All Purpose Cream
I’ve read a quote in a self-help book before, back when I didn’t know what novels were and just read whatever my grandmother had in her bookshelf: “Life is like a coin – you can spend it any way you want, but you can only spend it once.” With this mantra, I choose to live my life (eh, not really) – becoming a little curious, a little skeptic, but still taking chances. Becoming the pilot of my own rusty, little plane, but still believing in fate and destiny. Still dreaming (both with my eyes open and closed), but not forgetting to live and face reality. I’m not really a person with a definite or particular shining “dream” in life, so I think in my case, the “coin” that we call life still needs to be broken down into its smallest possible denomination.
I like doing a lot of things. I want to try different activities and take different jobs when I hit that age. I want to be a jack-of-all-trades or be a prodigy (although that’s more impossible than possible). I want to be a writer (big shot), a firefighter (real), a playgroup teacher (and scare toddlers to death), a radio commentator (rather than a news anchor), and an employee of Ovations Production (so I’d get free passes to the hottest concerts in town). I want to visit Europe (who doesn’t anyway) and maybe live in Greece for a year or two (I’m a bit gung-ho over the Greek mythology). I want to meet the great J.K. Rowling and have butterbeers with her in The Wizarding World of Harry Potter. I want to finish an Arts degree in NYU. I want to get married to the great love of my life and have smart, funny, responsible kids. I
will give my mother a house and a nice designer bag. I
will write my own fiction and have it published in hardbound. I
will have hardcore abs and less hardcore shit. My bucket list grows longer and longer every living day. It isn’t something I can accomplish and file neatly and send to Santa overnight.
Living like a sick, distraught, semi-depressed and terribly weird kid in this world for nineteen years, I still know and believe I have this great purpose. I know that I was allowed to borrow this life because I need to accomplish something not only for myself and the people around me, but most importantly, for the glory of God the Father. But what this big purpose is, I still haven’t any idea. I don’t think everybody knows theirs completely. I envy the small percentage of people who do – at least they don’t feel wretched and useless anymore. Purposes are responsibilities: responsibilities that can take a lifetime to realize and
another lifetime to execute and successfully accomplish. I believe that having a purpose is what makes our lives going, what gives us this energy phenomenon to continue shuffling in these challenging times, what gives us the strong will and desire to wake up and live. And I guess a purpose also defines a person: what he thinks his use is in this world says so much about what he thinks of himself – his capabilities and skills, what he wants to achieve, how much he trusts himself, and how he wants to live.
Cassandra Clare once wrote, “Only people with no purpose are unhappy.” And discovering and accomplishing my own special reason of living is my ultimate life plan. Yes, my bucket list is a growing bucket list, eating and eating desires like a real human being on puberty, but when it comes to the last line, Purposes always win. Screw Wants and Needs; the only way to live a fruitful life is to be friends and work harmoniously with Mr. Purpose. I’m as dubious and clueless as a wailing newborn, but so far I think my purpose is to
share stories – verbal, written, virtual and any other ways possible. I like listening and sharing ideas to people all the time. (I always have two cents to spare in my trusty, little pocket.) I share stories as much as possible, without annoying the small number of listeners I have. I actually read a lot not only because I want to have a companion and not feel alone, but also because I want to have something to share to others however weird and awful they (stories) may be. I will someday learn how to properly tell stories (without uncalled-for spoilers and prejudices) and live happily ever after.
I still have more days and roads to take ahead of me; more roadblocks and rocky patches to pass through; more highways to pay my toll fee to; more people and pilgrims and inspirations to meet and learn from; and more stories and morals to collect and share. But for now, I’ll enjoy this ride and fill the fuel tank up with the dime I have. Mr. Purpose is truly scary since his last name is apparently Responsibility, but life is like a movie: it is a blockbuster flop without some thrill, cliffs and climaxes.
Parting words from Dr. Jose Rizal: “The road is ours as the present is ours, and if it is not given to us to reach the end, we may be sure that by fulfilling our duties, the future will be ours also.”
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a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
All Purpose Cream
I’ve read a quote in a self-help book before, back when I didn’t know what novels were and just read whatever my grandmother had in her bookshelf: “Life is like a coin – you can spend it any way you want, but you can only spend it once.” With this mantra, I choose to live my life (eh, not really) – becoming a little curious, a little skeptic, but still taking chances. Becoming the pilot of my own rusty, little plane, but still believing in fate and destiny. Still dreaming (both with my eyes open and closed), but not forgetting to live and face reality. I’m not really a person with a definite or particular shining “dream” in life, so I think in my case, the “coin” that we call life still needs to be broken down into its smallest possible denomination.
I like doing a lot of things. I want to try different activities and take different jobs when I hit that age. I want to be a jack-of-all-trades or be a prodigy (although that’s more impossible than possible). I want to be a writer (big shot), a firefighter (real), a playgroup teacher (and scare toddlers to death), a radio commentator (rather than a news anchor), and an employee of Ovations Production (so I’d get free passes to the hottest concerts in town). I want to visit Europe (who doesn’t anyway) and maybe live in Greece for a year or two (I’m a bit gung-ho over the Greek mythology). I want to meet the great J.K. Rowling and have butterbeers with her in The Wizarding World of Harry Potter. I want to finish an Arts degree in NYU. I want to get married to the great love of my life and have smart, funny, responsible kids. I
will give my mother a house and a nice designer bag. I
will write my own fiction and have it published in hardbound. I
will have hardcore abs and less hardcore shit. My bucket list grows longer and longer every living day. It isn’t something I can accomplish and file neatly and send to Santa overnight.
Living like a sick, distraught, semi-depressed and terribly weird kid in this world for nineteen years, I still know and believe I have this great purpose. I know that I was allowed to borrow this life because I need to accomplish something not only for myself and the people around me, but most importantly, for the glory of God the Father. But what this big purpose is, I still haven’t any idea. I don’t think everybody knows theirs completely. I envy the small percentage of people who do – at least they don’t feel wretched and useless anymore. Purposes are responsibilities: responsibilities that can take a lifetime to realize and
another lifetime to execute and successfully accomplish. I believe that having a purpose is what makes our lives going, what gives us this energy phenomenon to continue shuffling in these challenging times, what gives us the strong will and desire to wake up and live. And I guess a purpose also defines a person: what he thinks his use is in this world says so much about what he thinks of himself – his capabilities and skills, what he wants to achieve, how much he trusts himself, and how he wants to live.
Cassandra Clare once wrote, “Only people with no purpose are unhappy.” And discovering and accomplishing my own special reason of living is my ultimate life plan. Yes, my bucket list is a growing bucket list, eating and eating desires like a real human being on puberty, but when it comes to the last line, Purposes always win. Screw Wants and Needs; the only way to live a fruitful life is to be friends and work harmoniously with Mr. Purpose. I’m as dubious and clueless as a wailing newborn, but so far I think my purpose is to
share stories – verbal, written, virtual and any other ways possible. I like listening and sharing ideas to people all the time. (I always have two cents to spare in my trusty, little pocket.) I share stories as much as possible, without annoying the small number of listeners I have. I actually read a lot not only because I want to have a companion and not feel alone, but also because I want to have something to share to others however weird and awful they (stories) may be. I will someday learn how to properly tell stories (without uncalled-for spoilers and prejudices) and live happily ever after.
I still have more days and roads to take ahead of me; more roadblocks and rocky patches to pass through; more highways to pay my toll fee to; more people and pilgrims and inspirations to meet and learn from; and more stories and morals to collect and share. But for now, I’ll enjoy this ride and fill the fuel tank up with the dime I have. Mr. Purpose is truly scary since his last name is apparently Responsibility, but life is like a movie: it is a blockbuster flop without some thrill, cliffs and climaxes.
Parting words from Dr. Jose Rizal: “The road is ours as the present is ours, and if it is not given to us to reach the end, we may be sure that by fulfilling our duties, the future will be ours also.”
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a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
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Already several months had passed, and I am missing
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry more and more each fleeting day. There are just some things in life that we can never forget – especially that something that had given us knowledge, skills, strong relationships and a second home. I am glad that everything in the magical world is now at peace, since Voldemort (yes, I can now say his name; no need to be afraid) had died. I had secretly admired Tom Marvolo Riddle (Voldemort’s birth name) though, because of his intelligence, passion and love for magic. Wasn’t he very clever to think of and conjure his seven
Horcruxes to preserve his life, or form a clan of
Death Eaters who were very loyal to him and would give up their lives just for him to succeed? Not everybody can acquire that much loyalty from people these days. I do not, however, admire him for the way he had carried out all of his plans. He had a good agenda, his means just weren’t morally right. But he still is one of the darkest wizards of all time… and let’s leave it that way.
Oh, for all those who are baffled of what I’m saying here and who the heck I am, my name is
Christine Faye Ordas, and I am an alumnus of Hogwarts. I came from the bronze-and-blue-clad house of the smart ass witch Rowena Ravenclaw and her dictum
“Wit beyond measure is a man’s greatest treasure.” And yes, I know the wonderful Luna Lovegood (she’s such a darling) and Harry Potter’s first crush Cho Chang. I had just left Hogwarts last May. Right now I am trying to pursue a career in magical researches, literature and writing. It’s my dream to inscribe intellectual books, publish and sell them in
Flourish and Blotts for the future Hogwarts students’ use. I am also planning to credibly write for the
Daily Prophet, the magical world’s primary news bulletin. And of course, I will be very much honored to contribute to Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood’s
Quibbler (hence, my interest in magical researches). I have always found the Lovegoods a fascinating family, and I bet working with and for them will be very exciting. Or maybe, in Merlin’s beard’s time, I can write legends and bedtime stories like the famous – and wickedly brilliant – Beedle the Bard.
And that’s how my life goes these days. I am utterly missing my old school, my friends, the Great Hall, the bronze eagle knocker just outside the Ravenclaw common room, Professor Flitwick (the head of our house), Hogsmeade, the Quidditch matches (although I didn’t actually play for the house), the moving portraits, the castle ghosts, the pumpkins on Halloween, the giant pine trees on Christmas, Rubeus Hagrid’s (Hogwarts’ gamekeeper) tea and treacle fudge – even the crabby Argus Filch (Hogwarts’ caretaker) I miss. Maybe I can visit the school grounds sometimes and see how the magical world’s been doing since Voldemort died (I’ve been spending my months in the muggle world, you see). I’ve heard everybody’s been moving on and starting all over again; the ministry is back on work under Kingsley Shacklebolt; and Harry Potter’s scar haven’t been disturbing him since.
All is well, indeed.
And because of that, we should celebrate and drink firewhisky! Oh, I still don’t drink firewhisky; I can take butterbeer or tea or pumpkin juice – just not firewhisky, please.
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