Wednesday, November 26, 2008

I'd love to..

"...but my dog's about to attempt to speak English. Sorry!" 

I can't blame the mongrel for attempting to talk after chewing up all the 'homework'. Forget Einstein, someone should clench the Nobel Prize for "theoretical & creative discovery" in Blame-ology and Fine Arts of Excuses.  

In my attempt to conceal my 'blemish' - I've been charged, tried and condemned guilty on countless occasions for making up excuses. I gotta admit, some of em' were close to being bestsellers on the 'fiction' shelves. "..well if you screw up, take it like a man!" Hey! Whatever happened to anti-discrimination and gender equality? Guess what? Real men cry…Boo-hoo.

At times, I think I'd make a pretty good chef. A personal favourite of the ol' excuse menu would be - "not my thing": 

damsel-in-distress: Hey, could you help me out with this? 

super-dimwit(me): That's really not my 'thing' you know, I'd totally like...mess it up. Rather not. 

damsel-in-distress: *whatever. (*puts two "L" fingers together forming a "W")

Speaking of damsels, sometimes I envy em'. "I'm having cramps" has to be one of those gunshot one-liners that send the birds flying across the sky.  The lads are often left dumbfounded fearing the aftermath. Far from generalizing, it's merely super-poking those that capitalize on the 'periodical tsunami'. "I have the right to be evil?" Yeah, major irony in that sentence.

Beyonce Knowles poured her soul in "If I were a boy"...interesting perspective. Yet, it would be a shame to tag it as a PMS-theme song wouldn’t it?  PMS? Credit overdose.  

"Thank you. Honestly, I don't deserve this. After all, I couldn't have done it without YOU". Hilarious, but that's exactly how the speech would probably sound like if anyone would clench the Mother-of-All-Excuses award; If there was one part of ‘creation’ we'd beat the Creator at, this would be it.

Lame excuses. Reflecting on those moments where I could have 'saved' the day or at least made it better for someone else, I'm now bent on giving everything a shot. Worst case scenario? Folks giving me the affirming 'well-you-gave-it-a-shot-but-it-ain't-your-thing-for-sure' as they resort to dialing 911. 

Back to my English-speaking dog, she's honestly having cramps and from her howls, she’s not one that holds on to "if you've nothing good to say, don't say it." I'm off to walk her before she starts penning horror stories to Santa about me.  *Falalalala-lala-la-la!*

The author has no affiliations and neither is he afflicted with PMS, he’s merely finding an excuse to blog about it. 

Friday, November 7, 2008

living it

"I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character." - Martin Luther King, Jr.

That day arrived, America voted and...Obama won, belting a song of hope "Yes We Can" creating history as the first African-American to be elected President of the United States. Intrigued I was (still am), with his campaign speeches:

"I did not travel around this state over the last year and see a white South Carolina or a black South Carolina. I saw South Carolina."

"So understand this, South Carolina. The choice in this election is not between regions or religions or genders. It's not about rich versus poor, young versus old. And it is not about black versus white. This election is about the past versus the future."

"When I hear that we'll never overcome the racial divide in our politics, I think about that Republican woman who used to work for Strom Thurmond, who is now devoted to educating inner city children and who went out into the streets of South Carolina and knocked on doors for this campaign. Don't tell me we can't change. Yes, we can."

*"Yes, we can change. Yes, we can heal this nation. Yes, we can seize our future."

It's been close 50 years (45 years to be exact) and Mr. King's dream seems to be hiking it's way to its peak. In my attempt to squeeze to my feet into his shoes, I couldn't help but smile as a friend remarked, "Hey, you're where you always dreamt to be - the music scene. You dreamt of it while you were in high school, now you're living it."

Thanks dear friend, for reminding me of my high school ambitions. Honestly, I gotta admit - the dream was that of a selfish, young punk who had fame on his mind. Nothing wrong with that, it's just that I'm a li'l more wised up now. I'm willing to let it go as that of a stringed helium balloon. Fame? The li'l teaspoon I've had tasted pretty good yet I'd hate to choke myself with a bottle of pride. This dream's bigger than me, and the more I look up the more I's not about me.

Live the dream, don't just dream to live.

*the author finds "Malaysia Boleh" and "Yes We Can" uncannily identical. Who are the 'freakin' pirates' now aye?