So, I’ve come to a conclusion about the concerns I expressed on Monday about blogging.  I was speaking from a negative, fearful place with a pitiful thought process called defeatism, defined as “acceptance of defeat without struggle.”  Otherwise known as “not putting yourself out there” and playing small!  Here’s the best explanation I can point to:

Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate,
but that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us.
We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant,
gorgeous, handsome, talented, and fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of G-d.

Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking
so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.
We were born to manifest the glory of G-d within us.
It is not just in some; it is in everyone.
And, as we let our own light shine, we consciously give
other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our fear,
our presence automatically liberates others.”

–Nelson Mandela, 1994 South African Presidential Inaugural Speech,
quoting spiritual leader Marianne Williamson of the Church of Today in Detroit.

I’ve been surrounded by defeatists my entire life.  The-sky-is-falling Chicken Little types.  And I have always swung aggressively in the opposite direction and stubbornly insisted that everything I do will work out perfectly.  Making bold decisions and listening to my own instincts.  Trusting the universe.  I’ve been accused many times of being naïve, a foolish Polly-Anna.  But you know what?  I don’t listen to that crap!  I married Mr. Right and he’s helped me become EVEN MORE positive.  Our family motto is ABUNDANCIA.  We are abundance!! We don’t just have everything we need in abundance…we ARE abundance.  Does that sound crazy? 

Sooooo…I slipped a bit and now I’ve self-corrected back to my typical mindset of positivity!!!  It took me a few days, but I’m back.  I’m blogging because it’s brave and hopeful and I have a light that wants to shine bright.  And like my wise new friend EatMoveLove said, anyone who doesn’t want to read it can just avert their eyes!

Do you have defeatists in your life?  How do you react to their verbal or non-verbal feedback which attempts to squash your ambition and plant seeds of doubt?

“Be good to yourself and others, live brave. Follow your deeply held values. Be true to yourself. And walk gently on our planet”.

Unknown

This past Tuesday, I just got a new book titled The Bravehearted Gospel by Eric Ludy. I must say, it’s revolutionary, it’s bold, it’s uncomfortable, and I love it. It has awakened my soul. It seems almost native to me and is almost as if it’s the cry of my inner most being that has been waiting to burst out of me since I was born.

It teaches the “manly stuff” of the Gospel, as Eric puts it. It reveals the loss of boldness in the Church in the past few decades. It’s a call to go back to the historic Christianity where men and women were willing to die for the glory of God. It reveals the fluffy stuff and extreme femininity that exists in today’s western Church.

An emergent movement has risen up in the Church that desires to move away from the old, religious, traditional stuff that was in the Church. However, it is going in the other extreme and losing it’s power against sin and fighting spirit for justice. Instead we’re basing beliefs off of the philosophies of men such as Rob Bell’s teaching on “springy” truth. We need a healthy balance of femininity and masculinity. We’re going in the wrong direction and I am willing to stand against it even if everyone is against me and falsely calls me a legalist.

I’m a man and the desire to fight for truth and justice is ingrained  into my very being. This attribute is often discouraged in modern times and it’s time for a revival of this feature to take hold in the heart of men (and women) in the Church to fight for what’s His. There is going to be no revival with fancy music, pretty light shows, and comfortable sermons. True revival will convict people and lead them to repentance. It will cause us to start seeking righteousness, holiness, and purity. Whenever we stop falsely calling truth – legalism, conviction – condemnation, and correction – judgment to selfishly defend our sins and turn away from the loving act of our family in Christ seeking to build us up (no matter how tough that is), then hearts will begin to soften and men will humble themselves before God and real revival will spread. True revival will have people on their faces crying out to God because they see the seriousness of their sin.

I believe that these two points have been widely redefined and wrongly taught in modern times: truth and love.

bgmna niii nasibnyaaaa???
butuh waktu 1 hari kynya buat merenung

HARUS selesai, ninta!!!!

tomorrow must be better!!
wlpn sibuk Lab, kampus, dll,, yg satu ini hrs jadi!!!
ahhh dunia penuh tanda seru nihh skrg. tp gpp,, semangat nintun!!!!!!!!

On Monday a dear friend wrote to me and said I need some help with my anxiety problems. Then last night after an episode of crying with my sister-in-law, she also said I could do with some help. She was very supported by telling me that I need to book an appointment with my doctors and see if I can get some counselling. I’m not keen on the drug route but maybe talking to someone will help. So today I was brave and actually rang the doctors and made an appointment. Not until a few weeks time but that is step one done.

I’m not sure what step two is but maybe some healthy-happy foods or some exercise if I can managed to get out of this lethargic feeling that I have had for the past few days. Now, I’m just looking forward to the weekend and spending the time to build up my confidence in actually travelling to work without panicking. Step three will be to try and stop worrying about going to the doctors.

Zeal: Afflatus of Success

by: Wilbert C. Laforteza

“Zeal is the blood of success, sans it; it will drain a person into a quicksand of misery.” – Wilbert C. Laforteza

What moves a person into determination is the zeal itself. It drives a person into action…so anyone who believes in zeal triumphs even on the most painstaking and brain-scattering tribulations or treacherous adversities.

The toughest façade of every goal or ambition lies on a solid desire and action towards one’s realization. Really, zeal is of no doubt because it is a manifested equator of progress towards success due to its convincing and mandating power to trailblaze the path of a settled task, plan, goal, and ambition. Zeal is considerably the firebrand of life…it is important and lucid that it must be fueled with refined optimism – an action with positive point of views.

Some disregard zeal an asset for they are too reluctant to compete and struggle. Scads consider zeal is trivial and dispensable because they are fickle because they believe on what-come-may luck and it is a bane for them; their reason is that zeal is a sort of boo. Now, all of them who believe that zeal is a messy pot turns booby and will be futile in the end. Why and how comes? It is because they lack the knowledge that zeal is the dream’s pre-requisite towards realization. Many err on believing that zeal is dispensable but in reality, it is indispensable.

How can person gain zeal? The answer goes this way: it starts in the personal encouragement of one’s family members, the encouragement of friends, classmate, and colleagues, who can tickle the interest of the individual. The interest tickled will eventually empower the person to aspire. From that interest, it will develop the individual’s doctrine, values, and self-concept that will serve as the collective purpose that a person may be committed. Finally, the result for that formulated commitment will be a vibrant zeal…a subliming action to act for a cause!

Anyone who dreams for success must be inspired with zeal; for zeal is forever the stem of success from the life’s dawn to grim reaper.

Navy SEALs Face Assault Charges for Capturing Most-Wanted Terrorist
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
FOX News
By Rowan Scarborough

Navy SEALs have secretly captured one of the most wanted terrorists in Iraq — the alleged mastermind of the murder and mutilation of four Blackwater USA security guards in Fallujah in 2004. And three of the SEALs who captured him are now facing criminal charges, sources told FoxNews.com.

The three, all members of the Navy’s elite commando unit, have refused non-judicial punishment — called an admiral’s mast — and have requested a trial by court-martial.

Ahmed Hashim Abed, whom the military code-named “Objective Amber,” told investigators he was punched by his captors — and he had the bloody lip to prove it.

FOX News-Navy SEALs Face Assault Charges for Capturing Most-Wanted Terrorist

It’s a war stupid. When did arresting terrorist become a crime. Our fine Navy SEAL men should of fragged this fuckhead. America really needs a revolution against PC nonsense.

31

Ooops !!

Todays Tune   4Give Me

Man uses mower attached to crane to trim hedge

A man has been snapped taking to the skies in a daredevil bid to trim some tricky hedge

 

The fearless gardener was spotted in Cambridge, New Zealand tending to a two metre-high privet using a ride-on lawnmower hoisted precariously from a crane  Passer-by Bart Dinger, who took the picture said: “I couldn’t work out why cars where slowing down until I caught sight of the crane.”

Good For Them

Couple have sex on clock tower in Sydney centre as shoppers look on

Shocking pictures have emerged of a stark naked couple having sex on clock tower in the middle of a busy shopping centre. The Australian couple were snapped after startled onlookers noticed them clinching in the precarious, and extremely public, position on the edge of the balcony.The photos were taken in the heart of Sydney on Friday afternoon, at the historic clock tower opposite the bustling Broadway Shopping Centre.

Why Parents Worry

Squirrel mother goes nuts and attacks dog trying to eat her baby

They have a bit of a reputation for a vicious streak, but this dog certainly got more than it bargained for after pouncing on a baby squirrel it found on the ground.Moments before the hapless baby would have been torn apart, these images show its mother appearing to leap off a nearby tree and attacking the surprised dog.

The squirrel gets ready to leap off the tree and its terrified baby is pounced on by the dog

Using its sharp teeth and claws, the squirrel tore into its canine opponent and distracted it so the baby could escape to freedom.It is unclear if the images have been edited, but the startled dog appears in considerable pain as the squirrel bites into its flank.The surprise assault gives the baby squirrel just enough time to climb back up the nearby tree before its mother is thrown clear and escapes from the dog.The baby squirrel appears to have fallen to the ground as it was being helped up the tree.

The plucky creature bites and claws the dog, allowing its baby to escape certain death

The dog snarls in pain as the squirrel leaps in to attack it – and the baby makes a leap for the safety of the tree

Spotting the helpless creature on the ground, the dog pounces and traps it underneath its front paws as it closes for the kill.But it appears to have underestimated its diminutive opponent, as the brave mother squirrel clearly has no intention of letting her baby become dinner and rushes to its aid by jumping on the dog’s head.After the whirlwind attack the mother squirrel springs free of the dog and rushes her baby back up into the safety of the tree.The frustrated dog is left sitting forlornly at the base of the tree as its prey escapes into the upper branches.The images appeared on a website that was set up solely to promote them using Weebly, a website creation programme.

Thanks mum: The heroic squirrel ushers its baby back up the tree to safety

31

Ooops !!

Todays Tune   4Give Me

Man uses mower attached to crane to trim hedge

A man has been snapped taking to the skies in a daredevil bid to trim some tricky hedge

 

The fearless gardener was spotted in Cambridge, New Zealand tending to a two metre-high privet using a ride-on lawnmower hoisted precariously from a crane  Passer-by Bart Dinger, who took the picture said: “I couldn’t work out why cars where slowing down until I caught sight of the crane.”

Good For Them

Couple have sex on clock tower in Sydney centre as shoppers look on

Shocking pictures have emerged of a stark naked couple having sex on clock tower in the middle of a busy shopping centre. The Australian couple were snapped after startled onlookers noticed them clinching in the precarious, and extremely public, position on the edge of the balcony.The photos were taken in the heart of Sydney on Friday afternoon, at the historic clock tower opposite the bustling Broadway Shopping Centre.

Why Parents Worry

Squirrel mother goes nuts and attacks dog trying to eat her baby

They have a bit of a reputation for a vicious streak, but this dog certainly got more than it bargained for after pouncing on a baby squirrel it found on the ground.Moments before the hapless baby would have been torn apart, these images show its mother appearing to leap off a nearby tree and attacking the surprised dog.

The squirrel gets ready to leap off the tree and its terrified baby is pounced on by the dog

Using its sharp teeth and claws, the squirrel tore into its canine opponent and distracted it so the baby could escape to freedom.It is unclear if the images have been edited, but the startled dog appears in considerable pain as the squirrel bites into its flank.The surprise assault gives the baby squirrel just enough time to climb back up the nearby tree before its mother is thrown clear and escapes from the dog.The baby squirrel appears to have fallen to the ground as it was being helped up the tree.

The plucky creature bites and claws the dog, allowing its baby to escape certain death

The dog snarls in pain as the squirrel leaps in to attack it – and the baby makes a leap for the safety of the tree

Spotting the helpless creature on the ground, the dog pounces and traps it underneath its front paws as it closes for the kill.But it appears to have underestimated its diminutive opponent, as the brave mother squirrel clearly has no intention of letting her baby become dinner and rushes to its aid by jumping on the dog’s head.After the whirlwind attack the mother squirrel springs free of the dog and rushes her baby back up into the safety of the tree.The frustrated dog is left sitting forlornly at the base of the tree as its prey escapes into the upper branches.The images appeared on a website that was set up solely to promote them using Weebly, a website creation programme.

Thanks mum: The heroic squirrel ushers its baby back up the tree to safety

Okay, I have accepted that I can no longer date this poor boy. I just hate to break the news to him. I toyed with the idea of telling him the truth, but now I have decided to use an old stand by.

I read He’s Just Not that Into You because I was heartbroken at the time. I recalled all the stupid excuses I have heard from guys. I recalled all the time boys never called back. I think I enjoyed the men that made excuses over the ones that didn’t call.

Now all I have to do is get brave. In my thirties, I have finally figured out how to break up with people gently…maybe. I just have to get up the nerve. I should practice, “It’s not you, it’s me,” “I just got out of a tough relationship and don’t know that I am ready for a new one so soon.” “I’m being transferred to Yemen.”

By Vogue November 09

Trying to save some money and stay fashion at the same time?

Vogue proposed on its November issue the hidden potential in tea towels, rubber gloves, mop heads and more.

Whether sporting a military jacket and a customised M&S bra Vogue’s photos reveal how a brave sense of beauty and feverish attention to detail are key ingredients in an original look. It’s the upturned collar, the scrunched-up sleeve, the cinched waist that bring a fresh spirit.

No matter which the route is, they all lead to the same dashing inspiration…

So, enjoy this and think if you are brave enough to wear such creative things.

1. Tea Party. By Vogue November 09

2.Pick-and-mix kiosk. By Vogue November 09

Photo 1: inspired in a Chloe dress. It’s made from doilies, cupcake cases, a plastic tablecloth, a slosh of tea and a sprinkle of sugar. Total cost: £26.95.

Photo 2: 35 paper bags.Rike Feurstein’s hat. Total cost: £69.80

3. Glove piece. By Vogue November 09

Photo3: Polythene blue-and-white shopping bags. Total cost: £2.00.

Photo 4: A clingfilm body-con dress is embellished with bath plug dots  and Marigold puffs, as inspired by Dolce & Gabanna’s slinky gowns with voluminous shoulders. Total cost: £151.50

As winter set in this year.. Tricksy had a little of 7. 5 of the pups were large and healthy… one slightly smaller than the others and the last one… extremely small.

Mom was often worried that the bigger ones wouldn’t give the little one a chance to survive.. She’d wake me up at odd hours.. call me all through the day just to make sure I talked to Tricksy while the little one fed… Strike one…

This errant pup would follow his mom outside the cozy haven we supplied them with… early one morning.. mom woke me up saying she could hear the pup, but he was not around… following his weak whine, I found him searching for his then agitated mom under the dressing table… Strike two…

A few evenings later… my distraught mom called me. The pup was no where to be seen and neither was he whining… Mom oragnized a search party consisting of herself and my cousins, but the puppy was not found. It was cold, dark and raining…

I reached home at 1am and searched all over … but not a sound was heard… and not a glimpse of the little one… I coaxed Tricksy into counting her pups and on finding one less she ran about in a frenzy trying to sniff him out, but she didn’t find him either. Mom’s fear overcame her faith… with so many odds against him, I didn’t hold it against Mom for thinking that way.

The next morning I searched again… mom called to check if I found him. I didn’t. Need less to say, we didn’t fancy his chances… Almost 20 hrs after he went missing… a call from my Mom announced that my cousin had found the pup in my neighbors’ garden. Home run!

Considering we have a gate that the puppy can’t climb over … and a wall that even I can’t climb over between our houses, none of us have any clue about how the puppy reached there. But he’s home now. I just held him… there isn’t a scratch on his body… he’s as gusty, as noisy and yeah.. as hungry as before this ordeal.

He’s small enough to fit in my hands when I cup them… but he stayed out hungry and confused all through that rainy night… he’s a little pup with the heart of a lion… I already have a name for him… a friend who followed his story very closely and added his prayers to mine that night suggested this…

“I’m Heart, Braveheart, but you can call me Bravo! “

Braveheart... aka Bravo

I have just been confirmed as a potential UK delegate.

“I wouldn’t write about people who are living and who are close to me, because I think it’s a very violent thing to do to another person… And anytime I have done it, even in the disguise of fiction, the results have been horrific.” -Zadie Smith (NPR– Brave, Brainy, Changeable — Zadie Smith Revealed)

Unlike Miss Smith, who gives the above as reason why she only wrote about her father after his death in Changing My mind: Occasional Essays, whenever I’ve felt the need, people close to me have been incorporated in my writing. Some celebrated. Some surreptitiously ranted and lamented about. Some overtly raged against. If this, more particularly the latter, was/is considered a violent act then gladly I bear the onus for every intended casualty and collateral damage that resulted from being honest. Quite frankly, there may never be any remorse. Those in my circle know the creed: I’m a writer. if you’re in my life, you’ll be written about. The context or tone is the sole responsibility of that individual. On the other hand, minor arguments and petty disagreements do not serve as fodder for writing. However, when significant things transpire in and around my life, a deep sense of compulsion to write about it follows. For example, my mother‘s visit in the summer of 09. But in this particular case, my earnest desire is for these words to function as capsules of truth. and respect. I really hope they embody love and are the epitome of non-violence.

After five years we were sharing space under the same roof and I pondered if a mother could truly accept her daughter is a woman. Surely she can recognize glimpses of her own childhood and adolescence bygone and surely she can see the independence, but does she ever really acknowledge the woman her little girl has become?

Over the last few years, my mother and I discussed the mundane to the very important; menopause, career, my first time, my most outrageous, the best to date, and migration hardships, over a phone line. Many times I considered what it would be like to have that kind of open communication face to face. This summer the opportunity presented itself through the most unforeseen circumstance. For those of us who hail from developing cities, towns, villages and islands outside these United States, the difficulty connected with getting a visa is a story we are pretty much aware of. Either a friend, family member or we, know the ordeal. Nevertheless, my mom was sent on a conference to a US territory where they granted her two entrances and a six months stay. As we counted the months, weeks, then days to her visit, my excessive anticipation and euphoria gave way to worry. Would she enjoy staying with me? What can I do to make her stay worthwhile? Would Brooklyn be too much? But most of all, would how I live disappoint her? Would she like my apartment? Would it be too small? Would she demand that I return home?

Why wouldn’t she? Home is a two storey five bedrooms, two full baths, three living rooms, library, dining room, porch and veranda, house sitting on a sprawling landmass of mowed lawns, coconut trees and a sprinkling of other exotic fruit trees that she shares with her husband and my two siblings. Why wouldn’t she say forget this garbage and move home? And in this instance, garbage is not a figure of speech. My apartment is a dump in comparison to the aforementioned. I have an ongoing war with roaches. HELL!!! As I bomb them from my abode, their friends and kinfolk move from the hoarder down the hall and the war wages on. So for the first time, I compared myself with this 48 year old woman I call mom. This woman who has the career of her dreams, a beautiful home, a loving husband in an imperfectly happy marriage [we know perfection is not to be had], and children who are mostly obedient and doing very well in school.

Why would I do such a thing? Well, I came into knowing my mom the individual, the woman when she was in her 30s. By that time I was an early teen and the only child, and now, as my 30s approach I can’t help but draw the lines. She was more than a decade into her career of choice, in love , and passionate about her NGOs, and the list goes on. On the other hand, I am a struggling artist whose moonlighting gig is her real job, living in an apartment that is less than half the size of a storey at home, and love? Well love the way I want it evades me. And children? Non at this point but I am quite happy about that. The lines do not connect horizontally. They have to be drawn diagonally for point mommy to match point me. So I worried. And as much as I didn’t want to fight during our first meeting in what seemed like light years, the willingness to hide insecurities behind resolve was there.

I want to make it on my own. I want to be in New York doing this writing thing that has become my fulcrum. Nevertheless, I was still a daughter- my mother’s daughter- whose mom was coming over to stay. Therefore, I cleaned the apartment which is usually 99% in order on any given day, did laundry and stacked the cupboards with her and my kind of food. The next day her plane arrived early. Traffic to the airport was lousy. She called. I missed the call. She was upset. I finally got there but the line to the terminal snake like. I crossed the distance by feet and was amazed that she hadn’t aged; still molasses coated, bald & beautiful with the black girl bottom that has escaped me. The same derriere I envision on jeans & bikini days. Teeth ever rivaling porcelain with a gap that needs no braces to be called beautiful. We hugged and stayed in the embrace that was needed for a very long time. She smelled divine. A hint of ocean and lots of allure. Definitely something expensive…something I hoped to snatch before the visit was over.

The drive home encompassed chatter about family and the joy of being in the flesh with one and other, smiles and the ease of falling into the ever familiar Creolese only to find mine laced with American speak. Six years and I had walked a significant distance down the Decreolization Continuum. At home, she wanted to “cuddle & smell me.” Indeed a familiar past time of ours, but at twenty five cuddling lost a great chunk of its storge, philia and agape connotations when it became associated with the opposite sex & post orgasm conversations. She asserted, “one is never too old to love up on their mother.” I knew this bunny behavior is part of her varying ways of saying I love you so with the memories of blissful screams filed, night found us nestled in the crest of arms where sleep came easier than it did on most days. However, my mom snores louder than I on the hardest work day. The night cap became a feat lost until being too tired to count the length of each drone forced a collapse into the quiet of night.

The following morning worry returned to inquire whether she sees me as a woman and what kind of woman. Although it mattered, I was willing to let on otherwise and refused to ask. Still insecure about the apartment, over breakfast I fired question after question wanting to know if the space was too small, if she is uncomfortable to the loving reply, “I am fine…just really happy to see you sweetie.” Yet, that wasn’t good enough because she failed to mention anything about the apartment. I replied, “I am really happy to see you too.” And I was. “but what about the place…will you be comfortable here?” she said “it is fine. I‘d be comfortable anywhere with you .”

The days eroded during an unseasonably cool summer where we visited relatives, went shopping, waxed nostalgic and cooked delicious but unpretentious meals reminiscent of my childhood. Meals that lost their authenticity at my hands. Our first spat came when she insisted on eating bakes (fried dough) after 10 at night. My fear for her health gave rise to arguments that would eventually try our patience. She would run several guilt trips of being unwanted in my home; the music that came from the headphones was always too loud, she can’t sleep with all that noise….I’m forcing her to go to bed hungry….she’ll develop an ulcerated stomach. On the other hand, my demands for phones and text messages to be put aside whenever we conversed annoyed her. How could a mother be more attached to technology than the child born of the digital age? She claimed she has other children, younger children, that needed her attention too. This gave rise to a slighted feeling on my part; after all this time, don’t I at least deserve a few moments of her undivided attention? She tried to text less but then the demands of being an administrator stole her fingers and the keys clicked in between our words. Feeling very much like the unattended lover, and in this case I was displacing or maybe after everything I had gone through here, my inner child needed nurturing. I didn’t want to be mature. I just needed my mother and I didn’t care much about the woman she thinks I am. I wanted to tell her how alone I felt in the beginning and how hard it was at times to adjust to the blinding lights of neon city. Where was the open communication? Lost in between pride and the desire not to hurt her feelings.

Growing up, we were each other’s companion and cheerleader which provided a conducive environment for fierce loyalty and love. So being fully aware that hurt people hurt other people and that I was hurting from wounds only living in New York can inflict, I allowed sleeping dogs to lie. We sauntered on. She bonded and went shopping with my friend, cooked for another to rave reviews and despite the hiccups we were still very happy to see each other. Under the covers of my bed- not hers where we used to paint toes, read the Sunday Stabroek and discuss the week before- I asked about undefined, on and off, in limbo relationships, their repercussions and discussed my passion for a lover. One that makes me come undone, inhabits my art and heart and with whom most of my days were spent. My mom, who is one of the most liberated and outspoken women I’ve met became bashful, stuttered and denied having any of ‘those.’ As a matter of fact, when words finally found coherency she reprimanded “you need to slow down and that’s what you need to do!“ Me? Slow down? Reminding her that this lover was my first of that nature; a precarious situation indeed but different from always being in a serious relationship or single, only set the tone for a diatribe about how much I had changed. If my mind served correctly, we had discussed one such relationship of hers ; one she used as a testament of women’s lib. Unearthing that memory only served to put her defenses on high alert since she saw it as an attack on her morals.

I wasn’t charging after her morals or placing them on the chopping block but she was correct about one thing. I had changed. Always a precocious child then an independent adolescent, as an adult I found little need to demand a sovereign space. Instead, a desire for interconnectedness and the truly candid communication only sisterhood can provide took its place. Also, I started measuring my success against hers and with it came a slew of insecurities. On the other hand, I was less prudish and very much in tuned with my sexuality where she found religion and closeted her womanist behind prayers. I was convinced that the years had dug a ravine between us. An urgent phone call from home would force the premature expiration of her visit. Still concerned with how I would be perceived and too proud to beg, I clothed myself in alleged maturity to help with packing and acquiring the new ticket. Until mid act when all pretenses crumbled into shards of tears. I came apart. Sobbing child like because time had vaporized, my insecurities still wrestled on the inside, I was afraid we had grown apart and had gotten accustomed to sharing space under the same roof with her again. Eventually, I broached the subject and we tangled. Attacking the crux of the matter, ignoring the surface stuff that served as distractions, I’d expose how much her perception of me matters, my new desire for sisterly camaraderie and the extent to which the visit reminded me of that. She in turn stated that being more spiritual would never efface the sometimes ribald woman of her flip side and how it aches to leave. Among the words uttered from her lips, these would stick closest to the heart, “it is a sincere honor to be your mom.”

The fifty ton gorilla had left the room. Our conversations grew lighter, laughter punctuated many more sentences, shoes were bartered, and the perfume I wanted to snatch stayed with her. A lot had changed in a matter of weeks, from being consumed with what type of woman she saw to understanding the woman being revealed. One who understood that as much as I wanted to be seen as woman, sometimes a petulant child reared her ugly head, that my mother and I will always have open communication whether near or far and like me, she will continue to change. From these changes, a few head butts are guaranteed but if we continue to make common ground the goal, our relationship will grow stronger.

Days later and over our overpriced JFK sandwiches, she said “this city bothers me with its constant motion and buffet of stress activators. I couldn’t live here. But you are a stronger woman than I was at your age. It is something I admire a great deal.” Boarding call interrupted her speech. Teary eyed she continued “I’m so happy I got to see you. You’ll never really know how much I love you ‘cause there is no way to show the full extent of this love…maybe when you become a mother you’ll understand…but I love you dearly.“ We embraced then garnished our goodbyes with humor about tear stained cheeks, snotty noses, balled up tissues and next year’s visit.

Back at home, I opened the door to the roach infested abode that houses my emotions with gratitude for the space that now holds precious memories and one of my most cathartic experiences. It has been months since her visit but every now and then, the insecurities surface except they are now accompanied with a stronger drive to persevere, to excel. To write. To evolve. How can I not? I’ve got my mother. The very person who introduced me to the arresting beauty of literature; the power of honest words, the comfort of prose, the life of poetry, and the dance of musings as inspiration. As a prime example. As my catalyst.

Taking good care of your skin is essential to its beauty for a very long time.  When washing your face, as much as possible, use a natural soap.  Rub in a circular motion gently on each spot several times (I use my Japanese wash cloth).  Make sure not to forget your neck because it wrinkles too.  Also, pay particular attention to those places apt to wrinkle most; the eyes, mouth, forehead, etc.  Pat it dry, and use a very good facial lotion.  You will see a wonderful difference in your beauty…..Have a beautiful day!  http://www.waimomona.wordpress.com/

मृतैः संप्राप्यते स्वर्गो जीवद्भिः कीर्तिरुत्तमा |
तदुभावपि शूराणां गुणावेतौ सुदुर्लभौ ||

- पञ्चतंत्र, मित्रभेद

Speaking about soldiers fighting a war – the dead attain heaven. Those who live will enjoy fame. Brave courageous men will enjoy both. It is very difficult for common man to attain both.

- Panchatantra, Mitrabheda

Hero Cop Talks to Fox
November 12, 2009 – 10:19 AM
FOX News
Maggie Lineback

Senior Sergeant Mark Todd doesn’t consider himself a hero, but spend five minutes with him and you’ll know that’s exactly what he is.

He and fellow Sergeant Kimberly Munley were the first officers to arrive at the shooting scene in Fort Hood last week where 13 people lost their lives. Sr. Sgt. Todd told us when he first got the call, he thought it might have been people mistaking soldiers practicing a 21 gun salute for real gunfire. But as he got closer, the police dispatcher said she too had heard gunfire.

When Todd and Munley arrived, people pointed in the direction of the shooter. Then they saw him. He started firing at them and they split up. The next time Todd saw him, Todd says he drew the gunman’s attention away from the crowd and the gunman started firing at Todd again. Todd makes a point to say that both he and Officer Munley are responsible for stopping the suspect, but with Munley wounded, it was Sr. Sgt. Todd who cuffed the suspect. In a statement that speaks to Todd’s character, he says the real heros are the medics who then began to minister to the wounded. Initially, Todd wanted to remain

FOX News-Hero Cop Talks to Fox

Meet Mark Todd, who also stopped Nadil Malik Hasan from killing more people. A true American hero.

मृतैः संप्राप्यते स्वर्गो जीवद्भिः कीर्तिरुत्तमा |
तदुभावपि शूराणां गुणावेतौ सुदुर्लभौ ||

- पञ्चतंत्र, मित्रभेद

Speaking about soldiers fighting a war – the dead attain heaven. Those who live will enjoy fame. Brave courageous men will enjoy both. It is very difficult for common man to attain both.

- Panchatantra, Mitrabheda

I thought I would get this recipe out before Thanksgiving…my version of the Pumpkin Pie recipe:  this will make 2-9″ pies…

We start out with the 29 ounce can of Libby’s 100% pumpkin.

Libby’s Famous Pumkin Pie (Wai’s Version):

• 1 1/2 cups of (Sugar In The Raw) raw sugar
• 1 tsp. salt
• 2 tsp. ground cinnamon
• 2 tsp. of minced ginger – (sometimes I use more) (Lee Kum Kee brand)
• 1/2 tsp. ground cloves
• 4  large eggs
• 1 can 29 ounce Libby’s Pumpkin
• 2 cans (12 fl. ounces) evaporated milk….Carnation or Pet
• 2 unbaked deep-dish pie crusts

Then we just follow the recipe as it is on the can:

Mix: sugar, salt, cinnamon, ginger and cloves in small bowl.  Beat eggs in large bowl.  Stir in pumpkin and sugar-spice mixture.  Gradually stir in evaporated milk.

Pour: into pie shells.

Bake: in preheated 425 degrees F. oven for 15 minutes.  Reduce temp. to 350 degrees F.; bake 40-50 minutes or until knife inserted into the center of pie, comes out clean.  Cool on wire rack for 1-2 hours.

Then….dig in!  http://www.waimomona.wordpress.com/

Hero.

Not a hero.

Let’s take a moment and reflect on Veteran’s Day. It takes on an extra special meaning in light of the Fort Hood Terrorist Attack. God bless our veterans and active duty soldiers serving worldwide.

Brave Gunner
Brave Gunner

Brave Gunner Game
Brave Gunner Game Description : Brave Gunner is a vertical scrolling retro shoot’em up game which will be a real challenge for the most of you.
How to Play Brave Gunner Game? Arrow Keys – Move.
S – Shoot.

Batman The Brave and the Bold Dynamic Double Team
Batman The Brave and the Bold Dynamic Double Team

Batman The Brave and the Bold Dynamic Double Team Game
Batman The Brave and the Bold Dynamic Double Team Game Description : On the other side of the galaxy, Batman and Blue Bettle must battle Kanjar Ro’s Space pirates to save an entire planet! Collect scarabs to fill your blue beetle meter! Collect health orbs to fill your health bar.
How to Play Batman The Brave and the Bold Dynamic Double Team Game? Arrow keys left/right- To move left/right.
Z- Attack.
Arrow up + Z- Flying knee.
Arrow down + Z- Leg sweep.
X- Jump.
X,Z- Jump kick.
Space bar- Call in Blue Beetle!