Saturday, October 25, 2008

There's a hero

Last friday was my happiest working day, going for the SGX Bull Run with the corporate team, ran the 3.2km around raffles place & across the esplanade bridge, get goodie bags & free drinks, and the bosses treat us all to yummy chicken & mutton satay, egg "hao jian", sugarcane, beer & stuffs. It's like mamak, except that i'm sitting in between the Directors & with the night ambience & breeze soaking in, amidst the joke & laughters, i am glad i work here. =)

Oh yeah, about the marathon, it was great, my first time participating in an official run, which has all the fla-flahs - the air-horn start with man blowing fires to heat it up, mediacorp artistes, radio DJs, numerous corporate sponsors... ya, all the fla-flahs..

how my leg aches now.. heh heh.

There are many other things in my mind which i am lazy to talk about, the awesome BBQ at Jacq's house, meeting the professional drummers from KL who are going to do a drum shed session (jam session) tomorrow @ Vineyard, catching up with friends, rushing to help buy a grand cake for my best friend GF's birthday, having to help light up 24 candles, seeing the glow on their faces.. how God put words in my mouth to talk during TEENz CG to encourage the members (u know i can't talk long).

Sometimes it feels like there are a hundred things going on and i have to put it in segments, daily, in order to remain sane; work, study & church. I'm happy that i still can come home to family during the weekends.

So, the weeks fly by and exams are coming soon.. Hark the humming of a mindless brain going through all the years of failures, picking up and studying again.

Enjoy the below. Cheers.

Janice & Sonya (koreans in Sydney)



Ginny Owens, my fav christian artise






Can I have this dance (HSM3)




Grace Cavalieri (1937– )

Dates

The silver from my mother’s mirror
gleams its stories
toward a light which drops and never breaks.
It says to tell the truth and

permanently shining, brings forth
an original day bright as this one
where children and other small creatures
played without threat

but the child’s story is never without fear—is it—
and seems to be made of remainders which either
want for love or some relief from it.

In the third grade the pyramids were presented to us
by Miss O’Malley
so kind that she would—
in honor of learning—
give us the key to Egypt
if she could.
Who would like to bring dates for all to taste?
Who can do this on the lunch hour? she asked.
Naturally I
—who could not imagine how—
said I would—
and, like a child with enough money to spend, ran
home with only one hour, one hour to ease
my dear mother who probably had
little money in the house, yet who bravely asked
“Shouldn’t you buy two packages for the class”
I said No.
Love and fear divided in my mind between
an ocean of children
and my mother’s troubled face,
“One package is all I need” I lied,
“Someone else will bring the rest”
(Children spend so much time persuading—
no wonder no one believes them).
Eight dates for twenty children
which would taste so sweet—
Miss O’Malley, always kind, cut the tiny squares
and I kept interrupting, hoping they
wouldn’t notice. After all
there wasn’t water in the land of pyramids . . . was
there . . . and
not too many trees,
probably hungry people and small rations there as well.

That day every one of us was a reflection of the other—
the children who ate their portions,
the mother at home worrying about her daughter’s gift,
the child thinking about her mother’s face,
and Miss O’Malley who, kind and earnest,
taught us all about a hardy people in an arid land
who gave what they had and could give nothing more.

© 1990, Grace Cavalieri, Trenton
grateful acknowlegement to Belle Mead Press



Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844–1889)

God's Grandeur

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

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