Rhythms of the Night

For those who refuse to grow up or for those who are grown ups but have children who loves Remote Cotrolled vehicles and toys, Shopping.coms section on Radio and Remote Control Vehicles will be like heaven to them.

Spanning into 50 pages, the cataloque show cases every imaginable vehicles that your mind can think of. From firetrucks to airplanes, helicopters, excavators, ships, yatches, tankers and choppers I don’t think that there is anything that has been left out.

Prices and age groups varies from below $10 to over $90 for those who are more affluent. My personal favorite has got be this mechanical cyborg shark priced at $99.89 which a little bit on the higher end but this shark moves forward, backward, left, right, up and down. It can also stimulate life-like, fast swimming action. Moreover, it comes with a Waterproof remote controller can be used in or out of the water. It is perfect for the kids while they are taking a dip in the pool.

Another personal favorite which I know the boys will love is the Caterpillar Backhoe. This one is more affordable, price at just below the $30 mark. Of course these are just 2 out of the more than a tousand models that are being shown in Shopping.com. For those whose kid’s birthday is coming up and have no idea what to get them, this is the perfect site to go.  

 

During the recent annual  Commonwealth Essay Competition, A 15-YEAR-OLD Singaporean named Amanda Chong Wei-Zhen chosed to compete in an older age group for 16 to 18 year olds. Her essay titled, What the Modern Woman Wants, came out tops among 5,300 entries from 52 countries. This is her masterpiece.

    What the Modern Woman Wants
    By Amanda Chong Wei-Zhen

    The old woman sat in the backseat of the magenta convertible as it careened down the highway, clutching tightly to the plastic bag on her lap, afraid it may be kidnapped by the wind. She was not used to such speed, with trembling hands she pulled the seatbelt tighter but was careful not to touch the patent leather seats with her callused fingers, her daughter had warned her not to dirty it, ‘Fingerprints show very clearly on white, Ma.’

    Her daughter, Bee Choo, was driving and talking on her sleek silver mobile phone using big words the old woman could barely understand. ‘Finance’ ‘Liquidation’ ‘Assets’ ‘Investments’… Her voice was crisp and important and had an unfamiliar lilt to it. Her Bee Choo sounded like one of those foreign girls on television. She was speaking in an American accent.

    The old lady clucked her tongue in disapproval.

    ‘I absolutely cannot have this. We have to sell!’ Her daughter exclaimed agitatedly as she stepped on the accelerator; her perfectly manicured fingernails gripping onto the steering wheel in irritation.

    ‘I can’t DEAL with this anymore!’ she yelled as she clicked the phone shut and hurled it angrily toward the backseat. The mobile phone hit the old woman on the forehead and nestled soundlessly into her lap. She calmly picked it up and handed it to her daughter.

    ‘Sorry, Ma,’ she said, losing the American pretence and switching to Mandarin. ‘I have a big client in America . There have been a lot of problems.’ The old lady nodded knowingly. Her daughter was big and important.

    Bee Choo stared at her mother from the rear view window, wondering what she was thinking. Her mother’s wrinkled countenance always carried the same cryptic look.

    The phone began to ring again, an artificially cheerful digital tune, which broke the awkward silence. 

‘Hello, Beatrice! Yes, this is Elaine.’ Elaine.

The old woman cringed. I didn’t name her Elaine. She remembered her daughter telling her, how an English name was very important for ‘networking’, Chinese ones being easily forgotten.

    ‘Oh no, I can’t see you for lunch today. I have to take the ancient relic to the temple for her weird daily prayer ritual.’

    Ancient Relic. The old woman understood perfectly it was referring to her. Her daughter always assumed that her mother’s silence meant she did not comprehend.

    ‘Yes, I know! My car seats will be reeking of joss sticks!’

    The old woman pursed her lips tightly, her hands gripping her plastic bag in defence. The car curved smoothly into the temple courtyard. It looked almost garish next to the dull sheen of the ageing temple’s roof. The old woman got out of the back seat, and made her unhurried way to the main hall.

    Her daughter stepped out of the car in her business suit and stilettos and reapplied her lipstick as she made her brisk way to her mother’s side.

    ‘Ma, I’ll wait outside. I have an important phone call to make,’ she said, not bothering to hide her disgust at the pungent fumes of incense.

    The old lady hobbled into the temple hall and lit a joss stick, she knelt down solemnly and whispered her now familiar daily prayer to the Gods.

    Thank you God of the Sky, you have given my daughter luck all these years. Everything I prayed for, you have given her. She has everything a young woman in this world could possibly want. She has a big house with a swimming pool, a maid to help her, as she is too clumsy to sew or cook.

    Her love life has been blessed; she is engaged to a rich and handsome angmoh man. Her company is now the top financial firm and even men listen to what she says. She lives the perfect life. You have given her everything except happiness. I ask that the gods be merciful to her even if she has lost her roots while reaping the harvest of success.

    What you see is not true, she is a filial daughter to me. She gives me a room in her big house and provides well for me. She is rude to me only because I affect her happiness. A young woman does not want to be hindered by her old mother. It is my fault.

    The old lady prayed so hard that tears welled up in  her eyes. Finally, with her head bowed in reverence she planted the half-burnt joss stick into an urn of smouldering ashes.

    She bowed once more.The old woman had been praying for her daughter for thirty-two years. When her stomach was round like a melon, she came to the temple and prayed that it was a son.

    Then the time was ripe and the baby slipped out of her womb, bawling and adorable with fat thighs and pink cheeks, but unmistakably, a girl. Her husband had kicked and punched her for producing a useless baby who could not work or carry the family name.

    Still, the woman returned to the temple with her new-born girl tied to her waist in a sarong and prayed that her daughter would grow up and have everything she ever wanted. Her husband left her and she prayed that her daughter would never have to depend on a man.

    She prayed every day that her daughter would be a great woman, the woman that she, meek and uneducated, could never become. A woman with nengkan; the ability to do anything she set her mind to. A woman who commanded respect in the hearts of men. When she opened her mouth to speak, precious pearls would fall out and men would listen.

    She will not be like me, the woman prayed as she watched her daughter grow up and drift away from her, speaking a language she scarcely understood. She watched her daughter transform from a quiet girl, to one who openly defied her, calling her laotu; old-fashioned. She wanted her mother to be ‘modern’, a word so new there was no Chinese word for it.

    Now her daughter was too clever for her and the old woman wondered why she had prayed like that. The gods had been faithful to her persistent prayer, but the wealth and success that poured forth so richly had buried the girl’s roots and now she stood, faceless, with no identity, bound to the soil of her ancestors by only a string of origami banknotes.

    Her daughter had forgotten her mother’s values. Her wants were so ephemeral; that of a modern woman. Power, Wealth, access to the best fashion boutiques, and yet her daughter had not found true happiness. The old woman knew that you could find happiness with much less. When her daughter left the earth everything she had would count for nothing. People would look to her legacy and say that she was a great woman, but she would be forgotten once the wind blows over, like the ashes of burnt paper convertibles and mansions.

    The old woman wished she could go back and erase all her big hopes and prayers for her daughter; now she had only one want: That her daughter be happy. She looked out of the temple gate. She saw her daughter speaking on the phone, her brow furrowed with anger and worry. Being at the top is not good, the woman thought, there is only one way to go from there - down.

    The old woman carefully unfolded the plastic bag and spread out a packet of beehoon in front of the altar. Her daughter often mocked her for worshipping porcelain Gods. How could she pray to them so faithfully and expect pieces of ceramic to fly to her aid? But her daughter had her own gods too, idols of wealth, success and power that she was enslaved to and worshipped every day of her life.

    Every day was a quest for the idols, and the idols she worshipped counted for nothing in eternity. All the wants her daughter had would slowly suck the life out of her and leave her, an empty soulless shell at the altar.

    The old lady watched her joss tick. The dull heat had left a teetering grey stem that was on the danger of collapsing. Modern woman nowadays, the old lady sighed in resignation, as she bowed to the east one final time to end her ritual. Modern woman nowadays want so much that they lose their souls and wonder why they cannot  find it.

    Her joss stick disintegrated into a soft grey powder. She met her daughter outside the temple, the same look of worry and frustration was etched on her daughter’s face. An empty expression, as if she was ploughing through the soil of her wants looking for the one thing that would sow the seeds of happiness.

    They climbed into the convertible in silence and her daughter drove along the highway, this time not as fast as she had done before.

    ‘Ma,’ Bee Choo finally said. ‘I don’t know how to put this. Mark and I have been talking about it and we plan to move out of the big house. The property market is good now, and we managed to get a buyer willing to pay seven million for it. We decided we’d prefer a cosier penthouse apartment instead. We found a perfect one in Orchard Road. Once we move in to our apartment we plan to get rid of the maid, so we can have more space to ourselves…’

    The old woman nodded knowingly.

    Bee Choo swallowed hard. ‘We’d get someone to come in to do the housework and we can eat out - but once the maid is gone, there won’t be anyone to look after you. You will be awfully lonely at home and, besides that, the apartment is rather small. There won’t be space. We thought about it for a long time, and we decided the best thing for you is if you moved to a Home. There’s one near Hougang - it’s a Christian home, a very nice one.’

    The old woman did not raise an eyebrow. ‘I’ve been there, the matron is willing to take you in. It’s beautiful with gardens and lots of old people to keep you company! I hardly have time for you, you’d be happier there.’

    ‘You’d be happier there, really.’ Her daughter repeated as if to affirm herself.

    This time the old woman had no plastic bag of food offerings to cling tightly to; she bit her lip and fastened her seat belt, as if it would protect her from a daughter who did not want her anymore. She sunk deep into the leather seat, letting her shoulders sag, and her fingers trace the white seat.

    ‘Ma?’ her daughter asked, searching the rear view window for her mother. ‘Is everything okay?’ What had to be done, had to be done.

‘Yes,’ she said firmly, louder than she intended, ‘if it will make you happy,’ she added more quietly.

    ‘It’s for you, Ma! You’ll be happier there. You can move there tomorrow, I already got the maid to pack your things.’ Elaine said triumphantly, mentally ticking yet another item off her agenda.

    ‘I knew everything would be fine.’

    Elaine smiled widely; she felt liberated. Perhaps getting rid of her mother would make her happier. She had thought about it. It seemed the only hindrance in her pursuit of happiness. She was happy now. She had everything a modern woman ever wanted; Money, Status, Career, Love,Power and now, Freedom, without her mother and her old-fashioned ways to weigh her down…

    Yes, she was free. Her phone buzzed urgently, she picked it up and read the message, still beaming from ear to ear. ‘Stocks 10% increase!’

    Yes, things were definitely beginning to look up for her…

    And while searching for the meaning of life in the luminance of her hand phone screen, the old woman in the backseat became invisible, and she did not see the tears.

 

 

Among the most favorite holiday destination for people around this region is Sydney Australia. Not only is this city attarctive as a popular tourist destination, it is also a popular choice for those who seeks to settle down in Australia. For the tourist, the reasons are obvious.

Clustered among this modern cosmopolitan, Sydney Hotels are readily available and affordable for the average tourists. Accomadation which is comfortable and convenient as always the top priority in any tourist agenda. A god place to stay when on holiday will be very much more meaningful and memorable.

There is always something to do when in Sydney. From a romantic escape for honeymooners to adventure trails for the backpackers, the city never dissapoints. For businessman attending conferences and exhibitions at Darling Harbour, there are of course and abundance of Darling Harbour Hotels within the vicinity.

Further up, North Sydney is the business hub for many large companies locating their coporate headqurters there. There are also plenty of good value for money accomation available in North Sydney. If you want to see the famous Sydney Opera House, you should look for North Sydney Hotels that are located  on the North side of the Harbour Bridge facing the Opera House and the city of Sydney. 

To assure yourself of first class, value for money hotels when travelling to Sydney, make your reservations with CheaperThanHotels.com.au  

This is a really inspiring story that I recieved via my e-mail. It is written by Maryellen Rubio who hails from Argentina. Enjoy and learn…

 

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. When I arrived at 2:30
a.m., the building was dark except for a single light in a ground
floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just
honk once or twice, wait a minute, and then drive away. But, I had
seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their
only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger,
I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs
my assistance, I reasoned to myself.

So I walked to the door and knocked. "Just a minute", answered a
frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across
the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her
80’s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox
hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By
her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no
one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with
sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or
utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled
with photos and glassware.

"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the
suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my
arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for
my kindness.

It’s nothing", I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the
way I would want my mother treated".

"Oh, you’re such a good boy", she said.

When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, "Could
you drive through downtown?"

"It’s not the shortest way," I answered quickly.

"Oh, I don’t mind," she said. "I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a
hospice".

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.

"I don’t have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I
don’t have very long."

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you
like me to take?" I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the
building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove
through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when
they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture
warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing
as a girl. Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular
building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying
nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly
said, "I’m tired. Let’s go now."

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low
building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that
passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as
we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every
move. They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The
woman was already seated in a wheelchair. "How much do I owe you?"
she asked, reaching into her purse.

"Nothing," I said.

"You have to make a living," she answered.

"There are other passengers," I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me
tightly. "You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she
said. "Thank you."

I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind
me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life. I didn’t
pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in
thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that
woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end
his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked
once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more
important in my life. We’re conditioned to think that our lives
revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us
unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one

People may not remember exactly what you did, or what you said,
but they will always remember how you made them feel.