tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25497439399362138342024-02-18T21:24:08.845-08:00Of life and love, family and friends...Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.comBlogger122125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-41476862726919427282015-10-17T08:47:00.000-07:002015-10-17T08:47:38.523-07:00Perhaps, Something More?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Ever thought that you were made for something more?<br />
<br />
That there must be more than just this in life?<br />
<br />
That maybe, just maybe - maybe you were created to change the world?<br />
<br />
Perhaps all of us really are heroes under the masks that we so fearfully hang on to.<br />
<br />
Perhaps truly, tiny little human beings, in our mortal, finite lives, are able to change the course of history, and the infinite course of the universe, in all of time and space.<br />
<br />
Or maybe I'm just a romantic, and an optimist.<br />
<br />
But one Man came and changed my life, and the course of the world.<br />
<br />
If no man can change the course of history - yet, if one man's direction changes due to something I said or did, did I not just change the world?<br />
<br />
Perhaps that's it. Perhaps I'm meant to change the world.<br />
<br />
One day at a time, then. Perhaps the day will come when I need to become that hero. Until then, I'll be training. I'll be ready.<br />
<br />
Day 0.<br />
<br />
<br />
His,<br />MALCOLM</div>
Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-27177322921394565092015-04-24T23:24:00.001-07:002015-07-19T11:21:45.893-07:00A Picture (Today)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWFqYTNQF3lYTT_tkh6c0WcDFGYtMEzX5EC5JF0mIxUtgcmFRqY7ZDYkFZr75_3UErXxFqU6AwM4FupfQN-rbnio_T0kFEXXCRk1MVP3bO-CZ3rma6EfVq3vIQd3GPmR4GtXk-os8No_hT/s1600/DVM2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWFqYTNQF3lYTT_tkh6c0WcDFGYtMEzX5EC5JF0mIxUtgcmFRqY7ZDYkFZr75_3UErXxFqU6AwM4FupfQN-rbnio_T0kFEXXCRk1MVP3bO-CZ3rma6EfVq3vIQd3GPmR4GtXk-os8No_hT/s1600/DVM2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Some say they paint a thousand words.<br />
<br />
Today I sit and think. The "curse of a thinker", as I like to say, is the unfortunate side effect that they - rather obviously - think.<br />
<br />
Thoughts are like wild fire. All it takes to ignite them is a spark. A memory. A sense. A sight, a sound, a scent, a taste, a touch.<br />
<br />
And yet details change. The things that matter most in life, they are the memories that remain. A picture from my childhood could have brought bad memories in the past - bad thoughts of what happened, how I was treated, how I treated others. But the only thing such a picture now does is remind me about how life was good.<br />
<br />
Even pictures from times when I thought the world around me was ending, where everything seemed bleak. All they serve to do now is remind me that God is good, and then He's always sent people to stand by me through every moment.<br />
<br />
Today I saw a picture that could hurt me, and I would be lying if I said it didn't. But I know the truth. The truth is that a picture hides way more than the eye can discern. The layers contained in a picture, especially one with so many elements involved - they can change your perspective of life.<br />
<br />
Today, I choose not to be upset. Today, I choose not to be angry.<br />
Today, I choose life.<br />
<br />
Today I'll look back at a picture, and I'll smile. The Internet may snap a shot of my life and hold it forever, but it will not snap a bad shot. I claim my right to joy. I know my source of joy.<br />
<br />
Today, I start living for today.<br />
<br />
Today, I start my 365 project. Today, I live.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
His,<br />
MALCOLM CHONG</div>
Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-60642064966708706562014-08-26T23:05:00.001-07:002014-08-26T23:05:50.957-07:00Beauty<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
What is it that really makes someone "beautiful"?<br /><br />Is it the way they swirl, the way they dance, or the way they spin the yarns that knot your heart?<br />Or is it the gracefulness in every step, the beauty in every smile, the simple silence that sets them apart?<br /><br />Is it the pain that you see, seared in their eyes - the pain of a broken soul?<br />Or is it the rare moments where, perchance by fate, perchance by sheer silliness, their smile, you behold?<br /><br />Is it the joy that radiates and glows among the others that surround you?<br />Or is it the glow that loves inside the hearts of those that believe it true?<br /><br />Is it your eyes which seem to reflect your hurt, and tell me you've seen too much?<br />Or is it the wonder that with such hurt, these memories, still, you clutch?<br /><br />I always wondered what it takes, that makes beauty... Beauty.<br />And beholding such beauty, what does that mean for me?<br />
<br />
"Beauty is a social construct". "Everyone is beautiful". I know, I know.<br />But if it's a personal opinion, what events transpired that made "I think you're really beautiful" become difficult words to flow?<br />
<br />
Why is it acceptable to stare at the beauty of nature,<br />
But rude to gaze into facial features?<br /><br />...<br /><br />What or why beauty is, I guess I'll never know.<br />But whoever designed it all... Man! He's a true Van Gogh!<br /><br /><br />His,<br />MALCOLM</div>
Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-85432586970228665842013-03-30T10:32:00.000-07:002013-03-30T10:32:01.747-07:00I Woke Up This Morning, Wishing I Never Did.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I woke up this morning, wishing I never did.<br />
<br />
Going to sleep last night was bad enough already. I still can't believe it. What happened yesterday - there's no way it could possibly be true. I stared at my hands, and buried my face deep within them.<br />
<br />
How did they... Why did he...<br />
<br />
Arrrgggghhhh! Darn tears! Have I not had enough of you over the last 2 days?<br />
<br />
This was unfair. Totally, utterly, and completely unfair! all these years following him, and he just... They just...<br />
<br />
Wasn't it just 2 days ago when we were sitting at the table together enjoying a meal? All the brothers were together, and we were all having such a blast...<br />
<br />
Come to think of it, that was a weird night too. What did he mean by "this is my body"? And why in the world would he wash our feet? We walked around quite a bit that day looking for this Passover place he specified.<br />
<br />
Curses, Jude! What was he thinking? He was one of us! Heck, he was better than most of us! He knew the law better than any one of us! He even held our funds! Our rations! To think that I even went up to him and asked him questions when I was confused about the law...<br />
<br />
Wait - When Rabbi said "go do it quickly" to Jude - did he...? No. No way. No freaking way.<br />
<br />
But didn't he know? Didn't he always know? Like the time we went to get food for him while we were in Samaria? And he didn't want any? It's almost like he just wanted us to leave for awhile...<br />
<br />
Or what about that time he called me? How'd he know to tell us to throw down our nets to that side of the boat? How did those fish get there? I left everything that day - everything. I wonder how the fishing business is going. Did Joey take over the business? Probably. What did Rabbi mean by "fishers of men" anyway?<br />
<br />
Pete always rushed headfirst. He really needs to learn to think things through.Wait, how did Rabbi know about Pete betraying him?<br />
<br />
... How did he know about us all betraying him?<br />
<br />
He was supposed to save us!<br />
<br />
What was I thinking? Johnny and I, asking about sitting at his side at the throne and stuff? What do we have now?<br />
<br />
Darned tears. Darn you! I'm so ashamed. So very ashamed. Forgive me, Rabbi. I'm a useless disciple. One of his "main three"?<br />
<br />
A coward. That's what I am.<br />
<br />
Pete's probably still out somewhere crying. I think we all are.<br />
<br />
It's Sabbath, huh? That's probably a good thing. I'm not leaving this bed. Not today. Not going to work. Like it makes a difference. Left it for too long already.<br />
<br />
I'm confused. So confused. So very confused.<br />
<br />
Wish you were... Still here... Jesus.</div>
Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-64031500306467370402012-10-26T09:11:00.003-07:002012-10-26T09:11:46.666-07:00What Kind of A...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
What kind of a world is it, when <span style="color: lime; font-size: x-large;"><b>JUSTICE</b></span> is not served, where someone can commit a <span style="color: purple; font-size: x-large;"><b>CRIME</b></span>, know they did wrong, and escape any form of <span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;"><b>PUNISHMENT</b></span> simply because they say that they "weren't aware" that such a<span style="color: cyan; font-size: x-large;"> <b>LAW</b></span> existed?<br />
<br />
A broken world.<br />
<br />
<br />
Discipline. Respect and discipline. It's what we need.<br />
<br />
Or love. Maybe what we need is love.<br />
<br />
<br />
Lots of it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
On a side note, Salam Aidiladha to my Muslim friends. May the sacrifice be ever meaningful, and may the understanding of God's being be ever clearer.<br />
<br />
<br />
His,<br />
MALCOLM</div>
Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-21046998814021231042012-02-29T17:30:00.003-08:002012-02-29T17:33:48.634-08:00Super PowerSometimes,<div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /></div><div>I wish I have the ability to teleport to those in despair and give them a hug.</div><div><br /></div><div>Just so that when they feel that the world may be against them, The Lord is not. And that there are His people who care.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yeah! That'd be pretty awesome!</div><div><br /></div><div>(Changing default answer for the question of "if you had one super-power, what would it be?")</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>His,</div><div>MALCOLM</div>Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-23682582967449394162012-02-25T11:32:00.002-08:002012-02-25T11:38:40.082-08:00ChangePeople fear it,<div>But they want it.</div><div><br /></div><div>We see it,</div><div>Yet we don't want to ask about it.</div><div><br /></div><div>We hate it,</div><div>Yet we know we need it.</div><div><br /></div><div>We don't want it,</div><div>But sometimes, we know we need it.</div><div><br /></div><div>When it hits,</div><div>We want the past to return.</div><div><br /></div><div>When it doesn't,</div><div>We ask for it to come.</div><div><br /></div><div>Change?</div><div>We need it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ready, change?</div><div>Here I come.</div>Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-72238570554779095862011-12-29T11:51:00.000-08:002011-12-29T12:59:00.864-08:00I Do Not Like Your Christians!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfyL6-Y14wccM_v3rxipYtMEfGo0bt_uADrSFVv48aJ3ca-8mXTArOPQ0y_XIVpU9yLkOJSCRv6uI_YzxKMd2RGZvYifgh-sV-aQxhbJp5XiXZZ7rXF5fHQ1Z2aWi7lYuS2E7WrsUCmWAZ/s1600/christians.jpg"><blockquote></blockquote><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfyL6-Y14wccM_v3rxipYtMEfGo0bt_uADrSFVv48aJ3ca-8mXTArOPQ0y_XIVpU9yLkOJSCRv6uI_YzxKMd2RGZvYifgh-sV-aQxhbJp5XiXZZ7rXF5fHQ1Z2aWi7lYuS2E7WrsUCmWAZ/s320/christians.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5691646692617001122" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span ><u><br /></u></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); white-space: pre; "> </span>Came across this quote on *cough* 9gag the other day - And I am *cough* not *cough* in any way or deed addicted *cough* to 9gag... (Okay maybe a little bit hahaha xD)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Anyway, the point is, seriously, how can you disagree with Gandhi? I must say - he must have a point! You know what? To a certain degree, I think that I agree with him. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Especially when he said this - <blockquote>Your Christians are so unlike your Christ </blockquote></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>It seems that very often people say "you're a Christian, you must act this way" or even "Oh, are all Malaysians like you?" Like it or not, on this earth, we are ambassadors. Ambassadors of our country, our family, a certain ideal, or all of the above!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So what makes someone, someone? (If that makes any sense at all)</div><div style="text-align: left;">The Bible says in John 13:34-35</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="woj" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: -webkit-auto; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-26665" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; ">34</sup> “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.</span><span style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: -webkit-auto; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "> </span><span class="woj" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: -webkit-auto; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-26666" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; ">35</sup> By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”</span> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="woj" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: -webkit-auto; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="woj" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: -webkit-auto; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; text-align: left; ">Here's the crunch line - Many Christians are not like Christ! And that's sad, considering the word "Christian" was a play on words, kinda meaning "little Christs" (think Christ Jr.)</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="woj" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: -webkit-auto; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="woj" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: -webkit-auto; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; text-align: left; ">So what makes someone "Christian"?</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="woj" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: -webkit-auto; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="woj" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: -webkit-auto; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; text-align: left; ">In short, LOVE.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="woj" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: -webkit-auto; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I just hope...</div><div style="text-align: left;">I just hope that if someday, someone asks...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm not too unlike Christ =S</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And if I am, tell me why, and i'd love to know why and how I can improve. Please =O</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">God bless!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">His,</div><div style="text-align: left;">MALCOLM</div>Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-11108432362465042002011-12-06T18:09:00.000-08:002011-12-06T18:40:28.501-08:002 and a Half Months...<div style="text-align: left;">Maybe it's just the stress of the exams.</div><div>Maybe it's the change in the weather.</div><div>Maybe it's just the Christmas season that's approaching.</div><div><br /></div><div>I walked into the Royal on Gordon today. In case you didn't know, I volunteer there now. I call Bingo. I came to discuss my schedule and some other issues with the person in charge of programs, Kara Thomas. While waiting for her, I heard the organ playing, so after meeting up with Kara, I went to investigate. Turns out, it's John Eccles. Pretty famous guy, he's got his own hall in UofG. Had fun talking to him. Promised I'll see him again and tell him about the <i>Prince of Wales</i> and the <i>Repulse</i>...</div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe it's just that simple piano songs remind me.</div><div><br /></div><div>I called Bingo at night, and tonight someone got angry at me. Apparently on behalf of the residents there, they're not "bumbling idiots". Huh. It definitely was my fault. Perhaps I shouldn't have repeated stuff so often. Or maybe I should've called her numbers more. Either way, she didn't win, and no win = unhappiness... I got a little uptight. I wasn't as friendly as I usually was for the last game. I think the other residents could sense that. Sweet, sweet lady gave me this:</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikCyj30o541Q-8JVlnmgs13IdIkVyGy9N4dx4Q0cQtI0D3XiGgvFI9WDs3TXMeef41uD-ICHF5x9l10havQYo2ycw0UX99ME3AspE1MhkZQpn_2ugUz9pz2NtwzVUY38rwLXEHPDn-Ry1U/s1600/DSC07425.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikCyj30o541Q-8JVlnmgs13IdIkVyGy9N4dx4Q0cQtI0D3XiGgvFI9WDs3TXMeef41uD-ICHF5x9l10havQYo2ycw0UX99ME3AspE1MhkZQpn_2ugUz9pz2NtwzVUY38rwLXEHPDn-Ry1U/s320/DSC07425.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683208084642003954" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR06ShN9tt3C9kWC_xEOS4pz_C_rzFcaFOsvdSMdEmCzSXSj-s1OgttKIFbXEMa-77g-geGsQsH8QtWW11q57tH1AJwjr43kGW8T9xwpArCgmELGtCH4jS2viI9Rwz_BU9QybFPfJpgwYR/s1600/DSC07424.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR06ShN9tt3C9kWC_xEOS4pz_C_rzFcaFOsvdSMdEmCzSXSj-s1OgttKIFbXEMa-77g-geGsQsH8QtWW11q57tH1AJwjr43kGW8T9xwpArCgmELGtCH4jS2viI9Rwz_BU9QybFPfJpgwYR/s320/DSC07424.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683208079544099650" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-RFkQhGvvDKrwTVJD6YB1WB1_mUA91SegUSEkGHrYASqajoPMtBua6QWHG9hkUgINp-GWYYVo94PktypBQyYzbtoSVoUDaUczxzN8Hm1dYLO6whyphenhyphenjeQxwFvyOOwYIDuTM42_k-9qE1Wpt/s1600/DSC07423.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-RFkQhGvvDKrwTVJD6YB1WB1_mUA91SegUSEkGHrYASqajoPMtBua6QWHG9hkUgINp-GWYYVo94PktypBQyYzbtoSVoUDaUczxzN8Hm1dYLO6whyphenhyphenjeQxwFvyOOwYIDuTM42_k-9qE1Wpt/s320/DSC07423.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683208078753367330" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe I miss comfort, and a smile that turns a frown upside down.</div><div><br /></div><div>Another lady told me that I'm doing a great job, and that they love me. Kept repeating "How terrible!" about the person who called me out. She... She does look like her. Too many memories.</div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe i'm just weak, tired and emotional.</div><div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /><br /></div><div>Or maybe it's just that <b>I miss her</b>.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's been 2 and a half months.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mama, everywhere I look, I still see you. And... And I miss you.</div><div>Too much.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Mama, this Christmas, I'm not gonna be with family. I'm not gonna be with friends.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'll be at the retirement house. I'm not quitting. I'm gonna keep smiling, even at them, the way you liked it, and the way that got you smiling back. </div><div><br /></div><div>This Christmas, I'm celebrating with the old folks. And i'm celebrating that you're with the birthday Boy. I'm celebrating for you, in your memory too.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe...</div><div>Maybe I wanna call you and talk over the phone.</div><div>Maybe I miss you more than I care to tell people.</div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe I do.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>His,</div><div>MALCOLM</div>Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-3987834745645848782011-09-26T20:30:00.000-07:002011-09-26T20:40:23.563-07:00To Mama, a Farewell, Not a Goodbye<p class="MsoNormal">To ask me to speak (or write) about the life, and all I remember about my grandma, my Mama into a few minutes (or a few words) is like asking me to write the history of the entire world unto a tiny piece of scrap paper. It simply isn’t possible. And I never will begin to think it is. Yet I shall try my best and write whatever comes to my heart in regards to my beloved Mama.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Mama very love you, you know?” Those are the words that meant the world to me, and they still do, so much more than anyone could ever know.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">For as long as I can remember, Mama was always there. Strongest lady I’ve ever met. Mama and Kongkong loved each other. They’d always get into arguments and Kongkong would let her win. I still remember a squabble they had when I was about 10 or so. Mama said that Kongkong was “siao”(crazy), and Kongkong on the other hand said that Mama was “kurang ajar”(insolent). They loved each other. Now Kongkong and Mama are finally back together again. I’d bet anything that Kongkong missed Mama too much, and asked God to bring her home. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Daddy used to always make fun of her, and she’d always shrug it off. Every single time. Deep down, I know she loved it. She was fun. She loved us all, and even when people made fun of her, she’d just go “cin bo eng” (useless), in the most loving way possible, as my family loved to do. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I remember Mama calling us at home, and when I answered the phone, she’d go “ah miao keng ha?” (that’s how she pronounced Malcolm). I loved it. Or everytime when she’d call mummy in the office, she’d ask “po nek le to ti ko?” (mummy was known as po nek)(where are you?) or “po nek le to opik ha?”( you’re in the office?) Do correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe she was also the person in the family who started the whole point of saying “he (sounds like hair)” among my mother and her brothers and sisters. Even today you can still hear them saying that when they talk to each other.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">My cousins will all agree with me on this next point – we always say that Mama was “so cute!” She didn’t know very much English at all, but what she lacked of in quantity she more than made up for in quality. Plus she possessed (arguably) the greatest confidence of anyone her age. When she was full, she’d say “a bad word” (ask the cousins or myself if you want to find out what this is). There’s also a story about “funny, letchego” but again, ask the family. As such, so many phrases in our family were actually coined by Mama.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Mama was very opinionated about things and when she hated something, she hated it with a passion. When she loved something though, I’m convinced that no force on Earth could possibly stop her from getting it. I was blessed to be on the receiving end of her love. At one point of time, she followed a Chinese drama on TV (it aired every night from 10-11, I believe) and if ANYONE were to call during that time, she’d ignore the phone. Best part of it, she even WARNED us that she was going to do it. Yet I can remember that once, not realizing the time, I called from Canada during that time, and yet she took some time off her show to talk to me. Granted, it wasn’t the longest chat in the world, but she did. And I never will forget that.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The truth is, I might have seen this coming. While I was on a missions trip to North Africa, I got word that Mama wasn’t feeling too good.<span> </span>I begged God to allow me to see Mama, and not to take her home yet. He did. I spent every week of the summer going up to JB to see Mama, and those were some of the best memories of a few personal times I’ve had with Mama.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Mama was a great storyteller. Just over the holidays, she told me stories about her family, how she used to speak/read Japanese, and how her family ran a convenience store during the Japanese occupation. She also told me something that possibly not many people knew about, that her father was Baba. Even mummy never knew that. I felt super proud, super special to know that.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">One of the things I miss (and will continue to miss the most) is her smile. The last few times I saw her, she was really down. She wasn’t too well. And I could tell. But every single time I looked into her eyes and smiled at her, she’d look back at me and smile, with the brightest, truest and most loving smile you’d ever see. And at that very moment, just for awhile, everything would seem normal again. All the chatter about her being unwell would die down, the fact that she wasn’t holding her food wouldn’t bother me. At that split moment, she was just Mama. My Mama.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">If I were to write every single story regarding Mama and the effects that she’s had on my life and that of my extended family, all of you would be sitting here for days! If you ask me personally though, I’ll tell you stories, great stories of my lovely grandmother. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">And hey, you can say that I’m selfish, I don’t care. But I really really rather have the grandma that I love back in Malaysia waiting for me when I come home for the holidays rather than in Heaven. I guess it just wasn’t fair to keep her away from Kongkong for so long.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Mama very love you, you know?” I’m sorry Mama, I never had the chance to let you know. I love you more. Always have, always will. I’ll be waiting for the day when I see you again, back with Kongkong, at the Pearly Gates. Meet me there.</p>Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-50194716589700941852011-03-15T20:20:00.000-07:002011-03-15T21:11:02.356-07:00For Japan, I Lift a Prayer...<div><b><u>For Japan, I Lift a Prayer</u></b></div><div><br /></div>For Japan, I lift a prayer,<div>And I know it ain't all much,</div><div>But I'll kneel to the Redeemer,</div><div>And cry out for His touch.</div><div><br /></div><div>It always seems so easy,</div><div>Take for granted what we've got,</div><div>Yet one day you have a TV,</div><div>And the next, you have but naught.</div><div><br /></div><div>All their lives they walk those streets,</div><div>Through the motions day by day,</div><div>Then earth, just beneath their feet,</div><div>For some reason, just gave way.</div><div><br /></div><div>Jobs they lost, homes they lost,</div><div>Worst yet still, their lives they lost,</div><div>Raging rivers still they crossed,</div><div>Heaven knows how much, the cost.</div><div><br /></div><div>Japan, the world looked up to you,</div><div>While you were hated, you stood true,</div><div>Up, upon world's ranks you grew,</div><div>You showed the world, and then they knew.</div><div><br /></div><div>This time, again, I know you will,</div><div>You'll rise back up, and take the wheel!</div><div>You show the world they can't you, still,</div><div>"Nihon-jin" with the iron will.</div><div><br /></div><div>Still today I sit right here,</div><div>In silence, in grief, and even fear,</div><div>I bow my head, and take a peer,</div><div>To the screen, and shed a tear.</div><div><br /></div><div>For Japan, I lift a prayer,<div>And I know it ain't all much,</div><div>But I'll kneel to the Redeemer,</div><div>And I'll cry out for His touch.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>"LORD I lift up the people of Japan into your hands. Help them. Keep them safe. In Your name."</div><div><br /></div><div>MAL</div>Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-9642692171699310112011-03-13T22:45:00.000-07:002011-03-13T23:01:22.469-07:00A Choice...Apoptosis... Or "Programmed cell death" (PCD)...<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Now WHY IN THE WORLD would a cell wanna plan to kill itself???</div><div><br /></div><div>BUT, simply because of PCD, a tumour can be suppressed, cells containing viruses protect the rest of the cells in the body, feet not be webbed...</div><div><br /></div><div>Imagine for a second if that cell, and any one of those cells were to say "hey! I wanna live! If you wanna die, YOU go kill yourself!"</div><div><br /></div><div>... Well I guess that kind of how mutations look like, and tumours happen...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Funny how this is actually very much like life itself, or my life, in the very least.</div><div><br /></div><div>I believe that every day, we make a choice.</div><div>Do we live for ourselves? Do we live for others?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Today, I have made my choice.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Today, I <span class="Apple-style-span">DIE</span> to myself,</div><div>.</div><div>.</div><div>.</div><div>.</div><div>.</div><div>But I <span class="Apple-style-span">LIVE</span> for Him. </div><div>And by doing so, in <span class="Apple-style-span">LOVE</span>, for the people around me.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>MAL</div><div>:-P</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>P/S: What choice will <span class="Apple-style-span">YOU</span> make, today?</div>Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-59167893358123618212011-02-14T21:00:00.000-08:002011-02-14T21:07:49.396-08:00Valentine's DayThe one day in a year where everyone talks about this crazy little thing called "love"...<div><br /></div><div><div id="abw" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: auto; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 15px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 15px; text-decoration: inherit; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); border-top-width: 3px; border-top-style: solid; border-top-color: rgb(255, 51, 0); position: relative; text-align: left; width: 930px; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "><div id="abm" class="clear" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-decoration: inherit; zoom: 1; position: relative; "><div id="abc" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: -336px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-decoration: inherit; position: relative; width: 930px; "><div id="articlebody" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-right: 351px; margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-decoration: inherit; position: static; "><p style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-decoration: inherit; "><b style="font-weight: bold; ">1 John 4:8</b><br /><i style="font-style: italic; ">Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.</i></p></div></div></div></div></div><div><br /></div><div>Good stuff xD</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>May all of you be filled with love =)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY Y'ALL!!! =DDD</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>MAL</div><div>:-P</div>Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-63367910134724324902011-01-22T18:07:00.000-08:002011-01-25T23:03:00.755-08:00Everyone Has a Story<div><p class="MsoNormal">Everyone has a story. This... This is mine.</p></div><div>If there ‘s one thing and just one thing I’d have to say I’ve been craving all my life, I’d have to say that it would be “a sense of belonging”. Actually, to be honest, it’s always been more of a fear of losing that very sense of belonging that freaks me out. You see, ever since I was young, I was always included in everything. I learnt that the way to be successful is to be the centre of attention. Whether it was being the teacher’s pet, or doing what everybody else does, or even to the extent of physically abusing my friends, I found it satisfying being everyone’s favourite. Or... Did I?</div><div> <p class="MsoNormal">You see, the whole problem with just “belonging” can be summarized in four words - “It’s never QUITE enough”. Mentally, I understood the whole concept of being a “good person” when it was required. In fact, I even knew how to be a “model” person. Being praised, and having people pay attention to me was one of the greatest joys I could find. But there’s where the whole issue was. I was bitter inside. And whenever I felt that I didn’t belong quite enough, the bitterness welling up inside came out. To put it in simple terms, I was an angry kid. A REALLY angry kid.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Funny how life works out, isn’t it? You see, all my life I grew up with great Christian parents (and I think they’re the best parents in the world, but I might be biased), and I always heard about this “God” person. I knew that people who followed this “Jesus” person are called Christians, and I knew how they were supposed to act. Yet, who- no... Rather WHAT was that to me?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Well one day I heard a message that changed my life. It was a story of love. A love, so crazy that I’d even dare call it madness. It was about a man who lived a perfect life, never did anything wrong, and knew a friend who was quite a scoundrel. One day though, when his friend was about to be punished for committing heinous crimes, because he loved his friend so much, this perfect man took the place of his friend. Everyone scorned upon him, even his friend. And what did he do? He even gave up all he had, and wrote everything in his will in his friend’s name. So the question now is, what will the friend do with it? Will he live his life in memory of his friend who loved him so much, or ignore everything to do with him, not even accepting whatever’s in his friend’s will?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Now here’s the creepy part. The perfect man was Jesus. The scoundrel? That’s me.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And in His death, He gave me the option of becoming God’s child. I was left with an option. What would I do with my life?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">In light of Jesus’ complete and total acceptance as well as love for the wreck that I am, I broke into tears. Here’s someone who gave up everything he had because he loves me. The selfish, bitter, angry ME. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">There’s something about love and what it does to you. It changed alot about the way I think. I didn’t care so much that I’m accepted and in the middle of everything anymore. When you know someone loves you IN SPITE of, not BECAUSE of what you do, it messes you up. You live for Him. You love Him back. And in turn, you find peace. People noticed that I started getting angry less. I felt joy.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Well I won’t my story’s over. In fact, it’s far from over. I still stumble once in awhile, but He’s always there to pick me up. My story’s actually turned into a love story now. You know, one of those stories where the hero loves the heroine and does all the crazy stuff for her, but she only falls in love with him at the very end, when everyone’s like “oh so you FINALLY understand!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">More than anything, I found a sense of eternal belonging, a belonging like no other, one that cannot be extinguished, nor is by any means temporal.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I found my sense of belonging in One who is in His very being, love. As for you, I hope you find it too.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Everyone has a story. Mine’s far from ended. What’s yours gonna be like?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Love so amazing, so divine,</p><p class="MsoNormal">Demands my soul, my life, my all.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">MAL</p><p class="MsoNormal">:-P</p></div>Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-82968880929395562242010-11-25T20:51:00.000-08:002010-11-25T21:08:05.018-08:00Oh Lord...Why does the sun seem to fade?<div>Why does the world seem to grow silent?</div><div>Where have the noises of the world gone?</div><div>And why, why has silence seemed to weigh so heavily on my shoulders?</div><div><br /></div><div>Whencefrom comes the dew of paradise,</div><div>The drops that drench my coat?</div><div>That seem to fill my back with burdens,</div><div>And remind me of the weak one I am?</div><div><br /></div><div>When order and chaos meet,</div><div>And disorder gains the upper hand,</div><div>The question I ask myself...</div><div>Is why in the world does rain now make me think of this?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Oh Lord, I am stressed...</div><div>I must say I miss snow...</div><div>I miss the simple reminder of Your love...</div><div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /></div><div>You know I don't want to be testing You...</div><div>But please Lord, can You please spare me a pat on my back?</div><div>A touch from You...</div><div>It's all I need to move on...</div><div><br /></div><div>I thank You Lord for all I have,</div><div>And I thank You for what I will...</div><div><br /></div><div>You know I love You,</div><div>And I thank You because You will speak to me in the next couple of minutes...</div><div>Thanks Abba!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Your son whom You love.</div>Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-78468865996009357412010-11-09T22:17:00.000-08:002010-11-09T22:33:05.313-08:00Sorry...I lashed out again...<div><br /></div><div>It's upsetting, and I even BEGIN to speak of unsettling, when you seriously put your mind onto work, and practically spend two whole days slaving yourself to about 300 pieces of paper in the basement of a library (where it's most quiet), trying to memorize every single detail, and then going into an exam only to notice that you have no idea what the professor's trying to get at...</div><div><br /></div><div>The frustration...</div><div><br /></div><div>The anger...</div><div><br /></div><div>The bars, filled with the sound of people getting drunk...</div><div>Only to notice that the reason it's full...</div><div>Is the same reason i'm slightly disturbed...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>But I will look up to the hills...</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><h4>Psalm 121</h4><div><p><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-16083" style="font-size: 0.65em; line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; ">1</sup> I lift up my eyes to the mountains—<br /> where does my help come from?<br /><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-16084" style="font-size: 0.65em; line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; ">2</sup> My help comes from the LORD,<br /> the Maker of heaven and earth.</p><p> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-16085" style="font-size: 0.65em; line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; ">3</sup> He will not let your foot slip—<br /> he who watches over you will not slumber;<br /><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-16086" style="font-size: 0.65em; line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; ">4</sup> indeed, he who watches over Israel<br /> will neither slumber nor sleep.</p><p> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-16087" style="font-size: 0.65em; line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; ">5</sup> The LORD watches over you—<br /> the LORD is your shade at your right hand;<br /><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-16088" style="font-size: 0.65em; line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; ">6</sup> the sun will not harm you by day,<br /> nor the moon by night.</p><p> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-16089" style="font-size: 0.65em; line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; ">7</sup> The LORD will keep you from all harm—<br /> he will watch over your life;<br /><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-16090" style="font-size: 0.65em; line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; ">8</sup> the LORD will watch over your coming and going<br /> both now and forevermore.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><b><span class="Apple-style-span" >AMEN</span></b></p></div></span></div>Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-14621108444513931472010-11-07T19:47:00.000-08:002010-11-07T20:00:16.625-08:00The WheelAhhh... Life...<div><br /></div><div>You walk around and one day you see a wheel spinning...</div><div>And then you look around and because there's your pals around,</div><div>You say "Nah, not interested! In fact, I really hate it!"...</div><div>But the wheel never leaves your mind...</div><div>And one day you come back and no one's around,</div><div>Then curiosity gets the better of you and you go</div><div>"Hey, I wonder how it's like being on the wheel?"</div><div>And so you walk to it, try to climb it, and get squashed...</div><div><br /></div><div>So you develop a phobia of that insolent little wheel</div><div>And it occurs to you that you DON'T REALLY NEED that wheel </div><div>Then people tell you that you've gotta take a chance if you're ever gonna master the wheel...</div><div>That the only way you could control the wheel is by climbing on it...</div><div>And you see your friends, all with their own wheels...</div><div>And...</div><div><div>And then curiosity gets the better of you and you go</div><div>"Hey, I wonder how it's like being on the wheel?"</div><div>And so you walk to it, try to climb it, and get squashed...</div></div><div><br /></div><div>And the process repeats itself a couple of times...</div><div>But honestly, you DON'T need that wheel...</div><div>But you still wanna try it...</div><div><br /></div><div>And the wheel keeps spinning...</div><div>And while some are happy being on a wheel,</div><div>Some aren't, and keep wanting to change wheels</div><div>Whilst others, find themselves completely satisfied without a wheel...</div><div>But the circle continues...</div><div>And life goes on =)</div><div><br /></div><div>And the wheel? It keeps spinning =D</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>MAL</div><div>:-P</div>Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-48132889277797668652010-11-06T22:30:00.000-07:002010-11-06T22:37:27.643-07:00Psalm 23The Lord IS my shepherd, I shall not WANT<div>He makes me LIE DOWN in green pastures,</div><div>He LEADS me beside STILL waters,</div><div>He RESTORES my soul...</div><div>He LEADS me in paths of RIGHTEOUSNESS</div><div>for HIS name's sake</div><div>Even though I WALK through the valley of the SHADOW of DEATH</div><div>I will FEAR no EVIL</div><div>for You ARE with me</div><div>Your ROD and Your STAFF, they COMFORT me</div><div>You PREPARE a table for me IN THE PRESENCE of my ENEMIES</div><div>You ANOINT my head with oil</div><div>My cup OVERFLOWS</div><div>Surely, GOODNESS and MERCY with FOLLOW me ALL THE DAYS OF MY LIFE,</div><div>And I will DWELL in the PRESENCE of my Lord, FOREVER!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It's... Overwhelming...</div><div><br /></div><div>God</div><div>Is</div><div>Awesome!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>MAL</div><div>:-P</div>Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-78603809934069567042010-09-12T13:51:00.000-07:002010-09-12T14:06:27.208-07:00And I am Reminded of You Again... And I'm Blown Away, Again...Today in church I was reminded again of something I had almost forgotten...<div><br /></div><div>Once again tears came down my face...</div><div><br /></div><div>So the preacher was talking about how we always question...</div><div><br /></div><div>And for some reason, this question ran across my mind and stayed there...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>"Jesus... What held You to that cross?"</div><div><br /></div><div>And then it struck me...</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; "><h1 style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 51, 153); font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; ">“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends (John 15:13).”</h1><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; ">It wasn't the nails that hung Him there...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; ">It was ME...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; ">The prophet Isaiah said</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; "><i><span><p><span><span>"But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed".</span></span></p><p><span><span>"All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way: and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all." Isaiah 53 :5,6</span></span></p></span></i></span> And what did I do when You were hanging there, Lord?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-24159" style="line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">32</span></i></sup><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">As they were going out, they met a man from Cyrene, named Simon, and they forced him to carry the cross.</span></i><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-24160" style="line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">33</span></i></sup><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">They came to a place called Golgotha (which means The Place of the Skull). </span></i><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-24161" style="line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">34</span></i></sup><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">There they offered Jesus wine to drink, mixed with gall; but after tasting it, he refused to drink it. </span></i><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-24162" style="line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">35</span></i></sup><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">When they had crucified him, they divided up his clothes by casting lots.</span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></i><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-24163" style="line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">36</span></i></sup><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">And sitting down, they kept watch over him there. </span></i><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-24164" style="line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">37</span></i></sup><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Above his head they placed the written charge against him: THIS IS JESUS, THE KING OF THE JEWS. </span></i><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-24165" style="line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">38</span></i></sup><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Two robbers were crucified with him, one on his right and one on his left. </span></i><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-24166" style="line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">39</span></i></sup><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Those who passed by hurled insults at him, shaking their heads </span></i><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-24167" style="line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">40</span></i></sup><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">and saying, "You who are going to destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself! Come down from the cross, if you are the Son of God!"</span></i><p><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></i><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-24168" style="line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">41</span></i></sup><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">In the same way the chief priests, the teachers of the law and the elders mocked him. </span></i><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-24169" style="line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">42</span></i></sup><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">"He saved others," they said, "but he can't save himself! He's the King of Israel! Let him come down now from the cross, and we will believe in him. </span></i><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-24170" style="line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">43</span></i></sup><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">He trusts in God. Let God rescue him now if he wants him, for he said, 'I am the Son of God.' "</span></i><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-24171" style="line-height: normal; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">44</span></i></sup><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">In the same way the robbers who were crucified with him also heaped insults on him.</span></i></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-style: normal; font-size: 16px; ">I... I hurled insults at You too...</span></i></span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span">But You hung there... For the same guys who cursed You, who spat at You,</span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span">And for me... You who knew no sin...</span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span">You became sin...</span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span">I just wanna say...</span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span">I love You...</span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span">And...</span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span">Thank you again Lord Jesus =)</span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span">MAL</span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span">:-P</span></p></span></span></div></span></div>Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-48298338077218157992010-08-31T07:07:00.000-07:002010-08-31T07:24:01.446-07:00Wake up...<b>Myth:</b><div><br /><div>Does heaven have layers?<div><br /></div><div>Those who were born say, Jews, would be at the top layer?</div></div></div><div><br /></div><div>Then those who were born, I don't know, Arabs?</div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe then the Caucasians?</div><div><br /></div><div>Then maybe, umm those born in the Asian countries?</div><div><br /></div><div>And even then, those from Asia would be divided into ethnic groups, no?</div><div><br /></div><div>After all, we're all so different, right? Right? Right?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Truth:</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 16px; ">Colossians 3:10 and have put on the new man who is renewed in knowledge according to the image of Him who created him, 11 where there is neither Greek nor Jew, circumcised nor uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave nor free, but Christ is all and in all.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 16px; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: normal; font-size: 16px; ">No, in essence, we are all human.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: normal; font-size: 16px; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: normal; font-size: 16px; ">Say what you want, love me, hate me...</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: normal; font-size: 16px; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: normal; font-size: 16px; ">People need to learn, racism isn't something we should go through...</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: normal; font-size: 16px; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div>Wake up! Are we really that different? Look closely! The guy beside you, is he REALLY that different from the OTHER guy across the street?</div><div><br /></div><div>I've always disliked politics 'cause they use people as tools for their own agenda...</div><div><br /></div><div>Can't you see? Racism... It's another tool of politics, nothing more...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Nothing more...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><b>"If heaven doesn't divide its' inhabitants via colour, what right have we to divide ours in that way?"</b></i></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>MAL</div><div>:-P</div><div><br /></div><div>P/S: It's only meant for those who feel hurt reading this, and if you do, i'm sorry... But I urge you to look at it openly... (and I know it's not those who generally read this blog) =D</div>Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-82075633669358550182010-08-16T22:32:00.000-07:002010-08-17T00:05:30.255-07:00Has Anybody Ever Thought of How Disgusting It Is?The most filthy thing in the world...<div>The carrier of the worst diseases...</div><div>Yet so many are enslaved by it...</div><div>They demand it, they worship it...</div><div><br /></div><div>So many live their whole lives craving more of it...</div><div>How many have given up families,</div><div>Given up their health,</div><div>Given up all they ever really owned for it?</div><div><br /></div><div>The ones who own it "succeed"...</div><div>The ones who don't, are either "backwater" or "failures"...</div><div>People kill for it,</div><div>Or they steal for it...</div><div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /></div><div>But is it worth that much?</div><div><br /></div><div>'Cause at the end of the day,</div><div>As they lie in their bed,</div><div>Most say...</div><div>"I wish I bothered more about other stuff than...</div><div><br /></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">MONEY</span></b>"</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>MAL</div><div>:-P</div><div><br /></div><div>P/S: Then again, the very last bed they sleep in, the tomb that they're buried in... I guess that calls for abit of cash too, don't it?</div><div>...</div><div>Then I guess money does rule our lives =D (And our deaths too!)</div>Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-54560694234248244252010-08-10T11:32:00.000-07:002010-08-10T11:37:09.273-07:00Sometimes...You blame yourself too much...<div><br /></div><div>Hey, don't take ALL the credit! It ain't all about you! =D</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>MAL</div><div>:-P</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>P/S: Grandpa, it's been 2 years... Wait up, I'll see you again someday =) I love you, always have and always will! We all do...</div>Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-91358151705465616032010-08-05T23:37:00.000-07:002010-08-06T00:13:15.297-07:00In a Perfect World...Happy 100th post, blogger my friend =)<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b><u>In a Perfect World</u></b></div><div><b><u><br /></u></b></div><div>In a perfect world,</div><div>People won't see the colour of the skin...</div><div>But rather, the moisture that flows within...</div><div><br /></div><div>In a perfect world,</div><div>There won't be darkness in every heart...</div><div>But love, and honour, like beautiful art...</div><div><br /></div><div>In a perfect world,</div><div>Others we'd see before ourself...</div><div>The art of giving, not taking, we'd delve...</div><div><br /></div><div>In a perfect world,</div><div>Swearing, cussing we wouldn't see...</div><div>Man, I think we'd all have a great vocabulary...</div><div><br /></div><div>In a perfect world,</div><div>There'd be no tears...</div><div>But man, there'll be rejoicing! And partying that'll be fierce...</div><div><br /></div><div>In a perfect world,</div><div>There shan't be begging in the streets...</div><div>But manna for all, or even some sweets...</div><div><br /></div><div>In a perfect world,</div><div>They'd all do what they all love...</div><div>And when the day's done, thank their Father above...</div><div><br /></div><div>In a perfect world,</div><div>They'd all know where they should go...</div><div>And all those smiles, hey, that would show...</div><div><br /></div><div>In a perfect world,</div><div>Doubtless would all people see...</div><div>And say "this's where i'm meant to be"...</div><div><br /></div><div>In a perfect world,</div><div>"There'll only just be you and me"...</div><div>Well, that's just a corny line, you see?</div><div>So nah, that just ain't gonna be...</div><div><br /></div><div>In a perfect world,</div><div>Wars, droughts, they ain't gonna happen...</div><div>Why? Coz they just ain't got a reason...</div><div><br /></div><div>In a perfect world,</div><div>There won't be a lie about what we fear...</div><div>Both sides of a story we'd ACTUALLY hear...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>In a perfect world,</div><div>I wouldn't be</div>Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-10707069236859762852010-06-01T10:12:00.000-07:002010-06-01T10:20:10.617-07:00Just... One... More...One more... One more buddy... One more...<div><br /></div><div>Speaking of one more...</div><div><br /></div><div>Let's go into this:</div><div><br /></div><div>ONE LINERS! xD</div><div><br /></div><div>Okay, I figured i'll start doing 1-liners each day as a tribute to whatever happened during the day (but i'll only start after the next post... You'll see why on the next post I write =)</div><div><br /></div><div>For example, i'll just write something like...</div><div><br /></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">A one-liner a day keeps the boredom at bay...</span></i></b></div><div><br /></div><div>or something like</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><i>If I had something that is basically nothing, and nothing that is basically something, then I would have something, but yet it would not be nothing... Would it?</i></b></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>And that would be all I write for the day...</div><div><br /></div><div>Pretty cool huh? (And totally uncharacteristic of Malcolm lol xD Let's see how long this can last hehe xD)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>MAL</div><div>:-P</div><div><br /></div><div>P/S: Of course, I'll still put the trademark MAL and the :-P at the end, just for you xD</div>Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2549743939936213834.post-39216817343586418882010-05-12T00:13:00.001-07:002010-05-31T11:27:05.734-07:00ChangeI'm HOME!!! Woohooo!!! =D And now that the excitement of coming back home has lessened a little bit, time to return to good ol' blog =)<div><br /></div><div>Ok, on to serious business...</div><div><br /></div><div>Someone once said "<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px; font-family:sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><b lang="fr"><a href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/plus#French" title="plus" style="text-decoration: none; background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">plus</span></a> <a href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/%C3%A7a#French" title="ça" style="text-decoration: none; background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">ça</span></a> <a href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/changer#French" title="changer" style="text-decoration: none; background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">change</span></a>, plus <a href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/c%27#French" title="c'" style="text-decoration: none; background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">c’</span></a><a href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/est#French" title="est" style="text-decoration: none; background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">est</span></a> <a href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/la#French" title="la" style="text-decoration: none; background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">la</span></a> <a href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/m%C3%AAme#French" title="même" style="text-decoration: none; background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">même</span></a> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><a href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/chose#French" title="chose" style="text-decoration: none; background-image: none; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">chose</span></a>" <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">or rather, "the more things change, the more they remain the same"...</span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px; font-family:sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><b lang="fr"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px; font-family:sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><b lang="fr"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Funny, isn't it? How after 8 months away from home, you come back to see stuff that only happens back at home?</span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px; font-family:sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><b lang="fr"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">How after close to 3 years of not meeting your best friend, you can have simple, unhindered conversation, unblemished by trying to hide stuff from him?</span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px; font-family:sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><b lang="fr"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">How after learning so much about something, after experiencing so much, you come back to the very beginning?</span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px; font-family:sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><b lang="fr"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px; font-family:sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><b lang="fr"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">To be perfectly honest, I'm glad =) Yes, change is something that's due, something that absolutely needs to occur...</span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px; font-family:sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><b lang="fr"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px; font-family:sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><b lang="fr"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">But yet, there's always something about the stuff that remains the same... The feeling of deja vu, the comfort of knowing where you are, the feeling that says "Heyyyy... I know this feeling/place/person/etc..."</span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px; font-family:sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><b lang="fr"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px; font-family:sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><b lang="fr"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">There's just something about:</span></span></b></span></div><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px; font-family:sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><b lang="fr"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Driving</span></span></b></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;">Being able to sing aloud</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;">Speaking a language you've spoken your entire life</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;">Meeting buddies you haven't seen in ages</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;">Having a late-night snack</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;">Being able to hug and kiss your parents</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;">Being free, not being bound by thoughts/certain worries</span></span></li></ul><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;">That enables me to feel... At home... At peace... And relaxed...</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;">Yeah, so I am losing out in certain degrees... I don't think so... As for me, I'm glad =)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;">Stay happy, enjoy the finer details in life, guys =)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;">God bless =)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;">MAL</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;">:-P</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;">P/S: I miss some of you guys... Contact me ASAP! You know who you are lolz xD</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;">...</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;font-size:13px;"><i>Nothing I can say, total eclipse of the heart...</i></span></span></div></div>Malcolmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14414123138158190781noreply@blogger.com0