Thursday, June 28, 2012

The Monster is Back

"Writing about a writer's block is better than not writing at all." 
--Charles Bukowski, The Last Night of the Earth Poems--

This is not the first time that I have written about my writer's block. I have posted a lot of statuses in Facebook about how stupid I am for not coming up with a topic to write about. And every time I sit in front of the monitor and make an attempt to write about something because of a coming deadline which I myself have set, nothing comes out of my head. I feel futile, useless, and it makes me less of a writer. 

But seemingly, this perception will change for good. Starting today, this perception will turn 180 degrees away from me. I have sought for a good quote on writer's block in the internet, and I managed to stumble upon that inspiring quote up there. 

See? I have been murmuring about writer's block and how it makes me vain, but upon writing about it, I have already written something. This is quite a paradox, but it amused me. Thanks to Charles Bukowski. 

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Of Setting Standards and Being Liked

"Let every man judge according to his own standards, by what he has himself read, not by what others tell him." 
--Albert Einstein--

We live by other people's standards. We are who we are because it is what they want us to be. But more importantly, we live because we have our own standards. People just tend to misinterpret our purpose sometimes and we are automatically bad. We are automatically what they think we're not. 

For no matter how we try to meet their standards, their perception towards us would always define us in their sight. And no matter how we try to act accordingly, there is still no amount of explanation that could justify our good intention.

However, pursuing for manly approval is vain. Everything else is fleeting. The best person we should impress is Jesus Christ. He does not judge us for our physical attributes, He looks at our heart. 

We all want to portray the best possible picture here on Earth, to the people surrounding us. But remember, there is someone up there who has better plans for us. (Jeremiah 29:11)

It is then now not our concern if people do not like us, if we do not meet their standards. The most important thing is that we follow what God tells us to do, we live according to His will, and we abide in Him alone. By this, all good things shall follow. (Matthew 6:33)

Monday, June 25, 2012

One Quote for Day 1

I cannot think of anything to blog during the past days, and every time I make an attempt to write something, I just can't connect my ideas together to make a good article. There are just so much of these ideas coming in and out of my mind. 

So here I am, making a challenge for myself. This will last for 30 straight days, so please keep in touch and bear with my quotes. ^_^

Here's for Day 1. 

"I have noticed that even people who claim everything is predestined, and that we can do nothing to change it, look before they cross the road." 

--Stephen Hawking--

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Just the Typical Sunny Day

This is going to the trash bin. My entire absence in the blogsphere these past few days is due to the extreme load of work I am having regarding the academe and the student publication. And every time I stare at this blank sheet and the blinking cursor, I end up writing nothing. So please bear with the orange peelings.

I have nothing to write actually -- nothing sensible, nothing so exciting about my life. Just the typical Orange Pulps who always do everything in a hurry, and after the tiresome class schedule, goes to the office to check on articles, reprimand writers, and whine about it in a corner because they did not heed what I said. (tsk)

But I am missing someone, so I will just dedicate this poem to him. (hahahaha)

Words Can't Tell... much I miss you. much I yearn for your presence. my phone becomes useless without your name flashing on the screen. a day becomes incomplete without seeing you.

This is not even a poem. *hoots and sighs* But I know you will bear with me. I am not completely sane when I wrote this post. haha. Have a great day with GOD! ^_^

Thursday, June 14, 2012

I Get that Feeling a Lot

Have you ever been in a situation where you're left with no choice, and after that, feeling extremely broke and frustrated? 

I have been doing this before but this time, I felt convicted with what I did. Yesterday, I absented in two of my classes and missed one quiz and a reportorial. 

First reason. I went to the printing press to bring the lay-out of our school paper. As I went there, I have brought with me the awareness that there will be a possibility of missing my third class in the morning. But I thought that my business in the publication house is more important than my class so I stayed until the head editor said OK. 

Just as I made my way back to the university, my classmate told me that I missed my chance to report. Hopefully, as I return to that class tomorrow, my teacher would still give me the chance to report and make-up the absence that I have made.

Second reason. I procrastinate, a lot! That's the number one thing I hate about myself. Urgh! And I do not know how to get out of it. 

We were given an assignment in our teacher in FS 6 on the Strands of Desired Teaching Performance and Performance Indicators (you don't need to understand these terms for these are Education jargons). That happened a week ago. As what procrastinators do, I delayed the assignment for many days, and on the day of the deadline, I was not able to pass it. I missed the extra 5 points. -_-

I absented on my second class in the afternoon just to finish my assignment, thus making me miss a quiz.

I felt terrible after that. Super terrible. I felt like I am the worst student I have ever been in my entire life. And now, I only have two semesters left to change it all. I mean 360-degree change. I will be graduating very soon. So help me GOD! :'(

Friday, June 8, 2012

I Cried Today Because of my Teacher's Story

I was not expecting for any drama moments today. Our Developmental Reading 2 class was not even intended for that. But as we were settled in for the new discussion, our teacher drew a bondpaper from her drawer and started saying, "I will read to you a short story. You listen carefully. I don't want anyone to write anything. Just listen." 

And so we did. We tried to be as keen listeners as possible because there were questions to answer after the story is read. 

"Eight Lies of a Mother," she started.

As the story reading went on, I felt something odd inside me. Inside my chest, to be specific. At first, I thought it was normal. But as the reading of the story went on, and as I slowly craned my neck for possible reactions from my classmates about the story, my eyes turned watery and tears tried to fall. I managed to wipe them later, but it seemed to be too late. My classmates have also been wiping their eyes. I even saw one of my tough classmates who was known to be a "bad guy" cry. 

I could say our teacher was a good story teller and the story was indeed very beautiful and very touching. Try reading the story and share your sentiments later. Just click this link: 

Eight Lies of a Mother

This is a quite long story but I advise you to read it until the end. Then, you would know why I told you so. 

The story began when I was a child; I was born as a son of a poor family. Even for eating, we often got lack of food. Whenever the time for eating comes, mother often gave me her portion of rice. While she was removing her rice into my bowl, she would say “Eat this rice, son. I’m not hungry”. That was Mother's First Lie. 

When I was getting to grow up, the persevering mother gave her spare time for fishing in a river near our house, she hoped that from the fishes she got, she could gave me a little bit nutritious food for my growth. After fishing, she would cook the fishes to be a fresh fish soup, which raised my appetite. While I was eating the soup, mother would sit beside me and eat the rest meat of fish, which was still on the bone of the fish I ate. My heart was touched when I saw it. I then used my chopstick and gave the other fish to her. But she immediately refused it and said “Eat this fish, son. I don’t really like fish.” That was Mother's Second Lie. 

Then, when I was in Junior High School, to fund my study, mother went to an economic enterprise to bring some used-matches boxes that would be stuck in. It gave her some money for covering our needs. As the winter came, I woke up from my sleep and looked at my mother who was still awoke, supported by a little candlelight and within her perseverance she continued the work of sticking some used-matches box. I said, “Mother, go to sleep, it’s late, tomorrow morning you still have to go for work.” Mother smiled and said “Go to sleep, dear. I’m not tired.” That was Mother's Third Lie. 

At the time of final term, mother asked for a leave from her work in order to accompany me. While the daytime was coming and the heat of the sun was starting to shine, the strong and persevering mother waited for me under the heat of the sun’s shine for several hours. As the bell rang, which indicated that the final exam had finished, mother immediately welcomed me and poured me a glass of tea that she had prepared before in a cold bottle. The very thick tea was not as thick as my mother’s love, which was much thicker. Seeing my mother covering with perspiration, I at once gave her my glass and asked her to drink too. Mother said “Drink, son. I’m not thirsty!”. That was Mother's Fourth Lie. That was Mother's Fourth Lie. 

After the death of my father because of illness, my poor mother had to play her role as a single parent. By held on her former job, she had to fund our needs alone. Our family’s life was more complicated. No days without sufferance. Seeing our family’s condition that was getting worse, there was a nice uncle who lived near my house came to help us, either in a big problem and a small problem. Our other neighbors who lived next to us saw that our family’s life was so unfortunate, they often advised my mother to marry again. But mother, who was stubborn, didn’t care to their advice, she said “I don’t need love.” That was Mother's Fifth Lie. 

After I had finished my study and then got a job, it was the time for my old mother to retire. But she didn’t want to; she was sincere to go to the marketplace every morning, just to sell some vegetable for fulfilling her needs. I, who worked in the other city, often sent her some money to help her in fulfilling her needs, but she was stubborn for not accepting the money. She even sent the money back to me. She said “I have enough money.” That was Mother's Sixth Lie. 

After graduated from Bachelor Degree, I then continued my study to Master Degree. I took the degree, which was funded by a company through a scholarship program, from a famous University in America. I finally worked in the company. Within a quite high salary, I intended to take my mother to enjoy her life in America. But my lovely mother didn’t want to bother her son, she said to me “I’m not used to.” That was Mother's Seventh Lie. 

After entering her old age, mother got a flank cancer and had to be hospitalized. I, who lived in miles away and across the ocean, directly went home to visit my dearest mother. She lied down in weakness on her bed after having an operation. Mother, who looked so old, was staring at me in deep yearn. She tried to spread her smile on her face; even it looked so stiff because of the disease she held out. It was clear enough to see how the disease broke my mother’s body, thus she looked so weak and thin. I stared at my mother within tears flowing on my face. My heart was hurt, so hurt, seeing my mother on that condition. But mother, with her strength, said “Don’t cry, my dear. I’m not in pain.” That was Mother's Eight Lie. 

After saying her eighth lie, my dearest mother closed her eyes forever. 

Thursday, June 7, 2012

One Wise Word After Another

Carry yourself in such a way that when people are sitting, you would be standing;

and when they are standing, you will stand out;

and when they stand out, you will be outstanding;

and when they dare to be outstanding, you will be their STANDARD!


(a text message I received months ago and has stayed in my Saved Messages folder for a long time)

Have a good day with GOD!! ^_^

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Writer's Block Has Come to Pass

Recently, I have been struggling with writer's block. It was the ugliest thing one could ever experience. I had a very hard time digging my brain with the right words to fit the University Diary of our school paper and the Editorial page. I was about to give up when I realized words have started to form in my brain again. Then it became ideas, then phrases, then sentences, then paragraphs, and finally a whole article. 

But I cannot somehow guarantee it's a good article. haha. Guess what I did on those moments when I had writer's block? hahaha again. The evidences are below. 

My Whatevers!

Just look at how writer's block has caused me. This is so not good! ^_^

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

The Tale of Cursive Writing

A typical school goer is taught cursive writing at an early grade of Grade 2. The failure of the teacher in teaching the right strokes of writing in this stage will be a big disadvantage in the part of the pupil, especially when that pupil pursues Teaching in the future. The curse of the ugly cursive handwriting will be passed on to another generation. 

Good thing my teacher in Grade 2 before was an effective one. She has taught me well on how to write with the proper strokes. Maybe my mother's good handwriting was a factor, too. (hahaha) 

I have been well acquainted with cursive since our Grade 6 teacher before would require us to write the letters of the alphabet on a whole piece of intermediate paper. One paper should be filled with one letter, writing it over and over again. In high school, the torture stopped. But our English teachers were so particular with cursive writing that I have to recall what I was taught before. I graduated high school after four years of hard work (not really) and I completely thought that was the end of it all. Yet again, I thought wrong. 

Now that I am a fourth year Education student already, history seemed to have repeated itself. Is this really what taking the Education course all about? But I have to endure. I have to write in cursive again, hold a pencil again, stay up late for the sake of writing, and have a swollen finger after filling up the whole paper. Whoa! Ces't la vie!

The stroke above, the Palmer Method, is exactly what we are following now. Hopefully, by the end of the semester and the school year, we, the Education students, shall all have the same cursive penmanship.

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