THE MOST SERENE REPUBLIC OF SNOOZELANDIA

UN Category: Inoffensive Centrist Democracy
Civil Rights: Very Good
Economy: Strong
Political Freedoms: Very Good
Location: the West Pacific

The Most Serene Republic of Snoozelandia is a tiny, socially progressive nation, remarkable for its compulsory military service. Its hard-working, intelligent population of 5 million have some civil rights, but not too many, enjoy the freedom to spend their money however they like, to a point, and take part in free and open elections, although not too often.

The large government devotes most of its attentions to Social Welfare, with areas such as Law & Order and Commerce receiving almost no funds by comparison. Citizens pay a flat income tax of 22%. A robust private sector is led by the Trout Farming, Information Technology, and Cheese Exports industries.

Crime -- especially youth-related -- is relatively low. Snoozelandia's national animal is the hibernating bear and its currency is the crash.

Addendum:

Hey people! This is one cool game for those who are aspiring presidents... hehe. Why don't you try it? It's the nearest you'll probably get to world domination... ha! ha! ha!

WE ARE TO EACH OTHER...


People through finding something beautiful
Think something else unbeautiful.
Through finding one man fit
Judge another unfit.
Life and death, though stemming from each other,
Seem to conflict as stages of change,
Difficult and easy as phases of achievement,
Long and short as measures of contract,
High and low as degree of relation;
But since the varying of tones gives music to a voice
And what is is the was of what shall be,
The sanest man
Sets up no deed,
Lays down no law,
Takes everything that happens as it comes.

Lao-tzu, Chinese mystic
500 B.C.

We're all just ships that pass in the night. All we can do is cross each other's horizons. We will never have enough time, enough resources, enough sense, and enough love to light up each other's harbors.

I have enjoyed your coming, and I have smiled when you waved hello.

But I will know that the sea holds no bounds, and other harbor lights beckon.

Still you have allowed me to know you and in your wake, you have touched my being. So I will keep a light on... should you find yourself passing this way again... and wave, in remembrance.

ALWAYS THE LITTLE THINGS


I don't know why I got so interested in this.

But I really was. I stayed up for as late as I could stretch it last night, disappointed because it was only George Tenet's testimony that I saw. Clarke was testifying 4 hours later. That would be 4 am in our time. Right... just when I didn't need to be up at 3 cause I was giving myself a break. But I really wanted to see it so I set the alarm at 3:30.

Fafa Jay asked me why I was interested in the news all of a sudden. He knows only too well that I don't read the news... I watch it yes, for a few minutes, and the I drift off. But read it from cover to cover? Hell, no. So I guess it really surprised him that I would stay up late for this. I told him, 'Who knows? It might be another Watergate scandal in the making. I'd like to be in on it when it happens, and not in the aftermath again.'

Of course, I didn't hear the alarm go off cause I stayed up too late and woke up an hour later instead. I caught Clarke affably trounce it out with the last 5 or 6 commissioners but that's about it. I missed his whole testimony. Dang!

But then, all is not lost. Fafa Jay, seeing that this bit really got me interested, sent me this news clip in an email. He did that in the middle of work, just because... You see, it's little things like this that makes me remember each time how I felt when I said to him I loved him, like the first time.

BREATHLESS MOMENTS


I'm sure everybody has received these emails with a line at the end that goes, 'Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.' Now, I think I have a lot of these...

1. Whenever I wake up in the middle of sleep and find myself all spooned up against fafa Jay. I'd inch my way closer (inch, only because 'millimeter my way closer' is never really said) and drift back to sleep, knowing I'm safe right where I am.

2, After each time I clean the house and wherever I set my eyes on, the thing I see is squeeky clean.

3. Particularly floors. I like it whenever my floor is clean. I like shiny, clean floors. I like walking barefoot on shiny, clean floors. (This is the house that Jack built. This is the mouse that stayed in the house that Jack built. This is the cat that chased out the mouse that stayed in the house that Jack built... hehe).

4. Whenever I make soap suds and it turns up real creamy. I like the feel of it on my hands.

5. Witnessing random acts of kindness, and above all, when these acts are extended to the elderly.

6. Quiet moments with fafa Jay, mostly on weekends, when we could stay up late into the night. He might be doing his own thing, and I mine. There may be no conversation at all but we both are so consciously aware of each other's presence, and that alone gives us comfort. Every now and then, one of us would get up from whatever we're doing and give the other a hug.

7. Whenever I see a combination of pastel colors. I will not wear pastel and I won't paint my room pink. I just like seeing pastel colors all mixed up, like in a painting or a pattern or something.

8. Whenever I hear, read or watch a film with a feel good story. The kind that makes you cry and smile at the same time, it's heavy on the heart but you feel light just the same.

9. Whenever I smell fresh and clean laundry. More so if the smell stays on the clothes long after they've dried up. Especially if it's my laundry I'm smelling.

10. Beneath my kitchen window is a small playground with slides and all sorts of things the children can climb and squeeze in and out of. Whenever I hear a child squeal in sheer delight, it makes me stop a while. It makes me smile to know that somebody out there has just had a moment of pure joy, even if that person isn't me.

11. Whenever fafa Jay sings 'Sino Ako.'

12. In prayer, specifically when I feel compelled to listen more than talk.

13. When I sense that I've done something right, in particular, when that realization dawns on me rather than when I consciously figure out whether I've done something right or not. More so when I struggle to remember exactly how it happened, cause that act tells me that whatever it is I've done was done with no thought or effort put into it at all. Makes me think that yes, I'm capable of doing something right spontaneously.

14. Whenever I see a building or structure whose architectural design is not only magnificent but makes so much sense to me it makes me feel like I'm walking inside my own house whose every room I know.

15. Whenever I know I've given a good party in which I also had a good time spent with the guests and not held up in the kitchen. These would be the parties in the company of a few guests, just enough to fill up one long table. The atmosphere would be intimate and there would only be one conversation going in which everybody can pitch in anytime. It's not necessary that everybody knows everybody else. It is my thinking that if a guest knows the host well enough, he would be able to jive with every other person present in the room. Everybody goes home happy and glad that they came.

16. Those mornings when I wake fafa Jay up and he would tug at me to join him in bed for those extra 5 or 10 minutes before he decides he should get up.

17. Days of perfectly coordinated activities. When I don't find myself fumbling or wasting minutes on unnecessary or redundant tasks.

18. Whenever I call my family on Sundays and I get to speak to my two youngest nephews.

19. Whenever I consider space. I like rooms where everything has its place and wherever they are placed, it's logical for them to be there. I like it when spaces are used cleverly, without sacrificing aesthetics. I like it when there is space left, when a room is neither tacky, cluttered or crammed in. I love space... both using it and leaving it alone.

20. Time alone. Much as I want to be with fafa Jay every minute, I also like spending time alone in the house, especially when I'm not pressed to do anything. I like it most if, should I feel like watching a movie, there'd be something new to choose from off the shelf, and I have snacks in the house and a glass of Coke.

21. Making fafa Jay laugh. Between the two of us, he's obviously the humorist and it's kinda' tough making him laugh. Whenever I could, I have a perfect moment.

22. Whenever I hear music. I don't pay much attention to genre or artist; it's the melody and the beat that cut it for me. There are even some rap music that I like, as long as the beat is right. It's always the melody that would hit me first. If it's nice enough, then I listen to the words. If it's really nice, I won't even care about the words. There's probably just one artist whose song I will never listen to. Kylie Minogue.

23. Whenever I'm in conversation. Deep and probing conversation. Not the gossipy kind, but one with an honest interest in what a person thinks and how a person feels. It wouldn't be a showcase of how much a person knows or how well one can articulate, but it will be plump with insights on the essence of whoever I'm conversing with, and vice versa. I like knowing what makes a person tick.

24. Whenever I look at our pictures. I remember the moments I can never go back to but moments which I will always have in my heart.

25. Whenever I eat pastry that tastes heavenly.

26. Whenever I have the chance to read fafa Jay's poetry. He seldom writes one, but when he does, it's alway a revelation, both the skill and the content. His poetry is always unassuming and you'll never know exactly what he's talking about, unless you know him.

27. Whenever I think of our ultimate dream... spending quiet days together, with him sprucing up a garden and me watching out for flower buds that might turn up, sipping coffee or some cold drink, watching the sunset or catching the sunrise, having enough to convince ourselves that life is good.

28. Whenever I think of the friends I've made in the past couple of years, or at least those people who have touched our lives and whose lives we've touched, how it was all made possible through miles of current and static, through messages thoughtfully left. It might be that we've known each other mainly through words, but these words sure have gone a long way.

29. Whenever I call out to fafa Jay and he answers, 'Yes, my love.'

I could have made this a list of 30 items if I wanted to, but life is not always a perfect even. There will always be the odds. And whenever I learn to let one pass without flurry, without me getting all ruffled up, I know I'm one step closer to becoming the best person I can be. It doesn't always go smoothly onward. More often than not, it takes one step forward and two steps back. But that, in itself, is an oddity of chance that I've learned to live with, and the paradox it assumes also takes my breath away.

ROLL WITH THE PUNCHES


Once in a while we'd come upon a film or a story that would make us think in ways that are deeper and far more extensive than we usually would. This doesn't happen for me often. As I've already mentioned, I see books and films largely as a form of entertainment... they do not usually go beyond the rating of 'I like' or 'I don't like.' I do not look for moral, ethical, theological, artistic or cultural merits. Sometimes though, one would hit me in the solar plexus like one angry, deliberate and personal blow. It sucks up all the air I have and it makes it hard to breath.

A DVD copy of 'The Pianist' has been sitting on the shelf for several months now, another bargain steal from one of fafa Jay's trips. I've always meant to watch it as I wasn't able to catch it in the theatres but somehow, I never got around to doing it. Last night, I braved the late hours, something I haven't done for 2 months, to watch it. I'm still reading that book by Michael Crichton and in it, he has pointed out, very explicitly, the exceptional quality of direct experiences... when you peel off all the trappings of urban, contemporary existence and charge on to life almost in situ. Well, I guess watching this film would be one of those things... for me.

You all know the story by now. It struck me on two points. The first is, how one German's act of kindness could seemingly wipe away all the brutality and inhumanity they have inflicted on the Jews, as I saw it in the context of the story. In retrospect, I realize now that the story has been building up to that and the final twist was so brilliant, it could have been contrived, if not for the fact that everything that happened, happened for real, in one real person's life.

See, there were a lot of people who helped Szpilman... a friend who collaborated with the Germans, a friend who bribed a German so he could escape being transported to Treblinka, a collaborator for the underground who worked side by side with him in forced labor, 2 couples who were old friends and also working for the underground... and all of them somehow left him, one way or another, ultimately. Some of them got caught, almost everybody died and one couple moved out of Warsaw. They hid him in several locations they thought were safe (eventually being proven erroneous) but he was mostly left all by himself. They would look in on him every now and then and bring him food but that was the most they could do. Or would do, perhaps?

Then towards the end, a German Captain found him. Szpilman was only made to prove his worth once, he played his own composition on the piano, which obviously moved the captain so. The following events bore out as surprising and almost miraculous. The captain arranged for his headquarters to be housed in that dilapidated structure in whose attic Szpilman was hiding and in so doing, provided the Jew with a safe shelter and daily sustenance.

That German captain, among all the people who helped Szpilman, was the only one who moved in with him, who stayed with him until the end.

On this note, another thing that struck me was how the irony that one of his oppressors would eventually see him through bears even more weight in the face of all the stupefying difficulties that Szpilman had to endure. It's like Szpilman had to be stripped of all sense of pride and indignance so that at the point when his oppressor offered him kindness, he had nothing else to receive it with, except raw gratitude and sheer relief. If he had not been at the total mercy of this German Captain, if he had it in him to keep on running or present whatever pitieous struggle he still could muster, I'm pretty sure he would have been shot right there and then.

Is this, then, what survival is all about? That when need be, we ought to forego all traces of dignity and learn to roll with the punches, just so we'd live to see another day?

In our civilized societies, structured governments, racial heirarchy; with the advent of globalization, technological free-for-all and urban culture... is it undeniable that there is still oppression going on?

Wherever a person is forced to make do with what would be crumbs from off another person's table, there will be oppression. Wherever a man is made to skitter through rubble, like a gopher burrowing tunnels through the earth below, because another man has claimed the right to walk the earth above unperturbed, there will be oppression. Wherever circumstances force people to abandon homes and uproot their families, there will be oppression. Wherever man is not given a choice, there will be oppression.

I look around and I see a lot of us... still rolling with the punches.

I DON'T REALLY DO THIS BUT I JUST FOUND THIS REALLY INTERESTING

You're Watership Down!

by Richard Adams

Though many think of you as a bit young, even childish, you're
actually incredibly deep and complex. You show people the need to rethink their
assumptions, and confront them on everything from how they think to where they
build their houses. You might be one of the greatest people of all time. You'd
be recognized as such if you weren't always talking about talking rabbits.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Got it from K8's site.

THIS SONG


it reassures me when I'm afraid

leads me back when I seem to stray

and helps me get to my bearings

it tells me I am loved

so much, that I too can give

it reminds me of who I am

and that it's enough.

FINALLY, MY TAKE ON 'PASSION'... NOT THAT ANYBODY ASKED


Belle's site is the milieu in which this entry was created.

I don't know if I should even join this discussion. First, I refrain from giving reviews about films I see and books I read because I don't feel it's my turf. I take pleasure in what I enjoy and that's it for me. Second, although I've been brought up a Catholic and have been schooled in a Catholic school all my life, as of now I'm not even a Church goer, and please don't make the mistake of thinking that there is even an iota of pride in my saying that.

I've shunned the Church because of the inconsistencies I see in the people who serve there, including priests, which has only served to confuse me about my faith. I remember what Jobert said to me, that he has never allowed the Church to get in the way of his religion, but that is neither here nor there I guess. In the past, I have been in an on and off relationship with God, something which I suppose a lot of believers, if they would be honest, would be able to own up to as well.

For a year now though, I have been... well, not really studying, but reading the Bible with more depth and self-emptying than I ever did before, in the hope that it would fill me up. I prayed... searched my soul for what I could honestly accept and believe apart from what has been shoved down my throat so far. I listened... not to what scholars and theologists and whoever else has to say but to what I was reading in the Bible in the context of my life's course, in the limited realm of what I could understand, and when I think about it and the events that have happened in my life in the recent past, I could say with more conviction and honesty that I have come to know my God again, really know Him, with a knowledge that is more personal and more real than what I needed before to pass my religion and theology subjects. This God I've known all my life is now a God I love.

Funny though, I honestly never had the interest to watch this film. The story has been handed down to us for generation after generation... it's a story as old as time itself. Whether it's the new truth or not, whether it goes against anything that has been taught to me, most of which I've chosen to forget, whether it goes against anything that I've come to believe thus far, is immaterial. I have struggled with whatever little faith I had at the start to grow into a whole new spirituality... and this is such a young sapling as yet and I refuse to subject it to something as remote to me as Mel Gibson doing his job.

Because for me, that's simply what it is. I have as much respect for Mel Gibson to favor him with some trust on his better judgment. I'm sure that even if he's in it for the money, he did it with some conviction that he was doing something he believed in. Now what did he believe in? I don't know, and I don't care.

It's a film and we know that films are a product of a culture... culture being a group of beliefs and values that influences an individual's choice, actions and behavior. Case in point, the operative word here is 'individual.'

If we all had the money, and the talent, and the right strings to pull... and we all had a chance to make a film such as this, how many interpretations would there be, if you'd care to figure out?

It is for this reason that I will not watch the film, that I will not read any reviews about it. I am over-protective of whatever faith I have grown into, yes, that is true. It's valuable to me because I did not stumble upon it unscathed. It's valuable to me because after all these years, here is something that finally makes sense to me and that I have managed to cling on to inspite of what seems to be a progressively difficult chain of lessons taught and lessons learned, of tests surpassed and failed. It's all I have.

It is not my place to put it to a test another man has created. What I believe in is simply and unpretentiously between me and my God.

BLOG BASKET 2


Okay, I'm sorry but I had to do this again cause I've been a delinquent blogger. *sigh* So much to do, so little time.


KUYA EL


First things first, it was my eldest brother's birthday yesterday. He's the father of my four nieces who are all named Karen something. He's a great guy, a terrific father and a devoted husband to who, I could only hope, is an equally devoted wife. Life's been tough on him too but he did manage to come out of the rain, the storm, the hail. He brought up his four daughters practically all by himself and that, with one daughter afflicted with Downe's Syndrome. To all of them, he's a father, a mother, the breadwinner, a friend. Maybe with so many things on his shoulder, he never had time to be much of a brother to us but that's ok by me cause he did have time left to be a son to our parents and for me, that's the more important thing.

Things are pretty much turning peaches for him this year. His youngest is graduating from gradeschool, and an elder daughter is graduating from highschool. His eldest is supposed to be graduating this March too from college but she wasn't able to complete her clinical requirements in time so we're looking on later this year for that to happen. She's going to be a dentist, just like him.

Sometimes I wonder if, put in the same situation, I would have measured up to it. See, my brother is quite the dreamer, a bit like myself, and dreamers like us can sometimes be easily daunted when things are unfavorable, unless we pull ourselves together and make up our minds to overcome whatever shit hits the fan. If I could do half of what he has done for his family, I would have learned as much patience, fortitude, humility and selfless love than I could muster in a lifetime.



HAPPY BIRTHDAY KUYA EL!


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


WHAT DO YOU DO WITH A GUY LIKE THAT?


We've been married for 12 years, going on 13 this May. That's a lot of time I suppose. The thing is, and I'm not saying this is a bad thing either, to this day, it seems we still get surprised at those little things we keep discovering about each other. Or at least, for my part, that's true.

I've always known, among other things, that fafa Jay is a caring and considerate man. Although it doesn't crop up even in the most nonchalant of our discussions, nor in the most sublime, I know that from time to time, he denies himself a little something, to please me, to see me happy or at least see me smile. I've already said somewhere that that is all he really wants, to see me smile.

Since I started with KR, he's taken to cooking breakfast on weekends. See, even on weekends, I would still wake up at 3 am (if I manage to avoid those 10 minute extensions before actually getting up... if I don't, I usually get up an hour or two after... heh) to start my work. He would get up at... say, 8 or 9, try to find where I am in the house to give me my morning kiss. Then he would go about his own thing. If he sees that I'm on the computer or reading my book, he'd go about it really quite. At around 10, he would cook our meal so I'd get that extra hour or two for my work.

Last Wednesday, he came home from work and found me reading my book. So he said he'd cook dinner and I just go ahead and keep on doing what I was doing.

Last Friday, on account of the bad experience I had the day before, he gave me a real treat to help me get over it. It was nothing extravagant or profligate... something really simple but it sure made wonders for me. First we had cheesecake and coffee (lately we've been having this fetish for chicago cheesecake from Coffee Beans and the perfect match of course is a cup of coffee), then he took me out to see Big Fish, and then we had a late dinner at the new hawker center near our place where I could have my favorite steamed dumplings. That night, I slept with a smile and what happened that Thursday was diminished to something like a bad dream.

There are countless other random things, like bringing me a cold drink out of the blue, while I'm doing my work, just because he thought I might be thirsty... or whenever, if by chance, he gets up before I do on weekends, he would surround me with pillows (like I would fall off the bed or something), pull up the sheets so I'd be snugly warm and slink out as quietly as he could... or there's that odd surprise call in the middle of the day, just because... or that little something from the store whenever he goes out because he knows I'm such a snack jack... or when I've been doing house work all day and get really poofed out, he'd tell me not to prepare dinner, to dress up and he'd take me out to dinner instead, just so I wouldn't have to bother about it, and there's always that morning kiss, and when he comes home at day's end, or when he goes out to jog or ride his bike, sometimes even if it's only to go and bring out the trash.

Now tell me, what do you do with a guy like that?... except, to ponder on how much more you could love him back.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I'M UNDERWEIGHT!


I always thought I weighed a 110. Now it happens I had to fill out this form and it asked for my weight. I could have put a hundred and ten but then I was really taking this thing seriously so I wanted to be sure.

I was so amazed to find out that I was only a hundred and seven!

Now I'm not sure but I always thought, too, that I'm 5' 2'' (okay, here's where you snicker, you ogres!). So that makes me weigh, supposedly, 110 lbs. The way to do it is (just in case you don't know), you allot 100 lbs. for your 5 feet and add 5 lbs. for every inch thereafter to get your ideal weight.

Well, 3 lbs. less isn't really much. What's good about this is... it means I could have more cheesecake! Woohoo!


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


LINES THAT WON'T LEAVE ME


I've been wondering about this. I like reading a lot... well, fafa Jay still beats me on that but still. And sometimes, I would read a line that will get stuck in my memory long before I've forgotten the title of the book or its author. It doesn't necessarily have to be anything ethereally profound or spectacularly funny or heartwrenchingly poignant. And that makes it all the more odd cause, I mean... what does it take for a line to be so remarkable that I cannot forget it even if I tried anyway? Take this for instance...

'I cannot believe you actually lived with a person who will argue about who's pubic hair is clogging up the shower drain!' She beamed up at him with a smile she hoped wasn't too obviously forced. She'd die if he ever knew that person was her.

Here's another one...

'Add a pinch of rosemary. And that is not something you'd do when your wife's back is turned.'

Now that, I can't remember whether I got from a really wacky cookbook or a boring novel. But this one, I got from a friend's website...

Him: Why not? What's not great about a pencil fetish?
Her: Splinters?

Haha... I still crack up whenever it crosses my mind.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


SPAGHETTI SUNDAY


Once a month, we'd have spaghetti on a weekend. like we did last Sunday. I'd cook a whole bunch and we'd eat it the whole day. Often, we'd have something left for next day's dinner. That saves a lot of cooking time for me... heh.

Now there's something peculiar with the way we like our spaghetti. We like it better as leftover. For some reason, it just tastes better. So what I'd do is, I'd cook a whole bunch the day before we plan to have it, either on a Friday or a Saturday, coat the noodles with just enough sauce to keep them from sticking together, and let it sit in the ref overnight. The following day, we'd put some of the noodles on a plate, garnish it with a generous slosh of sauce and shove it in the microwave just before serving. Yummy! I've always liked home cooked spaghetti this way, and only lately did I find out that fafa Jay does too.

I don't know about him, but for me, it reminds me so much of the day right after Christmas. My Mom's spaghetti is a killer and me and my siblings just love it. So whenever she makes some for Christmas eve, she'd cook a whole lot of it. The following day, anytime anybody wants to eat, he can go and prepare his own food. I'd do that, and then take my plate in front of the tv. I'd eat it really slowly, maybe stopping from time to time. When it's all gone, I'd lay my plate on a table somewhere near, not letting anybody touch it, so I could use it again should I want more spaghetti. Hey, that was the only day in the year that I was allowed so much tv. I wasn't about to waste it washing one plate after another, now would I?

Oh well... I guess I haven't grown up a lot since those days... heh.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


TRACKBACK TO TRAVELS


Oh yeah, I'm still reading Travels and I'm still having trouble putting it down each time I pick it up. Although with KR, I'm able to do that only when I'm in the toilet or putting myself to sleep. Just to show you what I'm getting out of this book, here's another excerpt. Hey, I'm really generous when it comes to these kind of things. I really don't mind having to copy the stuff here. You'll never know when it might help some random someone. So here goes...

In short, where I would have struggled, the villagers simply accepted the situation and went on with their lives.

I began to realize how many times the trip had repeated that lesson for me.

The bees - I didn't like them, but I had to tolerate them, there was nothing I could do.

The low water on the river - I wanted to go upstream, but there was nothing I could do.

The absent animals - I didn't like not seeing them, but there was nothing I could do.

I couldn't make it rain, I couldn't fill up the river, or stop the jungle from flowering, or make wild animals appear. These things were beyond my control, and I was forced to accept that. Just as I was forced to accept the couple that wouldn't stop talking.

In fact, I began to realize that, although they couldn't stop talking, I had a much greater problem. I couldn't stop trying to control everything around me... including the couple. I couldn't leave things alone. I was an urban, technological man accustomed to making things happen. I had been taught countless times that you were supposed to make things happen, that anything less implied shameful passivity. I lived all my life in cities, struggling shoulder to shoulder with other struggling people. We all were struggling to make something happen: a marriage, a job, a raise, an acceptance, a chld, a new car, new life, new status, the next thing.

I'd lived in that frantic, active way for more than thirty years, and when I finally began to crack, when I tried to control everything about my life and my work, and the people around me, I somehow ended up in the Malaysian jungle and experienced a solid week of events over which I had absolutely no control. And never would. Events that reminded me that I had my limits - rather severe limits, in the greater scheme of things - and I had no business trying to control as much as I did, even if I could.

Yeah, Michael Crichton seems to have been a little cracked up at the start. Well, this is all too consistent with what I've always believed. See, personally, I think that the lessons on humility that life gives us are the hardest to learn. It would be great if life would be gentle in its instruction, but it doesn't always happen that way.

PIECE OF CAKE


This is something I got from the email a long time ago and although I try hard to refrain posting things here from the email cause I've got another site for that purpose anyway, I had a very bad experience yesterday that I needed to make sense of. So this is not so much as something I'd like to tell you guys but something I'd like to tell myself. I'd rather post this than relate the bad experience cause I find that there's more sagacity in posting this than about yesterday's dreadful episode.

One thing I'd say about it though, people really are as diverse as they come. We just have to learn to see beyond their facade to help ourselves believe undeterred on the inherent goodness in mankind. Otherwise, hate would get the better of each and everyone, hands down.

Anyway, here it goes...

A girl is telling her Mother how everything is going wrong, she's failing math, her boyfriend broke up with her and her best friend is moving away.

Meanwhile, her Mother is baking a cake and asks her daughter if she would like a snack, and the daughter says, "Absolutely Mom, I love your cake."

"Here, have some cooking oil," her Mother offers.

"Yuck" says her daughter.

"How about a couple raw eggs?"

"Gross, Mom!"

"Would you like some flour then? Or maybe baking soda?"

"Mom, those are all yucky!"

To which the mother replies, "Yes, all those things seem bad all by themselves. But when they are put together in the right way, they make a wonderfully delicious cake! God works the same way. Many times we wonder why He would let us go through such bad and difficult times. But God knows that when He puts these things all in His order, they always work for good! We just have to trust Him and, eventually, they will all make something wonderful!

God is crazy about you. He sends you flowers every spring and a sunrise every morning. Whenever you want to talk, He'll listen. He can live anywhere in the universe, and He chose your heart.

I hope your day is a "piece of cake!" Happy weekend my little ones. :)

TRAVELS, A BOOK BY Michael Crichton


It's 3 am and I was up as usual. Did my morning rituals, made coffee and turned on the pc. Checked my schedule for the day, checked my emails, checked my website and read the messages, and then I checked my sitemeter. And there I saw a link to somebody's haloscan comment box and it was cbs'. His most recent entry is a very moving review about the movie 'In America' and a far more moving discussion ensued between him and Jobert about life, about changes, about moving away, about failure and about hope. I don't know. Maybe you'd have to have been reading them for sometime for you to grasp what I'm talking about. In all probability they were just playing around, but that is not how it struck me.

Just last night, I picked up a random book from the library, just to help me sleep. It was Travels, by Michael Crichton. I had to exercise discipline again and put down the book cause by the looks of it, it won't be serving the purpose for which I got it, not by a mile. So I can't give a review cause I've just started it, besides I don't really do that cause I am not qualified, nor do I feel worthy of reviewing anything. I'd keep my views to myself and let the book speak for itself.

Although I've finished the first chapter before I decided to put it down, what comes next is just part of the preface (yes, I read that part too). It's what made me decide to keep on reading. Here goes...

'Often I feel I go to some distant region of the world to be reminded of who I really am. There is no mystery about why this should be so. Stripped of your ordinary surrounding, your friends, your daily routines, your refrigerator full of your food, your closet full of your clothes - with all this taken away, you are forced into direct experience. Such direct experience inevitably makes you aware of who it is that is having the experience. That's not always comfortable, but it is always invigorating.

I eventually realized that direct experience is the most valuable experience I can have. Western man is so surrounded by ideas, so bombarded with opinions, concepts, and information structures of all sorts, that it becomes difficult to experience anything without the intervening filter of these structures. And the natural world - our traditional source of direct insights - is rapidly disappearing. Modern city-dwellers cannot even see the starts at night. This humbling reminder of man's place in the greater scheme of things, which human beings formerly saw once every twenty-four hours, is denied them. It's no wonder that people lose their bearings, that they lose track of who they really are, and what their lives are really about.'