Bought a car, but havent seen it yet. Myvi. Black. My dad officiated it first. :)
:( No More shopping after this. Damn.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
The True Faces
My journey of life has just began, just like the others. Somehow, throughout 4 excruciating days, I've discovered a true friend, who was indeed helped me went through the hardest part of my life while the one that I thought as a close 'friend' was 'gone' in an instant. What a life.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Its not all about shoes:)
The Shoe
The shoe . . . Hanging there on the clothesline
Behind the growth of trees
Shielding the makeshift lean-to shelter
Home to the vagabond, rejected . . .
Struggling with life’s problems present and past
There, out of sight of the eight-lane thoroughfare
Where they pan-handled, their meager needs to supply . . .
Fast food from the burger stations, a bottle of cheap wine
Drowning yesterday’s memories . . .
Situations in life that somehow went wrong
The shoe . . . Hanging near the entrance of their makeshift home . . .
Reminder of a life for the past fifteen years
Lived in the streets of a D.C. suburb
Found along with his watch, near the skid marked pavement
Where the tragedy unfolded just a few days prior . . .
The last coins collected, night enveloped in darkness,
Wearily crossing the heavily traveled highway . . .
Headed toward the “security” of the lean-to,
And the company of his comrades of the street . . .
Blinded by the lights of oncoming cars
Suddenly it happened—brakes screeching . . .
His limp body upon impact, hurled through the air
Lying there, his body broken, writhing in pain,
Then, a second car speeding along, the driver unaware,
Rolls over the pain-seared body . . .
TOO LATE! TOO LATE!
Sirens piercing the wintry night . . .
Red lights flashing, all traffic stopped . . .
Attendants carefully extricating the broken, lifeless body from the street
TOO LATE! TOO LATE! Dead at the scene!
6:38 P.M. time recorded on his stopped watch
The watch given to me by a city policeman . . .
As we surveyed the accident scene!
His shoe . . . My brother’s shoe, hanging not far away
Memorial to a life lost that fateful night
PFC Dwight William McKinney
US Army Veteran
Born June 17, 1945 . . . Died December 4, 1999
Donald E. McKinney
From the point of view of a shoes enthusiast.
I’ve encountered this poem while having a lunch with a friend of mine. It’s about a shoe that caught my attention. Today, I’ve received two pairs of shoes as gifts and the title of this poem touched my heart. How can a shoe be so significant in one’s life? The poet views the shoes as something hurtful and miserable, that reminded him the tragedy of his life and his late brother. As for me, shoes are made of two sides, the upper side and the down side. If life is a circle, having its ups and downs, I view shoes as something that portrays life, where the upper side and the down side may be ugly or pretty according the way of life that we choose. If the life we lead is full with sins and wrongdoings, it is just like an ugly and cheap pair of shoes, while if you lead an honest and good life, it is just like the good and exclusive pair of shoes. Both the upper side and the down side (footprints) are different, which distinguishes the quality and the value of the shoes. Although some people viewed shoes as just a pair of shoes that will be thrown away and forgotten after it is torn and used, my perspective is totally different because for me, shoes is life.
If you have ever noticed, each shoe is different. Perhaps it may be the same brand, the same price, the same patterns, but each of us have different sizes, different colours, and shoes will determine of who you are. Easy to put it this way, if the shoes are dirty and torn, we may think that the person is someone who is unhygienic. Since I am an uptight person about hygiene, I couldn’t help myself than judging people based on their self-cleanliness. Their shoes are the first thing that I would look at.
My friends said that being a shoes collector requires big amount of money, yes, indeed I agreed. Of course, most of the shoes are just being displayed on the rack, some of them I never wear, but when I am too stressful or happy, I could feel myself dancing with the shoes. The shoes are one of the things in my life that keep me alive. Although not all of the shoes are expensive, I value each of them. My mum used to say, “You’re my most normal daughter, but when it comes to shoes, you’re mentally retarded”.
The shoe . . . Hanging there on the clothesline
Behind the growth of trees
Shielding the makeshift lean-to shelter
Home to the vagabond, rejected . . .
Struggling with life’s problems present and past
There, out of sight of the eight-lane thoroughfare
Where they pan-handled, their meager needs to supply . . .
Fast food from the burger stations, a bottle of cheap wine
Drowning yesterday’s memories . . .
Situations in life that somehow went wrong
The shoe . . . Hanging near the entrance of their makeshift home . . .
Reminder of a life for the past fifteen years
Lived in the streets of a D.C. suburb
Found along with his watch, near the skid marked pavement
Where the tragedy unfolded just a few days prior . . .
The last coins collected, night enveloped in darkness,
Wearily crossing the heavily traveled highway . . .
Headed toward the “security” of the lean-to,
And the company of his comrades of the street . . .
Blinded by the lights of oncoming cars
Suddenly it happened—brakes screeching . . .
His limp body upon impact, hurled through the air
Lying there, his body broken, writhing in pain,
Then, a second car speeding along, the driver unaware,
Rolls over the pain-seared body . . .
TOO LATE! TOO LATE!
Sirens piercing the wintry night . . .
Red lights flashing, all traffic stopped . . .
Attendants carefully extricating the broken, lifeless body from the street
TOO LATE! TOO LATE! Dead at the scene!
6:38 P.M. time recorded on his stopped watch
The watch given to me by a city policeman . . .
As we surveyed the accident scene!
His shoe . . . My brother’s shoe, hanging not far away
Memorial to a life lost that fateful night
PFC Dwight William McKinney
US Army Veteran
Born June 17, 1945 . . . Died December 4, 1999
Donald E. McKinney
From the point of view of a shoes enthusiast.
I’ve encountered this poem while having a lunch with a friend of mine. It’s about a shoe that caught my attention. Today, I’ve received two pairs of shoes as gifts and the title of this poem touched my heart. How can a shoe be so significant in one’s life? The poet views the shoes as something hurtful and miserable, that reminded him the tragedy of his life and his late brother. As for me, shoes are made of two sides, the upper side and the down side. If life is a circle, having its ups and downs, I view shoes as something that portrays life, where the upper side and the down side may be ugly or pretty according the way of life that we choose. If the life we lead is full with sins and wrongdoings, it is just like an ugly and cheap pair of shoes, while if you lead an honest and good life, it is just like the good and exclusive pair of shoes. Both the upper side and the down side (footprints) are different, which distinguishes the quality and the value of the shoes. Although some people viewed shoes as just a pair of shoes that will be thrown away and forgotten after it is torn and used, my perspective is totally different because for me, shoes is life.
If you have ever noticed, each shoe is different. Perhaps it may be the same brand, the same price, the same patterns, but each of us have different sizes, different colours, and shoes will determine of who you are. Easy to put it this way, if the shoes are dirty and torn, we may think that the person is someone who is unhygienic. Since I am an uptight person about hygiene, I couldn’t help myself than judging people based on their self-cleanliness. Their shoes are the first thing that I would look at.
My friends said that being a shoes collector requires big amount of money, yes, indeed I agreed. Of course, most of the shoes are just being displayed on the rack, some of them I never wear, but when I am too stressful or happy, I could feel myself dancing with the shoes. The shoes are one of the things in my life that keep me alive. Although not all of the shoes are expensive, I value each of them. My mum used to say, “You’re my most normal daughter, but when it comes to shoes, you’re mentally retarded”.
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