Hurt

Hurt

Seems like it was yesterday when I saw your face
You told me how proud you were but I walked away
If only I knew what I know today

I would hold you in my arms
I would take the pain away
Thank you for all you've done
Forgive all your mistakes
There's nothing I wouldn't do
To hear your voice again
Sometimes I want to call you but I know you won't be there

I'm sorry for blaming you for everything I just couldn't do
And I've hurt myself by hurting you
Some days I feel broke inside but I won't admit
Sometimes I just want to hide 'cause it's you I miss
You know it's so hard to say goodbye when it comes to this

Would you tell me I was wrong?
Would you help me understand?
Are you looking down upon me?
Are you proud of who I am?
There's nothing I wouldn't do
To have just one more chance
To look into your eyes and see you looking back

I'm sorry for blaming you for everything I just couldn't do
And I've hurt myself
If I had just one more day, I would tell you how much that
I've missed you since you've been away

Oh, it's dangerous
It's so out of line to try to turn back time

I'm sorry for blaming you for everything I just couldn't do
And I've hurt myself

By hurting you

Cross Cultural Relationships

 In today's global world, it’s easier than ever before to meet – and find common ground – with someone from another country and culture. Although exciting, marrying/dating someone with a background very different from your own has the potential to challenge you in ways that you might not predict.

 ...

Cross-cultural relationships are complicated to navigate. Once the novelty wears off, the differences can create a rift between partners. But the differences can also bring the couple closer by compelling them to communicate about things that are taken for granted by same-culture couples.

......

Just as every culture has its beliefs systems, every family also has a series of beliefs that are inherited. Being in a cross-cultural relationship provides a great chance to review those ideas. For those women in cross cultural relationships, redetermining your beliefs about your own sense of self worth and getting clear on your personal and emotional boundaries is essential.

........

Here are several issues to consider before you get involved in an intercultural marriage/relationships:

1. Gender Roles

2. Extended Family

3. Prejudices and Social Attitudes

4.Religion

5.Where to live

6. Personality

Perpetual Rollar Coaster

Sometimes LIFE just seems soooooo overwhelming. It feels like I'm on a perpetual roller-coaster - whether I'm facing a health crisis,death, my friends' attempts for suicide, balancing overly-full schedules while spending time with classes(or carrier)/ friends, and on and on and on. Somewhere in there should, of course, be some time to unwind, to relax, to have some re-creation time. At some point in the midst of the seemingly endless hectic chaos, I sometimes remember - Oh,yes! - that God is with me even when I forget that God is here to
help and guide me with the next step - even though I don't know what the next step will be. God is here to listen and have an ongoing and growing conversation with each of us and of course with me too. Reminders are so helpful.

I have found that life is so chock-full of choices and possibilities, that I sometimes have no idea which path to pursue. In pursuing a particular possibility, my mind leaps to various alternatives if one path looks like it might be blocked by an impenetrable hedge. I still try to see if the assumption of the hedge is correct, but my mind
races to find other paths - just in case. It reminds me one of my favorite poems, which I read in one random blog or book when I was sitting at Barnes Noble:

"THE ROAD NOT TAKEN"

BY ROBERT FROST

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

I may not know where the next path leads, but God does.....

Amazing Gift

Imagine every morning a bank will deposit 86400 Dollars into an account for you to do with as you please.  You may spend the entire amount that day but you cannot rollover what remains.  What you do not spend is lost.  But every morning when you wake-up you will find another 86400 Dollars in your account.  Be aware that the bank may cancel the arrangement at any time.  The bank can say the game is over without forewarning.

What would you do?

This game is real, every person has such a magic bank, it is called time.  Every morning we are gifted 86400 seconds of life.  What we have not used-up at the end of the day will be lost.  But every morning the account is filled again.

So then, what do you do with your daily 86400 seconds?

Letters

…no matter what format, is a loss romantics the world over - however some of us are left - will always mourn.

..Love letter costs not much, it takes some effort and a little time, but the result is everlasting. 

 Not surprisingly/ unfortunately people today prefer the world's most annoying instrument, the cell phone. The intrusive contraption demands less concentration and therefore less commitment.  Mind you, in certain cases it's understandable, now that selling personal memorabilia to the press has become big business. And divorce lawyers counsel, "Don't text it!" 

 What is truly sad about the death of the love letter is that an entire aspect of romantic expression known to our grandparents has now vanished. Back in the good old days, people got to know each other through words rather than through deeds. Or, translation: syntax rather than sex. Relationships were more stable as a result. Just imagine if young people would correspond with each other for one year before taking the plunge. Would they take it?  Probably not, but then I am assuming they both know how to write. 

 Of course, some people are better at writing love letters than others. I have a personal favorite that went as follows: 

"Dear X, There's a marvelous line in Romeo and Juliet when Romeo, having avenged Mercutio's death, is banished from Verona. ‘Heaven is here, where Juliet lives’, he proclaimed. However sudden this may sound, or corny, this is how I've felt about you since the first moment I met you. Love, Max."

...Women (far more than men) are the victims of the love letter's demise. They like to be wooed, and nothing is better for a courtship battle than a letter. Being pounced on is not a woman's idea of romance, or so I believe, but then again I'm awfully old-fashioned. And it is far harder to win a woman's heart than to win her body.

Moreover, shyness does not inhibit when writing, at least not nearly as much as it does when speaking.  This is why today's lack of love letters is a paradox. We are a far more prurient society, exposing ourselves in the most ludicrous manner, yet we will not write from the heart.

The Paradox of Our Time

The paradox of our time is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints. 

We spend more, but have less, we buy more, but enjoy less.We have bigger houses and smaller families,more conveniences,but less time. 

We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yet more problems, more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom. We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.

 We've learned how to make a living, but not a life. We've added years to life not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. We conquered outer space but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things.

We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this post to you, and a time when you can choose to read, or just move on.

....

Throw out nonessential numbers. This includes age, weight and height. Let the doctor worry about them.

Keep only cheerful friends. The grouches pull you down.

Keep learning. Never let the brain idle. "An idle mind is the devil's workshop."

…and remember-life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.

O Tell Me The Truth About Love

Kimine göre ufak bir çocuktur aşk,
Kimine göre bir kuş,
Kimi der, onun üstünde durur dünya,
Kimi der, kalp kuruş;
Ama komşuya sordum, nedense yüzüme
Mânalı mânalı baktı,
Karısı bir kızdı bir kızdı, sormayın,
Aşkedecekti tokadı.


Şıpıtık terliğe mi benzer yoksa
Yoksa kandil çöreğine mi,
Hacıyağına mı benzer dersin kokusu
Yoksa leylak çiçeğine mi?
Çalı gibi dikenli mi, batar mı eline,
Andırır mı yoksa pufla yastıkları,
Keskin mi kenarı yoksa yatar mı eline?
Alla'sen söyle nedir aşkın aslı astarı!


Tarih kitapları dokundurur geçer
Köşesinde kenarında,
Hele bir lâfı açılmaya görsün
Şirket vapurlarında;
Eksik olmaz gazetelerden, bilhassa
İntihar haberlerinde,
Mâniler düzmüşler gördüm üstüne
Telefon rehberlerinde.


Aç kurtlar gibi ulur mu dersin
Bando gibi gümbürder mi yoksa,
Taklit edebilir misin istesen kemençede,
Ne dersin piyanoda çalınsa;
Çiftetelli gibi coşturur mu herkesi
Yoksa ağıraksak bir hava mı?
İstediğin zaman kesilir mi sesi?
Alla'sen söyle nedir aşkın aslı astarı!

Bir hâl oldum çardakların altında
Onu araya araya,
Küçüksu'ya baktım, orada da yok,
Boşuna çıktım Çamlıca'ya;
Anlamadım gitti bülbülün şarkısını,
Bir acayip gülün lisanı da;
Benim bildiğim o kümeste değildi
Ne de yatağın altında.


Aklına esince çıkarabilir mi dilini,
Başı döner mi asma salıncakta,
At yarışlarında mı geçirir hafta tatilini,
Usta mı düğüm atmakta,
Millet der peygamber demez mi,
Para mevzuunda nedir efkârı,
Borç alır borcunu ödemez mi?
Alla'sen söyle nedir aşkın aslı astarı!


Ona rastladığı zaman duyduğu şeyleri
Kabil değil unutamazmış insan,
Yolunu gözlerim bacak kadardan beri
Ama o geçmedi bile yanımdan;
Merdiven dayadım otuz beşine,
Öğrenemedim gitti bir türlü,
Nemene mahlûktur bu düşerler peşine
Bunca insan geceli gündüzlü?


Gelsin ya, nasıl, pat diye gelir mi dersin
Burnumu karıştırırken tatlı tatlı,
Ya tutar yatakta bastırırsa sabahleyin?
Talih bu ya, otobüste nasırıma basmalı!
Gelişi yoksa havalardan anlaşılır mı,
Selâmı efendice mi yoksa gider mi aşırı,
Değiştirir mi dersin bir kalemle hayatımı?
Alla'sen söyle nedir aşkın aslı astarı!


Wystan Hugh AUDEN

 -----

O Tell me the Truth About Love

 Some say love's a little boy,
And some say it's a bird,
Some say it makes the world go around,
Some say that's absurd,
And when I asked the man next-door,
Who looked as if he knew,
His wife got very cross indeed,
And said it wouldn't do.

Does it look like a pair of pyjamas,
Or the ham in a temperance hotel?
Does its odour remind one of llamas,
Or has it a comforting smell?
Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is,
Or soft as eiderdown fluff?
Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges?
O tell me the truth about love.

Our history books refer to it
In cryptic little notes,
It's quite a common topic on
The Transatlantic boats;
I've found the subject mentioned in
Accounts of suicides,
And even seen it scribbled on
The backs of railway guides.

Does it howl like a hungry Alsatian,
Or boom like a military band?
Could one give a first-rate imitation
On a saw or a Steinway Grand?
Is its singing at parties a riot?
Does it only like Classical stuff?
Will it stop when one wants to be quiet?
O tell me the truth about love.

I looked inside the summer-house;
It wasn't over there;
I tried the Thames at Maidenhead,
And Brighton's bracing air.
I don't know what the blackbird sang,
Or what the tulip said;
But it wasn't in the chicken-run,
Or underneath the bed.

Can it pull extraordinary faces?
Is it usually sick on a swing?
Does it spend all its time at the races,
or fiddling with pieces of string?
Has it views of its own about money?
Does it think Patriotism enough?
Are its stories vulgar but funny?
O tell me the truth about love.

When it comes, will it come without warning
Just as I'm picking my nose?
Will it knock on my door in the morning,
Or tread in the bus on my toes?
Will it come like a change in the weather?
Will its greeting be courteous or rough?
Will it alter my life altogether?
O tell me the truth about love.