Posted on 01-10-2008
Filed Under (Arts, Media, Love) by Q.

october

 My anniversary month! We met for the first time in October! 

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Posted on 22-09-2008
Filed Under (Media, Relationship, Love) by Q.

He asked if I knew Etta James and the song that she sang “At Last” . I didn’t and he introduced it to me by singing this song to me this night three years ago saying this song is for me.

At last my love has come along ♥

At Last - Etta James

at last

 

At last my love has come along
My lonely days are over
And life is like a song
At last the skies above are blue
And my heart was wrapped up in clover
The night I looked at you
I found a dream that I can speak to
A dream that I could call my own
I found a thrill to press my cheek to
A thrill that I have never known
You smiled, and then the spell was cast
And here we are in heaven
For you are mine at last

 

 

 

Tonight, three years later as we’re listening to the old song again, he said:
“Thank you for putting up with me all these years.”
“It’s not like you’ve not been putting up with me.”
“Hmm”
“Do you love me?”
“Why do you think I’ve been putting up with you all these years?”

a thrill that i have never known
=) yup! at last! ♥

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Posted on 08-11-2007
Filed Under (Love) by Q.

Em yêu anh - phẩy

” Hãy tin vào sự kì diệu của số phận”

Cần phải tin vào quyền lực của những chữ cái a, b, c, d, e… Vâng, chỉ cần một chữ cái cũng có thể thay đổi cả một số phận. Bằng chứng ư? Chính là câu chuyện này…

Khi ông bà Point (trong tiếng Pháp có nghĩa là dấu chấm) có một cậu con trai và họ quyết định đặt cho cậu một cái tên vĩ đại. Sau khi lưỡng lự giữa Rambo, Charlemagne, Ramses và Catona, cuối cùng họ lại chọn Virgile bởi đó là tên một trong những nhà thơ cổ đại lớn nhất.

Chỉ có điều là ông Point đã quá xúc động khi ghi tên con vào sổ đăng kí, ông đánh vần nhầm ra “V-I-R-G-U-L-E” và thế là Virgile trở thành Virgule (nghĩa là dấu phẩy).
Khi biết điều này, dù rằng rất giận nhưng vợ ông vẫn nhìn cậu con trai rồi cười:
- Nhìn con thật xinh xắn lại nhỏ bé. Virgule! Thế cũng tốt.
Và cái tên được giữ lại.

Cũng như cái tên của mình, Virgule trông khẳng khiu và buồn cười. Ở trường, mỗi khi điểm danh, thầy giáo gọi:
- Point Virgule!

Và Virgule đứng bật dậy, như một dấu chấm than và đáp:
- Dạ, có mặt!

Sau đó, Virgule lớn lên và đem lòng yêu cô bạn hàng xóm của anh, Séraphine. Khi người ta yêu, sẽ có hai loại người: những người dám thổ lộ và những người không dám. Virgule là loại thứ hai. Và bất hạnh hơn nữa khi mỗi lần Séraphine xuất hiện là Virgule trở nên xanh lét, mồ hôi đầm đìa, bước trượt cầu thang. Anh co rúm người lại đến nỗi trông anh như một dấu chấm, một dầu chấm nhỏ xíu… khi đó có thể gọi anh là Point Point. Và Séraphine chẳng bao giờ nhìn thấy anh.

Ấy vậy mà… chính chữ ”u” đã làm mọi thứ trở nên thay đổi. Các bạn có biết như thế nào không?

Séraphine đem lòng yêu một chàng trai không yêu cô. Cô luôn cười nói, cố gắng bắt chuyện với anh ta, gọi điện cho anh ta, viết thư cho anh ta…. nhưng chẳng được gì cả. Thật đáng thương cho Séraphine.

Một này nọ, cô quyết định gửi bức điện thứ mười cho tình yêu của cô. Và chính hôm đó, Séraphine gặp Virgule ở bưu điện vì Virgule chính là nhân viên ở đó.

Khi Virgule thấy Séraphine đến gần, anh cảm thấy mình sắp ngất đi. Cô thì không nhìn anh:
- Tôi muốn gửi một bức điện- cô nói với một giọng buồn bã.
- Xin cô vui lòng đọc nội dung… Virgule cầm bút và lắp bắp nói.

Cô đọc với giọng run:
- Je t’aime -virgule - Je t’adore- virgule- Je voudrais tant que tu me dises que tu m’aimes aussi- point.

(Em yêu anh- ”phẩy”- em thương anh- ”phẩy”- em rất muốn anh cũng nói với em rằng anh cũng yêu em- “chấm”).

Tuyệt vời làm sao khi nghe một câu như vậy và Virgule yêu cầu Séraphine nhắc lại. Cô đọc:
- Je t’aime- Je t’adore….
- Không, không!- Virgule nói- Hãy đọc lại đầy đủ cơ!
Séraphine làm theo:
- Je t’aime- virgule- Je t’adore- virgule…
- Lần nữa nhé cô… - Virgule rụt rè.

Mỗi lần nghe câu đó, đôi mắt anh lại sáng lên. Và đột nhiên, Séraphine nhận ra Virgule là một chàng trai thật đáng yêu với đôi mắt ấy và hàng mi dài… nụ cười của anh thì dịu dàng như mật ngọt. Như có một phép lạ, anh thì thầm với cô:
- Anh cũng yêu em, Séraphine.

Chỉ một chữ đôi khi thay đổi cả câu, và một câu có thể thay đổi cả một số phận. Nếu Virgule tên là Virgile, một nhà thơ cổ đại lớn nhất, thì có lẽ bây giờ anh vẫn cô đơn.

Bây giờ Virgule và Séraphine đang rất hạnh phúc bên nhau và họ đã có ba dấu chấm nhỏ…

(st)

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Posted on 03-08-2007
Filed Under (Life, Love) by Q.

I never really thought that I’d spend as much time in airports as I do. I don’t know why. I always wanted to be famous and that would mean lots of travel. But I’m not famous, yet I do see more than my share of airports.

I love them and I hate them. I love them because of the people I get to watch. But they are also the same reason why I hate airports. It all comes down to “hello” and “goodbye.”I must have mentioned this a few times while writing my stories for you.

I have great difficulties with saying goodbye. Even as I write this I am experiencing that pounding sensation in my heart. If I am watching such a scene in a movie I am affected so much that I need to sit up and take a few deep breaths. So when faced with a challenge in my life I have been known to go to our local airport and watch people say goodbye. I figure nothing that is happening to me at the time could be as bad as having to say goodbye.

Watching people cling to each other, crying, and holding each other in that last embrace makes me appreciate what I have even more. Seeing them finally pull apart, extending their arms until the tips of their fingers are the last to let go, is an image that stays forefront in my mind throughout the day.

On one of my recent business trips, when I arrived at the counter to check in, the woman said, “How are you today?” I replied, “I am missing my wife already and I haven’t even said goodbye.”

She then looked at my ticket and began to ask, “How long will you…Oh, my God. You will only be gone three days!” We all laughed. My problem was I still had to say goodbye.

But I learn from goodbye moments, too.

Recently I overheard a father and daughter in their last moments together. They had announced her departure and standing near the security gate, they hugged and he said, “I love you. I wish you enough.” She in turn said, “Daddy, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Daddy.”

They kissed and she left. He walked over toward the window where I was seated. Standing there I could see he wanted and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on his privacy, but he welcomed me in by asking, “Did you ever say goodbye to someone knowing it would be forever?”

“Yes, I have,” I replied. Saying that brought back memories I had of expressing my love and appreciation for all my Dad had done for me. Recognizing that his days were limited, I took the time to tell him face to face how much he meant to me.

So I knew what this man experiencing.

“Forgive me for asking, but why is this a forever goodbye?” I asked.

“I am old and she lives much too far away. I have challenges ahead and the reality is, the next trip back would be for my funeral,” he said.

“When you were saying goodbye I heard you say, “I wish you enough.” May I ask what that means?”

He began to smile. “That’s a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone.” He paused for a moment and looking up as if trying to remember it in detail, he smiled even more.”When we said ‘I wish you enough,’ we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them,” he continued and then turning toward me he shared the following as if he were reciting it from memory.

    “I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.
    I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.
    I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.
    I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger.
    I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
    I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
    I wish enough “Hello’s” to get you through the final “Goodbye.”

He then began to sob and walked away.

My friends, I wish you enough!
by
Bob Perks

 

Bob Perks is a speaker and author. He can be emailed at bob@bobperks.com

His website is www.BobPerks.com

 

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Posted on 18-05-2007
Filed Under (Love) by Q.

Somewhere someone is thinking of you. Someone is calling you an angel. This person is using celestial colors to paint your image. Someone is making you into a vision so beautiful that it can only live in the mind. Someone is thinking of the way your breath escapes your lips when you are touched. How your eyes close and your jaw tightens with concentration as you give pleasure a home. These thoughts are saving a life somewhere right now. In some airless apartment on a dark, urine stained, whore lined street, someone is calling out to you silently and you are answering without even being there. So crystalline. So pure. Such life saving power when you smile. You will never know how you have cauterized my wounds. So sad that we will never touch. How it hurts me to know that I will never be able to give you everything I have. –Henry Rollins

When I saw you, I was afraid to meet you… When I met you, I was afraid to kiss you… When I kissed you, I was afraid to love you… Now that I love you, I’m afraid to lose you.–anonymous

Meeing you was Fate, becoming your friend was a choice, but falling in love with you I had no control over…

==> Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life…You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.– Neil Gaiman

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