All you remember

January 18th, 2010   by Justin

All you remember about your child being an infant is the incredible awe you felt about the precious miracle you created. You remember having plenty of time to bestow all your wisdom and knowledge. You thought your child would take all of your advice and make fewer mistakes, and be much smarter than you were. You wished for your child to hurry and grow up.

All you remember about your child being two is never using the restroom alone or getting to watch a movie without talking animals. You recall afternoons talking on the phone while crouching in the bedroom closet, and being convinced your child would be the first Ivy League1 college student to graduate wearing pullovers2 at the ceremony. You remember worrying about the bag of M＆M's melting in your pocket and ruining your good dress. You wished for your child to be more independent.

All you remember about your child being five is the first day of school and finally having the house to yourself. You remember joining the PTA3 and being elected president when you left a meeting to use the restroom. You remember being asked "Is Santa real?" and saying "yes" because he had to be for a little bit longer. You remember shaking the sofa cushions for loose change4, so the toothfairy5 could come and take away your child's first lost tooth. You wished for your child to have all permanent teeth.

All you remember about your child being seven is the carpool6 schedule. You learned to apply makeup in two minutes and brush your teeth in the rearview mirror1 because the only time you had to yourself was when you were stopped at red lights. You considered painting your car yellow and posting a "taxi" sign on the lawn next to the garage door. You remember people staring at you, the few times you were out of the car, because you kept flexing2 your foot and making acceleration3 noises. You wished for the day your child would learn how to drive.

All you remember about your child being ten is managing the school fundraisers. You sold wrapping paper for paint, T shirts for new furniture, and magazine subscriptions4 for shade trees in the school playground. You remember storing a hundred cases of candy bars in the garage to sell so the school band could get new uniforms, and how they melted together on an unseasonably5 warm spring afternoon. You wished your child would grow out of playing an instrument.

All you remember about your child being twelve is sitting in the stands6 during baseball practice and hoping your child's team would strike out7 fast because you had more important things to do at home. The coach didn't understand how busy you were. You wished the baseball season would be over soon.

All you remember about your child being fourteen is being asked not to stop the car in front of the school in the morning. You had to drive two blocks further and unlock the doors without coming to a complete stop. You remember not getting to kiss your child goodbye or talking to him in front of his friends. You wished your child would be more mature.

All you remember about your child being sixteen is loud music and undecipherable8 lyrics9 screamed to a rhythmic beat. You wished for your child to grow up and leave home with the stereo.

All you remember about your child being eighteen is the day they were born and having all the time in the world.

And, as you walk through your quiet house, you wonder where they went and you wish your child hadn't grown up so fast.

Love Your Life

January 14th, 2010   by Justin

However mean your life is, meet it and live it,do not shun it and call it hard names. It is not so bad as you are. It looks poorest when you are richest. The fault-finder will find faults in paradise. Love your life, poor as it is. You may perhaps have some pleasant, thrilling, glorious hours, even in a poor-house. The setting sun is reflected from the windows of the alms-house as brightly as from the rich man's abode; the snow melts before its door as early in the spring. I do not see but a quiet mind may live as contentedly there, and have as cheering thoughts, as in a palace. The town's poor seem to me often to live the most independent lives of any. May be they are simply great enough to receive without misgiving. Most think that they are above being supported by the town; but it often happens that they are not above supporting themselves by dishonest means, which should be more disreputable. Cultivate poverty like a garden herb, like sage. Do not trouble yourself much to get new things, whether clothes or friends, Turn the old, return to them. Things do not change; we change. Sell your clothes and keep your thoughts.

The New Baby

January 9th, 2010   by Justin

Mr.and Mrs.Taylor had a seven year old boy named Pat.Now Mrs.Taylor was expecting another child.
Pat had seen babies in other people's houses and had not liked them very much，so he was not delighted about the news that there was soon going to be one in his house too.
One evening Mr.and Mrs.Taylor were making plans for the baby's arrival.“This house won't be big enough for us all when the baby comes，”said Mr.Taylor.
Pat came into the room just then and said，“What are you talking about？”“We were saying that we'll have to move to an other house now，because the new baby's coming，”his mother answered.
“ It's no use，”said Pat hopelessly.“ He'll follow us there.”

Thoughts on love and Happiness

December 31st, 2009   by Justin

Maybe God wants us to meet a few wrong people before meeting the right one so that when we finally meet the right person,we will know how to be grateful for that gift.When the door of happiness closes, another opens, but oftentimes we like so long at the closed door that we don''t know what we''ve got until we lose it ,but it''s also true that we don''t know what we''ve been missing until it arrives.
Giving someone all your love is never an assurance that they''ll love you back!Don''t wait for love in return; just wait for it to grow in their heart but if doesn''t,be content it grows in yours.It takes only a minute to get a crush on someone,but it takes a lifetime to forget someone.
Don''t go for looks; they cheat. Don''t go for wealth; even that fades away,Go for someone who makes you smile because it takes only a smile to make a dark day seem bright. Find the one that makes your heart smile.There are moments in life when you miss someone so much that you just want to pick them from your dreams and hug them for real!Dream what you want to dream; go where you want to go ;be what you want to be,because you have only one life and one chance to do all the things you want to do .
The happiest people don''t necessrily have the best of everything;they just make the most of everything that comes along.Happiness exists for those who cry,those who are hurt,those who have searched,and those who have tried, for only they can appreciate the importance of people who have touched their lives.
Love begins with a smile,grows with a kiss and ends with a tear. The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; you can''t get on well in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches. When you were born,you were crying and everyone around you was smiling.Live your life so that when you die ,you''re the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying.
Please send this message to those who mean something to you,to those who make you smile when you really need it ,to those who have touched you life in some way or another,to those who make you see the bright side of things when you are really down.
May you have enough happiness to make you sweet,enough trials to make you strong,enough sorrow to make you human,enough hope to make you happy.

A Dying Man's Favorite Cookies

December 25th, 2009   by Justin

An elderly man lay dying in his bed. In death's agony, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip cookies wafting up the stairs. He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort forced himself down the stairs, gripping the railing with both hands. With labored breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing into the kitchen.
Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven: there, spread out upon newspapers on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favorite chocolate chip cookies. Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself toward the table, landing on his knees in a rumpled posture. His parched lips parted; the wondrous taste of the cookie was already in his mouth; seemingly bringing him back to life. The aged and withered hand, shockingly made its way to a cookie at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife.
Stay out of those, she said, they're for the funeral.

The Joy of Living

December 18th, 2009   by Justin

        Joy in living comes from having fine emotions, trusting them, giving them the freedom of a bird in the open. Joy in living can never be assumed as a pose, or put on from the outside as a mask. People who have this joy do not need to talk about it; they radiate it. They just live out their joy and let it splash its sunlight and glow into other lives as naturally as bird sings.

　　We can never get it by working for it directly. It comes, like happiness, to those who are aiming at something higher. It is a byproduct of great, simple living. The joy of living comes from what we put into living, not from what we seek to get from it.

Opponent

December 9th, 2009   by Justin

You are my adversary, but you are not my enemy.

For your resistance gives me strength.

You will give me courage.

Your spirit ennobles me.

And though I aim to defeat you, should I succeed, I will not humiliate you.

Instead, I will honor you.

For without you, I am a lesser man.

The difference between love and like

December 4th, 2009   by Justin

In front of the person you love, your heart beats faster, but in front of the person you like, you get happy.

In front of the person you love, winter seems like spring, but in front of the person you like, winter is just beautiful winter.

If you look into the eyes of the one you love, you blush, but if you look into the eyes of the person you like, you smile.

If front of the person you love, you can’t say everything on your mind, but in front of the person you like, you can.

In front of the person you love, you tend to get shy, but in front of the person you like, you can show your own self.

You can’t look straight into the eyes of the one you love, but you can always smile into the eyes of the one you like.

When the one you love is crying, you cry with him, but when the one you like is crying, you end up comforting.

The feeling of love starts from the eye, and the feeling of like starts from the ears.

So if you stop liking a person you used to like, all you need to do is cover your ears. But if you try to close your eyes, love turns into a teardrop and remains in your heart forever after.

I Want You Back

November 24th, 2009   by bokezu

Don't Want You Back
You hit me faster than a shark attack
You saw my picture on the Backstreet's Back alright
And you were more than just a pretty face
And how you fooled me im still amazed babe
But I should have known that I would be
Another victim of your sexuality
But now we're done and over with (ha ha ha)
(don't don't want you back)
Don't you back
Cuz your no good for me I know
That's all I can say
Don't want you back
Forgive my honesty
But ya gotta go
I I dont want you back
You started going out wit' so called friends
But i was blinded so I lost all common sense
But there were things that made me realize (realize)
Like all one hundred no- thousand lies
Don't want you back
Cuz your no good for me I know
That's all I can say
Don't want you back
Forgive my honesty
But ya gotta go (yea-heah)
I I don't you back-no
I I dont want you back
(that's right)
Baby don't bother tellin' me your reasons why
Just let us sing this story bout' you and I
Don't want you back
That's all I know
-Don't want cha back- don't want cha back-
All I can say
Don't want you back you know ya gotta go
Don't you back
Cuz your no good for me I know (Don't want cha back)
That's all I can say
Don't want you back
Forgive my honesty
But ya gotta go (got to go)
I I dont want you back-
Don't want you back
That's all I know
That's all I can say
Don't want you back
Don't want you back
You know you gotta go
I I don't want you back

Rush

November 18th, 2009   by Justin

     Swallows may have gone, but there is a time of return; willow trees may have died back, but there is a time of regreening; peach blossoms may have fallen, but they will bloom again. Now, you the wise, tell me, why should our days leave us, never to return? - If they had been stolen by someone, who could it be? Where could he hide them? If they had made the escape themselves, then where could they stay at the moment?

I don't know how many days I have been given to spend, but I do feel my hands are getting empty. Taking stock silently, I find that more than eight thousand days have already slid away from me. Like a drop of water from the point of a needle disappearing into the ocean, my days are dripping into the stream of time, soundless, traceless. Already sweat is starting on my forehead, and tears welling up in my eyes.

Those that have gone have gone for good, those to come keep coming; yet in between, how swift is the shift, in such a rush? When I get up in the morning, the slanting sun marks its presence in my small room in two or three oblongs. The sun has feet, look, he is treading on, lightly and furtively; and I am caught, blankly, in his revolution. Thus--the day flows away through the sink when I wash my hands, wears off in the bowl when I eat my meal, and passes away before my day-dreaming gaze as reflect in silence. I can feel his haste now, so I reach out my hands to hold him back, but he keeps flowing past my withholding hands. In the evening, as I lie in bed, he strides over my body, glides past my feet, in his agile way. The moment I open my eyes and meet the sun again, one whole day has gone. I bury my face in my hands and heave a sigh. But the new day begins to flash past in the sigh.

What can I do, in this bustling world, with my days flying in their escape? Nothing but to hesitate, to rush. What have I been doing in that eight-thousand-day rush, apart from hesitating? Those bygone days have been dispersed as smoke by a light wind, or evaporated as mist by the morning sun. What traces have I left behind me? Have I ever left behind any gossamer traces at all? I have come to the world, stark naked; am I to go back, in a blink, in the same stark nakedness? It is not fair though: why should I have made such a trip for nothing!

You the wise, tell me, why should our days leave us, never to return?