Friday, July 24, 2009

Flashbacks: Karaoke

Testing, 1, 2, 3.

Coughs.


The milky way
Upon the Heavens
Is twinkling just for you
And Mr. Moon, he came by
To say goodnight to you
I'll sing for you
I'll sing for mother
We're praying for the world
And for the people everywhere
Gonna show them all we care

Oh, my sleeping child the world's so wild
But you've build your own
Paradise
That's one reason why I'll cover you sleeping child

If all the people
Around the world
They had a mind like yours
We'd have no fighting and no wars
There would be lasting peace on Earth
If all the kings and all
The leaders
Could see you here this way
They would hold the Earth
In their arms
They would learn to watch you play

Oh, my sleeping child the world's so wild
But you've build your own
Paradise
That's one reason why I'll cover you sleeping child
I'm gonna cover my
Sleeping child
Keep you away from the world so wild




This vivid recollection, mmm.

xxx

Michael Learns To Rock
Sleeping Child

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Yummy for My Tummy

Hello folks.

This is something I would like to share.
Easy to make, I can assure you.
Satisfaction guaranteed.

Prawn Salad & Seafood Cutlet



Ingredients:

1. Half a lemon
2. Lettuce (or any veggies that you like)
3. Some prawns (without their shells)
4. Big white onions
5. Sugar
6. Salt
7. Boiled potatoes
8. Walnuts (almonds would be nice too)
9. Crushed pepper
10. Extra-virgin olive oil
11. Parsleys!


Technically, I just chopped the parsleys, potatoes and onions.

Then throw them into a big bowl together with the lettuce and prawns.

Then squeeze some lemon juice.

Here's the trick. Grate in some lemon skin, but use only the yellow part. Mmm.

Add sugar, salt and pepper.

Crush in some walnuts..

Oh, and add two tablespoons of extra-virgin olive oil!

Then mix, and do more mixing.

And tadaaaa!

Too easy?


Just something I thought that is worth posting up.
Had it for lunch today.
It is so simple to make, yet so delicious!
Suitable for people who wants to eat a light, balanced meal.
Protein, carbohydrate, fibres, and minerals.

The cutlets are the best!
Those, are just simply.. Mmmph!
But I have not learnt the way to make it.
It was already on the table when I reached home.
Will ask mum.


-Joyce.

Monday, July 06, 2009

This Is Where I Live

Here is something I composed a long time ago. To share.

-Joyce


This Is Where I Live



I believe that every soul created in this space and time has somewhere to live. Whether breathing or lifeless, there is a place where we truly belong. So, embrace yourself. Pray you be prepared for the utmost divine creation.



The universe, a cosmic area where is possibly infinite in volume. Stars, dust, and everything you can think about exists right there. It is the walls of our lives, enclosing a mystery beyond our imaginations. No one alive knows what rests outside that strange barrier. Could it be something ghastly and dreadful? Or is there a paradise with mystical beings and their fantasy awaiting? Out of billions of other galaxies, the Milky Way lies in it, consisting approximately a hundred thousand light years in diameter. Its visibility from our planet is a hazy band of white luminosity that is glimpsed in the dark firmament, arching across the entire celestial sphere which is concentric and coaxial with the Earth.



There, I live.



The Earth, the third planet from the Sun and is the largest of the four terrestrial inner planets in the Solar System, both in mass and in diameter. It is also known as Gaia by the Pelasgians during the Classical Greece period, and in astronomy, the Latin name is Terra. Earth is the prime habitat to millions of species such as the amphibians, fish, birds, reptiles, insects, and mammals, which includes the human race. This place is grand, illustrious, and filled with much unfathomable wonders. Sir Isaac Newton once revealed a fascinating theory about every object that goes up must come down. It is known as gravity. Earth’s wide horizons are for us to explore, gain new knowledge, and to make an enthralling discovery. However, many unexplainable queries of nature are left unsolved although countless wise men had vainly tried to reveal the secrets of the planet. Their efforts were futile. All we know for now is that the forest green terrains spread wide across the sphere globe and is separated by unpredictable deep blue waters.



Along with the other creatures, that is where I live.



In South East Asia, a fertile piece of land slightly larger than New Mexico is developed into a country by the name of Malaysia. With its location at the bordering of Thailand, Indonesia and Brunei and along the Straits of Malacca as well as the South China Seas, Malaysia is strategic and is known as a legend for her natural resources. The fertile regions nurture sturdy trees into jungles which shelter the animals and humans living below, also providing juicy fruits to them for survival. She has plentiful of prospects, such as limestone hills and the marvellous pinnacles of the Mulu Caves in Sarawak, a state rich with historical sites and customs. The climate in Malaysia too is warm and tolerable whole year round, encouraging crops to grow well.



My mother land she is.



The people here consist of various races and religions, different cultures and colours, and an assortment of languages. It is a vivid society indeed. The unique flavour about Malaysians is that we live in unison despite the distinguish contrast in our traditions. There are the Malays, Indians, Chinese, Ibans, Kadazans, Penans, and many others living as a big family in a single nation. We teach, guide, learn, and comprehend one another with pure respect and admiration. As an example, ‘nasi lemak’, ‘char kuey teow’, and ‘chapati’ are food by different races but nonetheless enjoyed by everyone. Traditional art such as the ‘Sumazau’ dance and the ’Bharanathiyam’ dance is participated by young children of all races too. The abundance of joy and prosperity we shared together is definitely a memory to cherish in our lifetimes. Unity we achieve, harmony we sustain.



In that community is where I belong.



Facing the open Straits of Malacca where sea gulls soar through the bank of clouds above, white foams rolling up the warm, golden sands and red water crabs strolling on the beach, I could taste the salty air each day. As the Sun radiates its glare every dawn, the water glimmers like precious pearls floating to shore. I experience the cooling, gentle breeze during the days, with zephyr tickling my neck as I stand wide-armed to summon pleasure. There in Port Dickson, a solid brick house that was built by my father’s own hands in year 1988 stands proud as a residence for a family of five. The walls are painted in ivory white, signifying glory and splendour. With the tone of crimson red on the roofs of our dwelling, it demonstrates courage and nobility of the inhabitants in it. We also have a stunted tree in front of the building, and my father constructed a tiny playhouse on one of the strong branches low enough for us to mount up.



Welcome to my humble abode.



Fifteen years ago, I was brought into the world after the escape from my mother’s womb. My father loves telling stories about my childhood during the time when he had to bathe, feed, and raise me up. My face was only his palm size. I reminisce the moments when my brothers tug at my pigtails for fun and leisure, one on each side of the head. It had hurt a lot, but the recollection was priceless. As a homemaker, my mother had great passion in baking scrumptious pastries and mouth-watering cakes that she made them for breakfast every weekend without fail. I am certainly proud to say I helped out tremendously in the eating process. She was satisfied. Besides, I could remember the stars as they wink at me teasingly on dark skies when we spent our time camping out at the backyard in tents made out of large pieces of bright yellow plastic sheets and long wooden sticks from cleaning mops as supports. We also collected piles of dried brown leaves and fallen twigs from the ground to ignite a fire while the five of us sit around it to roast marshmallows and sweet potatoes. The melodious sounds from the duet of the crickets and my father’s antique guitar still play in my head till this very day. On the nineteenth day of February year 1998, I recalled the solemn day when our old, faithful family dog, Thunder, left the world to a better place. Then again, I was not crying alone. My mother held me tight as I rested my head against her shoulders, whispered into my ears and said that we mortal beings have to leave this enchanting place someday. I learnt to trust her whole-heartedly.



I learnt to accept.



I felt the eternal binding love between us and the warmth they emit banish every fear I had as a child. They were there for me, shielding me away from any form of harm, and teaching me the philosophy of this beautiful life. In this family, I realise the importance to appreciate what I have and to be strong under any circumstances. From the bottom of my heart, I am thankfully glad that I found the right place. Under the universe. In the Milky Way. On the Earth, with people so civil. Below the twinkling stars. In a sheltered home. Born into a family of eternal blooming love.



This is where I live.





Sunday, July 05, 2009

Jason Mraz's Blog

It is inspiring. Check it out at www.freshnessfactorfivethousand.blogspot.com

(:

The Beginning

An original story, a moment of realisation. Enjoy.

-Love, Joyce.





Of Love For Dolls And Wonder Cream




It was a morning like any other morning, Juliana rolled up on her feet when bright beams of warm light crept through the gaps between the curtained windows. Her bedroom was finely furnished with rich-textured wallpapers which created a slight hue of pink, plastered ceilings with detailed Roman carvings of archangels from the medieval age, and a crystal-decorated chandelier which sent out a ray of seven colours forming a spectrum at the centre of the space. She put her left foot down on the cold marble floor, and then danced gracefully to the miniature house made for twenty-nine dolls from the Princesses of The Sphere Collection at the right corner of the room. Juliana greeted each one with a pleasant smile, calling out their names one by one. She needed the thirtieth, Princess of Eastern China, to complete this collection. Still floating in her white nightgown, she headed out to find breakfast. Juliana was living a dream of materials and extravagance, almost to fit the royal blood.


Nutella’s hazelnut and chocolate cream on slices of perfect toast, she thought. Juliana’s stomach gave a disgruntled noise, obviously craving for food. As she walked along the wide passageway leading to the grand dining hall, Juliana stopped abruptly when she saw a lady dressed in formal white uniform coming out from one of the rooms. Her heart skipped a beat as she scanned the face, looking out for a positive expression.


“How is he today?” Juliana questioned with an unsteady quiver in her voice.


The family nurse looked up, gave Juliana a solemn look and moved on to the next room where all the medical equipments and drugs were kept. Juliana nodded to herself, pictured his condition in her head and proceeded to the kitchen to make a meal. What had she wanted to make? Yes, scrumptious Nutella’s hazelnut and chocolate cream on hot toast. She scoured the refrigerator for ingredients, but her eyes were empty, she was losing her mind. The cooling breeze continued to whirl around her face as she stared blankly at the jar of Nutella’s wonder cream on the first rack. Memories rushed in, and Juliana’s eyes were now filled with much grief and sorrow.


She lost her mother on her second birthday. Juliana has no recollection of meeting the person who gave her Life, this beautiful Life, but she knew the man who loved this soul well. Juliana’s father was strong, and he taught his daughter all about strength since the first day she learnt her ABC’s. He told her not to cry, tears were signs of weaknesses, he said. He reminded her that exposing the fragility of our hearts can cause grave danger. However, one night when little Juliana crept into his room to demand for a brief bedtime story, she was in a profound shock to find him so weary and breakable. She swore that she could have seen the deep tracks on his face made by the tears which flowed endlessly if she looked close enough. Yes, it cut him that terribly. Then, she learnt that the pain of losing someone can be brutal. He definitely missed his wife, but he loved their daughter just as much.

Everyday, he would tell her, “I love you, my little Juliana.” She would smile.


She took out the jar of Nutella’s hazelnut and chocolate cream, shut the refrigerator door, but did not make her marvel sandwich. Then, she took her plastic Powerpuff Girls’ spoon with her. It was her first freebie given by the Buttercup mascot at a cartoon carnival she visited long time ago. Not her best cutlery, but she liked it anyway. Heading towards his room, she felt nervous, but she needed to talk to him today. Juliana knocked on the door softly, already knowing that no one would answer. She went in quietly, eyes fixed on the motionless body lying in bed. She sat on the crimson red cushioned chair next to him, and then opened the jar of hazelnut and chocolate cream. Slowly, she scooped out a spoonful of her favourite sauce and took a mouthful as streams of pained emotions flooded down her cheeks. The salty flavour of human tears complimented the sweet taste of hazelnut

and chocolate. She trembled as she spoke.


“What happened to happy endings? And they lived happily ever after? Were you telling me lies all this while, Papa? These nine years? But you said it was a crime to lie. You said it yourself.”


He taught her how to swim in the blue sea at the age of three, teaching her about survival and living. He baked coloured sugar-coated cupcakes with her after watching the Martha Stewart show one Saturday, though the icings they crafted were obviously an amateur’s work. He bought Juliana her first puppy, went on Google to search and decide on a perfect dog’s name after she insisted, and cried with her when it died. He brought her to the beauty parlour to get her ears pierced at the age of six. He was the coolest dad in her Universe. He even allowed her to eat their special wonder cream straight from the jar, and it became a habit since that day on. He also started the doll collection for her, bringing one home from every business trip he made. He taught her how to ride a bicycle, and could only laugh out loud when she hurt herself carelessly. She learnt that it is alright to fall flat on her nose, just as long as she could stand up again, despite broken bones. He was unlike any father. He taught her good manners, showed her compassion, and he explained to her about people and their unique behaviours. Juliana’s father told her everything he knew about Life. He cared for her as if she was his most treasured possession. However, what she didn’t know was that she really was: his only and most treasured possession.


“Papa, papa! Do you promise to always, and I mean always always always love me?”


“Yes, Juliana. I promise to always always always love you.”


“And to be by my side for ever and ever and ever and we could both live happily ever after? Together with Princess of Western Europe and Royal Dolly too of course. What about hazelnut and chocolate cream every breakfast? It’s the most important meal of the day, you know.”


“Don’t ask things you already know, sweetheart.”


So, why must all of this happen? He had been unconscious for sixteen weeks. Juliana’s mind was clouded with confusion, perplexed by the sounds from the pacemaker machine. She was so angry, she was furious. She was losing hope.


“Please wake up, my Papa. You know that I need you, you realize that I would shatter into a million pieces if you leave me. You lost Mama before, surely you are aware that the wound would never recover. You are a man, you are my father, and you were strong enough to live. But I am just a child, I am your daughter. Could you bear to see me finish this race of Life all on my own, alone? I understand what you tell me about independence, I paid close attention to all of your lessons. But this is not the time, Papa. I know that you can hear me. Stay with me, I beg you, please.” Juliana was on both her knees.


“I love you,” she whispered.


One thing that little girls like Juliana didn’t know was that grown-ups like her Papa could hear every word their precious ones said, despite being in this condition. He was always there to listen. Always had been and always will. But, at that very moment, it was a struggle for him to speak; he was already having difficulty to move even at all. His limbs were useless. His eyes felt glued. His tongue betrayed his trust. Although paralyzed by his own system, he finally decided to communicate to her through his mind. He believed that she would be able to receive his last message, it was a connection that all fathers and daughters had. It was a secret most people forget.


‘Juliana, my little Juliana. Do hear your poor Papa.’


‘Will you be alright when I’m gone? Yes, I know that you will be. And you know that too, but please stop trying too hard not to believe. When you were born, your mother and I knew from the first glance that you were our sweet success. No words can explain the joy you bring into our world, you were the reason your mother left in peace. This is something I’ve never told you before; this is my last piece of pride.


Before your mother drew her last breath, she was anxious about my well-being. She knew too well that I would never survive, at least not without her. But during then I was embracing you in my arms, seeking comfort and support as I held your fragile frame. I cried and cried, because I was lost. I was too weak to bear the pain. I was a coward. Your mother’s eyes met yours and she turned to smile at me. I remember that smile, Juliana. She knew too well again that you would be my savior. You would keep me going.’


“Papa, please. I’m begging you. Do not leave me, not like this,” she cried and cried, because she was lost. It was just like he did before.


“I love you, I love you, I love you! Please wake up!” She was repeating herself. She was breaking.


She wanted to die.


‘Juliana, my child. Your mother and I would meet again, it is good news. We would be watching you; we would let no harm get in your way. Our love for you will keep you safe. Believe in us, my dear. You were always the stronger one. It is time now.’


It was then, she heard an almost silent croak, “I love you too, my little Juliana.”


xxx