In difficult times, her words and this song have always made my legs stronger, my head straighter and my heart humbler.
Dedicated to my husband, and to anyone who needs strength.
To the world you might be just one; but to me, you are the world.
I can only imagine What it will be like When I walk By your side
I can only imagine What my eyes will see When your face Is before me I can only imagine
I can only imagine
Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel Will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall Will I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all
I can only imagine
I can only imagine When that day comes When I find myself Standing in the sun
I can only imagine When all I will do Is forever Forever worship You I can only imagine
I can only imagine When all I will do Is forever, forever worship you
Before my father knew how to count, he knew where Brazil was by adoring Pele. Before I knew who our president was, I knew who Maradona was.
Now, it is our time to know Africa. Learn who Zuma is, where Swaziland is, what Tatale is, get their marvelous handicrafts. This is Africa’s time. Don’t take it away from them.
When i get older, they’ll call me freedom,
Just like a waving flag.
Born to a throne, stronger than Rome
but violent prone, poor people zone,
But it’s my home, all I have known,
Where I got grown, streets we would roam.
But out of the darkness, I came the farthest,
Among the hardest survival.
Learn from these streets, it can be bleak,
Except no defeat, surrender retreat,
So we struggling, fighting to eat and
We wondering when we’ll be free,
So we patiently wait, for that fateful day,
It’s not far away, so for now we say
So many wars, settling scores,
Bringing us promises, leaving us poor,
I heard them say, love is the way,
Love is the answer, that’s what they say,
But look how they treat us, Make us believers,
We fight their battles, then they deceive us,
Try to control us, they couldn’t hold us,
Cause we just move forward like Buffalo Soldiers.
But we struggling, fighting to eat,
And we wondering, when we’ll be free
So we patiently wait, for that faithful day,
It’s not far away, but for now we say,
When i get older, they’ll call me freedom,
Just like a waving flag.
It pays off to stick with a dream, really. Supported with the unfailing love of a partner, I stood through months of job search and finally it was here. And if there is anything I could tell you about the joy and the lessons of a job search, it is that there really is a time for everything. And there really is a time to be someone different, according to the phases in this life.
When we were babies, it was the time to sleep and be hugged a lot. It improved the development of our tiny brains.
When we were children, it was the time to have a small yard to explore the flowers and leaves that could be ‘cooked’ inside your cooking toys, to cry over a forced piano lesson, to follow a ballet course while our bodies were at it maximum flexibility and to have your first ever diary. I guess these are only applicable if you are or used to be a girl.
When we were teens, it was the time for throwing fits at the boundaries our parents gave us, being smart ass about everything, having a small crush on a boy and a huge crush on Leo DiCaprio.
At later teens, it was the time to be stressed with the exams, in love and at least at the first base, to giggle with your dorm mates and you are suppose to think that by 25 you’ll be married and on the way to have the first child. How wrong were we.
When we were twentyones (how great was that age,eh?), it was the time to reconcile with your parents, to party like a mad person, to take full responsibilities of your past actions, yet to see the joy in anything that you regret. It was the time to go to places, to understand more human beings. To open your minds.
When we were unemployed, it was the time to do what we have always loved doing but never got the time to. Take up guitar lessons, paint, or just finish your World of Warcraft games and get it over with.
Now, when we are over a quarter century years old, it is not the time to analyze or defining ourselves anymore. FYI, that should be done years ago by a few episodes of Oprah and a few Chicken Soup books. Stop taking those personality tests of whether you are a choleric or a pragmatic, stop finding out about your characters from the theories. It is now the time to create ourselves.
Most importantly, my twenty something friends, it is the time to be wise and strategic about our choices.
A wise uncle once told me that the first job is the best kind of all jobs. “A first job should be something you love doing, something that represents your ideals and values. So, when you are still at the point of having the freedom and possibilities to choose, choose well. Before responsibilities, peer pressure and world demands steer you away from your dreams.”
So I did, and now I am at World Fair Trade Organization, a place that represents my ideals, as the person in charge of the administrative financial department, where I love every single tiny task from arranging the office petty cash to the bigger ones like drafting agreement reports.
Yes, please do not get annoyed by another “i love my life” blog. But I do. And why wouldn’t I, for my supportive most understanding parents, a protective brother, a bunch of amazing people I call friends, a step closer to a dream and a simply perfect soul mate, plus a wise uncle, what would go wrong? Well, when it does, just like my baby always say, “bring it on”. We’ll look back and smile at it, just like how we always have.
I love my life. Say it with me, like how I say it. Every single morning.
Studies have shown that vacationers are not happier after their break.
Well..obviously when our break is over we are not in good mood anymore! Tsch. Scientists!
But I guess their point is, the actual happiness is in looking forward to the vacation. Not in the actual trip itself.
This is very true especially when you enjoy being a chronic planner, like me. Yes, the most fun part of any trip would be the planning.
I’d plan every must see spots, the logistics, the expenses. I’d even plan for expected errors and flexibility. I’d research the places and do as many reading on the histories as possible. I would pack and repack. Fold and refold. You may close, lock and stow the suitcase away but I would still remember where exactly I put everything in.
My husband-to-be is not a planner. He is a doer ( the better kind?). But this makes us very compatible in almost everything, especially when traveling. He is happy every detail is planned out for him, but would gladly take the responsibility to actually make the plans happen. I am just happy looking at the itinerary lists.
But despite of being compatible, we are both suckers at traveling. On the second day of our trip to London, we already missed our humble home, wishing we were on our couch sipping coffee and watching movies.
But thanks to my planning and his willpower, we got our lazy ass off the bed and visited all the London must see places. The museums are world class, the Covent garden market is just lovely, the weather was not so bad either. When Fedi went off to his job training, I rummaged through the antique shops, hoping to bump into Tim Wonnacott.
We walked along River Thames, dined at the vibrant streets, spent valentine’s day on the London Eye, prayed at the glorious St.Patrick’s Cathedral and shopped at the funky Camden town.
But the highlight was Les Miserables.
London theaters are rich with musicals, from Queens, Grease to the classics like Les Miserables that has been there for decades. Although tempted to see others, we sticked to our plan way back when. Back when we were uncertain about the future, back when we were still in different continents, back when he hasn’t proposed yet, when he promised to take me to see Les Mis.
The stage was simple yet believable, the actors and the lightings are spectacular, and when the singing starts, your heart just starts to crunch like a broken-hearted teenager. It is safe to say that the show was one of those 2 hours of my lifetime that represents so much.
Isn’t it amazing what a simple plan and promise could do, love?
who have jobs at wonderful companies and spend your time here at facebook. oh my, yes, I see what you are doing with your farms and mafia on working hours.
yes all of you,
who are not even from here, who has the chance to expand, clutching your roots to this land, and place a roof over your head by working here. but you never learned the language, do you? you don’t really integrate with the locals, do you? I know you make fun of them. You have automated feeds of international news but for local news, you are only interested in the weather. do you even care that the cabinet is falling?
yes all of you,
who came here just to plan to leave. Surely for one minute back then, you realized you are somehow representing your country. But then day by day you are failing. Now monsterboard is only looking for NORDIC nationality. Well who can blame companies for this subtle discrimination. I guess they have given you a try and soon realized how silly it is to have trusted that maybe you are not the prototype of late and siesta countries. I guess they have realized that you never did improve your language, or your skills, or your ‘fast-learning’ abilities as you promised them in your motivation letter, eh?
yes I am looking for someone to blame.
no need to raise your hand, just go, work well, have the pride, not the guilt when you receive that monthly salary.
I came across this Sixth Borough short story while researching stuff about my own hometown. Internet is fun for these things, really, I’m sure you’ve all been there, like watching strings of youtube videos where you just intended to watch one and ended up clicking on other related videos. And they are often not actually related; you could be watching a video on a classical concert and eventually end up at the sneezing panda video.
Well anyhow, back to the topic, how much do we actually know about our own birth place. In fact, I bet most of us do more research on the places that we are going to visit, than the place we already live in. The Sixth Borough is one example of a literary piece that tells a tale of a place, and a rather significant place that is, New York. It is written by Jonathan Safran Foer, who also wrote Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, which is one of Ms.Ulm’s favorite novel. And as she also pointed out, reading the Sixth Borough would make you wonder what tales, myths or urban legend does your own town has.
Although other members of our short story club pointed out some true facts that the story has low climax, no ‘wow’ factor and a rather masculine piece, I personally found the writing itself rather a genius one. You see, putting ‘pow wow’ exploding plots and suspense might be adequate for most Hollywood and Bollywood action movies. But to shape smooth flow of words, pinch of subtle comedies, hints of romance and including several vague characters, I think those require quite significant talent and deliberations. What most readers call ‘easy reading’ could be in fact, a ‘hard writing’. And as a whole, these types of stories would leave more to the imagination.
As always, we all had different yet similar favorite parts within the story. One member found the part where the 6th borough started moving by mere inches and the long jumper started having trouble reaching it, was the most interesting one for her. Most likely, for the member who personally admits she is often on the skeptical side of the coin, speculations on who or what to blame has intrigued her. Yet who knows, perhaps some things are better left unexplainable so as not to lose its meaning, like the love message in the can. Or how some complicated matters are best explained in the simplest manner. Like, how did the engineers put it?
