"Heaven kicked you out, you wouldn't wear a tie."
Here’s something to potentially awestruck you or make you run for the bathroom.
I found the above image on Google while actually looking for more information about a certain Godzilla model made from cicada shells. In fact, there are more angles of this xenomorph that was allegedly made from cicada remains. Here they are:
So tell me, is this appealing, or appalling?
Often when we talk about affordability, the subject of money comes into mind and discussion. We tend to place a value on money, and only money. This itself is a problem and a blindside.dddddd
I have always thought that the idea about money being the root of evil being a flawed statement. Robert Kiyosaki goes on to argue in Rich Dad Poor Dad that it is the lack of money that is the root of all evil. I happen to agree the age old saying that it is the love of money that is the root of all evil. So no, I am not about to argue that we do not need money. We do. The more the better, but that also comes in first learning how to work with money. But this will be for another story, another day.
However, there is often something that is seldom related with affordability, or even it is, it is often overlooked or unnoticed whenever someone did – whether consciously or not – mention it. And that is time. The affordability of time.
I have been recently caught in a dilemma to choose between money and time. You just have to make mutual exclusions when there just is one of you and only 24 hours in a day. Hence I make no bones about it, that I am meanwhile at a point that I cannot take two slices of cake. I need to take just one for now, until I get a bigger plate, or develop a bigger appetite.
At face value, it often seems that it is a no brainer to go for the money. Money, however, does not grow on trees. Effort and (aha) time have to be put in (even if it does grow on trees, you’ll have to plant, water and nurture it – effort and time). If we view money, effort and time as bank accounts, we will be able to see quite quickly that each one of them has to address the question about affordability.
(Yes, affordability of effort/energy needs to be considered too. I’ll probably leave this discussion for another day.)
At some point, we will stretch ourselves to the maximum capacity. There are just 24 hours in a day, and as we get older (hint: we will, and we are getting older), depleting energy level eats into the affordability of time, and we get less and less productive. Not unless we develop techniques and systems that scale all three – effort, money and time.
What makes us better users of time? I happen to agree that there really isn’t much of time management anyone can do because we don’t manage time, we manage activities. Like how we stock take our expenses, we can look at our time expenses and reduce unnecessary time drainers with an objective of certain outcomes in mind that you know you need time for:
Well, just to name a few things.
And most certainly, sacrifices are required. Some activities to be dropped really don’t count as sacrifices, really, like bingeing on television, gossip, moping about, napping too much. Then there are relationships we have to ensure adds value to everyone involved, there are some relationships we have to keep at hand’s lengths, and there are relationships to completely cut off.
You see, we only live once, and the time account in our life bank depletes by the second. The trouble is, we also have no idea at all what the balance is in the time account. Based on past performance of most indicators, we may have a lot in the balance, but it also means that if we do not plan and live in accordance to our values, it would be one long life of misery and purposelessness. If we happen to fall into the invisible category of a very short balance, can we imagine how much unfulfilled intentions and what could have been valuable and beautiful outcomes for the people around you?
The faces of old, wrinkles and all that beset toothless grin
While I have seen them as a child, these faces are now only in faded
photographs, or in distant memories.
The faces of those who had remembered the ancients,
They too now have taken their place of wrinkles and toothless grin.
The faces of children that I have seen when I myself was one
It is no surprise if they all look of the same age as mine now.
Once upon a time, they were the same faces of my parents when I saw them as a
child – tired and hopeful at the same time.
I look at the faces of children now, eyes often widened in
With amazing dreams of what their lives can be
They will someday come to where I am.
As much as I can wish for, many will also fade into realism
And like me, if our lives do not abruptly end
They too will be the only ones who remember the faces of the ancients.
And in due time take their place
But that would be long after I too have lost my teeth,
And have wrinkles accompany my grin
And after I have left this place for good
Whether having said goodbye, or not.
If I have it my way, I would be up all night. Not toiling in labour that I can hardly believe in or stand for, but to relish in the serenity that only night can offer.
The wife would have been satisfied, and the children would have been asleep. Climbing out of the covers and up the stairs to my little sanctuary on earth, there you will find me.
I might be up writing a tale, or it might be a book that you can find me asleep under when day breaks. Somewhere in between might have been a movie night, me sitting on the couch watching old classics, a bowl of chips in one hand, a glass of Merlot or Shiraz in another. On some nights, the wife might come upstairs to join me. There would be nights also when I would hear soft pattering feet up the steps, and one of my children will dive into my arms and fall asleep as I continue my almost solitude adventures.
In the morning would be when you might be lucky enough to find me at the breakfast table with the family. On other mornings, I would be stumbling down the steps with the sun already bright in the sky, while I apologise to my wife in me missing breakfast with them. There would be mornings when either one of the family would come upstairs to wake me up.
If I could dream up my productive day, it would be at the office or in the library. Wait. When in the office, I don’t mean being busy over somebody else’s business, but mine. In the library, not just because I can choose to work there in quiet, but so I can ditch my laptop aside and read whatever I want to read.
Is there such a life? If the answer is a definite yes, then I think everyone in the world would be living such lives. But I cannot also say no, because there are people who are living like this. Some have such lives fallen onto their laps, others have to fight for it. If I belong to the former group, it would likely have already happened. Since it did not, it would be more plausible to believe the latter.
It may sound like an irony that I therefore have to work hard to enter this promised land, but yes, it will therefore be a fight worth fighting for. There are giants in the promised land, and that is why we have to bear our arms and faith, and fight for a worthy prize.
You see, I was really minding my own business.
I do not stand in the middle of the road. I take my position naturally at the side, keeping out of the way of you folks walking by. You can’t say I am intruding into your space.
Has it bothered you to think, as you hop and curse when the tip of my head sinks into your toe, that 1) it is you who kicked on me, 2) I was not in your way, and 3) it does actually hurt, okay?
Have you not already learned that it is hard to kick against me? I mean, come on, why would you aim for something as sharp and as hard as I am to kick at? Wouldn’t it be more comfortable, and fun even, to kick something soft? Sometimes, my friend the rock, we both just don’t get you guys.
I know you are angry. None of my business whatever set you off. You then come along and send your exposed toe towards my head. Then you curse and scream at the pain you are accusing me of inflicting on you. Well, hello, is it not you who have used me to inflict pain on yourself?
I hear you guys insulting one another by calling them what you would call me. Oh, come on already. First you violated my space, you hurt me, and you use my name as an insult to the very bane of your own retarded lack of emotional self control? Please.
Now whoa whoa whoa. Do you look at where you are going? You are walking from over there, and I have standing over here for a very long time already. Look where you’re going. Hey hey! Argh that hurt! Stop cursing at me.
A scene that came to mind.
The day will come when it is indeed time to die. Things that we have done may be remembered and passed down the generations while others we will take to the grave.
There is no hello because we have said hello for far too many times which meant almost nothing. Too many times we awake and when our eyes met, we both know that we resent each other more and more.
What is it that I see piercing me with so much hatred from behind those eyes? What does that soul that I thought I knew so well, now tells me that it no longer knows me, and even detests my pleading for your interest, for your love.
People say that relationships such as ours are the most important, because we are one. It is not the same as all the flings we might have had, or all the friendships we have from our youth, for we are so much as one that no amount of time transcending can pull us apart. But long enough now, I feel that it has.
Where have you been? I have been looking for you these recent months, and I cannot find you. I’ve been to all the places I was sure to find you there, but no you were not. I tried to find you amongst our family and friends, but they too have not known what had happened to you. Where are you, my love?
Perhaps I have neglected you. In the rush of the bustle each day, I had grown to forget you bit by bit that I could not even realize the changes. Did you call out to me? Yes, you did. You called out to me in so many ways. You started by gently sounding out me of missed dates, bringing up fond memories of old, reminding me of the plans that we had dreamed but had yet to begin working on. Then they came a time when your call for attention became loud and angry, and our fights became intense. I fought you hard. I had work to do. I really didn’t have the time. And then there was silence. I was relieved. And it took me a long time that the silence was not of peace, but of death.
Something died. We died. We didn’t need to stop breathing or to be have been torn to pieces in order to die. I can try to theorize how exactly and when exactly our lives were over, but today it does not matter anymore. You are dead and long gone without me knowing. But today I have come to know, and I know I too cannot live another day.
I don’t know if I will see you after I depart from this world. I will not kid myself. I know I will not. Maybe after my life is cut off, I will know no more about anything. Maybe I will see the heavens open, and a heavenly host comes to take me to see you. Or maybe the ground will open up and I will see you reaching out to my feet, cursing me and dragging me down to the depths which I had sent you to.
Or maybe this letter will hopefully have been written in vain, that I will see you bursting into this room and revive me from my hopeless state, and together we will live again.
I wish I had never come to this stage where it becomes irreconciliable. I wish not the same for everyone else out there. I wish no one else loses themselves, and having to write such a note, like myself writing to you – who is me.
Lots of love and regret,