The international food shortage

The international food shortage

Recently, a worldwide survey was conducted and the only question asked was: “Would you please give your honest opinion about the solution to the food shortage in the rest of the world?”

The survey was, not surprisingly, a huge failure. Because:

In Africa they didn’t know what “food” meant.

In Eastern Europe they didn’t know what “honest” meant.

In Western Europe they didn’t know what “shortage” meant.

In China they didn’t know what “opinion” meant.

In the Middle East they didn’t know what “solution” meant.

In South America they didn’t know what “please” meant.

And, in the USA they didn’t know what “the rest of the world” meant.

-taken from a random website while surfing around

a.roy.

To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never, to forget.

oh wells

I was very bored. So although I don’t watch Grey’s Anatomy, don’t know what it is about because i don’t watch advertistments because I don’t watch tv, plus it seems like a show where there is more talking than anything else (i am probably wrong) and the only reason i actually take notice of the name G.A – is because the songs that are used for the soundtrack for the serial is very good, i decided that i would put these on my blog.

All are from Dr M.Grey (whoever she is, it doesn’t matter,they just sound nice.) And a bit good to think about, really. Time for a bit of soul searching, and time to think about stuff that really matters. :)

“At some point, you have to make a decision. Boundaries don’t keep other people out. They fence you in. Life is messy. That’s how we’re made. So, you can waste your lives drawing lines. Or you can live your life crossing them. But there are some lines… that are way too dangerous to cross.”

“Pain, you just have to ride it out, hope it goes away on its own, hope the wound that caused it heals. There are no solutions, no easy answers, you just breath deep and wait for it to subside. Most of the time pain can be managed but sometimes the pain gets you where you least expect it. Hits way below the belt and doesn’t let up. Pain, you just have to fight through, because the truth is you can’t outrun it and life always makes more.”

“You know how when you were a little kid and you believed in fairy tales, that fantasy of what your life would be, white dress, prince charming who would carry you away to a castle on a hill. You would lie in bed at night and close your eyes and you had complete and utter faith. Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, Prince Charming, they were so close you could taste them, but eventually you grow up, one day you open your eyes and the fairy tale disappears. Most people turn to the things and people they can trust. But the thing is its hard to let go of that fairy tale entirely cause almost everyone has that smallest bit of hope, of faith, that one day they will open their eyes and it will come true.”

“Maybe we’re not supposed to be happy. Maybe gratitude has nothing to do with joy. Maybe being grateful means recognizing what you have for what it is. Appreciating small victories. Admiring the struggle it takes simply to be human. Maybe we’re thankful for the familiar things we know. And maybe we’re thankful for the things we’ll never know. At the end of the day, the fact that we have the courage to still be standing is reason enough to celebrate.”

-Dr. Meredith Grey

Author Unknown.

When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember well the polished old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother used to talk to it.

Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person – her name was Information Please and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply anybody’s number and the correct time.

My first personal experience with this genie-in-the-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer. The pain was terrible, but there didn’t seem to be any reason in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway – The telephone! Quickly I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. Information Please I said into the mouthpiece just above my head.

A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear. “Information.”

“I hurt my finger. . .” I wailed into the phone. The tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.

“Isn’t your mother home?” came the question.

“Nobody’s home but me.” I blubbered.

“Are you bleeding?”

“No,” I replied. “I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts.”

“Can you open your icebox?” she asked. I said I could. “Then chip off a little piece of ice and hold it to your finger.”

After that I called Information Please for everything. I asked her for help with my geography and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math, and she told me my pet chipmunk I had caught in the park just the day before would eat fruits and nuts.

And there was the time that Petey, our pet canary died. I called Information Please and told her the sad story. She listened, then said the usual things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was unconsoled. Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers, feet up on the bottom of a cage?

She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, “Paul, always remember that there are other worlds to sing in.”

Somehow I felt better.

Another day I was on the telephone. “Information Please.”

“Information,” said the now familiar voice.

“How do you spell fix?” I asked.

All this took place in a small town in the pacific Northwest. Then when I was 9 years old, we moved across the country to Boston. I missed my friend very much. Information Please belonged in that old wooden box back home, and I somehow never thought of trying the tall, shiny new phone that sat on the hall table.

Yet as I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me; often in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.

A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about half an hour or so between plane, and I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, “Information Please”.

Miraculously, I heard again the small, clear voice I knew so well, “Information.” I hadn’t planned this but I heard myself saying, “Could you tell me please how-to spell fix?’

There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, “I guess that your finger must have healed by now.”

I laughed, “So it’s really still you, I said. “I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time.”

“I wonder, she said, if you know how much your calls meant to me. I never had any children, and I used to look forward to your calls.”

I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.

“Please do, just ask for Sally.”

Just three months later I was back in Seattle. . .A different voice answered Information and I asked for Sally.

“Are you a friend?” “Yes, a very old friend.” “Then I’m sorry to have to tell you. Sally has been working part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago.” But before I could hang up she said, “Wait a minute. Did you say your name was Paul?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down, Here it is I’ll read it ‘Tell him I still say there are other worlds to sing in. He’ll know what I mean’.”

I thanked her and hung up. I did know what Sally meant.

In today’s world, where love is ruled by selfishness and self-pity, hearts are made of coal, and quantity over quality matters – most people would read this and turn their nose up.

Wrinkles

An elderly woman and her little grandson, whose face was sprinkled with bright freckles, spent the day at the zoo. Lots of children were waiting in line to get their cheeks painted by a local artist who was decorating them with tiger paws.

“You’ve got so many freckles, there’s no place to paint!” a girl in the line said to the little fella. Embarrassed, the little boy dropped his head. His grandmother knelt down next to him. “I love your freckles. When I was a little girl, I always wanted freckles, she said, while tracing her finger across the child’s cheek.”Freckles are beautiful!” The boy looked up, “Really?”"Of course,” said the grandmother. “Why, just name me one thing that’s prettier than freckles.”

The little boy thought for a moment, peered intensely into his grandma’s face, and softly whispered, “Wrinkles. -author unknown

[taken from ANYWAY ; i typed out about 1/5 of the book. haa. a little excerpt]

the issue of appreciation is a big one. many of us feel like we are being taken for granted. the people we serve don’t appreciate us, so why shld we give them our best? the answer is that we have our own integerity and standards, and we derive meaning and satisfaction from doing a great job. it doesn’t matter or not whether anyone knows or appreciates what we do- we still have to do what is right. This is about us, not them. This is about how we much WE care, not how much they care.

when people are more focused on meaning and less focused on “success”, the world will start to make sense. people will pitch in to help without worrying who gets the credit. people will have their values and follow their hearts, and do the work they were born to do, even if does not led to power and wealth and prestige.

This is what I want to be, will be, and shall be. :)