I think my landscape of the Thanksgiving holiday will be forever painted by the tragedy of the Mumbai massacre.

I remember being glued to my computer that Thanksgiving of 2008, receiving reports, checking on multiple news services simultaneously, and hoping. Hoping that just like the events of Entebbe in 1976, things were going to turn out in the end. That some commando force would raid the Mumbai Chabad House and the miracle of Hashem could once again be witnessed. Of course that never happened.

I remember driving to work the follow day. A Friday. A day that most of my co-workers had taken off. I remember hearing report on Philly’s KYW-News Radio that the siege on the Chabad house was over. The details beyond that were sketchy.

I remember arriving to work and reading twitter posts from my Israeli friends that pointed me to news sources that detailed the unfolding tragedy.

I still remember how hard it was to keep my work face on, as all I wanted to do was cry.

I remember before I left for the day, it being Friday, that I posted to twitter that “We should Honor Shabbos with joy this week. We can mourn after Shabbos doing Mitzvot in honor of ALL effected by this tragedy”. A post that the New York Times pick up upon and published.

I remember taking on the Study of Mishnayos, of which I completed 6. (One for each of the holy kedoshim that were murdered in the Mumbai Chabad House)

I remember that Shabbos, a Shabbos in which ALL Jews came together as one.

I remember my Rabbi choking back his tears during his D’var that Shabbos.

I remember Rabbi Gavriel Holtzberg, Rebbetzin Rivka Holtzberg, Bentzion Kruman, Rabbi Leibish Teitelbaum, Yoheved Orpaz & Norma Shvarzblat Rabinovich

There is always a root cause to hate, people say. An incident, a story. A misunderstanding. Yet there is a kind of hate that doesn’t deserve to be understood and analyzed; no matter how you look at it, spin it, there’s no way that what happened was in possession of right, not even a semblance.

The headlines and news programs screamed about the Maguindanao Massacre. On November 23, 2009, Vice-Mayor Mangudadatu sent his wife and associates to file his candidacy for the governorship in next year’s elections. Media people tagged along, as this was the first time in decades that another political clan would be running against the the Ampatuan. Now, reports say that the Mangudadatus and Ampatuans are allies not just in the political arena; they are godfathers, mentors and advisers to each other. Areas in Maguindanao are bailiwicks of the Mangudadatus and the Ampatuans.

For the last decade, the Ampatuans held the governorship and this year, Vice-Mayor Mangudadatu decided to oppose them in the race. VMM told reporters after the massacre that threats were issued on his life, warning him against the filing of his candidacy. Common sense and logic will tell you that the source of these things are the people who will be directly affected should 1)a rival runs against the incumbent or whatever and 2) said rival wins.

So Mangudadatu sent his wife, sisters, associates to file his COC. Members of the media joined, as this was news. VMM thought that since they were women, surrounded by ordinary civilians, whoever issued the threats would back off. Someone or a group decided to show him how wrong he was.

As of last count, fifty-seven have been brutally slain. The women were reported to have been raped before being murdered, and there were also reports about private parts being mangled. A witness has come forward saying that the order of death came from an Ampatuan, who said something along the lines of, “Spare no children, no women. Spare no one and hide the bodies.” If that were true, these words are not that of a sick person. These are words only one fueled by unparalleled hate would utter.

As I write this, I wonder if justice will prevail in the Philippines this time. Justice is an unknown concept here. Judges govern by the cash slipped into their pockets, politicans drain the country’s finances for trips abroad. Politicians who rape children get to run in elections, while sons of the rich and powerful escape the miserable conditions of a Philippine prison to a Spanish cell. Just a few hours ago, I read reports that the President’s family will continue their ties with the Ampatuans. WHAT? I fell off my seat and spat out my pizza.

I voted for Gloria. I cheered for her when she took over in 2001 but she messed up barely ten minutes into her presidency when she forgot to thank the youth for bringing her to power. Yes, in the absence of a President, the VP takes over–which would not have been possible if we didn’t storm the streets to head for EDSA and protest the trial making a mockery not just of the judicial system, but principles Filipinos stand for. If anything, WE ARE THE ONLY GENERATION WHO LEARNED FROM HISTORY, taking to heart the lessons of the 1986 People Power Revolution, vowing to do our part when the opportunity to fight comes along. And we did.

Which is why it sickensedme when the Palace issued statements about maintaining their ties with the Ampatuans, the clan suspected of committing the ungodly massacre. What the fuck was that, will someone please tell me? You don’t need a law degree nor genius intelligence to know that issuing such is a mistake. Better to have just shut up because, though the statement doesn’t say such, basically, the President is standing by people who would slay anyone who disagrees with them. The Philippines has always been crazy but this takes the cake.

Fine. Let’s do the whole Innocent Until Proven Guilty route. But will the police really do anything knowing that the Ampatuans hold the President’s ear? Apparently, they are responsbile for securing a 12-0 during the last elections, favoring the administration. Because of that the President stands by them? The President seems to have forgotten that wherever she goes, she represents the Filipino. By her decision to stand by the suspected party, it is synonymous to saying that the Filipinos stand with the Ampatuans. How sick is that?

Maybe it’s time we don’t plea for justice but demand it. It is one right we have always been denied of and the magnitude of this tragic incident can’t just be overlooked, you can’t say, Oh, this will go away in two weeks. I will never forget how, on that day of November 23, the country started wading in serious shit. In that instant, journalists declared the country as the most unsafe for their colleagues, being worst than Iraq with its dissent and bombings due to large number of journalists killed. In that instant. All that we’ve worked for, all that have made us proud in the past few days-poof. Gone in ten seconds. Because of greed. Because of hate.

Two things I refuse to understand. I’d rather eat cyanide.

Ezekiel lurched forward in his chair as he woke up screaming.  One of the flight attendants came running over to calm Ezekiel down, “Sir,” she said hurriedly, “it’s okay.  You were just dreaming.”

Ezekiel looked about him franticly trying to remember where he was.  Before he could ask where he was, Ezekiel remembered.  He was on a long range transport bound for planet 96831: Raunica, his fourth attempt that year to find a place to disappear on the fringe of the Galactic Empire.

“O God!” Ezekiel exclaimed in a hushed whisper as he raised his hands to his face to cover his eyes.

The flight attendant asked for a glass of water and a coworker produced it promptly.  Ezekiel dragged his hands down his face and pulled at his short, stubbly beard.  The attendant handed Ezekiel the glass of water and sat down in the empty seat across the aisle from him.

“Thank you,” Ezekiel said when he had finished taking a few sips of water.

“That was some nightmare.  Would you care to talk about it?” the attendant asked.

“Not really, but it would probably be for the best to do so.  But first of all, what is your name?”

“Valera Proscinti,” she replied.

“Well Miss Proscinti, I am Ezekiel Wagner and I am trying to escape the demons and transgressions of my past.  That dream was the whole of my demons and the hounds of Hell catching up with me.

“I was a highly decorated captain during the Great War.  At the last battle, nearly all of our fleet was destroyed by the Imperial Separatists.  The vast majority of my crew also died.  The whole war weighs heavy on my conscience, but the deaths at the last battle weigh the heaviest,” Ezekiel paused to take a sip of water as the attendant sat wondering what atrocities could trouble a person as deeply as they seemed to afflict Ezekiel Wagner.  Ezekiel remained silent.

Imaginaos  en el interior del teatro  (es fácil si pincháis aquí), sentados o de pie, en la arena  o en los palcos, dependiendo de lo que os podáis permitir. Estáis rodeados de hombres y mujeres muy diferentes, ruidosos, comiendo porridge y llamando a voces a las vendedoras de naranjas entre carcajadas provocadas por vino y cerveza.

Recordáis que, antes de entrar, mientras estabais en la fila, habéis mirado al tejado y habéis visto que la bandera que ondea hoy es negra y no roja o blanca.

Ante vosotros hay un escenario desnudo, sin decorados, tan sólo con un cajón.

De pronto, un hombre vestido con una túnica brillante sale a escena. Mira al público, pasea sus ojos por el teatro hasta que llega el silencio. Y comienza a hablar. Escuchas.

Spanish

English

Y te preguntas,

¿Qué tipo o género de obra voy a ver?

¿Cuáles serán sus temas más importantes?

¿Qué espero de una obra así?

¿He visto, leído u oído algo parecido? ¿Qué me pasó?

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars.

‘Shameful Flight’ relates the history of the final years of the British Raj in India, including the partition of India into both Pakistan (West and East) and India, and the early hostility of the two new nations destined for perpetual warfare in such regions as the Kashmir.The history of this era of political instability on the subcontinent includes all the main players from Great Britain, India and Pakistan.These main players include Winston Churchill, Viceroy Louis Mountbatten, Mahatma Gandhi, Pandit Nehru and Quaid-i-Azam Jinnah. There is not a single figure in this history of India’s partition who comes out of it in a good light, though several seem to have had very well-intentioned aims and motivations. It is the true story of lost opportunity and the devastating consequences of human pride and selfishness that have reverberated down through the decades to the present day and remain visible in the continuing clashes between India and Pakistan, as well as in the extremism expressed in both the Islamic and Hindu communities throughout the sub-continent. It is a story of perpetual tragedy and human suffering with no end in sight.

This book is extremely easy to read, passes on a wealth of historical information and whets the appetite for further research on the India/Pakistan situation. It provides enlightenment, by bringing understanding to the current political instability in both India and Pakistan, by clearly revealing the root of the problem – the manner of the birth of both nations out of British imperialism and that nation’s final haphazard departure aptly described as a ‘Shameful Flight.’ This is a great book for understanding the sub-continent and the wounds it still carries to this day.

This book was provided to me for review by Oxford University Press – www.oup.com

Hey, let’s piss and moan about Freddy Krueger again, shall we? We all know it’s getting the unecessary remake treatment, we all know it won’t be the same without Robert Englund, or Heather Langenkamp, or that man who’s been in absolutely everything who played Nancy’s father. Blah blah heard it all before, no need to re-tread old ground. Consider the following image a spoiler, as it’s been revealed by NECA Toys via promotional figurine information what Jackie Earle Haley will look like under the make-up. So much for secrets. Spoiler pic following!

Ready?

Stop now, title this A California Raisin In A Jumper On Elm Street and we have a winner!

She is the girl in the hof.  Maybe she isn’t much to talk about.  But she stands out to me.  Why?  I don’t know.  Maybe because she’s just there, in the hof.  She’s a part of the hof.  You’ve been to this hof before, maybe two or three times, only on certain occasions.  It’s buried deep in the mundane and ramshackle warrens of a suburban Korean neighborhood.  There is bare wood paneling with copious magic marker graffiti.  Old album slipsleeves of Korean crooners from the ’80s are tacked above the window.  When you press the call button, Christmas lights blink furiously in unison along the window frame.  An old telephone, record player, and space heater sit atop a shelf above a group of eight middle-aged Korean women who are blitzing through bottles of soju, clutching each other endearingly.

She’s precious, the girl in the hof.  I order in my awkward, stilted Korean for our group, my words basic at best.  She understands, even throws in a few English words in response.  She brings beer and juktongju, the latter a plum-like liquor served in a earthware jar shaped and colored like bamboo.  She periodically returns, bringing various elements of our communal meal.  She doesn’t seem to mind.  Maybe she thinks we’re strange, these foreigners, always asking for more glasses or an extra chair.  But she complies.

She’s here every night.  You can see it.  How old is she?  I don’t know.  Older than high school.  Maybe nineteen or twenty.  She’s in her youth, the prime of it, when impressions and ideals are formed, when there is still the courage to believe and act in spite of reality.

She is here, though, in the hof.  She is serving us.  You know she is better than this.  Her actions may be servile but she wishes to be something else.  She dreams, like we do.  Yet her dreams are more worthy than ours.

She is cute.  In a Korean way.  She is not a gorgeous or attractive girl.  No, not at all.  If most of us were to see her in a bar, we would pass her off, never give her the time of day.  But she is cute, in a plain way that has an appeal all of its own.  Perhaps part of it is the way she carries herself.  She wears a big sweatshirt, light grey, with a cute bunny design on the front left and the back right.  Some strange stylized words accompany the design — they look like Dutch.  Who knows.  The pockets are deep, the elastic skirt on the hoodie strangely wide.  Her hair is messy but endearing.  The ubiquitous Korean bangs, a few long ones dangling off to the side.  Long hair in the back, part of it bunched up in a hair clasp that looks like fake orange mother-of-pearl.  She’s dyed her hair a shade of brown.  She’s a good girl.  She tries.

She doesn’t come back for a while.  We drink, discuss work, talk about our own lives and whatever negatives aspects we might discern.  Every man’s misfortune fills the space he provides it.  But when I see the girl in the hof, I realize how stupid such gripes are.

She has little.  So very little in her life.  Now the Korean women next to our table have gone.  She is there, collecting the empty soju bottles and dirty plates with the proprietor.  He must be her father.  Work hard in the hof, he must say to her.  I can’t afford for you to go to college and learn.  You must find a good man to marry.

She must find a good man to marry.  Is that on her thoughts?  Perhaps.  She seems to stare at me and I cautiously look back her direction.  But maybe she’s just gazing at the window, seated in her chair at the dirty table, while her father removes the dirty plates.  She must find a good man.  Can she find a good man?  Is that what she dreams of?  What are her hopes?  Are they within her grasp?  Will she reach them next week, next month, next year?  Or are they nobler and wilder?  Does she long for something great yet seemingly, hopelessly beyond her reach?  I believe so.  Yes, yes.

She stands and helps her father fold the tablecloth.  She is here, in the prime of her youth, in the years which must count for something, working in a hof, in a bland, unsophisticated Korean suburb.  She is, as she is now, maybe in a temporary thing.  Maybe there is something I do not know about her.  Maybe she has a boyfriend who will marry her and take her away to someplace nice.  Maybe she has gotten into art school by sheer talent and a little luck.  The future, as much as we want to imagined it as determined, is never as we imagine.

She is here, in the hof.  I do not know everything she does.  But I can read a human face.  I can see hope and I can see longing.  And I saw both tonight.  It is the sort of look that makes you want to reach out.  It makes you want to be noble and give something to someone beyond their wildest hopes, whatever that thing might be.  You might not even know what that thing is.  But you feel you must give it anyway.  Yet you don’t.  You can’t.  Life constrains you in some way.  You wish to help, to extend your hand in whatever way, to lift up one single human being on this fucked-up earth, even if only in the smallest way possible.  But you don’t know how.  You will never know how.

She is the girl in the hof.  I will see her again, one day.  She will be in my thoughts.  I hope, I pray for her.  She deserves so much.  She may not get it.  She is stalked by tragedy, waiting in the shadows of dirty Jeongja, that hopes that the next few years will pass her by.  For if she does not leave the hof, that life may have hold of her forever.  And she will be like a thousand others, spinsters at thirty, left aside by the charge to the top and the charge to the future.

She is the girl in the hof.  Thank God for that girl.  May she find her own happiness, whatever it is, however it comes.

She is the girl in the hof.

It was the moth that saved her...

She was last seen on Beachy Head,

duffel-coated,

bootless,

remembering

how happily

her mother told her

its history,

how hungrily

she swallowed stories.

People are greedy for tragedy.

It staves off boredom.

She was last seen

licking the tears from her wrists,

considering rock

and wave

and angle.

But they didn’t know

it was the moth that saved her,

dull fire struggling against the grass,

the white of its wing

like the white of her own

unbeating eye.

She was last seen

leaving for other lands,

uncoated

and booted,

telling herself

that she’d chosen

not to jump

because she was a non-conformist

and not even life

could stop her.

Aug 2006.

 – Here are just a few quotes from “The Shack.”  If you haven’t read this book, don’t listen to the nay-sayers. 
This book is, with no question in my mind, a God-thing. –
Buy it HERE. -
—————–

“Does that mean,” asked Mack, “that all roads will lead to you?” “Not at all,” smiled Jesus…”Most roads don’t lead anywhere. What it does mean is that I will travel any road to find you.”"

“All I want from you is to trust me with what little you can, and grow in loving people around you with the same love I share with you. It’s not your job to change them, or to convince them. You are free to love without an agenda.”

“So no, I’m not too big on religion…and not very fond of politics or economics either…And why should I be? They are the man-created trinity of terrors that ravages the earth and deceives those I care about. What mental turmoil and anxiety does any human face that is not related to one of those three?”

“Trust is the fruit of a relationship in which you know you are loved.”

“Just because I work incredible good out of unspeakable tragedies doesn’t mean I orchestrate the tragedies. Don’t ever assume that my using something means I caused it or that I need it to accomplish my purposes. That will only lead you to false notions about me. Grace doesn’t depend on suffering to exist, but where there is suffering you will find grace in many facets and colors.”

In seminary [Mack] had been taught that God had completely stopped any overt communication with moderns, preferring to have them only listen to and follow sacred Scripture, properly interpreted, of course. God’s voice had been reduced to paper, and even that paper had to be moderated and deciphered by the proper authorities and intellects. It seemed that direct communication with God was something exclusively for the ancients and uncivilized, while educated Westerners’ access to God was mediated and controlled by the intelligentsia. Nobody wanted God in a box, just in a book.

“”Sometimes honesty can be incredibly messy”"

“I don’t need to punish people for sin. Sin is its own punishment, devouring you from the inside. It’s not my purpose to punish it; it’s my joy to cure it.”

“We are not in a chain of command.  We are a circle of relationship.”

“Authority, as you usually think of it, is merely the excuse the strong use to make others conform to what they want.”

“Relationships are never about power, and one way to avoid the will to power is to choose to limit oneself- to serve.”

Buy “The Shack” HERE.

To read answers to some of the manufactured objections to this book, click on:
Now Read This

It is the illness that dare not speak its name. Mental health has traditionally been one of sport’s great taboos; nobody talked about it, and those who did risked ridicule and career suicide.

For instance, footballer Stan Collymore was openly ridiculed by his then manager John Gregory and the press when he sought treatment for depression in 1999. When boxer Frank Bruno was sectioned under the Mental Health Act, the ever-sensitive Sun ran the headline ‘Bonkers Bruno locked up’ – although this was changed in later editions.

It’s no wonder sports stars keep things bottled up. Admitting to a perceived weakness in the macho world of sport is just not done; they could be considered unstable or unreliable by managers, and opposition players and fans would ruthlessly use it against them.

The tragic death of German goalkeeper Robert Enke demonstrates an extreme conclusion of this stigma and the fear of its effects.

But Enke’s death may prove to be a turning point in addressing mental health stigma in sport – and more widely. The story was reported around the world and gave people an insight into the mind of someone with depression.

This was followed last night by an Inside Sport special on BBC1. The programme took a considered look at mental health problems in sport – including high-profile cases such as cricketer Marcus Trescothick and Bruno.

The programme eschewed sensationalism and gave them time to explain how they feel when they are suffering problems and – just as importantly – how they manage it and now lead ‘normal’ lives again.

The fact that these two, and others, such as Serena Williams, Neil Lennon and Ronnie O’Sullivan have ‘come out’ and admitted to having mental health problems is helping to slowly break down the stigma.

It shouldn’t be surprising that sportspeople suffer mental health problems, because the pressures must be intense; coping with the expectations of coaches, fans and the media; trying to be the best in the world; dealing with the highs and lows that sport brings; keeping at the peak of physical fitness, for example.

After all, they aren’t superhuman. While some may be fabulously remunerated for, essentially, playing games for a living, it doesn’t change their basic human nature. Money doesn’t make you happy.

While Robert Enke’s death shows how deeply ingrained the stigma of mental health problems – or fear of stigma – still is, people are beginning to understand more about it and that it is an illness and not simply a case of someone ‘pulling themselves together’. Today, Collymore and Bruno would be viewed much more sympathetically, including by the national media.

Programmes like Inside Sport, and idolised sports stars admitting their problems, will help to change attitudes. It may be a long, slow process, but it is changing and hopefully that will mean that there will not be more cases like Enke in the future.

The last picture of Ben, taken just 2 weeks ago:

Sorry for the post yesterday…I was so shocked I didn’t realize what I was doing. After sitting with another good friend until late last night, and speaking about Ben with each other for hours, we both understood that although WE are terribly sad and still find it hard to believe that we will no longer see Ben or hear his laughter or silly jokes, Ben is probably very happy and even pleased with himself! First of all, his wife, Mary Cruz was killed just 2 years ago in Mexico in the same way. Instead of a motorbike, she was riding a bicycle, but was also hit by a truck and killed. He missed her terribly and spoke to me about her often and his great love for her, and so now I know they are together and that is lovely.
In addition, for the past 1 1/2 years he has been speaking about his fear of biking in India. He has biked for years all over the world but could not get over his fear of getting on a bike in India. If you remember, we were supposed to take a bike ride to MUssoorie but it did not work out in the end. Well, just yesterday morning, I saw him sitting at a nearby guesthouse and went over to say good morning on my way down to panchakarma. I hadn’t seen him in several days, and he had just celebrated his 44th birthday two days before. Well, he wasw all excited, like a little kid, and extremely proud of himself when he told me he had finally rented a bike and made the trip up and back to mussoorie. He was so excited that he had finally overcome this fear and couldn’t stop smiling. He showed me the bike and said he could now think of returning it as he had done what he needed to do.
And then he went into rishikesh, with another guy on the back, and was hit by a truck. The other guy just has a nasty cut on his leg!
It was a difficult afternoon, but I am doing well now, and there are so many people who know Ben here, that it is just nice to be able reminisce and everyone only remembers wonderful things about him (even though he could be a real pain in the ass sometimes). On his birthday, he went downtown and distributed school supplies to needy children. Even got written up in the paper with his picture which I’m sure made him also very happy.
He lived his life fully, with very few regrets and did just about everything he felt he wanted to do…so he was blessed
I’ll miss him but I’m happy for him
And this is of course, an extremely powerful lesson in why each and every day is so important…why we must live each day to the fullest, not go to sleep at night without expressing our gratitude for all the blessings of the day, making sure to say all it is we need to say to loved ones and friends…not to go to sleep regretting not having done something that day…and of course to give thanks as well when we wake up again to another wonderful new day.

Namaste
Jane

In 2006 I was visiting the Philippines during the pre-election campaigning period, and was dumb-founded to read of scores of politically-motivated killings. Political candidates and their aides, advisors, assistants were being picked off in ones and twos all around the nation. I quickly learned that, sadly, this was par for the political course in the Philippines. Coming from Australia, where a political candidate would never dream of being killed simply because they stood for election, this state of affairs all but defied my comprehension. Reports I have read suggest a total of 129 people were killed in connection with the 2007 elections, and 177 wounded. The 2004 elections triggered 189 deaths!

But as little as I understand it, I’ve come to expect it. I continue to be deeply grieved, both for the country and the families of the victims, each time I hear of another killing, but rarely surprised any more. With elections coming up in 2010, the same pattern has been repeated in recent months, right up to the shooting of Jovito Baldos Diaz, former mayor of San Quintin, just a few days ago.

And yet, as much as I’ve come to expect it, I have been totally shocked by the most recent travesty – the massacre of 52 (yes, fifty-two!) family members, aides, and journalists who were travelling to file nomination papers for Esmael Mangudadatu in Maguindanao Province. This is also, simultaneously, the largest single killing of a group of journalists/media ever recorded. My heart grieves for the country of the Philippines.

Hearing of such an atrocity can at times leave us feeling utterly hopeless.  But the Philippines is a country of 92 million people who desperately need hope for their future. The people of Pilipinas need to believe in their future and commit to a different tomorrow.

In the Philippines corruption, poverty, poor life expectancy, and incredibly tough living conditions are par for the course. But it shouldn’t be so. This is a country of innovative people, passionate, loving, resourceful. Unlike some poverty-riddled African countries which suffer from lack of natural resources and rain, the Philippines is blessed with an abundance of natural resources – excellent agricultural land, unlimited marine resources, huge biodiversity and ecological opportunities, mineral reserves, and so much more. The Philippines is a country which really has unlimited opportunity.

So what’s missing? Why does the country continue to be trapped in poverty and violence? Why do political candidates have to risk their life if they run for office? Why did 129 people pay with their lives in 2006/07 in a purportedly democratic country? In a nation which is predominantly Catholic, surely most Pinoys would argue that they should be blessed by God, and He should be “on their side”?

This is a country which needs a radical change. And not just a change of office holders (although that probably wouldn’t hurt). The Philippines needs a change of heart. A change of hope. A change of healing. Filipinos need, in a ground swell of love, to commit to confronting the cancer in their society which is killing their hope for the future.

Many people ask the question “which came first – the chicken or the egg?” – which comes first, poverty or corruption? If we solve the poverty, will the corruption be eradicated? Or do we need to solve the corruption to eradicate the poverty? I don’t have a trite answer for that, and so I would argue we need to do both. We need to tackle this problem from every angle we can. (I’ll write in future about some ideas for each of those angles – there’s so many opportunities that I couldn’t possibly include them all in this article.)

As our hearts all break for this latest terrible travesty in the Philippines, let’s all commit in our every thought and deed, to be the people that will create the future we hope for – a future where democracy (and people) are respected, where power is not misused, where justice prevails, where forgiveness overcomes hatred, where compassion overflows, and where treating everybody without partiality or favouritism is the norm.

Oh Lord God, may you bless the people that together make up the nation of the Philippines.

Through the open window I can see
The tiny clouds hovering in the sky
The wind is blowing, my nose is freezing
… a few exhaust pipes are spluttering.

Ah, the sun is going down
Red and gold, as it should be
I look down to the street below
And see a friend standing there

Suddenly my heart feels heavy
I just need to see birds fluttering
And my eyes turn up to the sky
How it jurts my soul – how beautiful!

Nature in the evening, a peaceful town
Tormented soul, the tears flow
It all makes me feel so feeble
And makes the tears flow even more
Aaah…

————————————-

Offenes Fenster prasentiert
Spatzenwolken Himmelflattern
Wind blast, meine Nase friert
Und paar Auspuffrohre knattern

Ach, da geht die Sonne unter
Rot mit gold – so muss das sein
Seh ich auf die Strasse runter
Fallt mir mein Bekannter ein

Prompt wird mirs jetzt schwer ums Herz
Ich brauch nur Vogel flattern sehn
Und fliegt mein Blick dann himmelwarts
Tut auch die Seele weh – wie schon

Natur am Abend – stille Stadt
Verknackste Seele, Tranen rennen
Das alles macht einen machtig matt
Und ich tu einfach weiterflennen

Aaah ….

He’s done it before.
Time and time again, I’ve seen God pull me through some rough patches and tough trials. He’s refined my character, He’s made me stronger, He’s made me the person I am today through each circumstance.
Being made fun of from childhood through college jacks you up, but I learned how to deal with. I also got to a point too where I had the courage to confront some LSU football players – who are now prominent stars in the NFL – and tell them to be a man and say that stuff to my face.
I could go down a laundry list of other stuff. But now we get to the present, and we come to where I am now. Healing from the loss of my brother.
No other experience I’ve gone through, no other situation I’ve dealt with, compares.
I’ve already learned so much about God’s faithfulness, and his compassion and willingness to carry me when I can’t go any further. I’ve felt Him speak, and hit that perfect nerve inside me. There have been times I’ve broke down crying, there have been times I’ve just been quiet.
He’s at work.
I know it. I won’t be the same person when I come out of this. I’ve already changed plenty in just a month. I’m just going to be patient, and get out of the way.
He’s been there for me before. I’m completely confident God will come through even bigger here.

This manga is soooo beautiful. The story is really good and the pictures is great. Then you are reading this you’re going to smile, cry.

Alternative Name はなのこえ
花情曲,La Voix des Fleurs ,The Voice of Flowers

Years of Released 1991

Status Completed

Author(s) Natsuki Sumeragi

Artist(s) Natsuki Sumeragi

Genre(s) Drama, Historical, Josei, Romance, Supernatural, Tragedy

Summary

4 interconnected love stories:

1)The Enchanted Peony – A valedictorian finds a beautiful peony.

2) The Butterfly Visits the Spring Garden – A butterfly turns into a human and meets a human boy.

3) The Cry of the Tiger – A man has to stay the night in the mountains where he meets a recluse family of three.

4) The Serpent Princess’s Sanctuary – A brother and sister meet after being separated at birth.

click to read

Hana no Koe Vol.001 Ch.001

Yesterday around 7pm in Smithtown, Long Island an 11-year-old girl by the name of Courtney Sipes was hit and killed by a driver while crossing East Main Street.

Before I get into my main point, I would like to extend my sincerest apology and condolences to Courtney’s mom and the rest of her family. I know all too well the pain of losing a child. It touches me deeply that this had to happen just before what should be a thankful holiday. I’m sure the grief is overwhelming. That being said, I have some thoughts on this that MUST be expressed.

I googled East  Main Street in Smithtown and came to the conclusion that East Main is a pretty busy stretch of road; especially in t he evening time as there are restaurants, bars and clubs along that particular street.  It’s a downtown area so at 7pm on a Tuesday night, you would expect that the traffic would be flowing, not at a high speed, but with a good amount of vehicles. I don’t know exactly where on East Main that Courtney was hit however on each news broadcast, the picture shows police tape in an area where there are several stores/restaurants  lined together. My main question at this point is: WHAT WAS COURTNEY DOING CROSSING THE STREET ALONE AT 7PM ON A BUSY DOWNTOWN STREET? WHERE WAS HER MOTHER?

I’m not pointing fingers or trying to place blame because according to the police and news reports, Courtney was hit, flew across the street and ended up underneath another car. That can lead one to assume that she was hit pretty hard. I’m not familiar with East Main but downtown areas like that usually have a speed limit set of no more than 35mph. Whoever hit Courtney had to be speeding. I blame them. With everything in me I blame whoever hit Courtney for her death. But there’s another piece to this puzzle and that is Courtney’s mother. Her hands are not completely clean and although I feel for her, I would like to know at what point do people start to take personal responsibility is tragedies like this?

It’s absolutely correct that whoever hit Courtney is in the absolute wrong but so is her mother for not keeping a closer eye on her. I know kids sprint into the street sometimes but in an area like that, why aren’t you holding your daughter’s hand? If you didn’t know she was even near the street, then where were you when this was going on? There’s a lot of blame to be placed but it’s not just to be placed on that driver.

As parents, people need to learn when to point the finger and when to accept some sort of personal fault in the wake of a tragedy. Always remember, every time you point a finger at someone else, there are 4 pointing right back at YOU.

November 25, 2009

What the hell is happening to our motherland? With the massacre that happened, what are we expecting from our government? I don’t know what to think of governments in general anymore. I was so shocked it happened and escalated to 59 deaths. Can you imagine 59 dead bodies buried with the vehicles they were in? How could you have this much mass and not be noticed? This is just so hateful!!!!! People, what are we doing? If we believed that politicians (or politics for that matter) would give us what we need like safety, security, prosperity, etc., could we still believe it now, after what happened? And people taking this chance to have a name for themselves, making use of this tragedy… unbelievable…….

I’m having migraine just to think of what happened. All the torture those people had to endure. How could we not hear their cry for help? How could we be like this? What is this country? Just to have a seat in the damned politics, someone was pushed to perpetrate a tragedy like this. 

As the news goes on, it becomes harder for me to breathe. I have so many questions that I could not, in my possibly naïve mind, answer in my lifetime perhaps. It’s like a negativity concentrated in a corner in my brain wanting to blow my mind away. I wish this would all end. I hope this wish would come true. This is supposed to be a season to be happy but now, how could we be?

As I was sitting here posting the last two posts, I was waiting for news of a traffic accident in town where two foreigners were involved. One of them was my friend Ben…one person was killed one injured but it has taken the last hour for me to find out for sure. Ben is gone!! I am stunned beyond words or tears….I will write more tomorrow…perhaps

AHS Driver’s Ed teacher Patrick Hughes experienced a tragic event in his last year in middle school that would forever remain stark in his memory and become the primary reason why he decided to teach the Driver’s Education program at AHS.

“My brother died right after he graduated from high school from a car accident. He ran off the road, tried to get back, overcompensated and hit a car head on,” said Hughes. “He was thrown about 100 feet from his seat. He was rushed to the hospital, and they said he was in a coma. He never came out of the coma.”

While students mostly know him for his jovial personality and how he makes driving fun and educational at the same time, few know about the grisly events that motivated him to educate students about driving itself.

The accident taught Hughes about responsibility. “The accident basically changed me. I had to take care of my three sisters,” said Hughes.

After his brother’s death, Hughes became the only male in the family.

The death brought about hard times for the entire family. “It was my first experience being at a funeral home, and going through the whole process was a tough way to learn about it. I also learned that it doesn’t matter what people say—they can’t just magically make things better,” said Hughes. “But just the action of reaching out and comforting the person is all that they need to do.”
   
These were some of the experiences Hughes kept in mind as he presented the Teen Driving and Safety forum in Clausen Hall on Oct. 30. Attended by around 30 parents and students, the event featured Hughes, Officer Michael Ferraris and Allstate Agent Angel Bu, who all talked about FCPS’s Driver’s Education program.
    
The forum was modeled after a similar mandatory program that was held in Prince William County that parents had to attend in order for their children to pass Behind the Wheel.

Hughes discussed the goals of the class Drivers’ Education program with the parents. He emphasized the process of obtaining a drivers’ license and talked about logging their 45 hours of driving with their parents. This is a significant change from last year’s 40-hour requirement. He also stressed online practice tests for students to prepare for their permit and license tests.

The presentation also showed several shocking facts and figures about teen accidents in Virginia. The highlights of the video presentation were two videos that showed the importance of using a seatbelt. These videos, which are shown in Hughes’ Drivers Ed classes, were seen by parents for the first time. The parents were shocked.

“Yes, I do talk about things like this in class. They [the students] need to know. My brother didn’t do anything wrong—back then [using seatbelts] wasn’t a law. He basically lost control of the car and didn’t know how to bring it back,” said Hughes. “Students need to know about this so they don’t make those mistakes again.”

Allstate agent Angel Bu talked about teen auto insurance policies. He emphasized that all teen drivers should be included in family insurance policies. He explained the steps that should be taken immediately after an accident. Fairfax county police officer Michael Ferraris was also present, and he talked about drugs, alcohol and distractions and their effects on the teen driver. Officer Ferraris also told parents to keep regular tabs on their children’s driving skills, and to go on regular driving trips with them.

The forum was very beneficial to the parents, most of whom were parents of sophomores about to get their permits. They learned about how to teach their children good driving skills and how to be good role models for them. The new 45-hour requirement to obtain a permanent license was welcomed by the parents, and one of them also commented on the structure of the new log, saying it was, “much easier to understand and keep track of than previous booklets.”

Hughes repeated to the parents that they have the most control over their children’s driving. “There’s a reason they give YOU
the permit, not your kids,” he said. “It shows YOU are in control. Don’t forget to use those powers.”
 
As for his message to young people, Hughes said that teenagers have a lot to learn while driving. “The most important [teenagers] have to learn is attitude. If you keep thinking you’re invincible, you’re going to have problems controlling a 3,000-6,000 pound human killing machine.” He laughed. “People often think a good driver is one who can maneuver a car well. Actually, a good driver is someone who can maneuver a car safely.”

“Dear BIONICLE Fans,

In reviewing the business across all of its play patterns and properties, the LEGO Group faced a tough question: should we take on a new creative challenge in the world of buildable figures that we pioneered in 2001?

BIONICLE re-invented the way consumers think of and play with the LEGO system. Through many chapters of compelling story and innovative product development, BIONICLE became a very strong property and an important part of The LEGO Group’s business. We think there is a significant opportunity to grow the buildable figure category, but it will take a more flexible platform that appeals to a wider range of ages through a variety of different entry points than BIONICLE has proven to deliver.

The easy decision would be to stick with a known entity in BIONICLE; but as history has proven, The LEGO Group achieves its greatest success by embracing the uncertainty that innovation brings. After all, BIONICLE almost never launched because it was such a big risk to the company’s way of doing business.

Because you have been such an important part of building the BIONICLE franchise and have been among its most valued fans, we are writing to tell you that the six BIONICLE Stars launching in January will be the last BIONICLE sets for the foreseeable future. Beginning in summer 2010, The LEGO Group will debut a new, more flexible buildable figure property created by the same people who brought you BIONICLE. At the same time, we are also expanding the category to appeal to a younger audience through an established third-party property, starting in January.

Since its beginning, BIONICLE has reflected the union of great product and a compelling story. Although there presently are no plans for more sets, the BIONICLE story is not ending. BIONICLEstory.com will remain an active site, with new story content updated by long-time BIONICLE writer Greg Farshtey. In addition, LEGO Group hopes to work with you, the fans, to continue to grow and expand the BIONICLE story universe.

This was an extremely difficult decision for all involved. But as seen in the tales of the Toa, striving for success in any mission requires imagination, new ways of thinking, and the willingness to take risks. We hope you will share the same level of enthusiasm we have for our plans for the buildable figure category.

We invite you to remain a part of the BIONICLE universe—a universe you have helped to build, and that we are confident that you will continue to build—in the future. Thank you for your continued support and dedication to the BIONICLE and LEGO brands.

With our very best regards,
Jan Faltum, Global BIONICLE Director
Lincoln Armstrong, Senior Brand Manager, BIONICLE Team Member since 2002″

Today is a sad day.  Bionicle’s ending.  Just like that.  No warning save for a few rumors.  After eight years of wonder experiences, it’s gone.  Excuse me fora moment while I weep.

<long, sad sobs>

Ok, I’m better now. 

This is a big thing.  Although many people criticize Bionicle, comparing it to the Gladitor sets, the Bionicle community is huge.  Kids all over enjoy Bionicle and the easy ways to create Toa and Glatorian, more advanced builders create astounding creatures, titans, and anything imaginable.  The popularity rivals even that of the Star Wars line.  Not to mention the multiple blogs, forums, and fan sites on the web.  Lego will be pelted with petitions and complaints.

For me, personally, this is a tragedy.  Ever since 2001, when Bionicle first came out, I have loved the sets.  I was known to have a Bionicle obsession.  Every gift- giving occasion I received Bionicle merchandise.  Bionicle trivia always flew from my mouth.  One of my favorite books was the Bionicle encyclopedia, wich I read several times.  And now it’s gone.

Let’s discuss for a moment the what Lego is doing concerning this.  They have promised to continue the  Bionicle storyline, with fan imput.  This lessens the pain for me, the story line is a great part of Bionicle.  They are going to release a new type of buildable figure that appeals to the younger age group.  This is good, I suppose.  The larger the range of buyers, the better the Lego company will do.  But what will the sets be like?  Will they use Bionicle elements?  Will they have a good storyline?  If they do have a storyline, it will probably not be complex.  Not to mention that without sets, Bionicle is just not Bionicle.

Concerning the stars: They look promising.  Nice pieces for agori- sized sets and bring back favorite characters, not to mention the new armor and foot elements.  But you must take into consideration that they are the last Bionicle sets ever.  This is the grand finale, and there are a mere six tiny sets?  No toa- sized set, no titans?  Really?

In short:

1. This is a tragedy.

2. How can Lego quit a series with a such a huge fan base?

3. What will the sets replacing Bionicle be like?

4. The Stars are disapointing for the last Bionicle sets ever.

5. Did I mention that this is a tragedy?

Today’s been very rough. It marks one month since my brother’s death.
But amid the pain, God definitely has comforted me. I sat listening again to Roosevelt Hunter’s sermon from this summer at my church, and wept in my office when he got to this point:

“Let’s go to the other side. It’s in red. Anything, any kind of opposition, any kind of adversity – that creative redemptive word can forge you through any sickness or sadness to get you to God’s desired destiny for you. His word won’t return void! No weapon formed against you will prosper. No storm, no wind, no sickness, no division will stop you! God is on your side!”