Aku suka makcik kathleen

Aku suka artikel yg ditulis oleh anak sedara john f kennedy dlm RD bln jan.ye.aku tau skarang dh nak masuk bln ogos n aku br hbs bc buku yg bertarikh 7 bulan lepas..xpe..ilmu tu xde expiry date...

artikel dia tajuk 'death has been ever present' atau aku translate 'kematian adalah satu hadiah/penghargaan'.betul ke?lebih kurang laa....aku setuju sgt2 ngan tulisan auntie kathleen ni..dia ni mcm dikelilingi oleh kematian spanjang di awal usia hidupnya..sejak dr dia belum lahir lg..ada satu part dia ckp dia x suka bile org ckp 'Time heals all wounds' sbb dia ckp benda tu xbetul.even selepas beberapa taun,orang akan sentiasa sedih kalau teringat kat femili or fren yg dah pergi ni..dulu, aku pecaye dengan kata2 tu..tp selepas baca artikel makcik ni and aku pun dah rasa,lalui sendiri, aku pikir2 makcik ni mmg betol..betol sesangat..aku pernah tertanya agaknya berapa taun aku perlukan nak lupakan ataupun x bersedih atau terasa hati kalau sebut pasal org tersayang yg dah xde ni..sekarang aku dah tau..walau beribu tahun pun (mmg x possible laa..perumpamaan untuk menguatkan cerita) mmg xkan boleh nak ubat hati ni..xkan boleh nak tampal balik hati yang dah belubang2 ni..kat mana2 pegi atau orang yg kita jumpa akan buatkan kita teringat..kita x mintak benda tu datang n xboleh nak kontrol pun..ianya kebetulan..hidup kan penuh dengan kebetulan..kalau tengok durian,kita teringat ngan orang yang sanggup susah pyh bukak durian sbb nak bg kita makan..dengar org ni ckp mcmni2,kita teringat la dulu selalu dengar orang tesayang tu ckp bnda sama..tp skarang xleh dgr lg..mcm tu la cntohnya kenapa masa tu mmg xkan dapat ubat hati ni..hari baru,orang baru,perkara baru,semua baru tapi pengalaman dan kenangan itu selamanya..

aku penah jugak dengar kalau hidup dengan kenangan kita xkan boleh maju ke hadapan..ye ke??aku x rasa mcm tu..sbb kenangan mmg xboleh dibuang..lain la kalau dpt amnesia..tp, even amnesia pun boleh baik balik..kenangan tu memori.memori tu sm mcm memori kad.xkan hilang selagi xformat balik..jd kalau ikut pepatah td tu,kalau xnak hidup dlm kenangan/memori,format la otak korang..huhu..

sambung balik pasal makcik kathleen..dia cite mcm mn kwn2 dia(waktu kat uni) dah besar panjang mcm tu tp xpenah rs g funeral(majlis kematian la kalau kat mesia ni)..sbb tu dia ckp kematian yg berlaku kat keliling dia tu mcm hadiah.sbb xsemua org merasa apa yg dia rasa dan lalui..aku suka sgt2 part tu..bg aku semangat..dia membuatkan aku rs aku dh dpt bnyk pengalaman..aku xleh la nak kata hadiah..boleh jugak hadiah..hadiah yg mmg xkan boleh nak lupa smpai bila2 pun..pengalaman yg aku dapat ni mmg sgt mahal sbb banyak mengajar aku dan adik beradik..ada yang belum nampak tp kami sendiri yakin ada sesuatu yang lebih baik menanti di hadapan..aku redha..
ok..aku positif!

Aku rasa nk menulis....

salam n hi!!
Ok.. aku rs nk menulis sbb aku rs aku patut(ini belog aku..sukati aku la kan nak tulis ke nak post berita ke apa)...
aku cuma rs nk share..dah bosan simpan sorang..ekceli aku dah tulis benda ni lama(adala dlm 2,3 hari..kira lama la..dh xfresh) tp sbb wifi yg mcm2 bijak pandai (means connection xbgs) aku terlambat la post sikit..tp xpela...pos je la..saje nk tmbh bilangan pos...
hjg minggu lepas aku tengok cite hindi.(amik dr member je..xde nk beli cd2 lg dah sekarang).
cite Om Shanti Om..ok.aku xtau pe makna Om Shanti Om tu sbb bukan nk cerita pasal tajuk tu..lama dah xtengok cerita hindi best2 ni..dah bertahun kot xlayan cerita hindi..ok aku tipu..dlm 6 bulan lepas aku ada tengok satu cerita member promote.cita kajol dan suami dia.sedeh cite tu.isteri dia hilang ingatan..yes..aku nangis nengok cite tu..(?????)mmg sedeh pun.aku kalau tengok cite tengok sorang2 sbb nak amik 'feel'.bukan artis je yg nk feel tau..
bebalik kepada cite Om,(mcm nama indon pulak..dulu maid makcik aku panggil om,janda.tp skarang dh balik kampung iye)..tp Om yg aku tengok ni bukan maid.dia pelakon kecil2 an..u know,watak2 sampingan tp berangan nk jd hero..member dia ckp la dia xkan dpt jd hero kalau guna nama OM bla bla aku xingat yg kat belakang.member dia suggest la pegi tuka nama.but of course la mak dia yg melodramatic xbagi...lg satu psl Om ni dia minat gila kat heroin yang tengah ngetop masa tu..siap ckp sorang mcm xbetol je aku tengok..mcm org ckp dlm tepon...die jgk jd saksi kekejaman manusia kat heroin tu..ok malas la nk cite..g tengok sendiri sbb biasela cite hindi mmg pnjg2 kan (nak bg pnjg lg,dorang buboh la 5,8 lagu dlm tu..jimat sikit..cpyh tulis skrip pnjg2)..yg pasti Om tu nnt mati n ntah mcm mn semangat n roh die masok dlm body sorang baby yg ayah die namakan Om jgk..cite ni psl kelahiran semula..kot..
emm..bg aku cite ni best sbb bnyk special appearances..betul ke???ape2 je lah..ada satu lagu tu bnyk gila artis..haha..best2 aku suka..mcm package la tengok cite ni..xpyh nk tengok bnyk2 cite sbb dlm satu cite ni dh ada bnyk artis2 lain..(suka2!)
mula2 cita tu ada rishi kapoor yg mmg dr filem lama dia.kurus lagi.hensem lg..dia gabungkan la watak Om tu ada kat set rishi tu.dah ada kemajuan cite hindi skarang..hebat..xnmpk tipu sgt..ok mungkin ada sesetengah xknal rishi (yg belakon bobby?xkenal jugak?google sndiri la) tp aku kenal sbb aku org lama..kecik2 aku selalu tengok mak aku tengok cite hindi ni and lazim sorang budak akan tanya mcm2 kan..kdg2 mak aku mls layan sgt sbb kitorang selalu ejek ape ni tengok cite hindi..pastu nangis2..cliche!!tp,bila kuch kuch hota hai keluar (dlm tahun 98) kitorang sume kena badi dah..sume layan cite hindi..mungkin itu ketulahan..mungkin..aku lah yang paling obses sekali dlm rumah tu..kalau keluar mesti nak beli cd cite hindi.xkesah la best ke x..siap beli majalah lg...(ooo..membazir nya...mcm la preity zinta tau umah aku)..bila dh matang sikit ni aku tau,mmg budak2 macam tu...hehe
cite hindi sekarang dah lain dr zaman2 kemasyhuran srk,salman,kajol dulu..sbb tu aku xlayan sangat dah sekarang..kalau cite yg muka2 baru mmg aku xtengok la..n xkenal pun..tp yg aku saspek sgt2 kat diorang ialah diorang xkenal putus asa..bandingkan ngan industri perfileman kat negara ni, diorang jauh kat depan dah (walaupun org ckp jln cite same..tp maseh jgk org nk tengok kan?kan?kan??) diorang keluarkan smpai beratus filem setahun dan dlm bnyk2 tu mesti ada yg sangkut punye..yg top la..contoh slumdog millionaire tu..(aku xtau cite tu kategori hindi ke omputeh..tp sbb kat india aku assume hindi la..setuju?) cite tu mmg lain la..aku suke jgk cite tu..best!filem tu menunjukkan yg hidup ni mmg penuh dengan kebetulan..mcm,selalu rs nk ponteng kelas tp xberani then bila dah buat tu (ponteng) tiba2 ada spotcheck..kemudian tertangkap..bila fikir2 kenapa waktu kita nk buat baru ada spotcheck??orang lain buat xde pulak kene..kan??kan??itulah kebetulan..
lg satu contoh kebetulan ataupun coincidences dlm bhs omputeh nya, bila pindah tmpat baru ni..n kenal2 la ngan orang sekeliling..last2 dpt tau orang tu anak sedara jiran sebelah umah kita yg kita xberapa nak suka..kelakar kan?itulah realiti nya..kecik je dunia ni sebenarnya..kebetulan2 yg orang selalu alami ni ada pro n kon nya sendiri..kalau dlm slumdog tu kebetulan yg dialami hero tu mmg sangat la menguntungkan..ape2 pun aku nk cakap yg semua yg berlaku dalam hidup kita mmg telah dirancang oleh yang Maha Bijaksana..mungkin ada satu masa kita akan rasa diri ni susah sangat2 (mcm hero slumdog tu..tp sapa sangka dpt jd millionaire..kan??)..tp..pecaye lah..Allah xkan menjadikan sesuatu perkara tu tanpa sebab dan alasanNya tersendiri..pasti ada sesuatu yg lebih baik Dia janjikan untuk kita..mcm Om ckp,everything is OK in the end..if it's not OK,it's not the end..so, aku nak katakan kat diri aku sendiri n sesape yg baca ni, walaupun aku tau sekarang hidup aku dh lain dr dulu,rs susah hati,rs rindu, tp aku terima semua tu sbb aku yakin dgn janji Tuhan..dan aku harap semua org pun rs mcm tu..hidup tidak selalunya indah kan?
ok la..dah puas bebel2..nnt kalau ada benda best lg aku tulis la lg...
daaa....

Letter to my brother

This is another story that touch many hearts....

Dear Patrick,

I was then an only child
who had everything I could ever want. But even a pretty,
spoiled and rich kid could get lonely once in a while
so when Mom told me that she was pregnant,
I was ecstatic.

I imagined how wonderful you would be
and how we'd always be together
and how much you would look like me.
So, when you were born, I looked at your tiny hands and feet
and marveled at how beautiful you were.
We took you home and I showed you proudly to my friends.
They would touch you and sometimes pinch you,
but you never reacted.
When you were five months old,
some things began to bother Mom.
You seemed so unmoving and numb,
and your cry sounded odd -- almost like a kitten's.

So we brought you to many doctors.
The thirteenth doctor who looked at you quietly said
you have the "cry du chat" (pronounced kree-do-sha) syndrome,
'cry of the cat' in French.
When I asked what that meant,
he looked at me with pity and softly said,
"Your brother will never walk nor talk."
The doctor told us that it is a condition
that afflicts one in 50,000 babies,
rendering victims severely retarded.
Mom was shocked and I was furious.
I thought it was unfair. When we went home,
Mom took you in her armsand cried.
I looked at you and realized that word will get around
that you're not normal.
So to hold on to my popularity,
I did the unthinkable ... I disowned you.
Mom and Dad didn't know but
I steeled myself not to love you as you grew.

Mom and Dad showered you with love
and attention and that made me bitter.
And as the years passed,
that bitterness turned to anger, and then hate.
Mom never gave up on you.
She knew she had to do it for your sake.
Every time she put your toys down,
you'd roll instead of crawl.
I watched her heart break every time she took away your toys
and strapped your tummy with foam so you couldn't roll.
You'd struggle and you'd cry in that pitiful way,
the cry of the kitten. But she still didn't give up.
And then one day,
you defied what all your doctors said -- you crawled.
When Mom saw this, she knew that you would eventually walk.
So when you were still crawling at age four,
she'd put you on the grass with only your diapers
on knowing that you hate the feel of the grass your skin.
Then she'd leave you there.
I would sometimes watch from the window
and smile at your discomfort.
You would crawl to the sidewalk and Mom would put you back.
Again and again, Mom repeated this on the lawn.
Until one day,
Mom saw you pull yourself up and toddle off the grass
as fast as your little legs could carry you.
Laughing and crying, she shouted for Dad and I to come.
Dad hugged you crying openly.
I watched from my bedroom window this heartbreaking scene.
Over the years, Mom taught you to speak, read and write.
From then on, I would sometimes see you walk outside,
smell the flowers, marvel at the birds, or just smile at no one.
I began to see the beauty of the world around me,
the simplicity of life and the wonders of this world,
through your eyes.
It was then that I realized that you were my brother
and no matter how much I tried to hate you, I couldn't,
because I had grown to love you.
During the next few days,
we again became acquainted with each other.
I would buy you toys and give you all the love that
a sister could ever give to her brother.
And you would reward me by smiling and hugging me.

But I guess, you were never really meant for us.
On your tenth birthday, you felt severe headaches.
The doctor's diagnosis -- leukemia.Mom gasped and Dad held her,
while I fought hard to keep my tears from falling.
At that moment, I loved you all the more.
I couldn't even bear to leave your side.
Then the doctors told us that your only hope was
to have a bonemarrow transplant.
You became the subject of a nationwide donor search.
When at last we found the right match, you were too sick,
and the doctor reluctantly ruled out the operations.
Since then, you underwent chemotherapy and radiation.

Even at the end, you continued to pursue life.
Just a month before you died,
you made me draw up a list of things you wanted to do
when you got out of the hospital.
Two days after the list was completed,
you asked the doctors to send you home.
There, we ate ice cream and cake, run across the grass,
flew kites, went fishing, took pictures of one another
and let the balloons fly.

I remember the last conversation that we had.
You said that if you die, and if I need of help,
I could send you a note to heaven
by tying it on the string any a balloon and letting it fly.
When you said this, I started crying. Then you hugged me.
Then again, for the last time, you got sick.
That last night, you asked for water,
a back rub, a cuddle.
Finally, you went into seizure with tears streaming down your face.
Later, at the hospital,
you struggled to talk but the words wouldn't come..
I know what you wanted to say.
"I hear you," I whispered.
And for the last time, I said,
"I'll always love you and I will never forget you.
Don't be afraid. You'll soon be with God in heaven."

Then, with my tears flowing freely,
I watched the bravest boy
that I had ever known finally stop breathing.
Dad, Mom and I cried until
I felt as if there were no more tears left.
Patrick was finally gone, leaving us behind.

From then on, you were my source of inspiration.
You showed me how to love life and live life to the fullest.
With your simplicity and honesty,
you showed me a world full of love and caring.
And you made me realize
that the most important thing in this life is
to continue loving without asking
why or how and without setting any limit.
Thank you, my little brother, for all these.

Your Sister

The little girl who dared to wish

As Amy Hagadorn rounded the corner across the hall from her classroom, she collided with a tall boy from the fifth grade running in the opposite direction. "Watch it, Squirt," the boy yelled, as he dodged around the little third grader. Then, with a smirk on his face, the boy took hold of his right leg and mimicked the way Amy limped when she walked.
Amy closed her eyes for a moment.
Ignore him, she told herself as she headed for her classroom. But at the end of the day, Amy was still thinking about the tall boy's mean teasing. It wasn't as if he were the only one. It seemed that ever since Amy started the third grade, someone teased her every single day. Kids teased her about her speech or her limping. Amy was tired of it. Sometimes, even in a classroom full of other students, the teasing made her feel all alone.
Back home at the dinner table that evening Amy was quiet. Her mother knew that things were not going well at school. That's why Patti Hagadorn was happy to have some exciting news to share with her daughter.
"There's a Christmas Wish Contest on the radio station," Amy's mom announced. "Write a letter to Santa and you might win a prize. I think someone at this table with blond curly hair should enter."
Amy giggled. The contest sounded like fun. She started thinking about what she wanted most for Christmas.
A smile took hold of Amy when the idea first came to her. Out came pencil and paper and Amy went to work on her letter. "Dear Santa Claus," she began.
While Amy worked away at her best printing, the rest of the family tried to guess what she might ask from Santa. Amy's sister, Jamie, and Amy's mom both thought a 3-foot Barbie Doll would top Amy's wish list. Amy's dad guessed a picture book. But Amy wasn't ready to reveal her secret Christmas wish just then. Here is Amy's letter to Santa, just as she wrote it that night:

Dear Santa Claus,
My name is Amy. I am 9 years old. I have a problem at school. Can you help me, Santa? Kids laugh at me because of the way I walk and run and talk. I have cerebral palsy. I just want one day where no one laughs at me or makes fun of me.
Love, Amy

At radio station WJLT in Fort Wayne, Indiana, letters poured in for the Christmas Wish Contest. The workers had fun reading about all the different presents that boys and girls from across the city wanted for Christmas.
When Amy's letter arrived at the radio station, manager Lee Tobin read it carefully. He knew cerebral palsy was a muscle disorder that might confuse the schoolmates of Amy who didn't understand her disability. He thought it would be good for the people in Fort Wayne to hear about this special third grader and her unusual wish. Mr. Tobin called up the local newspaper.
The next day, a picture of Amy and her letter to Santa made the front page of The News Sentinel. The story spread quickly. All across the country, newspapers and radio and television stations reported the story of the little girl in Fort Wayne, Indiana, who asked for such a simple, yet remarkable, Christmas gift-- just one day without teasing.
Suddenly the postman was a regular at the Hagadorn house. Envelopes of all sizes addressed to Amy arrived daily from children and adults all across the nation. They came filled with holiday greetings and words of encouragement. During that unforgettable Christmas season, over two thousand people from all over the world sent Amy letters of friendship and support. Amy and her family read every single one. Some of the writers had disabilities; some had been teased as children. Each writer had a special message for Amy. Through the cards and letters from strangers, Amy glimpsed a world full of people who truly cared about each other. She realized that no amount or form of teasing could ever make her feel lonely again.
Many people thanked Amy for being brave enough to speak up. Others encouraged her to ignore teasing and to carry her head high. Lynn, a sixth grader from Texas, sent this message:
"I would like to be your friend," she wrote, "and if you want to visit me, we could have fun. No one would make fun of us, cause, if they do, we will not even hear them."
Amy did get her wish of a special day without teasing at South Wayne Elementary School. Additionally, everyone at school got an added bonus. Teachers and students talked together about how bad teasing can make others feel.
That year, the Fort Wayne mayor officially proclaimed December 21st as Amy Jo Hagadorn Day throughout the city. The mayor explained that by daring to make such a simple wish, Amy taught a universal lesson.
"Everyone," said the mayor, "wants and deserves to be treated with respect, dignity and warmth."

by Alan D. Shultz from Chicken Soup for the Kid's Soul Copyright 1998 by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Patty Hansen and Irene Dunlap