I had wanted to blog about this a couple of days back.
She also posted the video 太阳花, which was a lovely film that I have clipped here. Enjoy :)
Showing posts with label Noteworthy Articles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Noteworthy Articles. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
The Undertakers Daughter
She also posted the video 太阳花, which was a lovely film that I have clipped here. Enjoy :)
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
My PM so cute
Was recently big news that PM Lee had to undergo an prostatectomy for newly diagnosed prostate CA. Coming out tops in entertainment value would have to be this FB post and someone's response. Nerdy medical joke ftw.
Anyway PM is so cute I am an ardent follower of his Facebook posts. Hope he gets well soon!
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Losing A Best Friend
(via thoughtcatalog)
When it happens, you won’t want to believe it. You’ll take their word for it when they say they’re busy, swamped at work, “just doing me.” You’ll make excuses for them, put your ringer on extra loud in case they call. But you’ll still feel the change, and because you can’t rationalize it, you’ll try to ignore it.
It’s a specific kind of loneliness that hits you like a wave of nausea. When the two of you are having a beer and you realize that you have both been staring out the same window for twenty minutes, nothing to say, the opposite of a comfortable silence. When they cancel plans consistently and stall when giving you reasons. When you scroll through your contacts and stop at their name and almost call but don’t, feeling suddenly, inexplicably, abandoned and confused.
Sometimes there’s no huge fight that marks the end of a friendship. No falling out, no major disagreement. Sometimes it just falls apart for no good reason. Distance. New relationships. Priorities. Somehow these things can become more important than your connection; they shouldn’t but they do. And as we get older we tend to downsize, prioritize. Trim the corners of our lives, keeping what’s important and discarding what isn’t. Sometimes we stop needing people in our lives and it isn’t even conscious. No one wakes up in the morning actively thinking “Hmm, I think I’ll stop being friends with so-and-so today.” It just goes out with an empty fizz, like a cigarette hitting the bottom of a Coke can.
In so many ways, losing a close friend is worse than losing a lover. Lovers are transient for the most part but friends are supposed to be there for you always, or so we like to believe. Friendship is a special kind of love that’s not supposed to fade. You never expect the one person you thought you could always depend on to disappear without saying goodbye. And when they do you feel sickeningly stupid and cheated, wondering what you meant to them all along, whether you were just convenient or in the right place at the right time. You never really know for sure.
You look through pictures from back when you were happy — holding each other up drunk and ecstatic, working on art projects on a rainy Sunday afternoon — and can’t understand what happened. Reach for the phone. Attach a photo to an email, start the subject line with some fusion of “Remember this?” and “I miss you…” Get suddenly overwhelmed by a horrible emptiness and discard the draft, leaving the phone untouched. History. So much history flushed down a dirty sink.
And the worst part is, you don’t even know how to explain yourself. You know if you bring this up with them they’ll give you a blank expression and a blank excuse. You don’t want to explain how you feel. You can’t. You just want them to get it, to read you like they used to be able to. You want to take them by the shoulders and shake them, screaming Where are you? What happened?! Until you’re blue in the face. But you can’t do that either, because you’re no longer on the same level and it’s going to make you feel crazy.
In life, it’s a given that you will lose people. People will flow in and out like curtains through an open window, sometimes for no reason at all. But losing someone important to you will feel like a suckerpunch every single time, and you’ll never see it coming. Which makes the friendships that do hold out, the ones that make it through countless breakdowns and breakthroughs and changes and years, so damn important.
It’s a specific kind of loneliness that hits you like a wave of nausea. When the two of you are having a beer and you realize that you have both been staring out the same window for twenty minutes, nothing to say, the opposite of a comfortable silence. When they cancel plans consistently and stall when giving you reasons. When you scroll through your contacts and stop at their name and almost call but don’t, feeling suddenly, inexplicably, abandoned and confused.
Sometimes there’s no huge fight that marks the end of a friendship. No falling out, no major disagreement. Sometimes it just falls apart for no good reason. Distance. New relationships. Priorities. Somehow these things can become more important than your connection; they shouldn’t but they do. And as we get older we tend to downsize, prioritize. Trim the corners of our lives, keeping what’s important and discarding what isn’t. Sometimes we stop needing people in our lives and it isn’t even conscious. No one wakes up in the morning actively thinking “Hmm, I think I’ll stop being friends with so-and-so today.” It just goes out with an empty fizz, like a cigarette hitting the bottom of a Coke can.
In so many ways, losing a close friend is worse than losing a lover. Lovers are transient for the most part but friends are supposed to be there for you always, or so we like to believe. Friendship is a special kind of love that’s not supposed to fade. You never expect the one person you thought you could always depend on to disappear without saying goodbye. And when they do you feel sickeningly stupid and cheated, wondering what you meant to them all along, whether you were just convenient or in the right place at the right time. You never really know for sure.
You look through pictures from back when you were happy — holding each other up drunk and ecstatic, working on art projects on a rainy Sunday afternoon — and can’t understand what happened. Reach for the phone. Attach a photo to an email, start the subject line with some fusion of “Remember this?” and “I miss you…” Get suddenly overwhelmed by a horrible emptiness and discard the draft, leaving the phone untouched. History. So much history flushed down a dirty sink.
And the worst part is, you don’t even know how to explain yourself. You know if you bring this up with them they’ll give you a blank expression and a blank excuse. You don’t want to explain how you feel. You can’t. You just want them to get it, to read you like they used to be able to. You want to take them by the shoulders and shake them, screaming Where are you? What happened?! Until you’re blue in the face. But you can’t do that either, because you’re no longer on the same level and it’s going to make you feel crazy.
In life, it’s a given that you will lose people. People will flow in and out like curtains through an open window, sometimes for no reason at all. But losing someone important to you will feel like a suckerpunch every single time, and you’ll never see it coming. Which makes the friendships that do hold out, the ones that make it through countless breakdowns and breakthroughs and changes and years, so damn important.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
See what I mean
Remember my 2011 New Year Post on social media? SEE WHAT I MEAN. Published in Pediatrics, Official Journal of the American Academy of Pediatrics.
Note to self: I must think carefully about my blog posts in future. Aim to get something seemingly frivolous published.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Night shift work linked to breast cancer
This caught my attention in the Straits Times Review section today. I went to search it up in The American Journal of Epidemiology and found some conflicting evidence published in 2010 (Night-Shift Work and Breast Cancer Risk in a Cohort of Chinese Women) Still, there were very many articles that concluded with a positive association between shift work and cancer (not just breast cancer but cancer in general, including colorectal cancer) Nonetheless, a very interesting read, and also some food for thought for those of us who are heading for a lifetime of night duties/shift work.
Source: The Straits Times Online, by Andy Ho (Senior Writer)
LOTS of women work night shifts. Should they?
Night shift work is bad for women's health. In 2007, the World Health Organisation reclassified the status of night shift work from just a 'possible human carcinogen' to a 'probable human carcinogen'. Since then, the nexus between night shift work and breast cancer has been all but confirmed.
In March last year, the Danish government agreed to compensate 40 female nurses and flight attendants with breast cancer. These women had no other identifiable risk factor for breast cancer apart from working a night shift at least once a week for the past 20 years.
The accepted explanation now is that night shift work exposes women to light when they should be asleep (in the dark). What this exposure to light does when the body's internal clock says it should be dark is to make the brain produce less or none of a hormone that suppresses cancer formation elsewhere in the body.
By definition, a hormone is a protein synthesised in one part of the body that gets circulated through the blood stream to exert its effects upon various organs far away from its site of production.
The hormone in question is called melatonin and is produced by the pineal gland, a tiny body located at the brain's centre. In the brain, there is also a master biological clock that tells the pineal gland when to make melatonin. This is the central circadian (from circa, 'approximately'; diem, 'day') pacemaker, a grain size group of neurons in the brain that is re-set each morning by the natural light outside, so it is able to synchronise all our internal 24-hour biorhythms.
Our bodily processes - even at tissue and cellular levels - are synchronised with this circadian cycle. For example, DNA replication and synthesis occur mainly at night, so our biological clock must be able to tell the body when it is (internally) night. In ill health, that synchronisation goes awry, something that has been noted especially in breast cancer.
Reset by the morning light every day, the pacemaker tells the pineal gland to produce most of its melatonin at night. But when the pineal gland is routinely stimulated by light at night, it might be tricked into turning down or even switching off its melatonin production.
How melatonin suppresses cancer formation at the gene level has now been identified in great detail. As such, the body that is routinely producing too little of it because of night shift work becomes dysregulated, genetically speaking. It therefore becomes more prone to cancer.
Indeed, the risk of breast cancer is five times higher in developed than underdeveloped countries. According to A. Roger Ekirch, At Day's Close: Night In Times Past, prior to artificial lighting becoming widely available, people in the pre-industrial era used to have 14-hour nights. Now we have 14 to 18 hour days of 'light pollution' instead.
Here is how the link between breast cancer and light pollution was established. Experimentally, mice were genetically modified so their bodies would not reject human cells. After these 'nude mice', as they are called, were innoculated with human breast cancer cells, their bodies developed a tumour made up of such cells.
These tumours were then perfused with blood from young women taken during the day, during the night in bright white light, and during the night in darkness. Only the last samples of blood managed to retard tumour growth.
To nail things down, the experiments were repeated with melatonin blockers being injected simultaneously, whereupon even blood taken in darkness failed to suppress tumour growth. This virtually proved that melatonin was suppressing the human breast cancer growth. Scientists say this is as close to the most direct experimental proof of the theory as is ethically possible to secure in living systems.
More indirect experiments have also been done involving the surgical extirpation of the pineal gland in nude mice so they cannot produce melatonin at all. In these animals, grafted tumours of human breast cancer cells grow ferociously.
Epidemiologically, eight large studies have examined the link, six of them finding indisputable evidence for it. Pooled together, the eight studies suggest that night shift work increases women's breast cancer risks by 40 per cent.
Most of the eight studies were retrospective, identifying women with breast cancer and then examining if night shift work had figured in their careers. However, there were two large prospective studies that followed healthy nurses from 1976 and 1988 respectively until 2004 to see how many would develop breast cancer. There was a definite association between night shift work and breast cancer in both cohorts of nurses.
Notable also is a 2008 study that looked at satellite images of the intensities of light at night in 147 communities in Israel. The breast cancer rates in these communities were then mapped onto this data. The communities that were exposed to the highest intensities of light at nights were found to have 73 per cent higher breast cancer rates.
Finally, scientists have also nailed down several of the genetic mechanisms by which melatonin actually suppresses breast cancer formation.
In sum, there are already many science-based reasons why women should not work the night shift.
* * *
Source: The Straits Times Online, by Andy Ho (Senior Writer)
LOTS of women work night shifts. Should they?
Night shift work is bad for women's health. In 2007, the World Health Organisation reclassified the status of night shift work from just a 'possible human carcinogen' to a 'probable human carcinogen'. Since then, the nexus between night shift work and breast cancer has been all but confirmed.
In March last year, the Danish government agreed to compensate 40 female nurses and flight attendants with breast cancer. These women had no other identifiable risk factor for breast cancer apart from working a night shift at least once a week for the past 20 years.
The accepted explanation now is that night shift work exposes women to light when they should be asleep (in the dark). What this exposure to light does when the body's internal clock says it should be dark is to make the brain produce less or none of a hormone that suppresses cancer formation elsewhere in the body.
By definition, a hormone is a protein synthesised in one part of the body that gets circulated through the blood stream to exert its effects upon various organs far away from its site of production.
The hormone in question is called melatonin and is produced by the pineal gland, a tiny body located at the brain's centre. In the brain, there is also a master biological clock that tells the pineal gland when to make melatonin. This is the central circadian (from circa, 'approximately'; diem, 'day') pacemaker, a grain size group of neurons in the brain that is re-set each morning by the natural light outside, so it is able to synchronise all our internal 24-hour biorhythms.
Our bodily processes - even at tissue and cellular levels - are synchronised with this circadian cycle. For example, DNA replication and synthesis occur mainly at night, so our biological clock must be able to tell the body when it is (internally) night. In ill health, that synchronisation goes awry, something that has been noted especially in breast cancer.
Reset by the morning light every day, the pacemaker tells the pineal gland to produce most of its melatonin at night. But when the pineal gland is routinely stimulated by light at night, it might be tricked into turning down or even switching off its melatonin production.
How melatonin suppresses cancer formation at the gene level has now been identified in great detail. As such, the body that is routinely producing too little of it because of night shift work becomes dysregulated, genetically speaking. It therefore becomes more prone to cancer.
Indeed, the risk of breast cancer is five times higher in developed than underdeveloped countries. According to A. Roger Ekirch, At Day's Close: Night In Times Past, prior to artificial lighting becoming widely available, people in the pre-industrial era used to have 14-hour nights. Now we have 14 to 18 hour days of 'light pollution' instead.
Here is how the link between breast cancer and light pollution was established. Experimentally, mice were genetically modified so their bodies would not reject human cells. After these 'nude mice', as they are called, were innoculated with human breast cancer cells, their bodies developed a tumour made up of such cells.
These tumours were then perfused with blood from young women taken during the day, during the night in bright white light, and during the night in darkness. Only the last samples of blood managed to retard tumour growth.
To nail things down, the experiments were repeated with melatonin blockers being injected simultaneously, whereupon even blood taken in darkness failed to suppress tumour growth. This virtually proved that melatonin was suppressing the human breast cancer growth. Scientists say this is as close to the most direct experimental proof of the theory as is ethically possible to secure in living systems.
More indirect experiments have also been done involving the surgical extirpation of the pineal gland in nude mice so they cannot produce melatonin at all. In these animals, grafted tumours of human breast cancer cells grow ferociously.
Epidemiologically, eight large studies have examined the link, six of them finding indisputable evidence for it. Pooled together, the eight studies suggest that night shift work increases women's breast cancer risks by 40 per cent.
Most of the eight studies were retrospective, identifying women with breast cancer and then examining if night shift work had figured in their careers. However, there were two large prospective studies that followed healthy nurses from 1976 and 1988 respectively until 2004 to see how many would develop breast cancer. There was a definite association between night shift work and breast cancer in both cohorts of nurses.
Notable also is a 2008 study that looked at satellite images of the intensities of light at night in 147 communities in Israel. The breast cancer rates in these communities were then mapped onto this data. The communities that were exposed to the highest intensities of light at nights were found to have 73 per cent higher breast cancer rates.
Finally, scientists have also nailed down several of the genetic mechanisms by which melatonin actually suppresses breast cancer formation.
In sum, there are already many science-based reasons why women should not work the night shift.
Friday, August 20, 2010
What should doctors tell young people who want to study medicine?
By Dr Martin Young
Every now and then a young person approaches me for advice on studying medicine. The majority are extremely bright, capable and enthusiastic semi-adults, with strong desires to change the world and to ‘make a difference.’
I was once like that, once upon a time, long, long ago……….
I have wanted to be a doctor for as long as I can remember. At a very early stage in my life, as soon as I could walk and talk, I also wanted to be a Royal Marine. As an adult I got to be the closest equivalent to both I possibly could be. But the reality of being a fighting soldier – yes, a doctor and a fighting soldier (South Africa was a crazy place in those days)– was more in line with my expectations than those of being a doctor. Even while growing up I had a keen sense of what the military expected of me, and what it would do to me in return. For the realities of practicing medicine I was, and probably still am, completely unprepared.
Part of the problem is that in the 30 years it has taken me to ‘arrive’ as a specialist surgeon with my own practice, medicine has changed completely, and not for the better in my opinion. It is just not a ‘comfortable’ profession anymore, because of the outside influences of managed healthcare, litigation, health economics and others. Helping people, and curing some of them, is still a big plus. It is the other ‘stuff’ that goes with that that has become difficult. The level of frustration is getting so high it is almost part of the daily job description.
So, when young people approach me asking if they can job-shadow me for a while, I have to watch myself very closely in trying to give good, solid advice that will not put them off, but at the same time, not help steer them careering into a profession for which they may be both ill-suited and ill-prepared.
These are a few things I tell them, I hope with a sense of reality, tempered with awe of the incredible responsibility:
Every now and then a young person approaches me for advice on studying medicine. The majority are extremely bright, capable and enthusiastic semi-adults, with strong desires to change the world and to ‘make a difference.’
I was once like that, once upon a time, long, long ago……….
I have wanted to be a doctor for as long as I can remember. At a very early stage in my life, as soon as I could walk and talk, I also wanted to be a Royal Marine. As an adult I got to be the closest equivalent to both I possibly could be. But the reality of being a fighting soldier – yes, a doctor and a fighting soldier (South Africa was a crazy place in those days)– was more in line with my expectations than those of being a doctor. Even while growing up I had a keen sense of what the military expected of me, and what it would do to me in return. For the realities of practicing medicine I was, and probably still am, completely unprepared.
Part of the problem is that in the 30 years it has taken me to ‘arrive’ as a specialist surgeon with my own practice, medicine has changed completely, and not for the better in my opinion. It is just not a ‘comfortable’ profession anymore, because of the outside influences of managed healthcare, litigation, health economics and others. Helping people, and curing some of them, is still a big plus. It is the other ‘stuff’ that goes with that that has become difficult. The level of frustration is getting so high it is almost part of the daily job description.
So, when young people approach me asking if they can job-shadow me for a while, I have to watch myself very closely in trying to give good, solid advice that will not put them off, but at the same time, not help steer them careering into a profession for which they may be both ill-suited and ill-prepared.
These are a few things I tell them, I hope with a sense of reality, tempered with awe of the incredible responsibility:
- Unless you really, really want to be a doctor, have no other alternative in mind, are willing to do as much as it takes to get into medical school, even if it means getting another degree first, don’t even think of it. The novelty of being ‘doctor’ wears off a lot sooner than you may think.
- If you are bright enough to get into medical school, you are bright enough to do any other job or profession, and to be a success at it. With something tangible to show for that success. But if ‘success’ is defined in your mind as financial wealth, choose another easier route! Or redefine ‘success’ in your own mind, leaving out the fast cars and fancy houses.
- Medical school is going to drain your resources, and put you five years behind your peers in earning potential.
- Being a doctor may leave you physically, emotionally and mentally exhausted for long periods of your life.
- The establishment takes the brightest and most enthusiastic of a country’s youth, loads them with debt, and then pushes them into a workplace which is invariably understaffed, ill-supervised, overworked and underpaid. For years at a time! Are you prepared to go through all that?
- Take a look at the doctors around you and how they practice medicine. In ten years time everything will have changed dramatically. No one can really say whether or not for the better.
It’s not all bad:
- The highs in medicine can be very high, bordering on euphoria, at a challenging job well done.
- You will never be short of a job somewhere. It may not be the job you wanted, or where you want to be, but there will always be work for you.
- You can take your qualifications and experience with you anywhere you go.
- Other jobs may have diminished appeal after being a doctor, somehow lacking in relevance.
- You have a wide range of options within medicine itself, so careers can develop in different directions at different stages. Which is a good thing.
When I have had the opportunity to say these things, my young would-be doctor may look quite thoughtful or even apprehensive. Many tell me that they never realized that there was a dark side to being a doctor. I refer them to other sources, websites and blogs like this one, and wish them all the best of luck.
How many have I seen come back to me as qualified doctors? I’m still waiting…….But I know of one who became a water sanitation engineer.
In terms of ‘saving lives’ and ‘making a difference’ he probably has the edge on all of us!
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Dying man renews wedding vows with wife of 72 years
“He has taken care of me my whole life,” she said. “He has loved me and respected me and cherished me the way he said he would when I was just a young girl and he was just a young man. There is nothing to be nervous about when you are walking toward the person you love with your whole heart.”
“We have not always had an easy life,” she said.
“But if you put God first, you can endure and your marriage can endure.”
ANDERSON COUNTY — Vernon McAlister had a dream last week about the woman he has loved nearly all his life.
His wife Sue was in a room decorated with lace — “the most beautiful, beautiful lace” — and she stood near a window, bathed in sunlight and dressed in a lace gown and veil, waiting for him to marry her again.
After that dream, he was peaceful, sure of what he wanted to do next.
He asked the nurses at Hospice of the Upstate to help him stay alive a few more days. He wanted to celebrate his 72nd anniversary with his bride.
On Sunday, a day after their actual anniversary, the McAlisters celebrated their union by renewing their vows.
This time, they were not nervous.
She is 87 and he is nearly 93.
They have grown up together.
They have raised five children together.
Two years ago, they survived her battle with stomach cancer.
And still, they hold on to each other.
“He has taken care of me my whole life,” she said. “He has loved me and respected me and cherished me the way he said he would when I was just a young girl and he was just a young man. There is nothing to be nervous about when you are walking toward the person you love with your whole heart.”
In her pink dress and white veil, the bride stayed in a room separate from her groom and was shielded by the hospice staff. They didn’t want any bad luck.
Just a few feet away, her husband, from his room, was getting help with straightening his navy tie.
“Where is my bride?” he called out. “Where is my bride?”
Soon, they gathered with their friends and family in the dining room of the Rainey Hospice House.
And though he was in a hospital bed, Vernon McAlister’s eyes lit up when he saw her walking down the aisle. The first time they did this, he was almost 21, and she was 15 and a half.
“My father told me she would make a good wife,” he said. “Oh, I couldn’t have imagined how right he was. She is just purely wonderful. She is a jewel.”
They met on his father’s farm in Central.
Sue and her mother picked cotton on that farm, and one day, her mother encouraged her to go to Vernon in the field and talk to him.
“It was that beautiful smile that got to me,” she said. “It still does.”
The couple lived in Central for 40 years before moving to Anderson.
Nearly 30 years ago now, he retired from his work with the agronomy program at Clemson University and concentrated on church work and volunteering.
“We have not always had an easy life,” she said. “But if you put God first, you can endure and your marriage can endure.”
All of the couple’s children —their sons Tony, Phil, Van and Don McAlister and daughter Anita Floyd — were able to attend the ceremony.
“They are a testament to love,” Floyd said. “It is amazing how they support each other. And it is amazing how that dream of her has kept him going. That’s why we thought this ceremony was so important. That dream of her is all he has talked about.”
Doctors believe Vernon McAlister has just days left to live. He broke his hip recently, and doctors have told his children that it is a fatal injury for someone his age.
He has been in the hospice house for about three weeks. His wife is staying at the Magnolias of Anderson, an assisted-living complex nearby.
But on Sunday, they held hands, side by side.
Sue McAlister’s had trembled as she kissed her husband, cupping his chin and then smoothing his hair. Her husband looked at her with tears in his eyes and a smile on his face.
Family friend Bill French, who performed the ceremony, said a marriage like the McAlisters’ should be held up as an example for the world.
“When you took those vows all those years ago, when you said, ‘We will share our joys and sorrows as we walk through life together’ … no one could have known how long that walk would be,” French said. “You have fulfilled your promise, and God is smiling.”
His wife Sue was in a room decorated with lace — “the most beautiful, beautiful lace” — and she stood near a window, bathed in sunlight and dressed in a lace gown and veil, waiting for him to marry her again.
After that dream, he was peaceful, sure of what he wanted to do next.
He asked the nurses at Hospice of the Upstate to help him stay alive a few more days. He wanted to celebrate his 72nd anniversary with his bride.
On Sunday, a day after their actual anniversary, the McAlisters celebrated their union by renewing their vows.
This time, they were not nervous.
She is 87 and he is nearly 93.
They have grown up together.
They have raised five children together.
Two years ago, they survived her battle with stomach cancer.
And still, they hold on to each other.
“He has taken care of me my whole life,” she said. “He has loved me and respected me and cherished me the way he said he would when I was just a young girl and he was just a young man. There is nothing to be nervous about when you are walking toward the person you love with your whole heart.”
In her pink dress and white veil, the bride stayed in a room separate from her groom and was shielded by the hospice staff. They didn’t want any bad luck.
Just a few feet away, her husband, from his room, was getting help with straightening his navy tie.
“Where is my bride?” he called out. “Where is my bride?”
Soon, they gathered with their friends and family in the dining room of the Rainey Hospice House.
And though he was in a hospital bed, Vernon McAlister’s eyes lit up when he saw her walking down the aisle. The first time they did this, he was almost 21, and she was 15 and a half.
“My father told me she would make a good wife,” he said. “Oh, I couldn’t have imagined how right he was. She is just purely wonderful. She is a jewel.”
They met on his father’s farm in Central.
Sue and her mother picked cotton on that farm, and one day, her mother encouraged her to go to Vernon in the field and talk to him.
“It was that beautiful smile that got to me,” she said. “It still does.”
The couple lived in Central for 40 years before moving to Anderson.
Nearly 30 years ago now, he retired from his work with the agronomy program at Clemson University and concentrated on church work and volunteering.
“We have not always had an easy life,” she said. “But if you put God first, you can endure and your marriage can endure.”
All of the couple’s children —their sons Tony, Phil, Van and Don McAlister and daughter Anita Floyd — were able to attend the ceremony.
“They are a testament to love,” Floyd said. “It is amazing how they support each other. And it is amazing how that dream of her has kept him going. That’s why we thought this ceremony was so important. That dream of her is all he has talked about.”
Doctors believe Vernon McAlister has just days left to live. He broke his hip recently, and doctors have told his children that it is a fatal injury for someone his age.
He has been in the hospice house for about three weeks. His wife is staying at the Magnolias of Anderson, an assisted-living complex nearby.
But on Sunday, they held hands, side by side.
Sue McAlister’s had trembled as she kissed her husband, cupping his chin and then smoothing his hair. Her husband looked at her with tears in his eyes and a smile on his face.
Family friend Bill French, who performed the ceremony, said a marriage like the McAlisters’ should be held up as an example for the world.
“When you took those vows all those years ago, when you said, ‘We will share our joys and sorrows as we walk through life together’ … no one could have known how long that walk would be,” French said. “You have fulfilled your promise, and God is smiling.”
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Should this be the last generation? by Peter Singer
Peter Singer is Professor of Bioethics at Princeton University and Laureate Professor at the University of Melbourne. His most recent book is “The Life You Can Save.”
Have you ever thought about whether to have a child? If so, what factors entered into your decision? Was it whether having children would be good for you, your partner and others close to the possible child, such as children you may already have, or perhaps your parents? For most people contemplating reproduction, those are the dominant questions. Some may also think about the desirability of adding to the strain that the nearly seven billion people already here are putting on our planet’s environment. But very few ask whether coming into existence is a good thing for the child itself. Most of those who consider that question probably do so because they have some reason to fear that the child’s life would be especially difficult — for example, if they have a family history of a devastating illness, physical or mental, that cannot yet be detected prenatally.
All this suggests that we think it is wrong to bring into the world a child whose prospects for a happy, healthy life are poor, but we don’t usually think the fact that a child is likely to have a happy, healthy life is a reason for bringing the child into existence. This has come to be known among philosophers as “the asymmetry” and it is not easy to justify. But rather than go into the explanations usually proffered — and why they fail — I want to raise a related problem. How good does life have to be, to make it reasonable to bring a child into the world? Is the standard of life experienced by most people in developed nations today good enough to make this decision unproblematic, in the absence of specific knowledge that the child will have a severe genetic disease or other problem?
The 19th-century German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer held that even the best life possible for humans is one in which we strive for ends that, once achieved, bring only fleeting satisfaction. New desires then lead us on to further futile struggle and the cycle repeats itself.
Schopenhauer’s pessimism has had few defenders over the past two centuries, but one has recently emerged, in the South African philosopher David Benatar, author of a fine book with an arresting title: “Better Never to Have Been: The Harm of Coming into Existence.” One of Benatar’s arguments trades on something like the asymmetry noted earlier. To bring into existence someone who will suffer is, Benatar argues, to harm that person, but to bring into existence someone who will have a good life is not to benefit him or her. Few of us would think it right to inflict severe suffering on an innocent child, even if that were the only way in which we could bring many other children into the world. Yet everyone will suffer to some extent, and if our species continues to reproduce, we can be sure that some future children will suffer severely. Hence continued reproduction will harm some children severely, and benefit none.
Benatar also argues that human lives are, in general, much less good than we think they are. We spend most of our lives with unfulfilled desires, and the occasional satisfactions that are all most of us can achieve are insufficient to outweigh these prolonged negative states. If we think that this is a tolerable state of affairs it is because we are, in Benatar’s view, victims of the illusion of pollyannaism. This illusion may have evolved because it helped our ancestors survive, but it is an illusion nonetheless. If we could see our lives objectively, we would see that they are not something we should inflict on anyone.
Here is a thought experiment to test our attitudes to this view. Most thoughtful people are extremely concerned about climate change. Some stop eating meat, or flying abroad on vacation, in order to reduce their carbon footprint. But the people who will be most severely harmed by climate change have not yet been conceived. If there were to be no future generations, there would be much less for us to feel to guilty about.
So why don’t we make ourselves the last generation on earth? If we would all agree to have ourselves sterilized then no sacrifices would be required — we could party our way into extinction!
Of course, it would be impossible to get agreement on universal sterilization, but just imagine that we could. Then is there anything wrong with this scenario? Even if we take a less pessimistic view of human existence than Benatar, we could still defend it, because it makes us better off — for one thing, we can get rid of all that guilt about what we are doing to future generations — and it doesn’t make anyone worse off, because there won’t be anyone else to be worse off.
Is a world with people in it better than one without? Put aside what we do to other species — that’s a different issue. Let’s assume that the choice is between a world like ours and one with no sentient beings in it at all. And assume, too — here we have to get fictitious, as philosophers often do — that if we choose to bring about the world with no sentient beings at all, everyone will agree to do that. No one’s rights will be violated — at least, not the rights of any existing people. Can non-existent people have a right to come into existence?
I do think it would be wrong to choose the non-sentient universe. In my judgment, for most people, life is worth living. Even if that is not yet the case, I am enough of an optimist to believe that, should humans survive for another century or two, we will learn from our past mistakes and bring about a world in which there is far less suffering than there is now. But justifying that choice forces us to reconsider the deep issues with which I began. Is life worth living? Are the interests of a future child a reason for bringing that child into existence? And is the continuance of our species justifiable in the face of our knowledge that it will certainly bring suffering to innocent future human beings?
Have you ever thought about whether to have a child? If so, what factors entered into your decision? Was it whether having children would be good for you, your partner and others close to the possible child, such as children you may already have, or perhaps your parents? For most people contemplating reproduction, those are the dominant questions. Some may also think about the desirability of adding to the strain that the nearly seven billion people already here are putting on our planet’s environment. But very few ask whether coming into existence is a good thing for the child itself. Most of those who consider that question probably do so because they have some reason to fear that the child’s life would be especially difficult — for example, if they have a family history of a devastating illness, physical or mental, that cannot yet be detected prenatally.
All this suggests that we think it is wrong to bring into the world a child whose prospects for a happy, healthy life are poor, but we don’t usually think the fact that a child is likely to have a happy, healthy life is a reason for bringing the child into existence. This has come to be known among philosophers as “the asymmetry” and it is not easy to justify. But rather than go into the explanations usually proffered — and why they fail — I want to raise a related problem. How good does life have to be, to make it reasonable to bring a child into the world? Is the standard of life experienced by most people in developed nations today good enough to make this decision unproblematic, in the absence of specific knowledge that the child will have a severe genetic disease or other problem?
The 19th-century German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer held that even the best life possible for humans is one in which we strive for ends that, once achieved, bring only fleeting satisfaction. New desires then lead us on to further futile struggle and the cycle repeats itself.
Schopenhauer’s pessimism has had few defenders over the past two centuries, but one has recently emerged, in the South African philosopher David Benatar, author of a fine book with an arresting title: “Better Never to Have Been: The Harm of Coming into Existence.” One of Benatar’s arguments trades on something like the asymmetry noted earlier. To bring into existence someone who will suffer is, Benatar argues, to harm that person, but to bring into existence someone who will have a good life is not to benefit him or her. Few of us would think it right to inflict severe suffering on an innocent child, even if that were the only way in which we could bring many other children into the world. Yet everyone will suffer to some extent, and if our species continues to reproduce, we can be sure that some future children will suffer severely. Hence continued reproduction will harm some children severely, and benefit none.
Benatar also argues that human lives are, in general, much less good than we think they are. We spend most of our lives with unfulfilled desires, and the occasional satisfactions that are all most of us can achieve are insufficient to outweigh these prolonged negative states. If we think that this is a tolerable state of affairs it is because we are, in Benatar’s view, victims of the illusion of pollyannaism. This illusion may have evolved because it helped our ancestors survive, but it is an illusion nonetheless. If we could see our lives objectively, we would see that they are not something we should inflict on anyone.
Here is a thought experiment to test our attitudes to this view. Most thoughtful people are extremely concerned about climate change. Some stop eating meat, or flying abroad on vacation, in order to reduce their carbon footprint. But the people who will be most severely harmed by climate change have not yet been conceived. If there were to be no future generations, there would be much less for us to feel to guilty about.
So why don’t we make ourselves the last generation on earth? If we would all agree to have ourselves sterilized then no sacrifices would be required — we could party our way into extinction!
Of course, it would be impossible to get agreement on universal sterilization, but just imagine that we could. Then is there anything wrong with this scenario? Even if we take a less pessimistic view of human existence than Benatar, we could still defend it, because it makes us better off — for one thing, we can get rid of all that guilt about what we are doing to future generations — and it doesn’t make anyone worse off, because there won’t be anyone else to be worse off.
Is a world with people in it better than one without? Put aside what we do to other species — that’s a different issue. Let’s assume that the choice is between a world like ours and one with no sentient beings in it at all. And assume, too — here we have to get fictitious, as philosophers often do — that if we choose to bring about the world with no sentient beings at all, everyone will agree to do that. No one’s rights will be violated — at least, not the rights of any existing people. Can non-existent people have a right to come into existence?
I do think it would be wrong to choose the non-sentient universe. In my judgment, for most people, life is worth living. Even if that is not yet the case, I am enough of an optimist to believe that, should humans survive for another century or two, we will learn from our past mistakes and bring about a world in which there is far less suffering than there is now. But justifying that choice forces us to reconsider the deep issues with which I began. Is life worth living? Are the interests of a future child a reason for bringing that child into existence? And is the continuance of our species justifiable in the face of our knowledge that it will certainly bring suffering to innocent future human beings?
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Diary of a Reformed Elitist
I AM as Rafflesian/Raffles Girls' School (RGS)/'elite' as they come. My father was a Raffles Institution boy; I went through Raffles Girls' Primary School (RGPS), RGS, then Raffles Junior College, then on to the National University of Singapore, boarding at Raffles Hall. My sisters went through much the same route. My little girls are in RGPS.
I recognise the syndrome Ms Sandra Leong talks about ('Scoring high in grades but not in values', last Saturday). I live it, breathe it. Most of my friends are like me, graduates. Most of us live in landed property, condominiums or minimally, executive condos or five-room flats. None of us talks about making ends meet, or how we must turn down medical treatment for our aged parents because we cannot find the money.
But I will add to her essay: that those traits, that aura is not unique to RGS girls. It resonates within a social group, and its aspirants, the well educated or well endowed. I hang out with so many, I have stories by the barrel.
- My doctor friend, non-RGS and one would even say anti-RGS, was shocked when she found out how many As I got in my A levels, since I opted to do an arts degree. In her words, 'I thought all arts people were dumb, that is why they go to arts'. Her own family boasts only doctors and lawyers - she said they would never contemplate any other profession - and by implication, all other professions are below those two.
- A church-mate who lived in a landed property in District 10 - definitely not an RGS girl, and I venture to guess, not even a graduate - once, in all sincerity and innocence, prayed for all those who had to take public transport and live in HDB flats, for God to give them strength to bear these trials.
- Another friend, also non-RGS and a non-graduate, shudders when she recounts the few months she lived in an HDB flat. And that was a five-room flat. Imagine the culture shock if she had lived in a three-room flat.
I continue to meet people who never visit hawker centres, who wonder why the poor people do not work harder to help themselves, who fret if their children do not get into the Gifted Education Programme (reserved for the top 1 per cent of nine-year-olds).
The pattern repeats itself in the next generation. When my 11-year-old had to go on a 'race' around Singapore, using only public transport, the teacher asked for a show of hands on how many had never taken public transport (bus and MRT) before. In a class of 30, five raised their hands. I think if the teacher had asked for those who had taken public transport fewer than 10 times in their young lives, the number would have more than doubled or tripled.
Many of us live in ivory towers. I know I did. I used to think Singapore was pretty much 'it' all - a fantastic meritocracy that allowed an 'HDB child' from a non-graduate family to make it. I boasted about our efficiency - 'you can emerge from your plane and be out in 10 minutes' - and so on.
It was not that I thought little of the rest of the world or other people; it was that I was so ensconced in my cocoon, I just thought little of anything outside my own zone. 'Snow? Yes, nice.' 'Starvation in Ethiopia? Donate $50.' The wonders of the world we lived in, the sufferings and joys of those who shared this earth were just academic knowledge to me, voraciously devoured for my essays or to hold intelligent conversations at dinner parties.
Then I lived in China for seven years. I looked on in amazement as the skinny tree trunk in front of my yard blossomed and bore pomegranates when spring thawed the ground. And marvelled at the lands that spread east, west, north and south of me as we drove and drove and drove, and never ended. I became friends and fans of colleagues and other Chinese nationals, whom so many Singapore friends had warned me to be wary of.
I realised it was not the world and other people who were limited in their intellect, in their determination, in their resourcefulness; it was me and my world views which were limited. I also know full well that if I had stayed in Singapore, in my cushy job, comfortable in my Bukit Timah home, I would have remained the same - self-sufficient. I had always believed that if I put my mind to it, I could achieve anything. For example, I used to look at sick people and root: 'Fight with all your willpower, and you will recover.' And when they did not, I'd think they had failed themselves. I, like Ms Leong, believed 'mental dexterity equated strength of character and virtue'.
But those years in China taught me terrible lessons on loneliness. I learnt that money (an expatriate pay package) and brains (suitcases of books) did not make me happier than my maid who cycled home to her family every night in minus 20 deg C on icy roads to a dinner of rice and vegetables. The past few years, I have known devastating loss and grief so deep I woke up in the morning and wondered how the sun could still shine and people could go on with their lives.
And so perhaps I have learnt the humility I lacked. Humility about how small I am in the whole schema of things. About how helpless I truly stand, with my intellect in my hands, with my million-dollar roof over my head. To remember, in the darkest valleys of my journey, it was not Ayn Rand or other Booker list authors who lifted me, but the phone calls, the kindness of strangers, that made each day a little less bleak.
And perhaps finally, to really see other people, and understand - not deflect, nor reflect their anger and viewpoints, but see their shyness, pain, struggles, joys. Just because I was 'fortunate enough' to have trawled the bottom levels. And perhaps that is the antidote to the oft unwitting elitism so many of us carry with us.
Sim Soek Tien (Ms)
I recognise the syndrome Ms Sandra Leong talks about ('Scoring high in grades but not in values', last Saturday). I live it, breathe it. Most of my friends are like me, graduates. Most of us live in landed property, condominiums or minimally, executive condos or five-room flats. None of us talks about making ends meet, or how we must turn down medical treatment for our aged parents because we cannot find the money.
But I will add to her essay: that those traits, that aura is not unique to RGS girls. It resonates within a social group, and its aspirants, the well educated or well endowed. I hang out with so many, I have stories by the barrel.
- My doctor friend, non-RGS and one would even say anti-RGS, was shocked when she found out how many As I got in my A levels, since I opted to do an arts degree. In her words, 'I thought all arts people were dumb, that is why they go to arts'. Her own family boasts only doctors and lawyers - she said they would never contemplate any other profession - and by implication, all other professions are below those two.
- A church-mate who lived in a landed property in District 10 - definitely not an RGS girl, and I venture to guess, not even a graduate - once, in all sincerity and innocence, prayed for all those who had to take public transport and live in HDB flats, for God to give them strength to bear these trials.
- Another friend, also non-RGS and a non-graduate, shudders when she recounts the few months she lived in an HDB flat. And that was a five-room flat. Imagine the culture shock if she had lived in a three-room flat.
I continue to meet people who never visit hawker centres, who wonder why the poor people do not work harder to help themselves, who fret if their children do not get into the Gifted Education Programme (reserved for the top 1 per cent of nine-year-olds).
The pattern repeats itself in the next generation. When my 11-year-old had to go on a 'race' around Singapore, using only public transport, the teacher asked for a show of hands on how many had never taken public transport (bus and MRT) before. In a class of 30, five raised their hands. I think if the teacher had asked for those who had taken public transport fewer than 10 times in their young lives, the number would have more than doubled or tripled.
Many of us live in ivory towers. I know I did. I used to think Singapore was pretty much 'it' all - a fantastic meritocracy that allowed an 'HDB child' from a non-graduate family to make it. I boasted about our efficiency - 'you can emerge from your plane and be out in 10 minutes' - and so on.
It was not that I thought little of the rest of the world or other people; it was that I was so ensconced in my cocoon, I just thought little of anything outside my own zone. 'Snow? Yes, nice.' 'Starvation in Ethiopia? Donate $50.' The wonders of the world we lived in, the sufferings and joys of those who shared this earth were just academic knowledge to me, voraciously devoured for my essays or to hold intelligent conversations at dinner parties.
Then I lived in China for seven years. I looked on in amazement as the skinny tree trunk in front of my yard blossomed and bore pomegranates when spring thawed the ground. And marvelled at the lands that spread east, west, north and south of me as we drove and drove and drove, and never ended. I became friends and fans of colleagues and other Chinese nationals, whom so many Singapore friends had warned me to be wary of.
I realised it was not the world and other people who were limited in their intellect, in their determination, in their resourcefulness; it was me and my world views which were limited. I also know full well that if I had stayed in Singapore, in my cushy job, comfortable in my Bukit Timah home, I would have remained the same - self-sufficient. I had always believed that if I put my mind to it, I could achieve anything. For example, I used to look at sick people and root: 'Fight with all your willpower, and you will recover.' And when they did not, I'd think they had failed themselves. I, like Ms Leong, believed 'mental dexterity equated strength of character and virtue'.
But those years in China taught me terrible lessons on loneliness. I learnt that money (an expatriate pay package) and brains (suitcases of books) did not make me happier than my maid who cycled home to her family every night in minus 20 deg C on icy roads to a dinner of rice and vegetables. The past few years, I have known devastating loss and grief so deep I woke up in the morning and wondered how the sun could still shine and people could go on with their lives.
And so perhaps I have learnt the humility I lacked. Humility about how small I am in the whole schema of things. About how helpless I truly stand, with my intellect in my hands, with my million-dollar roof over my head. To remember, in the darkest valleys of my journey, it was not Ayn Rand or other Booker list authors who lifted me, but the phone calls, the kindness of strangers, that made each day a little less bleak.
And perhaps finally, to really see other people, and understand - not deflect, nor reflect their anger and viewpoints, but see their shyness, pain, struggles, joys. Just because I was 'fortunate enough' to have trawled the bottom levels. And perhaps that is the antidote to the oft unwitting elitism so many of us carry with us.
Sim Soek Tien (Ms)
Friday, January 22, 2010
In true CHP spirit
...Don't work too hard. Nobody notices anyway.
[ Reposted from Huijun on Facebook ]
Friday, November 6, 2009
Little Alisha
I came across this story a few days back, and it greatly moved me.
To cut the long story short, there is a little Nepalese girl, 4 years old, who was born with a hearing impairment. Despite having fixed a hearing aid back in Nepal, she hasn't been able to hear. Her only hope to hear was a surgically implanted hearing device.
Through some divine connections, her caregiver, Ms Josephine, managed to reach Waijia (M4) whom she met some time ago while WJ was on a trip in Nepal. After many (some fruitless) calls to ENT surgeons, many disappointments, God proved faithful and provided a surgeon who was willing to take on the case! As I type this, Alisha is on singaporean soil and all ready for her surgery this coming Sunday!
I do no justice to the entire tale, and the humbing parts are in the intricacies of how Alisha stepped foot onto Singaporean soil, the way each person was connected to the next, the seemingly unanswered prayers, the unconquerable task of finding a surgeon.
Little Alisha's operation fees would have cost hundreds of thousands because of the cost of the hearing implant. After a special request was made to the implant company, however, the cost has been greatly reduced. Nonetheless, the operating fees etc still amount to $32'000, even after waiving the surgical charges. She is still $22'600 short due to an extended stay as she had a cough and surgery was postponed till she had recovered from the cough.
If you/your parents/your tutors would like to make a donation to help little Alisha hear again, please send Waijia an email at waijia@hotmail.com so that she may link you up with the necessary contacts. (:
To cut the long story short, there is a little Nepalese girl, 4 years old, who was born with a hearing impairment. Despite having fixed a hearing aid back in Nepal, she hasn't been able to hear. Her only hope to hear was a surgically implanted hearing device.
Through some divine connections, her caregiver, Ms Josephine, managed to reach Waijia (M4) whom she met some time ago while WJ was on a trip in Nepal. After many (some fruitless) calls to ENT surgeons, many disappointments, God proved faithful and provided a surgeon who was willing to take on the case! As I type this, Alisha is on singaporean soil and all ready for her surgery this coming Sunday!
I do no justice to the entire tale, and the humbing parts are in the intricacies of how Alisha stepped foot onto Singaporean soil, the way each person was connected to the next, the seemingly unanswered prayers, the unconquerable task of finding a surgeon.
Little Alisha's operation fees would have cost hundreds of thousands because of the cost of the hearing implant. After a special request was made to the implant company, however, the cost has been greatly reduced. Nonetheless, the operating fees etc still amount to $32'000, even after waiving the surgical charges. She is still $22'600 short due to an extended stay as she had a cough and surgery was postponed till she had recovered from the cough.
If you/your parents/your tutors would like to make a donation to help little Alisha hear again, please send Waijia an email at waijia@hotmail.com so that she may link you up with the necessary contacts. (:
Friday, February 8, 2008
One Flaw in Women
i have been thinking of what to blog for a while now, not being able to put anything into words. but i just opened my Inbox and saw a forwarded email appearing twice. i opened it and felt very blessed by it.
One Flaw In Women
By the time the Lord made woman,He was into his sixth day of working overtime. An angel appeared and said,"Why are you spending so much time on this one?"
And the Lord answered, "Have you seen my spec sheet on her? She has to be completely washable, but not plastic, have over 200 movable parts, all replaceable and able to run on diet coke and leftovers, have a lap that can hold four children at one time, have a kiss that can cure anything from a scraped knee to a broken heart - and she will do everything with only two hands.
"The angel was astounded at the requirements."Only two hands? No way! And that's just on the standard model? That's too much work for one day.Wait until tomorrow to finish."
"But I won't," the Lord protested." I am so close to finishing this creation that is so close to my own heart. She already heals herself when she is sickAND can work 18 hour days.
"The angel moved closer and touched the woman."But you have made her so soft, Lord."
"She is soft," the Lord agreed, "but I have also made her tough.You have no idea what she can endure or accomplish."
"Will she be able to think?" asked the angel.
The Lord replied, "Not only will she be able to think,she will be able to reason and negotiate."
The angel then noticed something,and reaching out, touched the woman's cheek. "Oops, it looks like you have a leak in this model. I told you that you were trying to put too much into this one."
"That's not a leak", the Lord corrected, "that's a tear!"
"What's the tear for?" the angel asked.
The Lord said, "The tear is her way of expressing her joy,her sorrow, her pain, her disappointment, her love,her loneliness, her grief and her pride."
The angel was impressed."You are a genius, Lord. You thought of everything! Woman is truly amazing."
And she is! Women have strengths that amaze men. They bear hardships and they carry burdens, but they hold happiness, love and joy. They smile when they want to scream. They sing when they want to cry. They cry when they are happy and laugh when they are nervous.
They fight for what they believe in. They stand up to injustice. They don't take "no" for an answer when they believe there is a better solution. They go without so their family can have.
They go to the doctor with a frightened friend. They love unconditionally. They cry when their children excel and cheer when their friends get awards. They are happy when they hear about a birth or a wedding. Their hearts break when a friend dies. They grieve at the loss of a family member, yet they are strong when they think there is no strength left. They know that a hug and a kiss can heal a broken heart.
Women come in all shapes, sizes and colors. They'll drive, fly, walk, run or e-mail you to show how much they care about you. The heart of a woman is what makes the world keep turning. They bring joy, hope and love. They have compassion and ideals. They give moral support to their family and friends. Women have vital things to say and everything to give.
If there is one flaw in women, it is that they forget their worth. please pass this along to all your women friends and relatives to remind them just how amazing they are.
One Flaw In Women
By the time the Lord made woman,He was into his sixth day of working overtime. An angel appeared and said,"Why are you spending so much time on this one?"
And the Lord answered, "Have you seen my spec sheet on her? She has to be completely washable, but not plastic, have over 200 movable parts, all replaceable and able to run on diet coke and leftovers, have a lap that can hold four children at one time, have a kiss that can cure anything from a scraped knee to a broken heart - and she will do everything with only two hands.
"The angel was astounded at the requirements."Only two hands? No way! And that's just on the standard model? That's too much work for one day.Wait until tomorrow to finish."
"But I won't," the Lord protested." I am so close to finishing this creation that is so close to my own heart. She already heals herself when she is sickAND can work 18 hour days.
"The angel moved closer and touched the woman."But you have made her so soft, Lord."
"She is soft," the Lord agreed, "but I have also made her tough.You have no idea what she can endure or accomplish."
"Will she be able to think?" asked the angel.
The Lord replied, "Not only will she be able to think,she will be able to reason and negotiate."
The angel then noticed something,and reaching out, touched the woman's cheek. "Oops, it looks like you have a leak in this model. I told you that you were trying to put too much into this one."
"That's not a leak", the Lord corrected, "that's a tear!"
"What's the tear for?" the angel asked.
The Lord said, "The tear is her way of expressing her joy,her sorrow, her pain, her disappointment, her love,her loneliness, her grief and her pride."
The angel was impressed."You are a genius, Lord. You thought of everything! Woman is truly amazing."
And she is! Women have strengths that amaze men. They bear hardships and they carry burdens, but they hold happiness, love and joy. They smile when they want to scream. They sing when they want to cry. They cry when they are happy and laugh when they are nervous.
They fight for what they believe in. They stand up to injustice. They don't take "no" for an answer when they believe there is a better solution. They go without so their family can have.
They go to the doctor with a frightened friend. They love unconditionally. They cry when their children excel and cheer when their friends get awards. They are happy when they hear about a birth or a wedding. Their hearts break when a friend dies. They grieve at the loss of a family member, yet they are strong when they think there is no strength left. They know that a hug and a kiss can heal a broken heart.
Women come in all shapes, sizes and colors. They'll drive, fly, walk, run or e-mail you to show how much they care about you. The heart of a woman is what makes the world keep turning. They bring joy, hope and love. They have compassion and ideals. They give moral support to their family and friends. Women have vital things to say and everything to give.
If there is one flaw in women, it is that they forget their worth. please pass this along to all your women friends and relatives to remind them just how amazing they are.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
In the archives of the brain, our lives linger or disappear.
this month's issue of National Geographic featured a topic that got me highly intriguied - Memory. the ability of recollection, something still so abstract and undefined in human development. starting from the way in which each moment/experience/encounter of your life is processed, catalogued and stored, followed by the way such information is archived, tagged and jolted back to recollection upon certain stimulation - all of it, suspectedly, never lost one bit, but merely a matter of retrieval.
as scientist pore over the scientific basis of such observations, 2 subjects of their study are described in the article. the first, AJ, who can recall every moment of her life as though flipping through pages of a book (be it two weeks ago or the exact same date 10 years ago) and the second, EP, who lives but only in the present (with memory only lingering for long enough for him to think about it). 2 people living in the same world but in different dimensions.
a fascinating article on the neuronal interactions within that mass of cells sitting atop our spines. but what i really enjoyed about this issue was the Editor's Note at the beginning of the issue. it was particularly poignant, something that pulled a heartstring.
Memory, perishable and enduring, is the brain's archive. It is a marvel of neuronic circuitry, as Joshua Foer explains in this month's cover story. Its loss can be cruel, but remember this: It is through memory that we hold on to those we love.
i've linked the articles here, do take a read. :)
National Geographic, November 2007
Editor's Note
Feature Article: Memory
as scientist pore over the scientific basis of such observations, 2 subjects of their study are described in the article. the first, AJ, who can recall every moment of her life as though flipping through pages of a book (be it two weeks ago or the exact same date 10 years ago) and the second, EP, who lives but only in the present (with memory only lingering for long enough for him to think about it). 2 people living in the same world but in different dimensions.
a fascinating article on the neuronal interactions within that mass of cells sitting atop our spines. but what i really enjoyed about this issue was the Editor's Note at the beginning of the issue. it was particularly poignant, something that pulled a heartstring.
Memory, perishable and enduring, is the brain's archive. It is a marvel of neuronic circuitry, as Joshua Foer explains in this month's cover story. Its loss can be cruel, but remember this: It is through memory that we hold on to those we love.
i've linked the articles here, do take a read. :)
National Geographic, November 2007
Editor's Note
Feature Article: Memory
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