Artist: Live
Title: Heaven

You don't need no friends
Get back your faith again
You have the power to believe
Another dissident
Take back your evidence
It has no power to deceive

I'll believe it when I see it for myself

I don't need no one to tell me about heaven
I look at my daughter, and I believe.
I don't need no proof when it comes to God and truth
I can see the sunset and I perceive

I sit with them all night
Everything they say is right
But in the morning they were wrong
I'll be right by your side
Come hell or water high
Down any road you choose to roam

I'll believe it when I see it for myself

I don't need no one to tell me about heaven
I look at my daughter, and I believe.
I don't need no proof when it comes to God and truth
I can see the sunset and I perceive, yeah

Darling, I believe, Oh Lord
Sometimes it's hard to breathe, Lord
At the bottom of the sea, yeah yeah

I'll believe it when I see it for myself

I don't need no one to tell me about heaven
I look at my daughter, and I believe.
I don't need no proof when it comes to God and truth
I can see the sunset and I perceive
I don't need no one to tell me about heaven
I look at my daughter, and I believe.
I don't need no proof when it comes to God and truth
I can see the sunset
I can see the sunset
I can see the sunset
I don't need no one
I don't need no one, oh
I don't need no one
I don't need no one
To tell me about heaven
I believe
I believe it, yeah

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wxjj4u4ieb4

This post has been edited by starmace: Oct 8 2009, 03:02 PM

Here I go :

"
A Simple Gesture

Mark was walking home from school one day when he noticed the boy ahead of him had tripped and dropped all of the books he was carrying, along with two sweaters, a baseball bat, a glove and a small tape recorder. Mark knelt down and helped the boy pick up the scattered articles. Since they were going the same way, he helped to carry part of the burden. As they walked Mark discovered the boy's name was Bill, that he loved video games, baseball and history, and that he was having lots of trouble with his other subjects and that he had just broken up with his girlfriend. They arrived at Bill's home first and Mark was invited in for a Coke and to watch some television. The afternoon passed pleasantly with a few laughs and some shared small talk, then Mark went home. They continued to see each other around school, had lunch together once or twice, then both graduated from junior high school. They ended up in the same high school where they had brief contacts over the years. Finally the long awaited senior year came and three weeks before graduation, Bill asked Mark if they could talk.

Bill reminded him of the day years ago when they had first met. "Did you ever wonder why I was carrying so many things home that day?" asked Bill. "You see, I cleaned out my locker because I didn't want to leave a mess for anyone else. I had stored away some of my mothers sleeping pills and I was going home to commit suicide. But after we spent some time together talking and laughing, I realized that if I had killed myself, I would have missed that time and so many others that might follow. So you see, Mark, when you picked up those books that day, you did a lot more, you saved my life."

-John W. Schlatter (true story)
"

There's a song I'd like to share with everyone. It's an old song but the lyrics are very motivational.

May 2, 2009. Saturday: Life is a highway
While I was waiting in the taxi queue at the Budget Terminal of the airport this evening, a yellow Toyota of Citicab joined the queue behind me. The driver got out and ambled over when he saw me smoking by my taxi. He looked he could be in his late fifties or early sixties. He lit a cigarette himself and asked, “How is your day?”

I knew what he wanted to hear but I just said, “Fine. How is yours?”

“Not bad.” He turned his head slightly and exhaled a long trail of smoke with a smile. “I came out at noon and already got $180 in my pocket.” He volunteered his report card first.

“That’s fantastic.” I conveyed my performance to him indirectly. “$180 in seven hours? How did you do it?”

“I was lucky. I got seven calls today.”

Citicab and Comfort taxis hold a de facto monopoly in the on-call booking market in Singapore. This makes a big difference. Seven calls equal $21 in extra.

I told him that I was a new driver. During the two months of my driving career, I had never had any calls from my company. What he made in seven hours was what I would hope to make in twelve.

He was quick to console me. He said the business was generally bad at present. He had been driving for more than five years and had never seen things as bad as now. He usually made $50 or so a day after costs. Sometime just $10 or 20. “My kids have all grown up and don’t need my support,” he said. “Sometimes I go back after I had enough for a pack of cigarettes. I don’t have to work as hard as the other guys.” He pointed his jaw at the cabbies standing and chatting along the taxi queue ahead of us.

“Eight out of ten of them are not healthy.” He continued. “Kidney, heart, stomach, bowel. All kinds of problems. I have several friends who quit driving because of that.”

In fact, he said, he knew that a lot of old-timers had quit, because of the harsh working condition and the difficulty in earning a living. “That’s why many newcomers like you can have a chance to try out your luck.” He said with a friendly grin.

I remained wordless.

He ditched his cigarette butt and was ready to move. “I am not going to wait here. Waste of time. I am going back now.” He shook my hand and walked to his car.

I was driving on the highway back to the city a few minutes later. The man was right that it was a bad idea to wait in a queue that never moved. The traffic on ECP in this direction was very light. Cruising along the vast seashore with refreshing plants and flowers greeting from the roadsides, I was in a good mood.

True, life is hard. Especially after a transition from a veteran scientist to a rookie taxi driver. But life is like this highway. Sometimes it’s smooth, sometimes it’s rough. Sometimes you go slow, and sometimes you go fast. Sometimes it frustrates you and sometimes it pleases you. As long as you know where you are going, and never quit halfway, you will get there sooner or later.

“Knock me down, get back up again
You're in my blood, I'm not a lonely man
There's no load I can't hold
Road so rough this I know
I'll be there when the light comes in
Just tell them we're survivors”

This song began to flow into my mind. It is from my son’s most favorite movie, “Cars”, a Disney/Pixar animated film made a couple years ago. He used to like the song so much, that he often sang it around the house, with most of the lyrics made up by himself. One day, I downloaded, and printed out, the authentic lyrics from internet for him. He glanced at it briefly and put it away and never touched it again. He preferred his version better.

Since then, however, I found myself in love with this song as well. I hummed the song all the way to the city…..


Life's like a road that you travel on
There's one day here and the next day gone
Sometimes you bend, sometimes you stand
Sometimes you turn your back to the wind
There's a world outside every darkened door
Where blues won't haunt you anymore
Where brave are free and lovers soar
Come ride with me to the distant shore
We won't hesitate
To break down the garden gate
There's not much time left today

Life is a highway
I wanna ride it all night long
If you're going my way
I wanna drive it all night long
…..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mvsmRuRp4cM



*Source: http://taxidiary.blogspot.com/ . A good read. Something different from all the usual blogs

Who aims at excellence will be above mediocrity; who aims at mediocrity will be far short of it. -Burmese saying-

We are like tea bags, we don't know our own strength until we're in hot water ~ Sister Busche ~

taken from Inspirational Quotes

You stand a 50% chance of failure in every opportunity that you take. However, you have a 100% chance of failure for every oppurtunity that you do not take.

This is my favourite quote taken from Hitch movie:

“Begin each day as if it were on purpose,” Alex Hitchens (Will Smith)

“There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.”

(a little bit sexist one)

A Speech should be like a girl's skirt,
Long enough to cover the important parts,
But short enough to be interesting.....

Socrates?

Will appreciate it if will you include his name so that it is not you who'll get the credit.

This post has been edited by Deadlocks: Nov 4 2009, 02:27 AM

Embracing Imperfection

When I was a little girl, my mom liked to make breakfast food for dinner every now and then. And I remember one night in particular when she had made breakfast after a long, hard day at work. On that evening so long ago, my mom placed a plate of eggs, sausage, and extremely burned toast in front of my dad. I remember waiting to see if anyone noticed! Yet all my dad did was reach for his toast, smile at my mom, and ask me how my day was at school. I don't remember what I told him that night, but I do remember watching him smear butter and jelly on that toast and eat every bite! When I got up from the table that evening, I remember hearing my mom apologize to my dad for burning the toast. And I'll never forget what he said. 'Baby, I love burned toast.'

Later that night, I went to kiss Daddy good night, and I asked him if he really liked his toast burned. He wrapped me in his arms and said, 'Debbie, your Momma put in a hard day at work today and she's real tired. And besides-a little burnt toast never hurt anyone! You know, life is full of imperfect things...and imperfect people. I'm not the best housekeeper or cook.'

What I've learned over the years is that learning to accept each other's faults - and choosing to celebrate each other's differences - is the one of the most important keys to creating a healthy, growing, and lasting relationship. Burnt toast should never be a deal breaker. We could extend this to any relationship in fact - as understanding is the base of any relationship, be it a husband-wife or parent-child or friendship!!"
Don't put the key to your happiness in someone else's pocket - but into your own.

If you are sad while reading this.







This post has been edited by Deadlocks: Nov 4 2009, 08:06 PM

A Reason, a Season or a Lifetime

People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime. When you know which one it is, you will know what to do for that person.

When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed. They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally or spiritually. They may seem like a godsend and they are. They are there for the reason you need them to be. Then, without any wrongdoing on your part or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away. Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled, their work is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered and now it is time to move on.

Some people come into your life for a SEASON, because your turn has come to share, grow or learn. They bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it, it is real. But only for a season.

LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons, things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life. It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.


(Source - from my Inbox)

The soul is something like this:

Quickly.

Find something you think that you always regard as unimportant to you.

The moment you found it.

You realize how important it actually is.

Go ahead.

Do that now.

This post has been edited by Deadlocks: Nov 5 2009, 09:30 PM

It is hard to fail, but it is worse never to have tried to succeed.
Theodore Roosevelt

Thanks For Your Time

A young man learns what's most important in life from the guy next door.

It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man. College, girls, career, and life itself got in the way. In fact, Jack moved clear across the country in pursuit of his dreams. There, in the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about the past and often no time to spend with his wife and son. He was working on his future, and nothing could stop him.

Over the phone, his mother told him, 'Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday.'

Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days.

'Jack, did you hear me?'

'Oh sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It's been so long since I thought of him. I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago,' Jack said.

'Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw him he'd ask how you were doing. He'd reminisce about the many days you spent over 'his side of the fence' as he put it,' Mom told him.

'I loved that old house he lived in,' Jack said.

'You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure you had a man's influence in your life,' she said.

'He's the one who taught me carpentry,' he said. 'I wouldn't be in this business if it weren't for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important...Mom, I'll be there for the funeral,' Jack said.

As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his hometown. Mr. Belser's funeral was small and uneventful. He had no children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away.

The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house next door one more time. Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing over into another dimension, a leap through space and time. The house was exactly as he remembered. Every step held memories. Every picture, every piece of furniture....Jack stopped suddenly.

'What's wrong, Jack?' his Mom asked.

'The box is gone,' he said.

'What box?' Mom asked.

'There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he'd ever tell me was the thing I
value most,' Jack said. It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box. He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it.

'Now I'll never know what was so valuable to him,' Jack said. 'I better get some sleep. I have an early flight home, Mom.'

It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died. Returning home from work one day, Jack discovered a note in his mailbox. 'Signature required on a
package. No one at home. Please stop by the main post office within the next three days,' the note read.

Early the next day Jack retrieved the package. The small box was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention. 'Mr. Harold Belser' it read.

Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package. There inside was the gold box and an envelope. Jack's hands shook as he read the note inside. 'Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. It's the thing I valued most in my life.'

A small key was taped to the letter. His heart racing, as tears filling his eyes,! Jack carefully unlocked the box. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch. Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover. Inside he found these words engraved: 'Jack, Thanks for your time! - Harold Belser.'

'The thing he valued most...was...my time.'

Jack held the watch for a few minutes then called his office and cleared his appointments for the next two days. 'Why?' Janet, his assistant asked.

'I need some time to spend with my son,' he said. 'Oh, by the way, Janet...thanks for your time!'

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away.