After Effect

Ever waking up feeling tired? I precisely experienced this just now. I woke up at 5 something after a dream and then several minutes before half past 8 after another dream again. By then, I feel exhausted mentally, like the dream has used up all my mind capacity.

Strange isn't it. After watching Inception, I tried controlling myself in my dreams. This of course did not work still, but the bad thing about it is that I am starting to experience unsound sleep. Sleep which does not feel like the nice, comfy sleep you have. I am short of time to write of many things here. So I'll keep it short.

The dreams that I encountered are strange. The first one was probably generated by a feeling deep inside my subconscious in which my dream made it alive. Second dream was a thriller dream, where I was in the shoes of someone who was trying to escape from bullies or something by climbing up something that is like a network of branches... Describing them is beyond my capacity here as I don't even know what they are.

They are strange. However, the main point of this post is not to talk about dreams or Inception for that matter. Many people would agree Inception is a perfect movie. Well, I think this is over rated. It is a good movie nonetheless, with good storyline and originality. Everything is fine. Everything fits into place. Just that something is missing, I don't know what it is, but have you woken up?

So what's the main point of this post? The point is this, I have been experiencing dreams that make me tired after sleeping.

Thursdays

Thursdays are tiring for me. This semester I have to attend TAFE session for 4 hours. Not that I dislike it, but it's just energy draining.

Anyway, how's everyone doing I wonder. August is a month of birthdays for many KBUers and this reminds me of BU. What a nice place to gather and sing a birthday song and to just enjoy the ambience.

Have a goodnight everyone. Let me know what's in your mind currently.


Joel

I fail.

The Outing

Hehe. It seems all too weird that I should start this post with Hehe. However, there is a reason. You want to know why? Because this blog has remained stagnant for some time now. So this is a little touch up I'm giving to this blog.

What outing? Oh yeah, the one all of us went to yesterday. The steamboat outing. I wonder why they call it steamboat, not that it resembles one (maybe lah if viewed from the side). Anyway, I'm certain this would be one of the many to come. Simply because the time spent together after a week of huff and puff is exceptional. As if in the past week, we were all emotionally detached into our own world of learning, oblivion to the happenings around. Then, it was the time where all things become unwound.

Me, am not a hard-core fan of steamboat, honestly speaking. But then again, it's not the steamboat which counts, it's the people. Humans are a sociable lot. Communication is the internet of human networking. That's what draws us together and that's what bonds us together. And I'm sure most of us who went to the steamboat, went not with the reason to dig in, but with the very reason to share an experience together, as friends and more than pals. To live and enjoy the moment that rarely we can find.

Come to think of it, wouldn't that make the chain of topic tests a blessing in disguise. All the hard work makes the outing really worthwhile. You carry within yourself the sense of release as you draw back from your hectic life and just ponder a moment on what really matters in life. I sincerely thank the organisers here, for this event. There is also another factor which I have to account for. I would not neglect the fact that all those present make it even more successful. Their efforts just to turn up speaks much of what they think and feel.

Indeed, the next thing I am anticipating for would be the second grand outing. We know not where it comes from, or where it goes from here, but we hold inside us with hope and joy.

The Cost Is Overshadowed By The Earnestness Of The Heart.

Volume 1; Chapter 21: The End Marks The Beginning

This would be the last of Volume 1 and maybe I'll stop posting in chapters. It seems all too cliche and plagiaristic. Anyway, this is the most appropriate time to write a post after so long a drought. Speaking of drought, it kind of links to this particular movie I just watched right before I started on this post. Well, if you are depending on ratings, it's very likely you won't want to watch this movie. But anyway, I watched it and I found it very inspiring and touching. It's the story's essence or the meaning behind which captures me.

Evan Almighty. So goes the title of the movie. Personally, I think the prequel, Bruce Almighty, was rather inferior compared to this sequel (well, it's not much of a sequel actually). Anyway, the reason for this would be the way the meaning is conveyed through the character. Well, we are very much like the main character- Evan Baxter. Always needing a push from God to get us moving.

The thing is, most of us won't know God's plan because we are humans. Precisely that! And more often than we'd like to admit, we frequently base our lives on our own plans. Saying that,"Wow! I've got this and that all lined up. They should work out like what I want." Hey, snap out of the dream. Life is more than that.

Another important thing which was highlighted is family bonds. This is the thing to treasure and I assure you, without this, life is nil, void of relations. Here goes an excerpt where Morgan Freeman, portraying God, says (1:01:24) to Joan Baxter (Lauren Graham)

"Let me ask you something.
If someone prays for patience,
you think God gives them patience?
Or does he give them
the opportunity to be patient?
If they pray for courage,
does God give them courage,
or does he give them opportunities
to be courageous?
If someone prayed
for their family to be closer,
you think God zaps them
with warm, fuzzy feelings?
Or does he give them opportunities
to love each other?"


I agree so. And if you are wondering why life is so miserable for you, why don't you grab those opportunities that God has given you?

I'm not trying to get all religious here, but that I felt like it's important for me to say this. Don't get me wrong, and I'm not trying to offend anybody.



Signing off from Volume 1..


With much regards!

Volume 1; Chapter 20: The Time Is Now (Part 2)

This is the second part to the previous post and I made it into two just to make it look short and not so boring. That poem was just only the appetizer, if you haven't read the previous one, scroll down and read Part 1 before proceeding with Part 2.

As you know, after reading through "The Most Beautiful Flower", I couldn't help but realise that it was tremendously written. So, I took the liberty of searching for more of her poems and I came across this one which inspired me to write this two part blog posts.

Here is the link to her website. Do read the poem below. And most of all, Happy Belated Father's Day.

(Before I proceed, do be advised that you might be touched...

Daddy's Day

Her hair up in a ponytail, her favorite dress tied with a bow
Today was Daddy's Day at school, and she couldn't wait to go
But her mommy tried to tell her, that she probably should stay home
Why the kids might not understand, if she went to school alone
But she was not afraid; she knew just what to say
What to tell her classmates, on this Daddy's Day
But still her mother worried, for her to face this day alone
And that was why once again, she tried to keep her daughter home
But the little girl went to school, eager to tell them all
About a dad she never sees, a dad who never calls

There were daddies along the wall in back, for everyone to meet
Children squirming impatiently, anxious in their seats
One by one the teacher called, a student from the class
To introduce their daddy, as seconds slowly passed
At last the teacher called her name, every child turned to stare
Each of them were searching, for a man that wasn't there
"Where's her daddy at?" She heard a boy call out
"She probably doesn't have one." Another student dared to shout
And from somewhere near the back, she heard a daddy say
"Looks like another deadbeat dad, too busy to waste his day."

The words did not offend her, as she smiled at her friends
And looked back at her teacher, who told her to begin
And with hands behind her back, slowly she began to speak
And out from the mouth of a child, came words incredibly unique
"My Daddy couldn't be here, because he lives so far away
But I know he wishes he could be, with me on this day
And though you cannot meet him, I wanted you to know
All about my daddy, and how much he loves me so
He loved to tell me stories, he taught me to ride my bike
He surprised me with pink roses, and he taught me to fly a kite
We used to share fudge sundaes, and ice cream in a cone
And though you cannot see him, I'm not standing all alone
'Cause my daddy's always with me, even though we are apart
I know because he told me, he'll forever be here in my heart"

With that her little hand reached up, and lay across her chest
Feeling her own heartbeat, beneath her favorite dress
And from somewhere in the crowd of dads, her mother stood in tears
Proudly watching her daughter, who was wise beyond her years
For she stood up for the love, of a man not in her life
Doing what was best for her, doing what was right
And when she dropped her hand back down, staring straight into the crowd
She finished with a voice so soft, but its message clear and loud

"I love my daddy very much, he's my shining star
And if he could he'd be here, but heavens just too far
But sometimes when I close my eyes, it's like he never went away"
And then she closed her eyes, and saw him there that day
And to her mother's amazement, she witnessed with surprise
A room full of daddies and children, all starting to close their eyes
Who knows what they saw before them, who knows what they felt inside
Perhaps for merely a second, they saw him at her side

"I know you're with me daddy." To the silence she called out
And what happened next made believers, of those once filled with doubt
Not one in that room could explain it, for each of their eyes had been closed
But there placed on her desktop, was a beautiful fragrant pink rose
And a child was blessed, if only a moment, by the love of her shining bright star
And given the gift of believing, that heaven is never too far

Cheryl Costello-Forshey ©2000

... to tears)

Volume 1; Chapter 19: The Time Is Now (Part 1)

It's about time I post something pleasant and appealing to readers of this blog and so far I haven't been able to come up with something nice, until now!

Father's Day just past a week ago and seeing that I wrote something about Mother's Day, it is well that I should pay my tribute to all fathers who have and had been so strong in bringing up their family. They are always there to lift up their children in times of need and most of all, being the fatherly figure we children look up to. Fathers are there to bring you through the rough and tough, are they not?

Just recently, we students of AUSMAT were asked to write poems. Now, poetry is not something that we all could easily grasp, because it more or less involves the sentimental side of our human nature, needing us to be in the MOMENT to really come to terms with the whole context. That's why when you are into a poem, it can be really overwhelming and intensely touching.

I was just surfing the net, and somehow when I googled the phrase "the most beautiful flower", the first search link which came out was a poem. Well, a poem with this title is certainly catchy and I followed the link!

The Most Beautiful Flower

The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read
Beneath the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree.
Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown,
For the world was intent on dragging me down.

And if that weren't enough to ruin my day,
A young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play.
He stood right before me with his head tilted down
And said with great excitement, "Look what I found!"

In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight,
With its petals all worn - not enough rain, or too little light.
Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play,
I faked a small smile and then shifted away.

But instead of retreating he sat next to my side
And placed the flower to his nose
and declared with overacted surprise,
"It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too.
That's why I picked it; here, it's for you."

The weed before me was dying or dead.
Not vibrant of colors: orange, yellow or red.
But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave.
So I reached for the flower, and replied, "Just what I need."

But instead of him placing the flower in my hand,
He held it mid-air without reason or plan.
It was then that I noticed for the very first time
That weed-toting boy could not see: he was blind.

I heard my voice quiver; tears shone in the sun
As I thanked him for picking the very best one.
"You're welcome,"he smiled, and then ran off to play,
Unaware of the impact he'd had on my day.

I sat there and wondered how he managed to see
A self-pitying woman beneath an old willow tree.
How did he know of my self-indulged plight?
Perhaps from his heart, he'd been blessed with true sight.

Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see
The problem was not with the world; the problem was me.
And for all of those times I myself had been blind,
I vowed to see the beauty in life,
and appreciate every second that's mine.

And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose
And breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose
And smiled as I watched that young boy,
another weed in his hand,
About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.

Cheryl Costello-Forshey (1998)