It’ll Never Be Good Enough

We’re always complaining– about everything.  However rich or beautiful we are, it’s never good enough.  We never look good enough.  We never have enough.  However great life is going, there’s always something to complain about.

I was washing the dishes and got annoyed: it’s not fair. I’m always left with chores around the house when my mom is at work.  Always. The more I thought about it, the madder I got.  When my mom got home, she was her usual tired self, and I thought: why does it have to be this way? Just when she thought her job was getting good, it turns bad.  People’s aura affects me, as in, if you’re mad, I’m mad. If you’re annoyed, I’m annoyed.  So yeah.  There I was thinking how much life isn’t fair.  Why can’t everyone just be happy?

That’s when my song came on: All this Time by OneRepublic.  Dang. One song can truly change your mood.  I thought: what the hell am I complaining about? Why am I such a brat? I should be happy that I have dishes to wash, a mother that comes home and who has a job, running water, and just having the opportunity to live.

If I had an honest resume, it would say: “My quality: great complainer!”  It’s disgusting, really.  Not just me, but everyone else in the world (ok, most… some people don’t complain as much).  We complain too much.  Nothing is good enough.  We always find room for improvement.  However many times I look at the mirror, my reflection is never good enough.  I could have whiter teeth, better structure, be a better person.  . . never good enough.  When will we stop? Never? I don’t know, but I sure do need to work on this.

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Congratulations

It’s weird. As much as I want to be angry, I just can’t. I’m happy for you.

image

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The Prodigal Son

[Jesus continued: “There was a man who had two sons.  The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them.

“Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.

“When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death!  I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’  So he got up and went to his father.

“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

“The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’

“But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet.  Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate.  For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.

“Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing.  So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on.  ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’

“The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him.  But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends.  But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’

“‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours.  But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’”]

I’ll be honest: I never liked that story.  Every time they would say this gospel at church, I would get annoyed.  Haha, I’m not that good a person, huh? It’s not the gospel really, but the fact that the father forgave his son just like that.  I hated how he gave him the all his wealth even after the fact that his son betrayed him.  I felt bad for the older brother who’s been at his father’s side this whole time.  It was unfair.  How does the bad one get rewards and the one who’s been his right hand not?

But today, I understood.  I understood it all. After watching this film, and watching the making of it… I have no words.  Yes, I cried at the end.  I urge everyone to watch this beautiful film by Jubilee Project.  PLEASE. It’s great.  If you never got the story like I did, maybe watching this would make you think otherwise.  Now I feel like a spoiled brat who sided with the older brother.

THE 8 minute film:

Behind the scenes (this is where I truly got it. So i recommend watching both.)

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“Money doesn’t buy happiness”

Money doesn’t but happiness.  She kept telling herself that.

Yet, her life was in danger and only a hundred grand could save her.  No.  Stop it. She said.  Life isn’t about currency.  I can live happily without money. But she needed it.  Only that hundred grand could pay for her operation.  A payment for life; what a tragedy.

She turned on the television.  Typhoon- the biggest one yet- tore down an entire area.  Thousands of women, children, and men died.  Millions suffered.  Giving them paper money won’t help? What would they do with it, right? If there are no resources.  But, it can save them… just like it could save her.  Nations can help each other, giving food, shelter, and clean water.  Yet, we need money for it.  She sighed.  Why must good health, the critical problem, be only given to those who have money?

If she ruled the world, she wouldn’t make anyone pay for medication.  But how is that possible? That is what the world revolves in now.  It’s an exchange.

The paint on her walls seemed to get whiter the more she stared at them.  Time passed by.  She closed her eyes and prayed, asking, “Why must it be this way?”

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I Wish I Had the Words

I wish I had the words to describe

The thoughts, in my brain, that hide

Can see exactly what I mean

But when it’s time to show what I’ve seen

I get stuck

How do I explain

This thing that’s making me insane?

.  .  .

 

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Perseverant procrastination?

There is a basket of fresh laundry waiting to be folded at the side of my bed.

A million things need to be done… so much that I might just explode.  Surely you have had moments like these in your life? What do you do?

I usually end up overheating myself by doing as much as I can in one sitting.  This time is different, though.  I’m using perseverant procrastination.  Yes, I just made that term up.  You can tell because it doesn’t even make sense.  It’s almost an oxymoron in itself. 

However, what is perseverant procrastination (in my own made up terms)?  Let me first clear up that it is not the normal “useless procrastination that wastes the hours of your life” type of deal (for instance, doing unproductive “work” that does nothing to your life).  Perseverant procrastination is letting out all your stress by means of “expelling out your soul.”  I’m on WordPress, writing this blog, just for my own sake.  It’s taking my mind out of the nerve-racking  events that are happening and about to happen in my life; but just staring at my blog background… I already feel calmer.  The sunset just reminds me that the day ends to bring in the night, and that it will be okay. Life will always have its surprises. 

Ok, I think that’s enough for me to wake up.  I need to get on the folding of clothes and studying…

Have a wonderful night/morning everyone! 🙂

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Ugly

Ugly.

She felt so ugly.  So, so, ugly. Uglier than anything that you could ever think of. She wished that she would have just been born a rock, hidden in the deep caverns and away from humanity. 

Why she couldn’t be like the other girls, she didn’t know.

She traced her fingers through the silver lining of the mirror. An ugly reflection stared back at her.  She clenched her fist and broke through the glass, shattering shards into her knuckles.  Tears flowed from her eyes, and her mascara etched the pain that she felt through her skin.

All those memories, which she wasn’t a part of, haunted her.  Maybe if she was prettier, he would have been hers.

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What is your priority?

This question keeps lingering in my head.  For the past year, my priority has been college and getting good grades.  I’ve also realized that happiness shouldn’t be something that we put last on our list. 

Next on my list was getting a job.  After turning 17 a couple of weeks ago, I’ve turned my attention on earning money, mostly for my future years ahead as a college student and also for random expenses.  I wanted to afford my own things, without having to rely on my parents for money.  I wanted to start saving for the future.

But what’s more important that the future? The present of course.  I keep thinking of the possibilities of deaths.  As much as I’d love to save for my future life, it’s good to think of, again, my true priorities.  My true priority is my family.  I haven’t seen my grandmother for 8 long years, and I honestly think that it is more important to be with her than be with some materials that means nothing in the end.

What if I die tomorrow? What if she does? I know that it’s such a bad thing to think about, but that’s the perspective I look at.  I need to save up for a plane ticket to try and see her.  I miss her so much; I can’t even put it into words.  She is just like a mother to me: a lady who raised me for most of my childhood… She is so crucial to my life.

I love you, Nanay.  I hope you live a long and healthy life.

What is your true priority? Make sure that you pay attention to it before it’s too late.  Life is short enough; make the best of it.

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“Six Months to Live”

I started volunteering last Friday at the hospital as a Candy Striper.  The tasks they have as do are very little, like give out ice water, change sheets, and do paper work.

All of that seems almost unimportant, compared to what the doctors and nurses do for the patients.  However, there was a time that made all the small things add up, and made me feel like I was being valuable:

 

I saw him.  He was a very frail, skinny old man.  I passed by his room many times but never bothered to go in since he was sleeping.  No one visited him the entire 4 hours that I was at that floor, except for the nurses. (Maybe some went later that day, I’m not sure).  Finally, I passed by one more time and found him awake, looking sad and weary.  I knocked and he let me come in.  I asked if he needed something, and he said that he wanted water, so I got him some.  Trying to break the ice, I asked, “How are you doing today, sir?”

His response was dim, “I’m dying.”

It was a depressing phrase, so I said cheerily, “No you’re not!”  Maybe I should have rephrased that differently.

 I thought that he was just another miserable man, thinking that he was dying.  That was shallow of me,  But everyone will eventually die, right?

His voice was rough, “They said I had 6 months to live.”

Boom.  I didn’t know what to say… I didn’t even say I’m sorry.  I just blanked out. 

Finally, I asked if he wanted a newspaper to read.  That seemed better than sitting down and doing nothing to him, so he said yes please.

I smiled, “I’ll be right back.”  I went downstairs to grab him one and came back up with the promised newspaper.  He seemed so happy to receive that newspaper, and I was glad that something that small could make a patient a little better.  I talked with him a little more.

He said something so small that I’ll never forget. “You’re a good girl.”  He didn’t just say it like that, but he said it in such a thankful, sincere way.  It’s as if the couple of minutes I spent with him was the best thing he got all day. 

Finally, I told him to have a nice day and he said (sincerely again), “I will now, thanks to you.”

 

I know it seems like that was nothing, but to me, it was something. That old man was so sad when I first saw him, and even though he’ll probably still be sad at times, that moment that I could share with him was awesome.  I know that it brightened up his day enough.  And even if he only has six months to live, I hope he knows that people still care about him, even complete strangers. 

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Is Knowledge Really Everything?

I remember reading a short story during Freshman year, called Flowers for Algernon.  (I might reread it, since I forgot most of what happened).  It was about a mentally challenged man, named Charlie, who worked as a janitor in a factory.  He became the subject of a series of experiments, to see if it was possible to make him more intelligent.  A former experiment was done with a lab rat named Algernon, and it seemed to be working.

Charlie started off with a low IQ of 68.  With the surgical techniques, his intelligence tripled.  It was sad though.  He figured out that his coworkers had been manipulating and making fun of him when he had special needs. Although he became smarter, he also became less happy.  As we read the story in class, my teacher asked us if we would rather have been the happy Charlie or the intelligent Charlie.  The happy Charlie had no idea of what the “real world” was like, just living his days, but again, he was happy. His IQ shot up so high as he his procedures got longer.  So I thought about that, as a little Freshman in high school.  I thought that having his insane knowledge would be better.  He could have been a millionaire, with his mental ability.  Why wouldn’t you want to be smarter, right? But knowledge comes with a price.  For Charlie’s point-of-view, it turned bad.  He became too smart, that it was hard to communicate with the “average” people he was around with.

{It ended up that the rat, Algernon, was declining in his mental abilities, just as Charlie got smarter.  He noticed this and figured that he, too, would soon be like the rat.  Eventually, Algernon died and Charlie dropped down to his normal IQ level again. (There is more to the story, and I suggest reading it).}

Even if Charlie did stay as “smart” as he was, would it have been better than being clueless but happy? Now that I think of it again, I start to wonder.  Of course, knowledge is very important to me.  I think that it is one of the greatest gifts that is given to us in this world. Humans are curious.  We want to know things.  I’m going to school, not only for a career, but also to have more knowledge of the medical field.  I think it is something that I can use to help others out.

However, I think back to the very young me. I was like Charlie in a way.  My head was full of wonder, but I didn’t know much.  The world seemed perfect to my eyes.  I never had a real bad day, I think, until I turned 13.  It was then when people started telling me “facts” about the “real world.” Bad things happen, they say. That’s just life.

That is true to a certain extent.  But what if I didn’t know everything that I know now? I’ve seen and known how awful the world is.  So would it be better if I was happy and didn’t know anything?

Maybe I’m more in the middle now.  I think knowledge isn’t everything. Happiness is more important.  We should use our knowledge smarter, to make us happier.

If you have it, might as well use it for the better, right?

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