Category Archives: 9gag

Marriage is not for me

This came up on 9gag and I thought its deserving of a post, just as the next one coming up.

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Heres to the writeup: http://sethadamsmith.com/2013/11/02/marriage-isnt-for-you/ 

 

My dad giving his response to my concerns was such a moment for me. With a knowing smile he said, “Seth, you’re being totally selfish. So I’m going to make this really simple: marriage isn’t for you. You don’t marry to make yourself happy, you marry to make someone else happy. More than that, your marriage isn’t for yourself, you’re marrying for a family. Not just for the in-laws and all of that nonsense, but for your future children. Who do you want to help you raise them? Who do you want to influence them? Marriage isn’t for you. It’s not about you. Marriage is about the person you married.”

It was in that very moment that I knew that Kim was the right person to marry. I realized that I wanted to make her happy; to see her smile every day, to make her laugh every day. I wanted to be a part of her family, and my family wanted her to be a part of ours. And thinking back on all the times I had seen her play with my nieces, I knew that she was the one with whom I wanted to build our own family.

But instead of matching my selfishness, Kim did something beyond wonderful—she showed an outpouring of love. Laying aside all of the pain and aguish I had caused her, she lovingly took me in her arms and soothed my soul.

 

 

Perspective and experience, you can never buy them.

 

Thanks for coming by

 

Be Bless
Love,
Amanda

Be Kind

Be_Kind  Freaks_Need_Love_Too

 

Got reminded of the “Even the freaks need love’ picture above a couple of weeks ago. Actually used it through some of the difficult times and of course in the old blog as well. :)

Even in the most recent posting of not getting what we want.

I think it still resounds in everyday live.

 

While we go out there with all the good that we have, or absent-mindedly forgot about the -ves that we embodied and manifest, we often forgot about it. We dont necessary notice that perhaps people dont see what we see as good as good.

 

and again I’m screening, everybody has a different deck of cards from God, everybody experience a different thing the past hour compared to you did.

 

While I may not be able to empathized and understand what they have went through, “Be kind to unkind people, they need it the most”. “Even the freaks need love too.”

 

thanks for coming by

 

Be Bless
Love,
Amanda

 

Some more equal than others

Foreground:
Was looking through 9gag and this picture came up:

Goofy & Pluto

 

It was captioned “We are all born equal, some more equal than others.” and that strike me. Where did that saying start from? What does it mean? What was the writer to say? Go google “Animal Farm” by George Orwell if you were like me. Its about the abuse of collectivism amongst the common.

While we live in a meritocracy, democratic and fair society, can you see how the “Animal Farm” has quietly creeped in? :)

But here here, theres no one to blame except urself, because theres freewill and choice even in the most oppressed of situations.

Here’s a little read that presents another angle of itself. :)

Altogether Now, by Cassiestar
(http://www.experienceproject.com/stories/Write-Stories/2329917)
I was walking through town, killing time, the other day.

I walked past the sombre church, where three girls in drab uniforms, were sitting on the small, stone wall, eating pasties. They didn’t say much. I caught something about boyfriends, or husbands. Not one of them was smiling.

I went into the mean, colourless, shopping precinct. I passed a couple of empty, vacant shops. One of the windows was boarded up. I went into the bargain shop to waste a few more minutes. There were two pensioners, probably husband and wife, who were looking at, scrutinizing some sleeveless shirts, compairing the different prices.

“I’ll have to wait a couple of weeks,” moaned the podgy man. “You know we’ve got the gas and electricity to pay. That’ll cost us an arm and a leg.””But you’ve got to get something,” argued his wife, pleading more than complaining.

“You’ve been wearing the same shirt for the last three weeks. Every time you go to the old age.”
“I know, but its only once a week,” protested the husband, not raising his voice too loudly, knowing his wife was trying to be helpful.

I left the bargain shop.

I went into the supermarket. It wasn’t much bigger than a postage stamp, but the prices were reasonable, damn reasonable.

I was surprised how many people were in there. It was pretty full. Parents and children. Mothers struggling with nimble kids. People checking the coins in their pockets, their purses, making sure they had enough, for bread, milk, or whatever they fancied but couldn’t really afford.

There was a couple in their late forties, looking at packs of ham, bacon. “It’s either this, or the lottery tickets,” said the man adamantly, waving a pack of gammon in front of the woman.

“All right love,” sighed the woman loudly. They moved slowly away. He placed the gammon firmly, neatly on top of the other packs. She pushed her grey hair away from her tired eyes…

I got to the checkout. There was a lad about seventeen, trying to buy a four-pack of cider.

“Are you old enough?” demanded the fleshy, threatening woman on the till. I noticed the tattoo on her arm. It was a flower or a bird. I glanced at the lad.

“Old enough,” swaggered the lad. “I’ll be twenty-six next birthday.” He grinned a brazen grin.

“Bugger off,” said the woman, waving her tattooed arm. She looked and sounded angry. “Go on, bugger off.” She waved her hand frantically, furiously. She pointed, thrust a finger in the direction of the way out automatic door. “Out!” She stood up, jabbed her finger – like a dagger to the heart. “Get out!” She almost fell back on her chair.

The lad cursed loudly, threw the four-pack back on the conveyor belt, and stormed out of, kicking over a potted plant as he left the supermarket.

I got outside, frowned and shook my head. “Nutter.” I said to myself. I walked along, not noticing much, until i left the shopping precinct.

I could hear raised voices. I stopped, turned around. There was a man and a woman outside the Workingmans Club. They were shouting and ranting. Both were in their late twenties, early thirties. She wore an orange T-shirt and black leggings. I couldn’t honestly say what he was wearing. he was moving backwards, forwards, like a caged tiger. (I think he wore jeans and a polo shirt).
He was cursing like a navvy, his face a blood pressure red. He threw something, it looked like a bunch of keys, at the woman. They hit her hard. They fell, clattering, in the gutter. He kicked, then almost punched the Club door open, still swearing.

She was crying – I could see her wipe the tears away – as she picked the keys up.

I walked away, thinking of the words we are all born equal. Some more equal than others, I mumbled, slowly shaking my head.

Thanks for coming by

Be Bless
Love,
Amanda