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Many believe that their past lives are closely associated with who or what they are today.

I was told that (http://thebigview.com/pastlife) I was a male in my past life, born somewhere in the territory of modern USA North-Center around the year 1375. I was probably a preacher, publisher or writer of ancient inscriptions. True. True.

I’ve always wanted to work and settle down overseas one day when I’m ready, and the States is one of my favorite places. I don’t think preacher or publisher is really my thing, but I do like writing.

It says that I had this artistic personality of transforming the ugly into the beautiful, and gray into bright colors. False.

I am a defensive pessimist who constantly lowers his expectations to prepare for the worst. I like to mentally play through all the bad things that might happen. It might sound a little depressing to you, but I’m just trying to be realistic and it actually helps me getting rid of my anxieties most of the time so that I can plan and act better.

Last but not least, the most important part of the whole fortune-telling thing. It says that the lesson my last past life brought to my present incarnation was to develop magnanimity and a feeling of brotherhood. True.

I am a man who is eager to face challenges, and refuses to be petty. I value every friend that I have made, and brotherhood is something important to me which I think a man should treat his brothers lovingly and loyally.

3 out of 4. Not bad for a fortune teller. But, do we really have past lives?

Here you go! The final installment of the story. Comments and feedbacks are welcome. Enjoy!!

The Christmas Gift

Chapter Three

When Sam awoke to the sound of his alarm clock the next morning, he was delighted to see a fire truck on the desk right beside his bed.

"Thanks, Dad."

Sam thanked his father for the truck when they were having breakfast on that lovely morning.

"What for, buddy?"

"The fire truck, Dad."

"Yeah, buddy. After this I’m bringing you guys downtown and Sam you get to pick up a fire truck for yourself. You can give your station wagon to Bruce. I’m sure he’ll love it."

"What do you mean, Dad? I already got the truck this morning." asked Sam, puzzled.

"Oh? Then it must be from the Santa Claus because I haven’t get out of the house yet this morning." replied West Turner, his eyes shifted to where Jon was sitting.

"Come on, Dad. Jon told me there’s no Santa Claus in the world. It’s just story the adults want their children to believe."

Having said that, Sam began to realise something and now he was also staring at Jon.

"I…I…put in your room this morning before you awake." stammered Jon while trying to avoid direct eye contact with Sam and his father. Nevertheless, he noticed that all eyes were on him now, waiting for the answer as to why he would do that. Everyone who knew Jon knew that he would not give up something he liked easily.

"Well, I just found out that the fire truck look silly. I don’t need it to remind me of that and I think it goes perfectly with Sam."

That was Jon, always poking fun at his younger brother with his sarcastic remarks. This time, however, West Turner did not feel the sarcasm from his elder son.

"That makes you the Santa Claus!" exclaimed Sam.

"Jonny is the Santa Claus…Jonny is the Santa Claus… “Sam then mocked his brother with one of the songs Miss Lovebuck taught him at school.

Amused, West Turner couldn’t help but smiled.

Chapter Four

“Son, would you tell me why you gave your fire truck to Sam? I thought you’ve always wanted one.”

West Turner asked Jon who was sitting in the passenger’s seat on their way to Albert Turner’s house. Albert Turner was the retired army whom West Turner always looked up to.

Jon, knowing his father would never buy his words from the breakfast time, told West Turner that he overheard the conversation last night.

"You know what, son. They say the best Christmas gifts came not from the gift received, but from those given. I’m proud of you, Jon. I’ll get you another fire truck when we reach grandpa’s house."

West Turner placed one of his hands on Jon’s, and squeezed it lightly.

"It’s okay, Dad. I don’t want a fire truck."

"May I know why’s that?" asked West Turner, curious.

"It’s just that fire truck is something special for Sam. I want only him to have it. It reminds him of mom."

West Turner was touched by the words, and was surprised at how mature his son could be. He knew Nina’s death had changed both of the boys, making them grew up faster than they were supposed to be.

Meanwhile, at the backseat of the SUV, the young Sam was sleeping soundly.

Chapter Five

The memory stopped there and the man smiled. Standing tall, the 37 year old Captain took a fire truck out of his pocket. It had recently become a tradition that he gave his brother a fire truck on every Christmas they spent together.

His brother always told him that he had made the family proud. In fact, the Captain was proud of his brother even more.

"Merry Christmas, Lieutenant Colonel Jonathan Edward Turner."

Holding the jacket tighter against himself, the Captain walked toward his car, leaving behind a fire truck at his brother’s headstone.

The End.

Author’s Note: This is my first attempt in writing a story. The story and its characters are completely fictional. I hope you all like it. Merry Christmas!!!

The Christmas Gift

Chapter One

"Jon, Sam, look what I’ve got you!"

West Tunner came home from his work with two nicely wrapped boxes in his hands.

"Cool, Dad. What is it?" asked the older one of the brothers.

"Why don’t you open it up and find out for yourself. I think you and Sam are gonna love it."

As soon as he finished that, West Turner walked toward the refrigerator to take out the turkey they got from Green Mile’s Mart yesterday.

"Cool, it’s a fire truck! What’s yours, Sam?"

"What ?! It’s a fucking station wagon!" cursed the disappointed Sammy Tunner.

"Sam, language!" West Turner raised his voice when he overheard the boys in the kitchen.

"Yeah, now you have something extra to play with your buddy Boo in that stupid sandpit in his yard." teased Jon.

"His name is Bruce, you idiot." Sam retorted.

"All right boys, dinner’s served."

That night, they had the best turkey deluxe ever for Christmas Eve and everyone went to bed happy. Well, everyone except Sam and his station wagon.

Chapter Two

When West Turner went to check on his son Sammy in the bedroom, he noticed Sam was still awake and wasn’t putting up a happy face.

"Hey buddy, what’s up?" asked the concerned West Turner.

"Nothing, just tired." lied Sam.

"It’s about the wagon, isn’t it?"

West Turner knew his son was hiding something, and he could tell it was all about the presents he brought home.

"Dad, why did you get me a station wagon?" asked Sam with a little frustration in his voice.

"Well, sorry buddy. I see you enjoy your time with Bruce in his yard, and I thought our little wagon here might…you know…make your game a little more fun."

"The wagon’s fine, Dad. Just that…" Sam paused.

"What buddy? You know you can tell me everything."

"Just that when I saw the fire truck, I want it so badly that I simply hate the wagon for nothing. Ever since mom died in that accident, I keep telling myself that I will become a fireman when I grow up. I want to be able to help and save people. "

West Turner felt a sudden ache in his heart as the memory of his wife died in a car accident 3 years ago was being brought back. The car that Nina Turner was driving went off track and fell into the sea when she tried to avoid running into something on the road. She couldn’t make it out of that car in time.

The pain had subsided over the years, but it was still heartbreaking for the young lawyer. As sad as West Turner was, he knew he had to be strong, especially in front of his boys.

Trying to cheer his son up, West Turner said,

"You know what buddy, I promise I’ll get you another fire truck tomorrow first thing in the morning."

"Thanks, Dad."

"I love you, Sam. Now, be a good boy and go to sleep."

"I love you too, Dad."

Feeling better, Sam closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

"I am proud of you, Sam." whispered West Turner as he kissed his sleeping son’s forehead.

Neither of them knew, their conversation was overhead by a figure standing behind the door to Sam’s bedroom.

To be continued…

Blog writing has become the way I externalize my feelings and thoughts. I don’t remember exactly when I first developed the interest in writing blogs, I guess it was about a year and a half ago. 

Blog writing is a healthy activity, well, that’s only if what you write is healthy of course. You get to express your feelings, ideas, thoughts, opinions and anything that you want to talk about to the rest of the world. It is a way to be heard, a way to criticize or be criticized, and a way to meet new people.

The best part of blog writing is that it allows your friends and other people to post comments on the topics presented. Their constructive feedbacks make you feel good because you know that there are people who actually take time to read your stuff when they can be better off reading something else far more important and interesting. As for the negative feedbacks, they can be viewed as constructive ideas for future self-improvement.

I like writing blogs because it is very different from regular or academic writing. Although grammar should always be kept in mind, it is not a requirement in writing a blog. I do not have to follow strictly the proper writing rules and I can use all kinds of expressions I like. For example, I can change the dull expression of "This thing is incredibly awesome" to something much livelier like "This thing is fucking awesome", or "I hate this thing" to "I fucking hate this shit". (Note: The F word is highly not recommended under any circumstances.)

Not only that, writing blogs helps me kill my boring hours when I have nothing better to do.

As trivial as blog writing is, you can certainly benefit from it and eventually become a good writer. For me, blog writing is an act of discovery, communication and joy. It connects me to friends, to work, to society, to knowledge, and to the meanings of my life.

I have many friends who think love (relationship kind of love) is everything that matters to them. For them, there’s always no time for friends, but always time for their boy/girlfriends.

Undeniably, falling in love is the happiest thing in the world. He or she could be the person whom you spend the rest of your life with — sitting down, holding hands and watching sunset together. But, what if he or she is not the person in the picture? And that you have no friends to turn to?

Have you ever wondered, who’s always there for you to help you get through your difficult break ups when he or she would rather be somewhere else? Who’s always there lending you ears and shoulders to help you cope with your miserable relationship or personal problems? Who’s the person that will not leave you because of who you are when your boy/girlfriend does? Who’ll never stop having faith in you even when you’ve ceased to believe in yourself?

Many of my friends told me that they pretend to be another person in front of their significant others, but take off their masks when they are with their friends. This is because they know their friends accept them as who they are, and they feel comfortable around their friends. They can be their real selves without having to worry about being judged, and I think that is what makes friendship last.

A friend of mine once told me, your lovers might have known you for years but can never tell who you really are, but your friends can tell you that right away.

Just remember, when you wake up one day, your boy/girl friend might have left without even saying goodbye to you. But on the day you made a friend, that friend will be forever in your life, laughing and crying together with you.

(Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all my friends. To another year of our friendships!!)

Priest: Marriage is the eternal bonding between two people loving one another

Coward: Marriage is the commitment most people are afraid of

Housewife: Marriage is cleaning up your husband’s mess

Receptionist: Marriage is listening to your wife’s complaint everyday

Businessman: Marriage is profitable investment in women

Taxi driver: Marriage is licence to free sex

Lawyer: Marriage is the starter for divorce

Factory worker: Marriage is part of the baby making process

Bachelor: Marriage is when you stop using the word "I”, and replace it with "We"

Cop: Marriage is road block to flirting around

Teacher: Marriage is educating a student who happens to be your husband

Story teller: Marriage is never-ending ‘fighting’ tale

Soldier: Marriage is battlefield of the household war

Locksmith: Marriage is when you found you are chained to a person for a lifetime, and the key is gone

Con man: Marriage means you can lie to your wife, but not cheat on her

Fire fighter: Marriage is catalyst for house fire

Artist: Marriage is a ‘paint’ in the neck

Singer: Marriage is hitting your husband with high notes when he won’t listen to you

Restaurant owner: Marriage is candlelight ‘out’ dinner

Medical doctor: Marriage is giving birth to trouble

Fashion designer: Marriage is wearing the ‘Not Avai’ label

Thief: Marriage is stealing everything but glances

Murder convict: Marriage is putting two people together, where one always tries to kill the other

(Well that’s all the funny stuff about marriage I managed to come up with. Anything you can think of to add to the list, drop by and say the toast!)

I had a friend back in high school who was a total bad influence. He steals, he curses, he gets into fight, and he calls you names you don’t want to remember. The reason why I still call him a friend is because he has changed over the years and he is not the same person he used to be anymore.

He has become so nice a guy that everyone who knows him could never associate his past with the person he is right now. I didn’t ask him what’s the sudden change over because I didn’t have a chance to, well I guess I just don’t want to bring up details from his past which will come back haunting him again.

But he did tell me, you are what you are today. He said no matter how things screw up for you in the past, it doesn’t matter as long as you have come to realize what you did wrong was wrong and you know you are a different person right now.

I think my friend is right. You can’t judge an ex-con because of his past criminal records. He has served his sentence and deserved to be given a chance to start his life all over again. You can’t deny a man’s ability just because he was so dumb when he was young. Einstein is the perfect example.

The past is history now, but the future is still ahead of you, wanting and waiting to be explored. Just don’t let the past hold you back to do what you are meant to do. You could be destined for something much bigger than you thought.

A quote from Sex and The City. The past is like an anchor, holding you back. You have to let go of who you were to become what you will be in the future.

In this world full of billions of people, chances of finding someone who truly loves you are almost zero, statistically.

Even if you have found that someone you thought you could spend the rest of your life with, chances of getting there are again, close to zero.

Now, put the two near-zeroes together, you do the math. You get a ‘0′.

For a good many people, their significant others were/are colleagues from work. For a few other people, their loved ones were high school/college crush. Also, there are other cases like friends from childhood, social acquaintances, secret admirers, blind dates/ set-ups, etc. Dramatic first encounters you get to see a lot from Hollywood scenes which eventually turn out to be working relationships are considered rare among us.

So, what can we do to find our true loves? Regardless men or women, boys or girls, I would say, "take the initiative". Make the first move on the people you like or you think you like. Or else, give the people who confess love in you a chance (well if they are not a total disgust of course). You’ll never know what you are gonna end up with. (Yeah, it might turn out just awful, or just awesome!).

But first of all, you’ve got to work on yourself, both internally and externally, to draw the attention. Since people judge your physical appearance before they judge your values, always try to make yourself look good.

When you look good, you glow with confidence. When your inner beauty lights up your good looking / looking good face, the odds of finding your prince or princess charming and living happily ever after, might actually turn out to be in your favour.

记得小时候, 二姨的木屋后面有一片竹林 ,竹林里长满了一株株不知名的绿色植物, 绿色植物中藏有我儿时最喜欢玩的玩意儿 — 豹虎。

每到了周末, 我便会和大表哥与小表弟在木屋后面集合,准备进竹林里去捉豹虎。我们首先会仔细地观察每棵植物, 如果发现有贴在一块儿的叶片时, 便会小心翼翼，然后轻轻地用手指将黏着的叶端稍微打开。一旦发现里面缠有白色的豹虎丝，便会马上把双手往叶片上一合，用力地把叶片给扯下，然后飞箭似地往屋后的方向跑去， 一边喊着：“捉到了！捉到了！”很多时候，叶片是因为露珠而合在一起的。如果我们因为心急而在没有检查之下便把它们摘下来，结果往往都是失望和白费力气的。

当看到其中一个人跑出竹林的当儿，其他人在这个时候也会暂时停止狩猎，紧随在后面，一起冲到屋前的红毛灰上去。此时此刻，大家都会以朝拜的姿态， 兴奋地在地上围成一个圈。猎人会随之取出藏在其裤袋里的火柴盒，准备把猎物给收下。当猎人在把叶片打开的当儿，其他人就负责防守，不让猎物给溜了。

如果成功捕捉到豹虎，接着便是把豹虎弄进火柴盒里去的功夫了。一个看似容易的任务，做起来还真不简单，一点也不能马虎。我们的双掌首先必须以拇指碰拇指， 食指碰食指的方式排成一个三角形，设下天罗地网，把意图逃跑的豹虎给困着。在无路可逃的情况下，狗急跳墙的豹虎，便会爬到你手上去。接着，猎人便要迅速地把半打开的火柴盒摆在其手上豹虎爬行的前方，把它赶进盒子里面去，这样就大功告成了。往往，我们一个不小心或不留神，就会让豹虎给逃跑了。

捉到的豹虎， 我们会把其中的两只放在一起， 让它们象斗鸡般地相互斗争。 败阵下来的豹虎，大表哥会让它逃跑算了，小表弟会把它放回竹林里去，而我则把它放回火柴盒里，喂以蚊虫，准备下一次打斗的到来。就这样，捉豹虎和斗豹虎的周末陪我们三兄弟度过了一个有趣的童年。

事隔多年，如今，虽然木屋与竹林都已不在，但是对我们三兄弟而言，留下来的，却是一段深刻，快乐的回忆。

I am the world’s laziest person but somehow I always manage to get things done in time. I have good memory but never seem to recognize the roads to a place I’ve been to for a thousand times. I have horrible concentration skills but always awake to the sound of a flying mosquito.

I cannot read on moving vehicles or I’ll be sick the whole day. I truly believe that laughter is the best medicine, and I like anyone who can make me laugh. I have come close to peeing in my pants from laughing too hard. Computers can keep me occupied for the whole day. When news or WWF come on the TV, I turn it off.

My mom is my best friend. I am a man, but my eyes water when I watch sappy commercial or movie. I am horrible with change and refuse to see that the future is not far away. Whenever I have a bad day, I sleep. I was an athlete when I was a kid, but that part of me never seemed to grow with me. I love being mischievous. I once put a frog into my friend’s pants, and it scared the shit out of him.

I hate it when people mispronounce my last name as "young". I was once nicknamed porcupine by my friends, and I hate them for that until now. I hold grudges but hate to admit it.

I have more empathy than most people. I often feel sorry for people less fortunate than I am. When salespersons come to my doorstep, I shut them out.

I was once chased by a dog when I was eight and he gave me ugly scars on my thighs. I had two motorcycle accidents before, but I’m still speeding on it. The most serious case was when I fell from the bike at a sharp corner, and my left ankle bled like it was never gonna stop. I ended up getting five stitches and an ugly leg.

I might not seem like a nice guy to you, but I always love my family and friends. They are the only people who truly care about me.