Weird dream and thanks gor
Just woke up not long ago again… today was feeling weak and having bad headache… so been sleeping for whole day… Laco was here to borrow my computer… then I went to bed while he is using my computer…
Nothing much happened just now.. besides being disturbed by all the SMS from Fai, Kenny, Dave and Raymond… they keep on sending message asking me how am I, I don’t even bother to replied, then I will receive another SMS said they were worried for me and ask why am I not replying the SMS… so I am sick of it actually…
Suddenly feel like talking to Aunty Irene, she is my mum’s cousin that is in Sydney… she is the one who keep asking me to go to Sydney and stay in her place… hur hur… she is a nice aunty… the last time I went to Sydney I visited her and she gave me 100 dollar before I left her house LOL… and she is having OZ’s life hur hur relaxing and happily with her family…
Thanks gor for the songs… I am listening and learn to sing this 3 songs… LOL… the ‘six color rainbow’ s really quite encouraging LOL… I love those songs :D… thanks gor…
Hmmm… I had a weird dream when I was sleeping just now… the dream is a combination of Melbourne and KL scene… I was with my elder sister, then she insists to go out for dinner even though it was about 10pm… that time we were in Melbourne… so she said she heard of a place in Toorak that they have a nice restaurant there… so we went there by bus.. the bus is something like intrakota bus in KL… then we went in and there are bus inspector wants to check ticket… one of the inspector seems to know me and he asked wah you travel from your place to here? Then I replied yeah, my sister insists that, then we kind of like lost in the place, so when those inspector almost get down the bus I asked them where is the address… then they said is the stop they are going down… then I followed… but when I got down, I saw there are all the bike and car workshop around only… it’s like those Kampung house all around… I am so scared and walk with my sister… out of sudden we are in a restaurant… the restaurant, it looks like those haunted one… there are all the weird people in the restaurant, it looks like a pavilion with tables and chairs, then there is a aunty that sells noodles in KL came in and pour a very thick coffee for me, and she pour the coffee into one of the Chinese soup spoon. I was thinking I am not ordering and I don’t drink coffee why is she pouring that for me? Then I asked aunty ar, did you make any mistake? I didn’t ordered coffee and I don’t drink coffee… then she said eh? Okay, she took the spoon and put into water but the water still clear. Those coffee didn’t spilt out as well… amazing eh? Then I saw another aunty holding those burning ‘hell money’ it’s like having a Chinese festival… after that there is a group of people went into the pavilion and get some hell money from the locker in the pavilion….
Errr.. is that a sign that my dad got not enough money? And he needs some hell money? Weird….
Nothing much happened just now.. besides being disturbed by all the SMS from Fai, Kenny, Dave and Raymond… they keep on sending message asking me how am I, I don’t even bother to replied, then I will receive another SMS said they were worried for me and ask why am I not replying the SMS… so I am sick of it actually…
Suddenly feel like talking to Aunty Irene, she is my mum’s cousin that is in Sydney… she is the one who keep asking me to go to Sydney and stay in her place… hur hur… she is a nice aunty… the last time I went to Sydney I visited her and she gave me 100 dollar before I left her house LOL… and she is having OZ’s life hur hur relaxing and happily with her family…
Thanks gor for the songs… I am listening and learn to sing this 3 songs… LOL… the ‘six color rainbow’ s really quite encouraging LOL… I love those songs :D… thanks gor…
Hmmm… I had a weird dream when I was sleeping just now… the dream is a combination of Melbourne and KL scene… I was with my elder sister, then she insists to go out for dinner even though it was about 10pm… that time we were in Melbourne… so she said she heard of a place in Toorak that they have a nice restaurant there… so we went there by bus.. the bus is something like intrakota bus in KL… then we went in and there are bus inspector wants to check ticket… one of the inspector seems to know me and he asked wah you travel from your place to here? Then I replied yeah, my sister insists that, then we kind of like lost in the place, so when those inspector almost get down the bus I asked them where is the address… then they said is the stop they are going down… then I followed… but when I got down, I saw there are all the bike and car workshop around only… it’s like those Kampung house all around… I am so scared and walk with my sister… out of sudden we are in a restaurant… the restaurant, it looks like those haunted one… there are all the weird people in the restaurant, it looks like a pavilion with tables and chairs, then there is a aunty that sells noodles in KL came in and pour a very thick coffee for me, and she pour the coffee into one of the Chinese soup spoon. I was thinking I am not ordering and I don’t drink coffee why is she pouring that for me? Then I asked aunty ar, did you make any mistake? I didn’t ordered coffee and I don’t drink coffee… then she said eh? Okay, she took the spoon and put into water but the water still clear. Those coffee didn’t spilt out as well… amazing eh? Then I saw another aunty holding those burning ‘hell money’ it’s like having a Chinese festival… after that there is a group of people went into the pavilion and get some hell money from the locker in the pavilion….
Errr.. is that a sign that my dad got not enough money? And he needs some hell money? Weird….
posted by MunMun @ 7/12/2005 04:49:00 PM
2 Comments:
At Tuesday, July 12, 2005 4:22:00 PM,
Anonymous said…
Hi, just drop in to share this meaning article.... Sorry, blue forgot login ID ... again ;p memory lost!
A nice and meaning article ...
At the prodding of my friends, I am writing this story. My name is Mildred Hondorf. I am a former elementary school music teacher from Des Moines,Iowa.
I've always supplemented my income by teaching piano lessons-something
I've done for over 30 years.
Over the years I found that children have many levels of musical ability.
I've never had the pleasure of having a prodigy though I have taught some talented students. However I've also had my share of what I call "musically challenged" pupils. One such student was Robby. Robby was 11years old when his mother (a single mom) dropped him off for his first piano lesson. I prefer that students (especially boys!) begin at an earlier age, which I explained to Robby. But Robby said that it had always been his mother's dream to hear him play the piano.
So I took him as a student. Well, Robby began with his piano lessons and from the beginning I thought it was a hopeless endeavour. As much as Robby tried, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed to excel. But he dutifully reviewed his scales and some elementary pieces that I require all my students to learn.
Over the months he tried and tried while I listened and cringed and tried to encourage him. At the end of each weekly lesson he'd always say, "My mom's going to hear me play some day." But it seemed hope-less. He just did not have any inborn ability. I only knew his mother from a distance as she dropped Robby off or waited in her aged car to pick him up. She always waved and smiled but never stopped in.
Then one day Robby stopped coming to our lessons. I thought about calling him but assumed because of his lack of ability, that he had decided to pursue some-thing else. I also was glad that he stopped coming. He was a bad advertisement for my teaching!
Several weeks later I mailed to the student's homes a flyer on the upcoming recital. To my surprise Robby (who received a flyer) asked me if he could be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils and because he had dropped out he really did not qualify. He said that his mother had been sick and unable to take him to piano lessons but he was still practicing.
"Miss Hondorf .... I've just got to play!" he insisted.
I don't know what led me to allow him to play in the recital. Maybe it was his persistence or maybe it was something inside of me saying that it would be all right.
The night for the recital came. The high school gymnasium was packed with parents, friends and relatives. I put Robby up last in the program before I was to come up and thank all the students and play a finishing piece. I thought that any damage he would do would come at the end of the program and I could always salvage his poor performance through my "curtain closer."
Well the recital went off without a hitch. The students had been practicing and it showed. Then Robby came up on stage. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair looked like he'd run an egg-beater through it.
"Why didn't he dress up like the other students?" I thought. "Why didn't his mother at least make him comb his hair for this special night?"
Robby pulled out the piano bench and he began. I was surprised when he announced that he had chosen Mozart's Concerto #21 in C Major. I was not prepared for what I heard next. His fingers were light on the keys, they even danced nimbly on the ivories. He went from pianissimo to fortissimo...from allegro to virtuoso. His suspended chords that Mozart demands were magnificent! Never had I heard Mozart played so well by people of his age.
After six and a half minutes he ended in a grand crescendo and everyone was on their feet in wild applause. Overcome and in tears I ran up on stage and put my arms around Robby in joy. "I've never heard you play like that Robby!
How'd you do it? "Through the microphone Robby explained: "Well Miss Hondorf . . . remembers I told you my mom was sick? Well, actually she had cancer and passed away this morning. And well ... she was born deaf so tonight was the first time she ever heard me play. I wanted to make it special."
There wasn't a dry eye in the house that evening. As the people from Social Services led Robby from the stage to be placed into foster care, I noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy and I thought to myself how much richer my life had been for taking Robby as my pupil.
No, I've never had a prodigy but that night I became a prodigy. . of Robby's. He was the teacher and I was the pupil. For it is he who taught me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in yourself and maybe even taking a chance in someone and you don't know why.
Robby was killed in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April of 1995.
And now, a footnote to the story. If you are thinking about forwarding this message, you are probably thinking about which people on your address list aren't the "appropriate" ones to receive this type of message. The person who sent this to you believes that we can all make a difference. So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice:
Do we act with compassion or do we pass up that opportunity and leave the world a bit colder in the process?
At Wednesday, July 13, 2005 7:19:00 PM,
Anonymous said…
Waaaa.....Scared me, what a long "comment" :P
Again, mui, you are welcome ^^
If ur daddy needs $, he will tell u that, so not to worry too much:)
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