HOW COULD YOU?

--------------------------A Note from the Author:--------------

If "How Could You?" brought tears to your eyes as you read it, as it did to mine as I wrote it, it is because it is the composite story of the millions of formerly "owned" pets who die each year in American and Canadian animal shelters. Anyone is welcome to distribute the essay for a noncommercial purpose, as long as it is properly attributed with the copyright notice. Please use it to help educate, on your websites, in newsletters, on animal shelter and vet office bulletin boards. Tell the public that the decision to add a pet to the family is an important one for life, that animals deserve our love and sensible care, that finding another appropriate home for your animal is your responsibility and any local humane society or animal welfare league can offer you good advice, and that all life is precious. Please do your part to stop the killing, and encourage all spay and neuter campaigns in order to prevent unwanted animals- Jim Willis

HOW COULD YOU?

This just made me very sad. It highlights how many people take up pets but then abandon them as soon as they outlive their usefulness/cuteness. It doesn't occur just in the US (Even then, the laws for pet abandonment are pretty strict), but here in Malaysia as well.

HOW COULD YOU? by Jim Willis
A man in Grand Rapids, Michigan incredibly took out a US $7,000 full page ad in the paper to present the HOW COULD YOU? By Jim Willis, 2001 How Could You?

When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend.

Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?" -- but then you'd relent and roll me over for a belly rub.

My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect.

We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs" you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.

Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.

She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" -- still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy.

Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a prisoner of love."

As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch -- because your touch was now so infrequent -- and I would've defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway.

There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.

Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.

I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers."

You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed, "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life.

You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "How could you?"

They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago.

At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed your mind -- that this was all a bad dream... or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me.

When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room.

She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days.

As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood.

She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago.

She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?"

Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself --a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place.

And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her. It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.

50 years of MERDEKA

as i approach my 30s, i start to pay more attention to my roots and my future. i look at the country where i grew up, and realised that i was actually considering whether it will be a good place for my children to grow up too. i always took for granted that it would be, until i had a better look. it's really not something new as more and more people are considering migration to other pastures..not necessarily greener, but different.

isn't it surprising? centuries ago, we were known as the Golden Chersonese....a peninsula of golden opportunities. people poured from the corners of the world, looking for gold, a better life, some to conquer, some to share. we were the golden land. and this resulted in the early formation of a truly cosmopolitan society.

isn't it ironic that while people are still pouring into malaysia to work, malaysians are working hard to gain entry into more developed countries? while the indian population is truly becoming a minority as there are more immigrants than indians, the gap will grow as more leaves. who can blame them when people have build this country for 50 years can't say proudly that this is MY HOME, here i am an EQUAL among men. WHO CAN BLAME THEM FOR TRYING TO SEARCH FOR A PLACE CALLED HOME.

isn't it ironic that i am only paying attention to the state of affairs, to the politics and the voice of the people at age 30? shouldn't i have started walking down this path when i was in my 20s? when impressionable students were gaining knowledge from tertiary education, we were "shielded" from the vulgarities of politics by the government. it should have been the prime ground for developing critical and forward thinking minds to build the resources for the future of the nation. instead, we were left to learn and shift thru all the b*llshit and the facts from various sources...newspapers, blogs, internet or ala mamak style, over a cuppa teh tarik. so is it truly surprising when the largest group of voters who can't be BOTHERED are the future of this nation? where is the future?

50 years of MERDEKA and what does it mean?

we are still dictated by RACE and RELIGION.
we are still dictated by a minority of people who place themselves first amongst all else.

I HAVE A DREAM.
I LONG TO BE A MALAYSIAN IN A LAND CALLED MALAYSIA.
WHERE MEN WILL NOT BE JUDGED BY THE COLOUR OF THE SKIN BUT BY THE CONTENT OF THEIR CHARACTER.

how many more merdekas will it take before the dream becomes a reality?

HAPPY 50TH MERDEKA

Allow me to share with u the famous speech of Martin Luther King, Jr.taken from this website http://www.americanrhetoric.com/speeches/mlkihaveadream.htm


"I Have a Dream"
I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.

We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.

The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.

We cannot walk alone.

And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.

We cannot turn back.

There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. *We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by a sign stating: "For Whites Only."* We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."¹

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.

And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."²

This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.

With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning:

My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.

Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride,

From every mountainside, let freedom ring!

And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.

And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.

Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.

Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of
Pennsylvania.

Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.

But not only that:

Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.

From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:

Free at last! Free at last!

Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!³

tingles in my toes

its been a slow nite. cool. whispers of rain somewhere. but not enough to quench the heat. its rare i get the evening to myself. my prime time is normally filled with betty, the desperate housewifes, grissom, doc mart and mindless blogs. but tonight, with piles of laundry to do, mundane housekeeping up to my elbows, a pending presentation to prepare and bills and accounts to settle, i'm wasting my so called youth like a spring loaded yo-yo...about to bounce into action but the triggers' not sprung, for one reason or the other.

i want to be the persona that people blog about, who burns a path for others to follow. i want to be the one who live the LIFE, not read it in front of my computer screen. i want to feel tingles in my toes, adrenaline in my veins. not from listening to fort minor or from watching shutter, but from standing at the top of the tallest mountain in the world and looking down saying...i've conquered it all!!!

i was young once.
with my dreams to be someone.
i felt tingles in my toes once, when i felt the want and desire.
i felt adrenaline coursing through me once, when i thought the world was for my picking.
i felt inspired once, when i believed i could make a difference.
i felt i could climb mount everest once, before i had back aches and knee aches.
i felt invincible once, before i knew what was heart ache.
i felt like an equal once, before i learned about rights.

and now, i'm a aunty.
i look like one, dress less stylishly than most, i don't even have the bravado of their polished red talons! huh, i even whine like one!

so what's going to make my toes tingle?
when MY man pulls me close and leans near for a kiss.
and so i get back my tingles.
and perhaps some spirit for tommorrow's fight.
for when i see things in their rightful place in the sun, things don't look as bad or as half as lame-ass as i make them to be.
for poor excuses should not be the filmsy excuse to hold me back, or anyone else for that mattter.

what the heck. i should be the one, deciding who makes my toes tingles.

something to be proud of...

not too long ago, in our malaysian dailies, splashed across the front pages were these statements : "we are so-n-so's somebody n proud of it"...

well, nothing wrong in that except that ...the somebody was a prime suspect for a murder case. in fact, this was noted by the murder victim's father...who questioned what was there to be proud of???!!!

to be the first malaysian to conqer the himalyans...that's something to be proud of.
to be the first in the family to get a degree...that's something to be proud of.
to be the person to be help out at an accident scene (instead of just slowing down to get the plate number for investment at toto of 4-D)..that's something to be proud of.

i seriously cannot understand what is there for the family of the murder suspect to be proud of???!!!

if my dad was in a trial for possible murder, i would not be shouting my pride for the nation to see.
if my husband was having an affair with another woman, i would not like that to be made public.
if my boss was to have his integrity and his actions questioned, i would be asking the same questions myself.

even though the verdict has not been reached, even though one is innocent until proven guilty, let us keep our senses and act with a sense of decorum.

don't abuse the limelight for a moment of sensation. it would be easier to win the public's sympathy with an appropriate show of support, not make a circus out of it!

nor is this the time to make the headlines with statements and photos of untruths. its a real shame how morals and intelligence erode in the bright glare of spotlights...perhaps they were never there in the first place?

show us something that malaysians can be proud of. it is after all our country's 50th birthday.

proud to be a malaysian?

PROUD TO BE A MALAYSIAN!!!!

amazing

amazing....i seem to be obsessed with songs from this group called blue october...
perhaps its the amazing way how they manage to coax the guitar to sound so tender?
perhaps its the amazing heart-rending lyrics?
perhaps its the amazing tugging of my emotions when i listen to the songs?
amazing how our ears catch the song, our minds digest the words and our souls embrace the essence....
truly amazing...

AMAZING- by blue october

How am I supposed to breathe?
I try to relax. I touch your still frame
So I can watch you closer
And study the ways I believe I belong to you
I scratch at your waist line... your doll hair
I dig up the thought of how your eyes glow
So I make you my religion, my collision, an escape goat
So have I found your secret weak spot, baby?

(Chorus) Can you pretend I'm amazing?
I can pretend I'm amazing...
Instead of what we both know
I cut to the punch line baby
Can you pretend I'm amazing
Instead of what we both know

Now our history is for sale
And for that I apoligize
You see you're my only know how
The study of when I believe I belonged to you
You see I've made you into something delicious,
My sweet ghost
So have I found your secret weak spot, baby?

(Chorus)

music be the food of my soul

when i was young, the hormones and the angst of adolescence nearly drove me (and my parents) up the wall. the changes i was going thru was just too much for me to handle. i couldn't understand why i felt so frustrated, helpless, angry, alone, unloved. the feelings were not warranted and this made me feel even worse. i was not an easy person to be around with then, not that i am much better now, but the people around probably learned how to ignore me better...eh? :p

then, as now, i found a haven in music. i could envelope myself, dive deep into its fathoms and lose myself in the almost tangible quality of music. i listened to almost anything (screeching banshees was the one place i drew a line..... and whatever house is supposed to be). oldies from my parent's memories, chinese songs, hindi hits, classics...whatever that resembled the turmoil inside me. as long as i can just listen, without need to analyse, it would do. i didn't have to understand the lyrics, as long as i "felt" the music, it was fine.

the warm vocals of jacky cheong and the sad quality of anne murray was so close to the depressive state i was sometimes in that it almost seems i could hibernate in their songs. happy moods called for cheery songs. the opening whistles of the song "don't worry, be happy" always puts a skip in my step, no matter how bad the day. and of course, no maniacal bum/arm swinging (otherwise known as dancing) was complete without my favourite bass thumping R&B.

in fact, i can practically tag my memories by songs. crazy summer afternoons horsing around with my mate in uni to the jolly sounds of herman hermits. the sappy, saccharin syrup of david bedingfield during the courting by the lucky guy who got me hook, line n sinker. the almost weightless song, "leaving on a jet plane" seeming to carry my wheels when i finally learned how to cycle.

even now, not much has changed (weight/taxes/mundane crap aside). when i am in a mood ; maybe a patient under my care has died. an impending dateline. a breakup. my wedding. without music, it would all have passed quietly into the background, instead; the albums of my life are not merely "black n white silent movie type" memories, but rather, bursting in glorious technicolour and dbb surround sound system!!!!

The Road Not Taken

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 kept 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.


The Road Not Taken is a poem by Robert Frost, published in 1916 in his collection Mountain Interval.


i was reading a book recently, and i chance upon this poem. i have always been intrigued by the meaning of the poem, and how it always seems to appear unexpectedly at moments in my life when i seem to be at a point where the roads diverge.

in retrospect, the most significant decision of my life was to agree when my mom suggested that i transfer to Sam Tet to continue my form six studies. by norm, i was supposed to proceed to another school after my high school, but my parents decided that i would be much too distracted if i was to go there. besides, Sam Tet was famous for its excellent STPM records. n my sis was already there.

of course, a change of scene did not deter me from getting involve actively in the extra-curricular activities, and soon i was involved in the english club. little did i know that meeting my club advisor's family would influence my life greatly. her son became one of my best buddies and her husband, a vet, introduced to me an option i didn't know i had. i found my life's passion for healing all creatures, big and small.  

which lead me to vet school. i have memories n stories to last me a life time, and friends who stood by me thru thick n thin. it was a friend from vet school who introduced me to a special person. the man who would become the love of my life.

and it all could be back tracked to the point where i made the decision to take the road less travelled by, and THAT has made all the difference!

although sometimes when i am in my more pensive moods, i do look back and wonder about the road not taken....

amounts to nothing!

i have been slaving for the past few days, weeks i think. to get ready for a big event. but how can so much effort seems to amount to nothing? the mountain of errands seems to grow with a will of its own. getting so much done, more seems to pop out...do the errands multiply when we turn away? do they have this supernatural power to grow n grow?

help! i think i'm sinking!!!! i'm going to be glad when the wedding is actually over n i get to rest a little. it is beginning to seem like a herculean task. n to think we opted for a simple affair. i can't imagine running one on a grand scale! and i am not even doing this alone! despite the many hands, the work does not seem to lighten!

forgive my grousing, i just can't wait for the honeymoon..which reminds me...i haven't even plan for that yet!!!!

au revoir 2006

the new year has arrived, and yet i am still taking stock of the year that have passed. many things have happened, so fast, that some of it are quite a blur, waiting to be defined and filed and remembered. some are hiding, not really willing to be brought out again, others are almost painfully pressing itself onto the consciousness, unwilling to take a second seat at all.

i had one of the best chinese new year ever, the first i have ever celebrated in my own home, ipoh. of all my 28 years, we have always spent the chinese new year at the grandparents, either in alor star, penang or thailand. but this year was special. we had the honoured guest, my grandma, staying with us. it was a memorable time, with so many loved ones under our roof, laughter and food intermingling with plentiful of good spirits (of the intangible and the drinkable type).

it was the year i knew where to draw the line and say enough! i will not take anymore b*ll and left my previous employment before my senses left me. i also realised that my most precious priority was my family and my loved ones, and that there was more to life than just earning the buck.

i moved back home to where my heart actually is, and every moment i managed to spend with my grandma was like a piece of the rarest and most precious jewel to keep. for little did we know that she would leave us and join my grandfather for eternity. it also gave me the chance to be my mother's side while we try to use our pain to fill a void that will never be the same again.

through the grief, an anchor held me steady and where one journey was ended, another began. kelvin's proposal was my happiest moment, yet a sad one too. for i would dearly love to have ah ma by my side on the day that i said "I DO".

i am lucky to meet a like-minded boss and start building my career in ipoh, but luckier still that it gave my family the chance to have our best trip ever. going to australia felt more like a homecoming than a visit with so many of our relatives there. its almost like a parallel home.

in a nutshell,
i have loved and lost,
took the road less travelled,
deconstruct and rebuild,
lived some traditions, made some new ones,
said "I do" and took a huge step!
travelled far to find something close to the heart,
and basically, trying to make the best of what life have to offer.


C'est la vie!
Au revoir 2006!