Thursday, November 26, 2009


The early frost on the grass this morning signals that summer is really over. The chilly morning breeze reminds me that summer finally bid farewell. The foggy morning gives me a preview of what it will be like every morning from this day on.

But the grass is still green. The dew drops are cold on my toes. The maple leaves on the trees are turning yellow. Summer will be over soon but my memories of this summer will always be fresh.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Making a Living

Work Pictures, Images and Photos
Making a living is a way of life. You cannot condemn a person for trying to make a living with whatever way he chooses. You cannot judge a person for making a bad business decision in order to make both ends meet. And you cannot blame a person if he steals from someone to put food on the table. Whether one makes a living legally or otherwise, it is human instinct that dictates one to do something for survival.

Human being learns the basic following his instinct. The evolution of work and the compensations one gets from such effort are the essential factors for the development of the human race. From agriculture to domestication of animal to invention of technologies to more invention left and right... the human race is unstoppable. From exchange of goods with another goods (simply put... barter) to exchange of knowledge with another idea (read: education) to sourcing of raw materials in exchange for service (translation: compensation)... the human race is limitless.

Work gives one a certain degree of dignity. It gives one a sense of confidence. And it gives one a feeling of security. People look for job not only to survive but to make himself a useful and productive human being. But it does not necessarily mean too that people who are out of work are undignified, inconfident and insecured. But one needs to get the necessary skill to be able to get remuneration for his effort and service.

However we look at it, making a living is not making a life but it is life itself. We need to work to make ourselves useful and productive. We need to work to be able to express ourselves in a way we know how and to gain a certain sense of pride for ourselves. And we need to work to leave a legacy.

No matter how small or big our contribution to our workplace, we achieve something for ourselves. No matter how little or huge we look at the job we do, we make a great impact in our workplace. And no matter how important or insignificant our work to our own personal evaluation, we still get compensated for that work.

We work to make a living, so let's not not live to work.

Saturday, November 14, 2009


It is more than a physical thing. It is more than a feeling. It is more than a predicament.

When the breeze felt like it is wet and makes me chill… it is indeed cold. When the gentle breeze touches my cheeks and it sends a nippy feeling down my toes… it is certainly cold. And when the brisk wind blows like crazy in a frosty morning… it is definitely cold.

When someone gives you an unwelcome shoulder… that is cold. When someone shuts his door right on your face… that is totally cold. And when someone refuses to even look at you… that is undoubtedly cold.

Coldness is a predicament when you feel the cool breeze or when you feel unwelcomed. Coldness is a predicament when your toes felt numbed or when your face is numbed from being unaccepted. And coldness is a predicament when the wind blows in a frosty morning or when someone totally refuses to let you be a part of his life.

Coldness… is more than feeling cold… it is a situation no one wants to be in.

Monday, November 9, 2009

I won the Lottery!

I was waiting patiently. My palms were sweating like crazy. My heart was beating furiously. My knees were shaking uncontrolably. I was breathing fast and nervous. My anticipation was too overwhelming to comprehend. And I can't take my eyes off the small balls bearing familiar numbers in the raffle drum as they were dropped there one after another.

Everything happened so fast. The world stood still as the host repeated the 6 numbers drawn. I had to pinch myself to focus. I finally had the common sense to look at the paper I was holding since the lottery numbers were drawn that night. I had to look at the paper to make sure that it has the right numbers that were called out. And YES! The numbers on the paper I was holding were the exact numbers that won the jackpot.

I WON THE JACKPOT! I won 55 million dollars!


Damn dream! I tried to go back to sleep to recall the numbers so I can bet on them for real. I tried to go back to bed to dream it again but I failed. I tried to close my eyes so tight trying to search my brain of any hint of recorded numbers from the dream that I just had... but I wasn't successful. I tried to lie down again hoping that I will be able to remember at least 5 numbers but I only came up with 1 and 17, but still I wasn't sure enough that those two numbers were the ones I saw in my dream. Then, I gave up.


I never remember any of my dreams. Who does, anyway? Most of my dreams are fragments of things I never have any recollections of. Dreams that are constantly bugging me in my deepest sleep… dreams that are continuously giving me vague clue of the past or perhaps the future… dreams that are persistently waking me up in the middle of the night giving me yet another unsolved puzzles to my existence.

What are dreams made of? Why are they so haunting yet fascinating? Why are they so persistent yet intriguing? Why are they so gripping yet elusive? I never remember any of my dreams. Maybe I will never will.

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