiar Entrecard blogs in Blogexplosion. Whatever the reason, it's always nice to see familiar faces in different environment.


.

Guess What?

It just hit me that, in the tone of my last two posts (this and this), I had missed the zenness that was spilt all over the place from one of the oldest joke around:-



Why did the chicken cross the road?


Because it wanted to get on the other side!


.

Putting Something Into Nothing

I have been feeling Zenny since my last post. So I thought I'd give my worldly and lowly 2 cents worth of reflection regarding the Zenness of my last post, which is also my first post - about Zen, in this post.

Please bear in mind that if the journey to enlightenment is a million steps to the west, I'm now at 2 steps to the east, lying on my hammock between two coconut trees, enjoying and admiring the glorious view of the west, while having a sip from my glass of cocktail with a tiny umbrella for inspiration.

So dwell into my words at your own risk. Any bad injuries, physical or emotional, caused by the clumsiness of my words, their un-enlightening nature, their path to noway; you being more lost than before you were lost; you could not find your way back to the proper functioning mind of yours; you bearing physical harm by proclaiming as a Master of Zen through "enlightenment" by my words to others, and hence earn the wrath of your jealous friends, are all none of my business.

~

Buddha achieved his enlightenment under a Bodhi tree.

Buddhism believes all of us can become a Budha through enlightenment by not looking externally from us, but within us. Through practices, of which meditation is one of many ways, we'll be able to achieve this.

At times, our perception of the true nature of things or events are distorted by our worldly emotions, thus causing us to be confused and unhappy about the state of things or events.

In essence, this is what the senior disciple was trying to convey with his words:

Our body is the tree of Bodhi; our mind, a reflective mirror. We must clean the mirror of our mind diligently to rid it of any dust of worldly thought.

BUT,

A tree, which is not a tree, is a tree; a mirror, which is not a mirror, is a mirror. When there is no thoughts rippling in your mind as you encounter with things and events, how would it takes on any forms, worldly or un-worldly, when there is none of it?

Hence,

Bodhi is no tree; the reflection, shone not from a mirror. When all is only Nothingness, upon what will the dust gather?

If I see a person smiling a me, hatred might arise because I might be having a bad day, "What the hell is so happy about today that you have to smile like a fool in front of me?" Without worldly emotions colouring my vision of things or events, I'll be happy to see a person smiling at me, which is a person smiling at me, and I'll smile back. And, in the true sense of Zen, we would need no suppression of our worldly emotions to be able to smile back, because the natural reaction to meeting happiness IS becoming happy.

If I fill a glass with water up to its halfway mark, I will neither say it's half full, nor half empty. I'll say it's a BLOODY GLASS OF WATER, and drink it. Why else would I get a glass of water?

A glass of water, is a glass of water. If I look at the glass of water, and keep trying to figure out whether it's half full or half empty, I'd already by affected by my worldly emotion of the moment - half empty when I'm feeling negative, or half full when I'm feeling optimistic - and I'll remain thirsty. My hand will also be tired for holding the glass too long.

~

With me so far? Good. 'Cause I'm lost in my own Zenniness, and feeling a little bit of dizziness.

And if you ARE enlightened, in any sorts of way, to whatever degree, by the above craps, please let me know, I'll seriously consider publishing a book on my Zenniness.

Happy Zenning!


.

Can You Tell Me?

It was a cold winter night. Freezing. Last night's blizzard was evident by the thick blanket of snow covering the roads and the roofs. Dark heavy clouds hanging low above the roofs and the biting wind warned of yet another imminent storm. Still, there were people hurrying up and down the street, with their heads buried deep within their coats, who were all too eager to get to their destination and out of the cold.

"Sir, matches for 50 cents?" the little girl's voice trembling in the cold, as she approached a gentleman walking passed her.

In their hurried pace, nobody seemed to notice the little girl, crouching besides the street. Those who saw her would just smile and continue on their journey. Some shook their heads.

"These are special matches, ma'am. See its bigger head? And its special kind of red? It lasts longer. And it gives out more heat too. You can fry an egg with just one stick, ma'am?" for those who were willing to stop and listen, the little girl would give her very best to reduce her stock level.

Smell of delicious food was drifting out from a house nearby. Hmm ... garlic bread, glazed ham, roast turkey, honey ducklings, baked potatoes, and ..., the little girl's nose twitched as she drew in a deep breath, ... and cranberry chicken stew. She curled the corner of her lips smugly at her sharp sense of smell. Her stomach was starting to growl in protest.

After some futile sales technique, the girl was starting to give in to the cold, and the boredom. She took a match out and struck it against the wall. As she warmed her little hands with the small fire, she suddenly noticed on the cold damp wall images of freshly-baked bread, beside the juicy roasted beef tenderloin, medium. They looked so real that she could almost smell the aroma of the hot bread mixing deliciously with the still-sizzling tender beef. But the saliva-inducing picture was all too brief with the short match. And her saliva dropping right from her mouth onto the flame didn't help either.

Sensing something magical with the matches, she struck another one. A fireplace, red Christmas stockings, and warm rug appeared. She could see the fire dancing in the fireplace. She felt warm just by looking at the picture. Before she could reach out and touch the Christmas stockings, the wind blew out the flame.

Damn, she cursed.

Another match struck. This time, she carefully protected the flame with her free hand. Christmas tree; gifts wrapped with colorful shinning wrapper; color balls, Christmas lighting, plastic snowflakes, angel figurines, and Christmas star that decorated plentifully on the tree were the images of the moment. As the images roll around the room, she quickly struck another match before the first match ran out. Best to think ahead, she thought. But the wind had other idea. Another blow from the wind, the flame went out.

Darn. The little girl stomped her feet, fretting.

She frowned, her fingers rubbing her chin thoughtfully. Five seconds later, she snapped her finger. A cheeky smile crept onto her face.

She put her hand into her pocket, felt for her intended object, took it out, and gave it a good flick with her thumb. Walla! A perfect bright flame jumped out from the lighter.

Take that, you shitty wind, she snorted.

Just as the flame were lighting up the darkness, she closed her eyes quickly and made a wish.

She smiled as she watched the images on the wall - a villa by the beach; beautiful sunshine; fine white sand; girls with bikini and perfectly-tanned skin walking around; people lying on mattress under the shades of big umbrella scattered all over the beach; summer music from radios filled the bustling paradise; children splashing water in the crystal clear water; blue sky, no cloud, sunglasses and ice cream everywhere. Ahhh ... she gave a satisfying grin.

As she was basking in the imaginary sunshine, she noticed a familiar figure walking towards her. Clad in a two-piece, with wrinkled skin one layer on top another for protection, and her back hunched, the figure approached her slowly.

"Grandma!" the little girl cried out. Stretching out her hand, the one that's not holding the lighter, she reached for her grandma's hand and held it affectionately. Tears in her eyes, "I miss you, Grandma," she murmured gently.

Slap!

The girl rubbed her reddened cheek with her hand, grimaced. She looked at her grandma through teary eyes.

"You little rascal. What the hell are you doing here? Your parents are worried sick about you," the old lady blasted.

"I'm sorry, Grandma. I was bored to death in the house. There's no good show on TV, and I'm tired with all the old games on Playstation, and, and ..." the little girl sobbed in apologies, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, dear. Did it hurt?" Grandma caressed the little girl's face softly, feeling regret for her overreaction.

"C'mon, child. Let's get you home," she bent over to adjust the little girl's Armani overcoat, gave it a nice pat, and took the Dupont lighter from the little girl. The old lady then adjusted her own Prada fur coat. With one hand holding her LV handbag, she held the little girl hand with the other. And the little girl skipped happily in her red Gucci boots towards their house of 9-room, 2-kitchen, 3-bathroom, 4-garage (that housed a Mercedes, a BMW, a Ferrari, and a lowly Rolls Royce limousine), with a 10-acre-garden, and a heated swimming pool; all attended by 3 butlers.

Moral of the story?

Well ... I'm not so sure. But whatever it could be, I'm sure it'll be better than the original Little Match Girl.

I read a lot of bedtimes stories for the kids. Although we have the book on Little Match Girl, I have never read it to them. Apart from "If the going tough, follow your dead relative that appears at the end of the light to the other side of the world. Or, the best way to die is being frozen to death, painless. That's how you can go with a smile," I can never think of a better conclusion to tell the kids after the story, so that they can go to sleep with a warm and happy feeling.

What actually is the moral of the Little Match Girl story anyway?


.

I Want To Die

Not now. When my time comes - preferably in about 40-50 more years, assuming I still have my health, and my bank account have his - I want to die a happy man.

I'm just wondering what I need to do to be a happy-dying man.

But first, I need to determine the working model of life in this department. I gave my good-for-nothing-useful mind a good nothing-better-to-do churn, and it threw out two assumption, actually two and a half. For simplicity sake, we'll assume there are only two emotions in life, happiness and sadness. Every other emotions lie within the spectrum of these two extremes.

Glass of water

Life is like a glass of water. Happiness, is like sugar added to the water, it sweetens the drink; sadness is like salt. For this argument, the sweeter the water, the better. Of course, the amount of water will increase with time, otherwise, the water will taste so sweet, it'll become bitter. And, of course, we can't live without salt. But these are already two totally different stories.

If my life is to end at this very moment, before I close my eyes for the last time, I would take a sip from my glass. If it tastes sweet, I would go with a smile and die happy. If it tastes salty, I'll be wearing a grimace to go. My glass of water tasting as salty as it is right now, I would have to make sure that every spoon into my water of life from now on is sugar, to sweeten out the saltiness. It seems a lot of hard work.

Magnetic Drawing Board (Magna Doodle)

Our day will start with a blank page every day. If we feel happy, we'll be drawing happy things onto the board; if we feel sad, sad things. If I am to die when I am halfway filling up the drawing board with sunshine, satisfying coffee, smooth traffic, smiling faces, etc, I'll die a happy man. I don't want to die when I am halfway drawing the logo of my credit card on top of its outstanding amount, my foot stepping onto dog shit, my dwindling bank account's figure, tree falling onto my car or anything that drives my happiness away. The good thing about this assumption is that, if I do end the day with sadness all over the board, I'll get a fresh blank page the next morning to prepare for my moment.

So, that's the two models of life. The other half? Well, it's another version of the magnetic drawing board with a refreshing rate at every moment, instead of every day. If right at the moment I exhale my last breath, I have a smile on my face, then I'll die a happy man. It doesn't matter if 5 seconds before that, I was drowned with sorrow.

It does seem that the magnetic drawing board way of life is simpler and happier. It's much more achievable too.

On a day when I don't want to die, and couldn't be more keen on living, that's my lively thought on my death.

So, how do you like to die?


.

This Is My Blog

Here we are again, you and me. Yes, you. You, the beautiful people, and me. Actually, this me is not really me. It's me of the past.

Are you frowning already? Don't be. This is a very special moment to be cherished. As in many occasions, we are now connected. My thoughts are now entering your mind letter by letter, word by word and sentence by sentence.

Don't yawn just yet.

Take some times to marvel at the technology that gives us cheap phone calls, let us explore any place on earth, makes us an expert in any topic, enables us to diagnose any symptom, renders redundant the paper headed by "news" and allows my thoughts to travel a varying distances in space and traverse the different spectra of time from the rotten mind of mine to the bored mind of yours with just two clicks of the mouse - mine to "publish", yours to land here.

So, you're listening to the past-me rambling. Where's the present-me? Probably playing sport with my kids at the park, or enjoying ice cream with them, or chatting with my wife over a cup of coffee or tea, or having a pleasant dinner with my family in a nice restaurant, or watching some favourite comedies or movies on TV, or having a sound sleep snoring in my bed, or maybe, like you, having nothing better to do, sitting in front of the computer letting your thoughts from, you know, the past-you occupy territories in my imagination.

There isn't any better place to be, I'm sure you would agree, than sitting right where you are, or I am, and without exuding so much of a single drop of sweat, go to hundreds different places around the world and visit thoughts from hundreds different people with different backgrounds who grew up in different eras by different kinds of upbringing within different societies under different cultures. By the same reasoning in reverse, if I were to ask about the scenery outside your window, I would likely get answers as diverse as freezing blizzard to torrential tropical rain, monotonous white to luscious greens, woody forest to concrete jungle, tree-lined avenue to other high-rise units' windows, bright blue sky to dark cool night, bright sunlight to soft moonshine, or maybe you just don't have a window.

Don't go just yet! I'm about done.

So, what do you have outside your window? Don't answer. Actually, I don't care. If you're reading this, you're probably in a comfortable position regardless of the weather outside. But are you enjoying this moment with a cup of coffee or a glass of wine? Wait! I don't care either, as long as you're still reading.

And everywhere ...

What? We have passed 450 words already? Good. Have I driven my point across?

Yes, of course this post has a point for delivery. Didn't you read the title?


.

The One

Well, this is it.

100th Post.

Dada, Da, Da Da-Dum!

Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay
My, oh my, what a wonderful day
Plenty of sunshine headin' my way
Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay

Mister Bluebird's on my shoulder
It's the truth, it's actual
Ev'rything is satisfactual
Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay
Wonderful feeling, wonderful day,
Yes Sir!

.. 5 ... 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1 - GO!

............*............Firework.........*.......*.....Firework........*...

....Firework...*.....Firework.....*.........Firework....*..

...........*...........*............Firework...........*...........*..

...*.....Firework.............*....Firework.........*...

.....Firework.........*........Firework.....Firework.....*......

OK. That's enough celebration.


Now, to the 101st post!



* By the way, did you READ the Zip-a-dee-doo-dah words, or SING to the Zip-a-dee-doo-dah lyric?


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A 757-words Post

Painted faces, grown men's butts, and, of course, Sophie Marceau - that's how I remember Braveheart. It is not the kind of movie I would choose to watch on a lazy afternoon, and shroud my evening with a heavy mood.

Luckily, I chanced upon it on TV on a Saturday night, when I could go straight into bed with whatever emotion stirred up by the somber ending, and start the morning after with my heart refreshed. Once I was in, I was glued to the TV to the very end. However, this post is not about how good the movie is. Neither is it about my weekend.

Halfway through the movie, amid the battle cries, it suddenly dawned on me - while the rest of us, who have searched high and low for our elusive purpose in life, Mel Gibson's character had it easy in finding his. Convenient. Growing up in an oppressive environment, the people he met, the treatment he received, the suffering he went through from loses of loved ones, and other hardship in his early life didn't give him much luxury to ponder about where he would go with his life. He was thrown onto his path. Fate pushed him. Vengeance shoved him. Adversity did not allow him to look back. The harder he was pressed, the tighter he held to his sense of purpose - freedom of Scotland.

His conviction to his purpose was strong. It made him brave - going where no Scots had gone, and doing what no Scots had dared. Fate made him strong; either that or his suicidal desire to join his dead beloved wife did. And Sophie Marceau was to me what Michelle Pfeiffer was in Ladyhawke. There's a lot of Martin Riggs of Lethal Weapon in Mel Gibso's portrayal of William Wallace. Their butts were white. So were their legs. I'm being delirious.

While the accuracy of the story is contentious, in real life, I suspect there is truth in how we sense our purpose in life based on our experiences during our formative years.

Poverty during childhood yields desire for better livelihood. Broken family fosters yearning for a loving bond. Loses of loved one to sickness nurtures ambition to cure all diseases. Injustice felt cultivates aspiration to fight for justice, or join a secret society gang. As we strive towards fulfilling what was deprived during our younger years, we find satisfaction in achieving them. We feel happy in doing what we're doing. We rejoice in finding the purpose in our life. Yipee doo. But WAIT!

Fulfillment of some shortcomings during our younger years? Is that really the purpose in life? No doubt, it brings satisfaction as it fulfills a void left in yesteryears, but is that it? What if I had a perfect childhood? What then is my purpose in life if I had no desire for anything? Charity? Art? Fishing? Sports? Writing?

Although I don't have a perfect childhood, I do blame my parents for doing too good a job and not giving me a clearer sense of purpose in life. Perhaps the environment had made me so; perhaps I was brought up this way; perhaps I am just the way I am, I really have no strong desire for anything that I don't have. Perhaps I'm just plain lazy. Perhaps my parents should have taken away my allowances so that I have a stronger desire to work hard for money. Perhaps they should have forced me to walk to school instead of drive me to school, so that I would find satisfaction in driving, and maybe be a taxi driver. Perhaps they should have starved me more, so that I would have a better appreciation of food, and be a chef. Again, I'm being delirious.

If purpose in life is not something thrown at us by fate, are we then born with it? Do we seek from within us? Is there a difference between purpose IN life and purpose OF life? DO WE NEED A PURPOSE IN LIFE? Or maybe, like the movie, it matters not that we know death awaits us at the end of our lives, regardless of whether we find our purpose in it, we just have to make it interesting and enticing enough for us to see through it? Seize the day? Maybe, my purpose in life IS to find a purpose in life?

If you think we can find answers to a question with such depth and width in a 757-words post, you're probably more delirious than I am.


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Resolutions 2009

Thought I would kick start 2009 with a post that has a bit more resolve. A post that’ll make me hold my head high, chin up, shoulder back, chest out, tummy in, hands on the hips, and eyes gazing ahead, cape fluttering against the wind of future challenges, and all pumped up for the road ahead.

Following is my list of resolutions for 2009 (at the end of the list, I’m also sharing ideas on how not to break our resolutions):

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2009 is going to be a Good Year!

No?

Firstly, “good” is relative.

Secondly, “good” is subjective.

As we see the rear of 2008, each of us will brand it with different stamps, “good”, “bad”, “success”, “failure”, “heaven”, “hell”, etc, the choice of which determined by our different yardsticks.

If somehow we drew a rather negative conclusion, let us not forget the ultimate objective of these yardsticks. We gauge our past performances so that we can better our future performances. It’s only natural that we feel bad if we failed in certain area, or areas, or every area, or in all and everything that we did, what happened can never be altered (unless you have a time machine – if you do, please give me a ride! PLEASE!!). While we can’t change the deeds, we can certainly change the way we see the deeds.

As we wave goodbye to 2008, I hereby wish that all of us have the humour to embrace the past with optimism, the bravery to face up to our failures, and the wisdom to turn the negatives into positives for our future successes. And may we be appreciative of all that we did manage to achieve, and be thankful for surviving yet another year.

As we welcome 2009 (which, by the way, is the year of Ox in Chinese Zodiac), events are going to unfold. To some extents, we can never control what’s going to happen around us. But the angle from which we see these future events, the willingness to extract the positive elements from them, the feeling or emotion that we let grown within us in observing them, however difficult, is certainly within our command.

Therefore, on top of wishing you a prosperous 2009 and a successful 2009, I would wish all of you all the best in making it a Good 2009, a Great 2009!

May we welcome the challenges brought by 2009 with wisdom, courage, and a fearless spirit. And regardless of what is going to happen in 2009, may we all be the masters of our hearts.

Happy 2009!!


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That's IT!

I had enough!


After 88 posts in 9 months, my creative juice had run dried - not that it was any good before.


I need a break.


There'll be no more words from me into this blog.


I'll be on a hiatus.












Until Next Year. See Ya!!


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