Desperate for Light

So much familiar with afternoons, it’s a sign that the evening is coming. It tells us that in a few moments the light of the sun will leave us with a mere reflection of its light on the moon.

Life has its afternoons, especially made for failure-prone creatures. For sinful-by-nature beings. For the self-loving, godless society. Afternoons are always here to remind us that days turn into nights; the strong would yield to a good night’s rest, the poet would write his last words and close the last page of his own resume.

How many of us have been through the same road for the nth time around? How many failures does it take to believe that it’s the last one? How much anger would it spell to realize the undeserved kindness of God aiming at our combatant heart? Is that your last stare? Is that your last glimpse? Does your tongue have enough to sting? How about your neighbor? Does he remind you that you are not alone? That sometimes it’s ok to be silent when they are talking? Who do you have to reason with? That person in the mirror? Isn’t it you? The same old you?

Oh yes, indeed time is inadequate for you to get your portion of the land of smiles and triumphs. The more you count time, the more you lose it. The more you gain access to friends, the more you become alone. Ironies of all ironies, it’s not about the numbers that would make you a better person or a lesser failure if we would go by our definition of man. It’s always the heart that dictates your direction, and a heart without God is aimlessly pursuing nothing.

How come there is still a road ahead for those who wane? It’s all grace that gave your feet the ground it stands, it’s all grace that provided words in your lips after your worthless promises. It’s all grace that shed light on your dark face. But where would you go after the long run when time catches up on you again?

When was the last time you prayed? No I mean the last time your heart talked to God? Prayers can be part of a daily routine, but not all prayers have heart. I can’t stop meddling with man’s futile attempt to live in peace yet end up the opposite. Who failed where and when?

I am not sure. One thing I am sure about is we are not called to fail. Though we are doomed to fail because we are not anywhere near God’s standard, Christ loved us best when we were a failure. He died for all of us even when we are yet sinners. And His grace abounds. Suddenly we become undeserving pricks that even if we fail a thousand times, God has a thousand and one ways of His kindness leading us to repentance.

Wake up sleeping soul, the Lord is mighty to save. There are great battles to be won for His kingdom, and those battles that you can not win for yourself, He already won it all. Don’t even try to outsource your own will to alter His love. It’s there forever regardless if you are or if you are not.

Now evening falls, you become desperate for light. Just try to get some sleep. That’s all you can do when the sun sets in.

About your failures! Never mind if you think you are unable to take another step after all these, for either He will strengthen you to make you able, or He will call a sudden halt, and you will not have to take it all.1

Sleep. Just sleep.

Notes:
1. Frances Ridley Havergal, Streams in the Desert, pp16, Copyright 1925 by the Zondervan Corp.

Static Magnetism to an Orb of Decadence

[Instant coffee and aircon, prose and confusion]

I left the park without the usual gutsy feeling and a bullet proof attitude of "let go of me dude!, I'm fed up with you".

Almost cynical of your righteous intention, I need to fasten my seatbelt and let the adrenaline rush, shy of Pompey's post privatus years.

The metallic plate of my subtle dreams ended up in a less than lucrative business of the self.

Not minding the gradient color of the blood that spilled from self inflicted wounds, my hopes are reduced to half the number of stars that collared my engaging tactics. Deal with me now or prepare for the great white shark's ferrocious kiss.

Listen to the sound of the black keys that holds my fingers apart, I hurriedly take you away to neverland, to where we will never grow old, to where the pirate captain is held captive to the croc's enigmatic agenda.

I am helpless in preventing the rage behind these words that time had allowed me to translate inside a dim-lit room of strange people.

Though the memories have died in the eye of the strong hurricane, fear never held back an inch and took his post.

Battle!

To battle the essential truth behind the smile. To rattle the poignant decaying pulse for a little while. The mantle of random heartbeat refuse to survive. The damsel of creative distress is barely alive.

Thank you!

The curtain is lifted.

I'm out of words, a burglar of poetic innovations.

Leave me alone and let me alone.

My dear self, how I long to ask "Where did you sleep last night?"

And anyone who does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.
Luke 14:27

The Homer Gang

Singapore, 07-28-2007

Circa 1990, in the suburbs of East Bajac Bajac, a small Baranggay in Olongapo City, lives a budding cartoonist. In exchange for a few minutes of pleasure, this young kid skips meal just to draw his favorite cartoon character. This passion to draw extends to the walls of St. Joseph’s High School. A few minutes walk from his home.

As the teacher exhorts how mathematics shape the life of successful people, this young kid sketches the yellow figure he loves to draw, the yellow figure with a hairdo the size of a giant saw. After a few minutes of meditating the concept or his favorite cartoon hero, he shows it to one of his great friends in anime land. “Sheeeeezeee”, this is how he says it but I forgot to ask him how he spells that word, so 17 years after I would assume that this is how he spells it. Christian Reyes, now a licensed Chemical Engineer working somewhere in the middle east would wave flags of complement in agreement to what I just have drawn…yes, that young artist was me. In a time where Adobe Photoshop was just a fragment of man’s imagination, I was already passionate in drawing. I don’t even have a dream of owning my own computer that time, but I was just engulfed in arts…different seasons to speak. And that time it was the rise of the 20th century’s best television series (awarded Dec 31, 1999, Time Magazine)1.

Homer, Marge, Bart, Lisa and Maggie. Sounds familiar? Matt Groening, the man behind this longest running American sitcom said in an interview that they have just passed their 400th episode and thought this was a landmark time2. 20 years after its creation, The Simpsons hit the big screen.

The people behind this series have their reasons for doing this movie just now, and one of them is that we don’t have digital animations back then. Though it took them some time to write the script it all fell in one perfect place. Director David Silverman hopes this could regenerate interest in 2D animation and that it would be a great bonus for them3. Why not? That would be a great bonus for us artists who are still alienated in 3D software programs.

Let’s travel back in time. Back in highschool.

A day after a typical Simpson episode on RPN 9 (it was aired on RPN right?) our gang would regroup in one secluded place of our classroom and cover ourselves with a great force field with The Simpson Zone written all over it. No one would dare enter our zone as we talk about how bleeding gums Murphy made the day again. Hmmm…I am having a difficult time remembering the exact episodes but 17 years later, here in Singapore, while shopping with my wife, the monument of my youth stood right before me. It was not just Bart (he was my cartoon hero), the complete family was there for photo ops. After a few minutes of convincing my wife to take a picture of me and the Homer gang, she did so, hurriedly. And here you saw it in my blogsite. A dream come true…. 17 years after my wandering mind digested this yellow humor. I finally got to have my picture taken with them.

Though I am still waiting for $7 worth of financial aid from my wife, I could only imagine how those who have watched this movie laughed their heart out and who among them where already alive when Homer’s annoyed grunt “D’oh!” first hit our existence.

Argh! I am really that old!

1. Wikipedia, The Simpons 2. First, Singapore, July 2007 issue 3. First, Singapore, July 2007 issue

In Pursuit of Happiness

Singapore. 9:52pm


Here are my thoughts again after a long hiatus inside a cave of asp.net codes, world history and book-reading. Suddenly, I found myself recuperating in unimaginable ways. Was it the mind sweeping activities I chose to get busy with? Or was it the encouragement of what’s left of the masses that I gained notoriety as a streaming scoundrel?

One word to fill the blank. Grace.

Yes, of all the attributes that covered my whole being, those that covered me with a placenta of self-proclaimed influence. I almost got to my last breath ignorant of the real fuel that kept my body pumping life for 30 years. I almost threw my dreams to the ravine of an identity crisis. Unabashed and indignant of anyone who comes my way by telling me to sit down and have a good cup of coffee with a cup of good people.

In daytime, I enjoyed life while at nighttime I hid from life. And as the earth freeze for a time being, as the night overcomes the day, I crawled the floor of humiliation grasping for thin air. With a blind sight and a frail body I shook my head in disbelief.

Suddenly out of the corners of the dark alley that I am trapped into, a spark of hope fleets in to light my path. And as I took a small step forward, one mighty arm saved me and broadens the path beneath me. In a minus eighty eight degree centigrade temperature, grace was sufficient for me to feel embraced again with love and forgiveness. As I leave the dust of my wrong decisions leading to mountains of consequences, I found confidence and strength in the sovereignty of a universal master plan so vast for human perception yet so simple before the greatest Artist in the history of everything.

He paints the canvass with different colors and different strokes of His brush. He might have given emphasis to the beauty of the clouds, but He never missed the details of the rough rocks that serve as static walls that the waves embrace. Giving a beautiful refreshing sound of hope as heat subsides when the water meets the shore.


God meets us where we are and not where someone is.
Joseph M. Stowell, Radical Reliance: Living 24/7 with God, 2006

The Wind Heads North

An epilogue to “Love Letter to the Wind”
Sevenink in Singapore
5:10am 05-28-2007

“In your graceful and unfathomed steps, you leave a trail for hope to follow. As the leaves kiss the ground when you head home to the north, so will my heart lie peaceful beneath the adornment of dust and shingles that covers my chest.”

85 miles north of the Equator, a few hours shy of sunrise, with a cup of coffee pretending to be my soul mate, I hurried to my laptop in dire hope to write in words the absence of words in my lips.

In the past few days, the Sovereign God introduced Himself to me as the God of details. Many times in my life He proved how majestic the works of His hand is, how he turns worship inside the church to a glimpse of heaven. How He turns mourning into dancing by quenching the thirst of the desperate souls.

But despite His glorious powers displayed in ways that makes every “believer” shun his own god (or even former gods), despite the grandiosity of the sick being healed and sinners being delivered, there are things that are mostly untouched following these words, “I thank the Lord for…”

As our name gets called to stand on the pulpit to testify on God’s goodness, a miniature time-machine gears up at the back of our mind speeding its way to the last time God proved himself to us.

Does it always need to be artistic? Do you need a lot of words to speak “Praise God?”

If God have numbered even the hairs of our head, and if He names all the stars in the sky, then He is in real serious business of touching our lives even in the animosity of our confused society. Even in the unnoticed details that exist with every second of history. In fact, He has crafted us in detail (“fearfully and wonderfully made”). Have you heard of placing an electrode in the human scalp just to record the electrical activity in the brain? Oh well, if there’s anyone else other than God who better understands how each of our brains should perform such activity, I’d give him my life. Do you know that the human heart has two separate parts? One collecting de-oxygenated blood, the other, collects oxygenated blood. A meshwork of cardiac muscle cells, who planned all this?

Truth of details versus the status-quo preference.

What if you are trapped in an island with only the earth’s crust to comfort you, can you dance your way into praising Him? With the immovable rocks before you and the heat of the sun exposing the absence of shade in a radius of 5Km, can we shake our own hands and tell ourselves “I’m glad you are here?”

Without the sound of the cymbals, the amplified rhythm section of a loud band, without a microphone in your hand, without the presence of a rejoicing peer, without the pastor, without your best friend, without your loved one, without everything else. Only God’s promise in your heart…brethren how would you praise God?

Is praise possible in the absence of everything else? Yes, you might say, but have you gone that road before? And are you willing to travel that unpopular direction if you are led to?

Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will be joyful in God my Savior.
Habakkuk 3:17-18

The Sting of Goodbye

Sevenink in Singapore

04.26.2007 7:54pm

According to Yahoo Education;

No doubt more than one reader has wondered exactly how goodbye is derived from the phrase "God be with you." To understand this, it is helpful to see earlier forms of the expression, such as God be wy you, god b'w'y, godbwye, god buy' ye, and good-b'wy. The first word of the expression is now good and not God, for good replaced God by analogy with such expressions as good day, perhaps after people no longer had a clear idea of the original sense of the expression. A letter of 1573 written by Gabriel Harvey contains the first recorded use of goodbye: "To requite your gallonde [gallon] of godbwyes, I regive you a pottle of howdyes," recalling another contraction that is still used.

Wikipedia has the same thing to say about this word, a traditional farewell phrase used in the English language.

This word has always been used primarily to connote leaving something or someone important to your heart. Not to the level of deserting their importance or having no use to them but its just that other elements of life much supreme than you or what you have needs to take its toll as to set in place somehow how the universe should work, and as most of us would agree, the culprit would be, none other than – TIME.

Yes so much have been going on for ages as time sits by his most comfortable corner and in most of time’s capability to laugh at lives missing most of its worth using time in the wrong way you end up in tears. And then unknowingly, time shows off its cruelty by speeding away from you when you most enjoyed it. Time is more supreme than joy, is more powerful than love, time can be peaceful but peace can not over write time.

The most absurd idea you might say from someone who does websites, yes I might live from the age of gigabytes and ones and zeroes. But more than any other living species on this earth I’ve had my share of time’s cruel intentions because I believe nothing could have ever happened without it – without time. How can you find yourself as a thirty year old geek without time passing by? How can you promise someone a future if time won’t pass by and bring that future at your hands? And God would return when? Time will tell right?

And where does that leave us? Are we just accidents waiting to happen? I beg to disagree. Sometimes I think if there’s something next to God in terms of supremacy, it would be time. Time sits someplace near God’s throne so that when we pray for something, God’s answer would come in a package delivered with time.

Even saying goodbye must be in coordination with time cause logically you cant say goodbye to things that time have not yet given you. And who would know if you will find yourself walking the same path again? Of course, time would.

I’ve had the greatest this world has to offer, I’ve had the most profound lifestyle that one could not imagine me having. I’ve been cruelly loved by the most defiant of creatures who wears name tags that read “friends”. Now time dictates that I need to pack my bags to de-synthesize my efforts to build from the ruins of unmet social norms, from the accordions of legalism, from the arc of man’s definitive covenant to survival. All of these I hide in the shadow of history’s most significant piece of wood, to a place not worthy for a King, where one Man ended all humanitarian efforts to unite the creation to the Creator. To where the Savior bid goodbye not to us but to the power of death over us.

You define time whichever way you wish, you call it the most beautiful name you want, pack it in the most expensive cloth or even preserve it in some way but at the end of the day the workflow leads to one single time-table.

Ecclesiastes 3:11 God has made EVERYTHING beautiful in His time. Goodbye has it's sting in my own time but never in God’s.

Unleavened Thoughts

16th of April, 11:48 pm, gate 3 NAIA. Waiting for our boarding announcement, I am now bored, who would not be? My plane ticket says I should have left 3 hours ago,(meaning, I should be in Singapore by now) but still here I am, already bought 2 phone cards to talk to my friends. Oh life, I asked them, “would you want me to leave?, The plane won’t start” my friend just giggled over the phone and told me, “don’t know anything about it”. Good to hear a voice of an angel friend.

This is the most boring boredom that ever landed my bored thoughts. To make matters worst, my mobile phone is almost dead. Why in the world would I keep my phone charger on the bag that I checked in and not on the bag that I’m carrying now? Maybe it’s a result of a Dysphiriangenetical Immuno Acidic Mutation Of Nerves, in short – Lack of Sleep, in Tagalog - “Puyat”.(Ok I admit, I made it up!)

Yes it was a wild ride, the last few days was like a train bound to kingdom come. Everything is scattered on my soft damped carpet, my books are all in place (all of them occupies random location on a Cartesian plane that I call my home)

I don’t know anyone from the group of people that are also bored waiting for the boarding announcement but I find solace in being far from anyone that I knew, for a while but not for a moment.

Now, it made me think about what I would be leaving behind and where I am heading to. It could fall into several categories though, those happy plastic people that would give you their best smile armored with a claw of doubt. And those that possess the ability to shift gears on the fly.

No more waking up on sorry nights, fearing my own tears and clogging my dreams with fabricated sunsets. The final countdown has reached its end, as silence makes up for the lost time that dissonance has taken for itself. I now hold on to the peace that passes all understanding, to the most significant thing that money can not buy, to the happiness that was tainted with eloquent beliefs of the wandering spectators.

Finally, the boarding announcement. And as usual you would hear the “sorry for the inconvenience” litany, as if it would help. And as I board my plane, I leave the rest of my life to the One who would hold my plane to its safe landing, the One who would allow me to walk the road in safety. To the One who knows my most precious thoughts, even my most lonely days. The fear of leaving supersedes the fear of having to start all over again.

It is so hard to cry. But it’s harder to be the reason for someone else’s tears.

Hold your breath.

A mutant’s ordeal of a weird lover of laughter and tears

[Pinakamagulong blog na naisulat ko...mutant mode kasi ako dito december pala nung last ako ng blog..grabe tagal na...]

Intro
Paputol-putol ang ftp connection ko habang ang puno ng saging sa tabi ko ay mayabang na nagsasabing ikaw kasi…pasaway ka!

Ang hirap simulan ng kwentong sasabihin ko ngayon kya sinimulan ko ng walang kwenta…pero kung malalaman nyo lang kung ano tlga gusto kong ikwento ay malamang mamangha kayo at tumugon kayo ng napakamadamdaming “OK!”

Chapter 1 Nagsimula ang Lahat sa Hangin
Sige proceed na tayo, halos tatlong taon na ng una kong narinig ang busina ng jeep sa Remedios at nalanghap ang usok ng nagmamadaling jeep ulit papunta sa Monumento, ngayon malapit nko lumayas ng Pilipinas andun pa rin ang usok na kumakapit sa uniporme ng tiwaling traffic enforcer na wala ng ginawa kundi ang mag piko sa kalye gamit ang makapal na mukha bilang pamato.

Simula noon naging madalas na kung gabi ako umuwi meron kasing training sa isang basement sa San Marcelino, mangilan-ngilang kaluluwa ang dumadalaw dun para makulong ng ilang saglit sa piling ng malaking daga na sobrang mahiyain. Dun ko nakilala ang mga kaibigan ko na inabot na ng bagyo at tidal wave ay kaibigan ko pa rin. Salamat sa inyo ha? At lumipas man ang sandamakmak na rally sa Pilipinas, magkikita pa rin tayo kasi hindi naman tayo bulag. (corny ng joke ko bad trip)

Chapter 2 Para mama!!... bago mag Estrella!
Ansaya nung mga panahon na hindi pa kumplikado ang buhay papunta sa petplans, hindi pa nakakalito pumara ng bus sa pagitan ng tulay at overpass, at hindi pa kelangang sumakay ng elevator na papuntang 11th floor(na nag iisang buhay na palapag sa building na yun nung panahon n iyon).

Chapter 3 Bulong ng Palad
Bago pa dumating ang mga kwento, madami ng kwentuhan, bago dumating ang mga nagpipilit makinig ng mga piniling tinig ay marami na kong nadinig. Antagal na panahon na din palang lumipas madaming tao na rin ang dumaan sa trangkahan ng atensiyon ko. Sabi ng isang kaibigan kong matalik, masyado daw ako mapili sa mga kinakaibigan ko. Aba! At mapili pa pala ako ng lagay na ito? Teka meron bang taong hindi namili ng kaibigan niya? Maliban nlang kung politiko ka malamang gawin mo ito, pero sa katulad nating namamasahe lang ng 9 pesos sa bus na byaheng cubao to boni avenue ay dapat mamili tayo ng kaibigan natin diba?

Chapter 4 Share a Load, Win a Friend
Ewan ko sa iyo at diyan sa katabi mong nagbabasa din nitong blog ko pero ako talaga mas gusto kong mamili ng taong pagkakatiwalaan, yung tipong hindi ka tlga iiwan sa balag ng alanganin. Yung kahit panis na pop corn at boring na soda ay sasamahan ka kasi ang mahalaga yung magkasama kayo at kaya nyong magalit sa isa’t isa ng harapan tapos kakain na kayo ulit ng popcorn at soda, hindi yung plastic na chocolate walnut brownies at choco frap na nagpapanggap na whip cream kapiling ng ngiting pumupunit sa circumference ng mukha ng kausap mo mula kanang tenga hanggang kaliwang tenga.

Chapter 5 Sigaw!
“Huwag ka diyan” sigaw ng katipunerong may hawak na iPod, ng tanungin ng barberong may dalang cd ng cueshe, “bakit?” ang sagot ng katipunero, “sapagkat sinabi ko at ako ay katipunero” - ang labo diba? Minsan ganun sa mundong ibabaw eh, kahit sa mundong gilid at mundong ilalim, nangyayari yun kahit pa munggo lang ang ulam nyo mangyayari pa rin yun. May taong mag-sasabi sayo ng isang bagay na ang basehan lang niya ay kasi siya yun.

Chapter 6 Basang Sisiw sa Gilid ng Tuyong Kalan
Nakakatuwa din minsan na manood ng trailer ng isang suspense thriller na pelikula sa mukha ng kausap mo. Suspense kasi di mo alam kung ano kasunod na sasabihin, thriller kasi nakaka-shock kapag nalaman mo ang susunod na sasabihin, hindi mo alam san nanggaling.

Chapter 7 Wear Your Smile Always - Zionne
Naku katext ko ang kaibigan ko habang ginagawa ko ang blog na ito, at ang payo niya mag-hunos dili daw ako, sabi ko nagsusulat lang naman ako, wala naman akong inaaway. Ska isa pa napagod ako sa trabaho kaya kelangan ko magsulat, ang pagsusulat ay isang bitamina ng utak ko na nakakakapagrelax. Nawawala ang pressure ng trabaho pag nagsusulat ako, nalilimutan ko ang lahat ng problema ko at tumatahimik ako habang nagsusulat.

Conclusion
Sige sa hindi malamang dahilan, tatapusin ko na itong blog ko, anlabo ng title ng blog ko noh?, kahit anong hanap mo dito sa sinulat ko di mo matatagpuan ang ibig kong sabihin unless na weird ka din katulad ko, ay hindi pala ako weird, mutant pala ako.

The Trojan Masterpiece

12.21,2006
A day after the second day
Manila


Disrespectful of authority, radical cynicism, sordid agendas, all in a day’s work. Wonder how you would fill in the gap between being a role model and a visual artist. The latter requiring me to give fewer compliments in exchange for the truth. Majority of the people who would first see the way I work would hate me, that’s almost 95% of the time. But I choose not to become a crowd pleaser still. If some people would not prefer the way I talk, and the way I grumble, I guess they were not the ones who are willing to witness the unfolding of a mystery called, “myself”.

Reckoning tango, what a way to amplify your own worth. Yes it’s true that what most of us have done is too tiring, but is it not tiring also to talk behind some other person’s back? When would people find the guts to tell someone straight in the face that “hey shut up you’re not the only one working here” instead they comfort you with a semi conductor smile and with a synthetic attitude of asking you to eat with them, to join them and the final blow, thanking you for what you have done.

Fears you said? Paranoia? Not in words spoken out of the one who heard. Anyways no time to ask who you are. It’s your call but don’t expect me to come knocking at your door and say “I’m sorry, I do not intend it to be that way”, definitely not, not unless you tell me my faults and not to someone else.

The cancer that ate the system is that all the faces wore a smile before me that very day, and me, in a jolly mood, unsuspecting of a bullet from a friendly fire have bared open amidst the ammunition of acrobatic verbal stunts.

It’s the experts versus the expertise.

Maybe the pull of gravity is less than 9.81m/s(s) from where I am standing, but it doesn’t mean that I validate myself as an object of scorn.

Even dirt has its own place in the ground!

If.I.Was.Rich

10/23/2006 03:38pm
Singapore

If I was rich…I’d buy poverty and I’d sell them to the thieves, I could even give it to them for free…whichever way they want it, but you say thieves are already poor? I’m not talking about the poor thieves…I’m talking about influential thieves, those thieves that dictate the actions of the poorer thieves. The thieves that take away your future, your dreams, those that come to steal, and destroy (yeah sometimes they do kill….they kill hopes). If only I was rich.

If I was rich…I’d pay the debt of the whole world…I’d feed the hungry…clothe the naked and teach them how to find food with their clothes on. I remember the picture of an African child struggling in the desert for food as vultures wait for his last breath. I’d buy the desert for him and turn it into his own playground. If only I was rich.

If I was rich…I’d make good movies…clean music…I’d make sure that no child would be involved in pornography and if there’s money left for me I’d buy pornography and put in the depths of the sea. If only I was rich.

If I was rich…I’d pay drug lords, drug dealers…I’d pay them 100 times of what they are earning just to dispose of every destructive chemical in their hands. I’d pay scientists and doctors to provide a way out for the drug addicts. I’d pay them well. If only I was rich.

If I was rich…I’d pay every parent to stay near their child. I’d pay them 100 times of what they earn at work and give time to their children. If only I was rich.

If I was rich…I’d buy every weapon of mass destruction and dispose of them…I’d pay world leaders to shut up because they can’t do a thing about it. I’d buy the United Nations and create real unity among nations. I’d put a price to every war effort that any world leader would think of. If only I was rich.

But…..

I am not rich…that’s why I wrote this blog. ‘cause if I am really rich. I WOULD NOT CARE… ‘cause I would not know what poverty is…I would not know that drugs are destructive and I would get richer selling weapons. And if you watch a movie with me? I’d make sure there’s blood all over the screen. And I would leave my family behind, who cares? they would be rich also.

Maybe I would be paying people to write my blog. And I have so much money I would not really care what those people write.

Thank God, I’m not rich. Thank God for today.

And I pray. If God would make me rich. It would be worth it.

WORTH IT!