Dylan versus the volcano

Sunday, February 5

Good advice from the farmer

An Old Farmer's Advice:
* Your fences need to be horse-high, pig-tight and bull-strong.
* Keep skunks and bankers and lawyers at a distance.
* Life is simpler when you plow around the stump.
* A bumble bee is considerably faster than a John Deere tractor.
* Words that soak into your ears are whispered...not yelled.
* Meanness don't jes' happen overnight.
* Forgive your enemies. It messes up their heads.
* Do not corner something that you know is meaner than you.* It don't take a very big person to carry a grudge.
* You cannot unsay a cruel word.
* Every path has a few puddles.
* When you wallow with pigs, expect to get dirty.
* The best sermons are lived, not preached.
* Most of the stuff people worry about ain't never gonna happen anyway.* Don't judge folks by their relatives.
* Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.
* Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you'll enjoy it a second time.
* Don't interfere with somethin' that ain't botherin' you none.
* Timing has a lot to do with the outcome of a rain dance.
* If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin'.
* Sometimes you get, and sometimes you get got.
* The biggest troublemaker you'll probably ever have to deal with, watches you from the mirror every mornin'.
* Always drink upstream from the herd.
* Good judgment comes from experience, and a lotta that comes from bad judgment.
* Lettin' the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin' it back in.
* If you get to thinkin' you're a person of some influence, try orderin' somebody else's dog around.
* Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. Leave the rest to God.

Monday, January 30

Endless Road

The truth is tearing up my heart
I can't recongnize this place
The endless road without a stop sign
Can't even find a stranger this time
Why am I still holding back my tears
In this loneliness theres nothing to fear
Every chord still seems a wonder
How we could be together
Everytime i ask if this would be the last
Why am i still talking to myself
Hoping you will have the keys to my cell
Every song might calm the weather
But it just draw me deeper
How do i get out of this i think
I never will
A crystal forming in the eye
Maybe this would be the last
The winding path down my face
Till i begin to taste the bitterness inside.

Respect thy parent

You don't even have to be a mom to enjoy this one.........
Brian Hester invited his mother over for dinner. During the course of the meal, Brian's mother couldn't help but keep noticing how beautiful Brian's roommate, Stephanie, was. Mrs. Hester had long been suspicious of a relationship between Brian and Stephanie, and this had only made her more curious. Over the course of the evening, while watching the two interact, Mrs. Hester started to wonder if there was more between Brian and Stephanie than met the eye. Reading his mom's thoughts, Brian volunteered, "I know what you must be thinking, but I assure you Stephanie and I are just roommates."About a week later, Stephanie came to Brian saying, "Ever since your mother came to dinner, I've been unable to find the beautiful silver gravy ladle. You don't suppose she took it, do you?" Brian said, "Well, I doubt it, but I'll send her an e-mail just to be sure." So he sat down and wrote:
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Dear Mother: I'm not saying that you "did" take the gravy ladle from the house, I'm not saying that you "did not" take the gravy ladle. But the fact remains that one has been missing ever since you were here for dinner.Love, Brian
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Several days later, Brian received a letter from his mother that read:
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Dear Son: I'm not saying that you "do" sleep with Stephanie, and I'm not saying that you "do not" sleep with Stephanie. But the fact remains that if she was sleeping in her own bed, she would have found the gravy ladle by now.Love, Mom LESSON OF THE DAY... NEVER LIE TO YOUR MOTHER!

Friday, January 6

Our generation

Our generation and the implications TO ALL THE KIDS WHO SURVIVED the 1930's 40's, 50's, 60's and 70's !!First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they carried us. They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can, and didn't get tested for diabetes. Then after that trauma, our baby cribs were covered with bright colored lead-based paints. We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets, not to mention, the risks we took hitchhiking.As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags. Riding in the back of a pick up on a warm day was always a special treat. We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle. We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and NO ONE actually died from this. We ate cupcakes, white bread and real butter and drank pop with sugar in it, but we weren't overweight because WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on. No one was able to reach us all day. And we were O.K. We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem. We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's, X-boxes, no video games at all, no 99 channels on cable, no video tape movies, no surround sound, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet or Internet chat rooms..........WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them! We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no lawsuits from these accidents. We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever.We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays, made up games with sticks and tennis balls and although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes. We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just walked in and talked to them!
Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine that!!
The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law! This generation has produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever! The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas. We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned HOW TO DEAL WITH IT ALL! And YOU are one of them! CONGRATULATIONS! You might want to share this with others who got to grow up as kids, before the lawyers and the government regulated our lives for our own good. And while you are at it, forward it to your kids so they will know how brave their parents were.

Monday, December 26

Santa Clause

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the way my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!" My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew
that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.
Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" she snorted..."Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go." "Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun.

"Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's. I was only eight years old.

I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of
everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church.

I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat.

I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it. Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy.

Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers.
Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."

I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.

I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.

May you always have LOVE to share, HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that care... and may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus!

Thursday, December 8

A poem

THE SANDS OF CHRISTMAS
By Michael Marks
I had no Christmas spirit when I breathed a weary sigh, and looked across the table where the bills were piled too high. The laundry wasn't finished and the car I had to fix, My stocks were down another point, the Chiefs had lost by six.
And so with only minutes till my son got home from schoolI gave up on the drudgery and grabbed a wooden stool.The burdens that I carried were about all I could take,and so I flipped the TV on to catch a little break.
I came upon a desert scene in shades of tan and rust,No snowflakes hung upon the wind, just clouds of swirling dust. And where the reindeer should have stood before a laden sleigh, eight Humvees ran a column right behind an M1A.
A group of boys walked past the tank, not one was past his teens, their eyes were hard as polished flint, their faces drawn and lean.They walked the street in armor with their rifles shoulderedtight, their dearest wish for Christmas, just to have a silent night.
Other soldiers gathered, hunkered down against the wind,To share a scrap of mail and dreams of going home again. There wasn't much at all to put their lonely hearts at ease, They had no Christmas turkey, just a pack of MREs.
They didn't have a garland or a stocking I could see,They didn't need an ornament--they lacked a Christmas tree. They didn't have a present even though it was tradition, the only boxes I could see were labeled "ammunition."
I felt a little tug and found my son now by my side,He asked me what it was I feared, and why it was I cried.I swept him up into my arms and held him oh so nearand kissed him on the forehead as I whispered in his ear.
"There's nothing wrong my little son, for safe we sleep tonight, our heroes stand on foreign land to give us all the right, to worry on the things in life that mean nothing at all, instead of wondering if we will be the next to fall."
He looked at me as children do and said it's always right, to thank the ones who help us and perhaps that we should write. And so we pushed aside the bills and sat to draft a note, to thank the many far from home, and this is what we wrote:
"God bless you all and keep you safe, and speed your way back home. Remember that we love you so, and that you're not alone. The gift you give you share with all, a present every day, You give the gift of liberty and that we can't repay.
Copyright 2003 Michael Marks "I freely submit this poem for reprint without reservation--this is an open and grateful tribute to the men and women who serve every day to keep our nation safe." -----------------

In the year of our lord 2004ad August the 14th day i say let there be a blog and hence this blog is created. hmm but wait what do i want with a blog anway? Is this a place for me to whine about Global warming? The ever so real Terriost threat? or is it just how rude the chicken rice man was just now when i asked for extra chicken? Honestly I think its going to be a little bit of all the above and a little of more.. this.. this is how tiny little uniquely me see this world of ours...

Name: Dylan R Tan

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