Wednesday, July 25, 2012

The Optimists Creed

I think everyone should read this and take it seriously.
If everyone were to incorporate this optimist’s creed into their lives, it could really change the world.

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

How Love Fades

People always say that love fades, that no matter how much in love you are with someone, it will go away, along with that full hearted feeling, that weak in the knees feeling, that feeling that no matter how close you get to them, you’ll never be close enough.

Love dies, they say, and it dies naturally.

Love dies, I agree, but does it die naturally? I think not.
Love dies bit by bit, little by little, one day it is full to overflowing and you will do anything, anything to make this person happy because they make you so happy. Then somehow it starts to feel different and different, and different, until one day you realize that you just can’t be bothered, that you can’t imagine loving this person the way you used to, that somehow even if you tried, it would never, ever feel the same.

That doesn’t happen naturally.
It happens as result of betrayal, betrayal of trust and betrayal of love.

Love is magic; it’s a full cup of beautiful, lyrical, happy magic. Magic that makes you do things and give things you could never have imagined with the knowledge that you would do more, give more and still be happy because it’s what you were made for.

But this cup of love can only be full when trust is complete. When you totally trust that this love will not hurt you intentionally, betray you or make you unhappy, then the cup of love remains magical and full.

The moment trust is betrayed, the measure of love in the cup reduces drastically, doubt sets in and then you’re unable to love as fully as before, because now you’re trying to protect yourself. The moment you start to try to shield your heart from being hurt by someone because you’ve lost the belief that they’ll never hurt you, it becomes impossible to love them as fully as before. You forgive, but trust is the hardest thing to restore one it is diminished. So the cup of love never fills up, it remains a smaller measure of what it was before.

The more trust is betrayed, the more the cup of love reduces until one day, it is totally empty and love is dead.

That’s how love fades.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Ronald Reagans Letter To His Son On Marriage

This letter by former US president Ronald Reagan,  to his son Michael, recently came to my attention and I couldn't help publishing it here for all to see. Please read on.

In June of 1971, just days before his 26-year-old son, Michael, got married, future-U.S. President Ronald Reagan sent him the following letter of advice. It really is quite stunning.

Michael Reagan
Manhattan Beach, California
June 1971

Dear Mike:

Enclosed is the item I mentioned (with which goes a torn up IOU). I could stop here but I won't.

You've heard all the jokes that have been rousted around by all the "unhappy marrieds" and cynics. Now, in case no one has suggested it, there is another viewpoint. You have entered into the most meaningful relationship there is in all human life. It can be whatever you decide to make it.

Some men feel their masculinity can only be proven if they play out in their own life all the locker-room stories, smugly confident that what a wife doesn't know won't hurt her. The truth is, somehow, way down inside, without her ever finding lipstick on the collar or catching a man in the flimsy excuse of where he was till three A.M., a wife does know, and with that knowing, some of the magic of this relationship disappears. There are more men griping about marriage who kicked the whole thing away themselves than there can ever be wives deserving of blame. There is an old law of physics that you can only get out of a thing as much as you put in it. The man who puts into the marriage only half of what he owns will get that out. Sure, there will be moments when you will see someone or think back to an earlier time and you will be challenged to see if you can still make the grade, but let me tell you how really great is the challenge of proving your masculinity and charm with one woman for the rest of your life. Any man can find a twerp here and there who will go along with cheating, and it doesn't take all that much manhood. It does take quite a man to remain attractive and to be loved by a woman who has heard him snore, seen him unshaven, tended him while he was sick and washed his dirty underwear. Do that and keep her still feeling a warm glow and you will know some very beautiful music. If you truly love a girl, you shouldn't ever want her to feel, when she sees you greet a secretary or a girl you both know, that humiliation of wondering if she was someone who caused you to be late coming home, nor should you want any other woman to be able to meet your wife and know she was smiling behind her eyes as she looked at her, the woman you love, remembering this was the woman you rejected even momentarily for her favors.

Mike, you know better than many what an unhappy home is and what it can do to others. Now you have a chance to make it come out the way it should. There is no greater happiness for a man than approaching a door at the end of a day knowing someone on the other side of that door is waiting for the sound of his footsteps.



P.S. You'll never get in trouble if you say "I love you" at least once a day.

It is so good, so thoughtful, it makes me want to clap whenever i read it. Yes guys, a woman always knows, no matter the lie you tell, or how you cover your tracks, she always knows when you haven't been 100% hers and it diminishes your relationship and the love she has for you. 

So whenever you experience the temptation or opportunity to 'step out', the decision you have to make is not only based on your morals and values but on whether you're willing to risk the strength of your relationship, for the rest of your lives, on just a few minutes of illicit pleasure.

Friday, January 27, 2012

Musings ......2012

Its 2012 and this year I will be older!!!!. I have come to those years of my life where I no longer look forward to my birthdays with eagerness, instead I nurse a silent trepidation, am I getting too old to be the person I always wanted to be?


I guess you get that way when you haven’t achieved a lot of your dreams. For me that could be the case. I haven’t written a book, travelled abroad, gotten a Master’s degree, gotten married or even…...oh well can’t tell everything.  My life at this stage is very, very lacking in achievements.


But anyway, this year my birthday will come and I will enjoy it. I will enjoy most of the year because I have achieved the thing I always wanted the most, I have fallen in love….(smile, smile, blush, blush)


Ok. Close that chapter. This morning after mass, a lady offered me a ride to my office which was really out of her way. It’s really heartwarming to meet people who show you that there is still some kindness in this world. God bless that lady and if she ever gets to read this…. Well lady I think you’re exceptionally pretty.


On a not so heartwarming note, I was on a bike this afternoon and the idiot almost drove into the path of an oncoming car… and worse!… after it happened the guy kept claiming he was right! If I wasn’t so shaken I’d have slapped the living daylights out of him.


I just read on twitter that Babangida will not seek elective office anymore, that made me sad. I want him to contest every four years and lose each time, no punishment is enough for the man who legalized corruption in Nigeria. IBB if you don’t agree with me, tell me what good legacy you left for Nigeria.


And in the US, Obama keeps talking of fairness and taxing the rich at higher rates. Based on calculations done by… I forgot his name… Oh yes! David Indiviglio of The Atlantic. Even if the rich in America paid 100% of their income in taxes, it wouldn’t even come close to filling the budget deficit. So maybe Obama should find another line to incense the masses into voting for him, or maybe not, this line seems to work on 70% of ignorant Americans who think the rich are to blame for all their problems.


I find that I can no longer read Cosmopolitan Magazine in public, there is sex on every page! Guys in my office see the cover and give me a speculative look, like…. Hmmn……… Vogue, of course, remains the ultimate in magazines.  


PS I will finish a writing a novel this year.


I will finish a writing a novel this year.

I will finish a writing a novel this year.

I will finish a writing a novel this year.

I will finish a writing a novel this year.

I will finish a writing a novel this year.

I will finish a writing a novel this year……………………………. I wonder if the more times I write it , the more chance there is of it coming true….

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Am I afraid of life?

Are you?

I don't know the answer to my question. I dont want to be afraid of life though, I want to conquer it. I want to stare it in the face and say 'boo'.

I've been reading so much my eyes ache, been working so much my back aches. Its crazy. I wish everything were beautiful.

Love is not the end of unhappiness. You can be in love and still be unhappy.... Wisdom.

I'm currently reading 'The Way of the Shadows' by Brent Weeks. I find that I like fantasy novels. I like the magic and the strange events. I like the intricate patterns that weave together a world that truly does not exist. I like that I admire the writers.

I am afraid that George R R martin would die before finishing 'A song of ice and Fire'...... it gives me nightmares.

At the arrivals area of the international airport today, people pressed their faces against a glass barrier, eager to catch a glimpse of their relatives, their loved ones, their eagerness undiminished by the fact that no matter what the formalities at the airport would not hold thier loved ones for more that a few hours at worst, that no matter what they would still come out, they stood there hungry for that first glance like thirty men in the desert.



What else do we live for?

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Christians Protect Muslims during Demonstrations In Egypt

This picture was taken during Yesterday's demonstrations in Egypt and shows Christian demonstrators protecting the Muslim demonstrators who were praying during their prayers by forming a ring around them and linking their hands.

Photo Courtesy @NevineZaki from BlackBerry for Twitter

This is not only touching but also truly inspiring.
Our differences do not mean that we cannot live together.

This is not the first time this is happening in Egypt, on January 7th several Muslims including two of the president's sons, stood to protect a Coptic Church during the Christmas Mass.

It seems there is a lot to learn from Egypt. PS it won't be the first time.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Get Well Soon

Made this for a friend. Thought I'd show off my

The Illusion of Independence

The illusion of independence.

A couple of hours ago I chatted with a friend and talked about things like relationships, commitment, marriage and children. At some point she asked me why I still didn’t want to commit to a relationship.

The illusion of independence I replied not really sure what I meant. I had never thought about it before it just slipped into my head and I said it. Then I started to think about it.

Imagine a girl or a young lady like me who is not in any sort of permanent romantic relationship. Any ones I have had in the past have never lasted longer than the time it took me to get bored, tired or just inconvenienced enough to push them away. But that’s not every girl, that’s just me and I do have commitment issues.

At the heart of my commitment issues lie my fears. Those fears largely consist of what I would have to give up in order to become part of a real relationship. If asked what I think I would have to give up my first answer would probably be my freedom. My freedom to think, feel and do what I want, My freedom to make or not to make decisions, be as hardworking or indolent as I see fit, to be and do as I want with no input from anyone else.

But that’s all mental isn’t it? As much as being in a relationship would mean that I have to think about another person before taking any real actions, to what degree would it really affect my freedom in the above respects. A small degree only I am sure.

I would lose the freedom of my future. That’s another fear. The most pressing one for me, I think. The traveling I want to do, the places I want to go, books I have to write, experiences I have to have. How can I do those when I have to live within the confines of someone else’s expectations, desires and needs.  The joke is that in my present freedom I am not living this future, I am not traveling, writing books, or experiencing much. Trapped in my present life this future that demands this freedom is as nebulous a concept as it would be were I ’trapped’ in a relationship. 

What I mean is this ‘There is no freedom of the future, there is only a freedom of now’. If I were flying as I want to right now then I would have a right to demand a relationship that lets me fly. Stationary, I have no such right, neither do I have a right to ignore the relationships of a stationary nature around me in the fear that once in them I would not at some vague future date be able to fly.

Finally my independence, the ability to make decisions about my life based solely on my needs and desires. To go when I want and come when I want without having to deal with the needs emotional or otherwise of someone else. Being unfettered by the bonds of responsibility for somebody else either physically or emotionally. That is what I treasure, the fact that when I want, I will be left alone.

But in reality there is nothing like this. There is no independence. Everybody has to give something and everybody does. At work maybe, to the community, in school, at some time or point something else or someone else determines what you will do with your time. You can come and go as you please but doesn’t a lot depend on who you are coming to see and where you are going? Only the hermit perhaps may be truly independent.

We cannot be truly independent, we all just have relationships with different aspects of life.  For some lucky ones there is the ability to have relationships with many aspects and balance them all.

There is no independence. There is only an illusion. The illusion of independence.  It precedes a grim reality. The reality of solitude.

Monday, January 17, 2011

Discovering Harlan Coben

I recently discovered Harlan Coben.

Funny, when you consider how much I like to read. I should have discovered him when his first book came out. I am one of those people who are lost to the outside world when we’re reading. I call it being “in the book”. When I’m in the book I don’t see, hear or smell. I will let you imagine how many meals I’ve condemned to ashes while happily “in the book”.

In those days I fed myself a steady diet of Sidney Sheldon, Danielle Steel, John Grisham, Jackie Collins and every other popular writer of the 1990’s. I also read Mills and Boon, Harlequin and every other romance publication. The thing is I just loved to read. I would read anything. I read Newsweek, Time Magazine, toothpaste wrappers, everything and I was never satisfied.

In the last few years though I grew disillusioned with all the popular fiction that kept on coming out of publishers houses. The sight of another Nora Roberts book, with the same storyline, only with different characters would fill me with derision again and again, Danielle Steel got so sentimental it actually hurt to read her books, even Jackie Collins lost her edge (compare how all the people we don’t like conveniently die or go out of the way in say ‘American Star’ to the sharp edgy decadent ride of ‘Chances’)

I discovered British Chick lit, I read Bridget Jones diary, fell in love with Wendy Holden, was out there with Minty Malone and couldn’t wait for Lucy Sullivan to get married. While I engrossed myself in these predictable romances, I also started reading the classics again, I read Vanity Fair and read and reread Pride and Prejudice, and Jane Eyre. I made up my mind to totally ignore all popular, commercial type fiction and this I did without regret.

Until Harlan Coben.

I read my first Harlan Coben about eight weeks ago towards the end of last year, since then I have read four others. I am currently reading one and even as I type my fingers are itching to get back to the book (I would have, just that I’m in the office).

I know Harlan Coben is not perfect, his lead character is always almost the same man, a professional, in his thirties or early forties, with the same values and a belief in real love. These men are probably the different variations of Coben himself. But does he take you for a ride!

I guess it doesn’t pay to be too rigid about what one reads, though I know I’ll never read any Nora Roberts novel written after 1995. I’m reading some popular fiction again. I read ‘the girl with the dragon tattoo’ and right now I have the other two books by Stieg Larsson safely in my drawer waiting to be read.

PS the best book I read last year though was ‘Water for Elephants’ by Sara Gruen.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Ten Greatest Hits of my Life

  1. (1988?) KinderGarten. The first time I spelt my name. That might not seem like much but my name ‘Osomiame’ is actually quite long. Everyone, including my parents had always called me ‘Somi’. I used to write Somi in all my books. One day without even thinking about it I wrote my full name on a new book. Only realising what I had achieved afterwards. I was so excited I ran straight to my parents and basked in their congratulations.
  2. (2000) My private tutor in chemistry Mrs Elogie telling my mum that I was one of the best she had ever taught. 
  3. (2000) S.S.C.E Chemistry. Ehinomen asked me what I’d written in a certain question and heaved a sigh of relief when she found out she’d written the same thing.. Ehinomen!!!! 
  4. (2000) A1 in mathematics... Maths was always the easiest subject for me though. 
  5. (2001) Getting my correct Jamb score. I had received a wrong failing score at first. I thought I had failed until they sent my real score. 
  6. (2001) My SAT results... my percentiles had me very tickled. 
  7. (2002) Some guy who later went mad from smoking too much weed told me I was the most intelligent, articulate and well read girl he’d met in a while. He was brilliant. 
  8. (2007) Architectural history class. Prof Mrs. Ogunsote exclaiming after I’d answered a question “I knew she would get it right” 
  9. (2009) Anthonia Imokhai’s Yearbook Page. Best Friend: Osomiame Evangeline Ekhasomhi. 
  10. (2010) Tolu Akinyemi’s reply to my poem ‘and so it ends’. It was a beautiful moment.
 Other hits.
  • Hearing from my mum that my brother had gotten into the course and school he wanted. I was so happy I cried
  • Finding a note on which I had written “I love you daddy you are my hero” a long time ago in my father’s desk drawer
  • Visiting day SS2, It was already about 6pm and I thought no one was coming. My mum and sister came to see me.
  • My Aunt Paulina’s wedding in 1996. I was happy and crying at the same time
  • Hearing that I was an artist with words
  • (2005) my first screenplay, Hearing I had a wonderful way with words
  • My first make-up, A week after my first break-up.. I didn’t know I was crying until he told me.
  • My first computer
  • Discovering Yanni
  • Hey there Delilah.

German Man Castrates 17 year old Daughter's 57 year old Boyfriend

I just read somewhere that a father in Germany has castrated a 57 year old man with a bread knife for dating his 17 year old daughter.

What do you think?

Many people are quick to yell kudos... I’d do the same if it were my daughter etc.
While I am convinced that any fifty seven year old man carrying on an affair with a teenage girl is predatory and deserves the worst, the truth is he didn’t force her. It was a relationship. She agreed to it because she found something she wanted.

Now I understand what the father did, when it comes to our children we sometimes let our emotions rule our heads. We are more likely to turn into animals in protecting our children than in anything else. But he didn’t have a right to castrate the other man, his issue was with his daughter and he should have tried to find out what had driven her to a man so much older than herself.

Many parents will always see their children as their babies, the thought of such an old man putting his paws on your baby is enough to sicken and enrage any loving parent. But before we start picking up breadknives we should always take a deep breath and think.

PS... If any dude tried that with my daughter... Well….....

Monday, December 13, 2010

Ridiculously Underdressed... Again!

They say smart people never make the same mistake twice. I have always thought that I was smart but oddly my mistakes keep on repeating themselves. Does that mean that ‘They’ are wrong or that I’m not as smart as I think? (God forbid). Either way for the second time in a very short time I have ended up in the most embarrassing position imaginable., Ridiculously under-dressed at a party.

Let’s look back to about two years ago, during my service year. I was handling a design for someone, a friend of a friend. This man, who happened to be a widower, sometimes showed a more than professional interest in me. But I wasn’t very disturbed because there was hardly any opportunity for him to spend time alone with me. So he would call, tell me about the job I would send feedback, that kind of thing.

Anyway one day I was supposed to send him some company profiles right? He said he wasn’t in town but would be the next day Saturday. It was going to be a busy day but he would be at a party at Sheraton Ikeja for about four hours, perhaps I could bring the documents to him? I said yes.

So that day, a Saturday, I did my chores, dressed in jeans and a shirt and hopped in a cab to Ikeja ( the job was paying). I imagined that I would go to the banquet hall, call him from outside and he would come pick his papers. Abi?

I got to Sheraton and made my way to the banquet hall. I had been there for a dinner once before, while I was on IT. Except that day I’d worn a ball gown and everything. Now here I was wearing jeans, a shirt and black ballet flats trudging towards the banquet hall and calling the guy on the phone to tell him I was there.

The party was already in full swing. It was a 70th birthday plus book launch of some dude from Shell. Outside the hall the ushers at the door gave me the eye while I ignored them and waited for my friend to pick my call. And then, there he was with a smile on his face pulling me inside the hall. Before I knew what I was sitting at a table surrounded by guys in suits and native attire, all around me were ladies dressed glamorously in gowns and such and I was wearing jeans, not even black jeans...... blue!

Suffice it to say for the first thirty minutes I was too mortified to do anything aside from be totally miserable. Later on I perked up though, enjoyed the food and flirted a bit. But that was after I psyched myself into believing that despite my disgraceful state of dress...... I was really the most beautiful girl there... Hah..hah!

Anyway fast forward to last Friday. You know when someone invites you to a party and you’re not sure you’ll go and you tell them so, and then you forget all about the party, even the date, then on the day of the party they call and say “when are you coming? We’re waiting for you” and for some reason you can’t say no and you start rushing to get dressed etc? That happened to me last Friday. I was supposed to go to this Christmas party being organised by my friend’s office, Or rather she wanted me to come. I’d already told her I wasn’t sure.

I forgot all about the date.  I even woke up sick that day, after dilly dallying at home trying to decide whether to go to work or not, I finally went, under-dressed even for work... (It doesn’t matter at my workplace cause I’M AN ARCHITECT YAY!!)

Anyway, halfway into the day, while I was fooling around in the office pretending to work, my friend called me to remind me about the party.

“Oh I’m not coming” I said. ”I told you I wasn’t”

“No you didn’t” she exclaimed. “You said you were coming, why don’t you want to come?”... And so on and so forth.

So I told her I wasn’t dressed for it... and she said... “Don’t worry about it... The dress code is casual”.

It was not.

Thankfully it was an outdoor party.. and night came quickly.

Thank God for red wine, fruit smoothies and flirty guys... I kinda had fun....;)

Friday, December 3, 2010

The Interloper

The Interloper

She was only eight years old when it happened. They had gone to the village on holiday, to visit the grandparents. How different they were from all the other children, how clean, how refined, and how rich. their mother didn’t want them talking to any of the village children but their father insisted that they should, it was his village after all and before he had gone to the city and worked his way to wealth he had been as much a part of this dusty dirty village as any of the village children.

So they played hide and seek in the bush, ran with the village children to the stream, climbed trees and watched as old men smoked their pipes. Their mother hovered around fearfully, itching to pull them back from the people she saw as dirty and diabolic. But her husband won and she let them play.

Every morning they were bathed and dressed in their fine clothes, the girl who was eight wore little pink dresses with satin ribbons, the boy who was eleven, wore shorts and smart shirts. Everyday they returned home dirty and dusty, but exhilarated and happy.

One day the girl didn’t get up to play early enough and her brother went without her, by the time she caught up he was by in an abandoned farm with two of the older boys, where were the other children? She wondered. As she watched from the trees she saw that her brother was crying.

In the native dialect which both children had been taught from infancy the older boys were calling him a coward, they kept on saying ‘You must get us back our ball’.

She saw her brother look inside the old abandoned well, beside which they were standing, and shiver, one of the boys brought a rope ‘We will lower you inside’ they said, ‘it’s not deep, when you get the ball we will pull you back up’. 

She was watching when they lowered him inside, her handsome brother who was always first in his class, she was watching when they dropped the rope and walked away, she heard the splash, or maybe she imagined it, but when they had gone she ran to the well to help her brother, the ball was floating on the surface, but he wasn’t there.

As fast as her little girl legs could carry her she ran back to the house, to tell anyone to help, as she entered the living room, out of breadth who did she see but her brother sitting between her parents watching television.

Happily she ran and hugged him, he didn’t tease her or call he flower face as he always did, she didn’t wonder, she was too happy, she watched him throughout the day, glad that nothing had happened to him. But before night the strangest suspicion had began to build up in her mind. What if he wasn’t really her brother?

The next day all the other children went to play. But she went to the well, because she wanted to know for sure that her brother wasn’t there. But he was, by now his body had risen to the surface. She could see his clothes a little darker in the darkened interior of the well. If only she had seen through the interloper at once, maybe he would be alive, guilt boiled up in her mind, and sorrow, that little heart was filled with sorrow and it never lifted again.

Life changed after that, she never told a soul, she watched as the stranger filled all their lives and caused rifts, how he told her father the bad news that caused him to have the heart attack from which he never recovered, how we was the one who ‘mistakenly’ tripped her mother when she was pregnant that she fell down the stairs, lost her baby and her womb, it was always him, he had something to do with every tragedy that came and the tragedies were many.

He left her alone, as she left him, perhaps he knew that she knew or perhaps not, but he left her alone, until the time when he didn’t. 

She was to be married. And just before the wedding her fiancĂ© went with her ‘brother’ to the bachelor party that had been arranged for him and he never returned, nobody ever knew how it happened but somehow they had been about six of them standing on the balcony of the hotel suite, someone remembered her brother whispering to her fiancĂ©, others didn’t, but what everybody saw was her darling jump straight off the balcony and into pieces on the street.

She knew that she could never let it go, and later in front of the whole family, she confronted him ‘why did you kill him’, she asked.

Her parents were shocked, ‘of course your brother didn’t kill him’ they consoled her, ‘it was an accident’
‘He is not my brother’ she said and when she told them the whole story, they called a doctor and she was sedated. And the last thing she saw before she went under was his face, smiling.

When she awoke she pretended to have forgotten and while sympathizers came and went, she plotted. When she was ready, she went to her father’s room and took the gun he had bought and never used; she loaded it, went downstairs and shot her ‘brother’ dead.

After that it was a mental home, she slowly wasted away and when her parents had died, broken sad and alone, she died too. And there was nothing to remember that family by.

Years later when the village had become a town, and later a city, somebody bought the old farm with the old well. As they dug to lay the foundation piles, they found some bones, and when they were examined, they were found to be the bones of a young boy, between the ages of nine and thirteen.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Keys to Success

What is the difference between you and the most successful person you know? Are they blessed with some extraordinary talent that you couldn’t possess if you tried? Do they have more physical stamina, better health, more charisma, charm, beauty etc? I think not.
Every single characteristic that makes up part of the ingredients for success can be found in almost anybody, maybe not all the ingredients but at least some of them. Yet as many people possess these ingredients, many of them are still unsuccessful, why?
Because there is actually a difference between successful people and unsuccessful people, and it’s not luck, it’s not beauty, it’s not charisma. It’s something that most of them have no idea that they even have.
So before you start beating yourself up for not being more like Bill Gates or the charming new recruit in your office getting all the accolades, read the following:
  1. Help other people succeed: Success breeds success, the more of it you give, the more of it you get. Be sincerely interested in other people ideas and opinions, listen to problems and take your time to think about solutions to proffer. 100% of successful businesses result from one person providing a solution to a problem. Teach someone things you have learned. You would be surprised by how much you learn and how much more ideas and successes will come to you.
  2. Don’t let your ideas stagnate:  When you get an idea do not think too much about it. Do not overanalyze until it starts to seem like a bad idea. Act on it! Immediately! That’s what successful people do. They test their ideas as soon as they can. If it fails it’s easy to see what went wrong and how it can be fixed and if it works well, good for you!
  3. Build on your strengths: Be more of what you are; don’t try to be what you are not. Do not spend too much time trying to improve yourself. That way you stay focused on your weaknesses. Instead build on your strengths and forget whatever weaknesses you think you have.  In time you will find that your strengths have either grown enough to cover those weaknesses, or you have found a way to get around them.
  4. Accept your Mistakes: If you refuse to accept when you have made a mistake, you will never learn from it. Don’t ever let your ego make you stubborn, uncompromising and blind to your faults.
  5. Go the Extra Mile: All successful people do this, they always go the extra mile, and this is the most important rule to success. Don’t ever say I’ve done as much as I can, or I’ve done my best. ‘I’ve done my best’ as some people say is only as excuse for failure. Don’t do your best. Do what is required to get it done! That may be the biggest difference between who are today and who you will be tomorrow.

Monday, November 29, 2010

If Only They Could See

Yesterday was Harvest at my church. It was fun. I had fun. At first I and my friend just walked around ate a lot, drank a lot and chatted. That's what most people do at Harvests. Then we walked towards the Bazaar area, and out of the corner of my eye I noticed a couple of children wearing cloth made of the same material with a Reverend Sister sitting in their midst.

I always make jokes in my head about people, so I had already started on the joke to make when I noticed that some of them were staring into space with blank eyes. The rest had those tightly closed eyes that could only mean that they were blind.

I felt so horrible, here I was with my petty issues, making petty jokes at other people's expense, laughing my head off at every opportunity, complaining about stuff, and here were these children who would never see the sun rise, or choose pink over ox-blood, or ever see anything, and they were quietly eating their food and drinking their drinks.. I felt so horrible I started to cry.

Luckily my friend had wandered off, so I just backed into a corner and cried my eyes out.

I hope they had fun, I hope it was a great day for them. but it would be really great if only they could by some miracle, just see.