Thoughts To Ponder

Michael Jackson wanted to live for 150 years.

He appointed 12 doctors at home who would daily examine him from hair to toenails.

His food was always tested in the laboratory before serving.

Another 15 people were appointed to look after his daily exercise and workout.

His bed had the technology to regulate the oxygen level.

Organ donors were kept ready so that whenever needed they could immediately donate their organ. The maintenance of these donors was taken care of by him.

He was proceeding with a dream of living for 150 years.

Alas! He failed.

On 25th June 2009, at the age of 50, his heart stopped functioning. The constant effort of those 12 doctors didn’t work.

Even, the combined efforts of doctors from Los Angeles and California too couldn’t save him.

The person who would never put a step forward without the doctor’s suggestion for his last 25 years, couldn’t fulfill his dream of living 150 years.

Jackson’s final journey was watched live by 2.5 million people which is the longest live telecast to date.

On the day he died,i.e. 25th June ’09 at 3.15 pm, Wikipedia, Twitter, AOL’s instant messenger stopped working. Millions of people together searched Michael Jackson on Google.

Jackson tried to challenge death but death challenged him back.

The materialistic life in this materialistic world embraces materialistic death instead of a normal one. This is the rule of life.

Now let’s think.

Are we earning for the builders, engineers, designers or decorators?

Whom do we want to impress by showing expensive house, car and extravagant wedding?

Do you remember the food items at the wedding reception which you had attended a couple of days ago?

Why are we working like an animal in life?

For the comfort of how many generations do we want to save?

Most of us have one or two children. Have you ever thought how much do we need and how much do we want?

Do we consider that our children won’t be able to earn much and so its necessary to save some extra for them?

Do you spend some time with yourself, family or friends in the week?

Do you spend 5% of your earning on yourself?

Why don’t we find happiness in life along with what we earn?

If you think deeply, your heart might fail to work. You will suffer from slip disc, high cholesterol, insomnia etc. etc.

Conclusion: Spend some time for yourself. We don’t own any property, it is only in some documents that our name is written temporarily.

When we say “ this is my property ”, God passes a crooked smile.

Don’t create an impression on a person seeing his car or dress. Our great mathematicians and scientists used bicycle or scooter for commuting.

It’s not a sin to be rich, but to be rich only with money is a sin.

Control life or else life will control you.

The things which really matter at the end of life is contentment, satisfaction,  and peace.

Sadly, these cannot be bought.

~Khmerfeed via Facebook

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How can be a potential disaster looks so inviting? 

“In the spring, I have counted 136 different kinds of weather inside of 24 hours.”
— Mark Twain

Everything in nature is early this year.

My flowering trees are flowering whole year! And deciduous plants become evergreen! Even my sage survived the frost and snow but died when the sun hit it during those exceptional winter days that felt and looked like late Spring or early Summer.

How can be a potential disaster looks so inviting?

That’s why perhaps no one except a few think the seriousness of global warming?

It’s nice to see plants waking up this early and those that never sleeps is like balm to the wounds during cold dreary dark winter days but still…

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Low Maintenance

My father once told me that I need to marry a rich man.

When he said this, I didn’t quite grasp what he meant or what he was trying to imply. It took me five decades to understand where he was coming from but it doesn’t mean I agree with his implication.

True, when I was young they had to coat me with baby oil before I could walk the six kilometers wasteland between our house and the only primary school in the neighborhood. I was or rather my skin was and still is allergic to grasses of any kind among so many other things. Even to these days, my naked skin cannot have direct contact with any surfaces that meant for public use like park benches, restaurants tables and chairs, buses seats and so on. I get itchy bubbles on my skin the very minute I come in contact with I think full of germs surfaces even though at first glance they look spotless. I bruise easily as well.

Oh…yeah
My skin is like a map, where my heart has been
And I can’t hide the marks, but it’s not a negative thing
So I lay down my guard, drop my defenses, down by my clothes
I’m learning to fall, with no safety net, to cushion the blow
I bruise easily, so be gentle when you handle me
There’s a mark you leave, like a love heart carved on a tree
I bruise easily, can’t scratch the surface without moving me
Underneath I bruise easily.
No, just kidding.

Prolonged contact with hard surfaces always resulted in bruises that never fade but turn into leathery skin like an elephant hide.

And I don’t know why.

I could not help our mother to wash our clothes either for I was allergic to any laundry detergent, liquid or powder. They made my hands look like raw meat. Which reminds me of the time I was on a cruise and tried Yves Saint Laurent products from the ship’s cosmetic sections. That was a big mistake. My eyes looked like someone had punched me and my lips will pass for a Botox treatment that had gone horribly wrong.

Another thing is I cannot sleep with someone next to me. Not then, not now. I always get the only bedroom in the house when we were growing up. That or I stayed awake whole night fiddling with the priceless possession of my father, the radio. Two husbands and I never managed to share a bed/room with any of them. I can’t stand the smell of another person on the pillows and bedsheets. I can’t stand them breathing next to me. I can’t stand their presence in the room. In short, I want to sleep alone.

Someone once remarked that I remind her of the story about the Princess and the Pea because I can feel every single tiny grain of whatever on the bed whether it is particles of dust or one single crumb.

How much I love working in the garden I could not do it without surgical gloves under ordinary garden mittens. I can’t stand the feel of soil between my fingers but not as much as I hate dust under my feet. Anywhere but not under my feet and between my toes.

Again, I don’t know why.

You might say my father is right. I have to marry a wealthy man, but let me tell you the other side of the story.

I am low maintenance.

Lower you cannot get.

First of all, I don’t like bling-bling or branded items. Don’t get me wrong I have them for sure but I hardly or don’t use them at all. They are given to me as gifts, from people who thought like most women, I wanted to own few if not all. I don’t go to the hair salon. I cut my own hair using ordinary household scissors that meant to be for papers. I do it in just three moves. I bend down, cut my hair straight, then trim both sides to frame my face. That’s all. I don’t wear make-up and just discovered lipstick when I was forty-eight. I don’t polish my nails, either. Heck, I don’t even shave my legs.

I don’t even need sex.

I don’t go out, rarely drink alcohol, I hate restaurants and dislike parties. I don’t even have to tan my hide, literally. I know… I know… I am already tanned by nature, so…

I don’t gamble or smoke, no expensive hobbies because my hobbies are reading, walking, writing and gardening. The last one is probably the only thing I splurge money on. When it comes to plants… I will gladly skip dinner.

So, how can my father say I have to marry a millionaire? I refuse to believe that was the (only) reason why he sold me to the highest bidder. That bidder once told me that simple things make me happy, and that is the most difficult thing to achieve because simple things are hard to come by. For him at least. When another bidder who outbid him confirmed this, I begin to consider the possibility that probably there is some truth in that claim. I am not convinced so far.

And I don’t know what to write anymore because it is a full moon and I can’t sleep and my thoughts are muddled and I want to take a bath but it’s midnight and my hair will not dry properly and I’m against using a hair dryer because it dries my hair and if I lie down with semi-wet hair I will wake up with semi-dry flat hair that is so brittle I have to take a bath again.

That’s all for now and till the next full moon.

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When The Truth Hits You Hard Squarely On The Face

She lost her identity. She tried her best to save what’s left of the relationship but in the end, she failed. She poured her whole heart and soul into making it work but it just wasn’t good enough. Now she’s feeling drained, weak and exhausted. She doesn’t even know herself anymore because she’s in too much pain. She can’t remember what she was as a person before you came into her life.

All she is now is a reflection of suffering and brokenness. Every time she looks at the mirror, tears fall down her face. She wishes to be the person she was before; charming, full of energy, and happy.

But she can’t. There’s a massive void inside her heart and she keeps beating herself up all because of one person. She feels like she’s not good enough. All she does every day is she’s fighting to survive with every deep breath and every wipe of the tear.

Do you see know what love can do to people? It’s like a double-edged sword. It’s either you’ll feel so alive and your heart starts pounding, or you’ll be on your knees and struggling to breathe.

Unfortunately for her, it was the latter. You know why? Because you broke her.

~ Unspoken Thoughts via Facebook
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Trip Down Memory Lane

I was so excited when I came across this image.

It catapulted me back to that one summer day many years ago when I was driving a Porsche, his Porsche, and his hand slowly crept up along my thigh. 

I could not do anything. 

I could hardly let go of the wheel so, I said:

“Yeah baby, a little bit higher.”

Suddenly, he withdrew his hand and didn’t utter a single word anymore for the rest of the journey.

He dropped me off at the village church and I never saw him again.

27 years old, blond blue-eyed and an only son of a wealthy factory owner.

No regrets though. Besides, I’m not into blond.

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This is What it’s Like to Live with Borderline Personality Disorder.

My struggles of living with a borderline personality disorder — the suffering, the hopelessness, and the light.

“You’re too much.”
“You’re Intense.”
“You go zero to 60 in .2 seconds.”
“Stop being sensitive!”
“You must like chaos.”

I consistently replay these quotes in my head. The people who spoke them have come in and out of my life.

I feel emotions far more than the average person. Although on the surface that may not sound entirely life-altering, it’s crippling.

I suffer from Borderline Personality Disorder.

I live every day on the surface. Every emotion is ready to be set off—no matter what. When I’m happy, I’m euphoric. When I’m angry, I’m a monster. When I’m sad, I’m depressed. I have no in between. I’m either green or red. I have no yellow.

Putting my disorder into words is impossible. My mind is a maze, and it makes me sick to even think of it.

All I want is to be close to people. I want a relationship where I can share, love, be safe, but I become “too intense” and “too much” for anybody to handle. So, ultimately, I’m left with nobody. It’s a terrible cycle.

I suffer every day. I suffer with feeling overwhelmed all the time.

I find it difficult to communicate. What I feel in my heart and my head doesn’t translate. I can love you with my mind, body and soul while my words are the exact opposite.

I’m not trying to start drama and I’m not an attention seeker. When I “overact” it is not easy for me to recover.

I hurt. I hurt others. I’m depleted at the end of the day.

I am constantly afraid of the idea of being alone; abandonment is hell. I latch onto people and let go before they are able to let go of me.

Many believe that I am mean, narcissistic, a manipulator.

My moods change consistently and I have zero control over my emotions. I feel everything 24/7.

I was told there are two Monicas. The “Monica I love” and “the disorder.” The “real Monica” is nurturing, empathetic, passionate, enthusiastic, loving and happy.

Once that Monica is gone, you’re left with “the disorder,” which causes manipulative behavior, lying, distorting reality and pessimism.

How is it possible to have these contradicting traits locked into one human?

I’m going to open up my heart. I’m going to become vulnerable. I am going to be raw. There have been nights I didn’t want to be alive. There have been spirits of what I’d like to call “insanity.” I’ve had moments where I ran into the street while the one I love chased me—and I was hoping and praying a car would take me out of my misery.

Out of the pure pain of thinking the one I love would leave, I’d bang my head against a wall as hard as I could, hoping I’d be knocked out.

I tried overdosing three times October, two years ago. I’d had enough. I was bullied out of college and couldn’t handle the pain. I couldn’t handle being abandoned again.

I wanted to die.

I wanted people to care about me. No matter what it took. I wanted people to hurt and realize their wrong-doings. I wanted to punish the ones who didn’t understand. I wanted them to hurt as much as I did every single day.

When I’m down, I’m at rock bottom.

When I hurt, everyone needs to hurt.

I’ve read articles upon articles on how to deal with someone who has Borderline Personality Disorder. I’ve come to the conclusion that there’s nothing uplifting to be heard. I read constantly how people like me drain the ones around us. We drain the energy out of the ones we love. We leave them with nothing.

I’m here to tell you that although I’m difficult, I am worth it.

You may not understand me 100 percent of the time. (You may not even understand me five percent of the time, but I am still human.) I feel emotions to the extreme. I long to feel accepted and cherished.

Do not be afraid of me.

We as BPD sufferers are the “difficult ones,” but we aren’t impossible.

-by Monica Adrian Patro


“A mess of gorgeous chaos” is the perfect description of Monica Adrian Patro. Words that flood from her mouth can cut you deeper than a knife or sound like the Angels from above. Understanding the monsters she holds is far more complex than one could rationalize.

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Inventory

“Four be the things I am wiser to know:
Idleness, sorrow, a friend, and a foe.
Four be the things I’d been better without:
Love, curiosity, freckles, and doubt.
Three be the things I shall never attain:
Envy, content, and sufficient champagne.
Three be the things I shall have till I die:
Laughter and hope and a sock in the eye.”

― Dorothy Parker,

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You don’t look fake when you unconsciously pretend

It is an illusion that youth is happy, an illusion of those who have lost it; but the young know they are wretched for they are full of the truthless ideals which have been instilled into them, and each time they come in contact with the real, they are bruised and wounded. It looks as if they were victims of a conspiracy; for the books they read, ideal by the necessity of selection, and the conversation of their elders, who look back upon the past through a rosy haze of forgetfulness, prepare them for an unreal life. They must discover for themselves that all they have read and all they have been told are lies, lies, lies; and each discovery is another nail driven into the body on the cross of life.”

― W. Somerset Maugham

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I am the master of my fate I am the captain of my soul

“I picked up each fragmented piece of me and studied it. Where did it belong? Did I need it anymore?”

If I start doing that, I may end up with nothing but the core.

Which is not bad I guess because that’s all we need to build and rebuild ourselves.

When I was younger, I never let obstacles bother me to the point of giving up. In fact, I never entertained the notion of throwing the towel in. Something inherent in me never allows those kinds of thoughts to even cross my mind.

Fell down?

No worries.

Get up, dust myself and walk on. Forward. Always forward and never look back if you don’t want to go that way again. I never question. I never blame.

I thought: It’s okay if I lose everything. As long as I have myself, I can start all over again.

Only when I reached a certain age I started thinking about things. Wondering about the hows and whys the ins and outs and doubts began to creep in.

I’m not anymore shoulder on charge it to experience and forget about it.

Suddenly I want explanations, justifications, and answers.

Never get it though.

I started to be scared too. Fear of the future and what it may bring.

I guess if you have nothing, you are not afraid of losing.

On the other hand, if you build and become used to a certain way of life, then you have everything to be afraid of.

You see, there is a limit. An expiration date to all you could do and tolerate before. You realized that your energy, your vigor, your optimism, and enthusiasm are not bottomless. Your ability and strength to bounce back are not that superelastic anymore. Not only the time (your time) is running out, but also your patience and perseverance. You will wake up one morning to find out that you are tired of running and want to rest, declutter your life in every way and embrace minimalism.

You are ready to settle and enjoy the fruit of your labor.

But what if life is not done with you yet?

What if it decided to test you all over again, toss you around to see if you are still as resilient as before?

Then, my friend, you got a problem.

What to do about it?

Nothing.

There is nothing you can do if fate wants to play.

Either you sign in or___

You sign out.

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Unlock joy in any situation!

True understanding and mutual respect do not bridge blames, destructive, negative criticisms, false excuses, and gossips. To express disappointments and ill-feelings are normal however to gossip around certain people and events in order to put another person down and destroy one’s credibility is a form of bullying whether one expresses it publicly or privately.

Beware of segregation, regionalism, individualism, discrimination, stereotyping, destructive criticism, false accusations, biased wrong assumptions, prejudice, senseless comparison, and unwanted competition because life is much more meaningful to live for where there are unity and harmony.”

― Angelica Hopes

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