Merry Christmas Everyone!!!

The Way To Live (Anna Quindlen)

A friend e-mailed this to me- such an inspiring read I thought it'd be best to share it to more people. This is a commencement speech made by Anna Quindlen at Villanova:

It's a great honor for me to be the third member of my family to receive an honorary doctorate from this great university. It's an honor to follow my great Uncle Jim, who was a gifted physician, and my Uncle Jack, who is a remarkable businessman. Both of them could have told you something important about their professions, about medicine or commerce.

I have no specialized field of interest or expertise, which puts me at a disadvantage talking to you today. I'm a novelist. My work is human nature.Real life is all I know. Don't ever confuse the two, your life and your work. The second is only part of the first.

Don't ever forget what a friend once wrote Senator Paul Tsongas when the senator decided not to run for re-election because he had been diagnosed with cancer: "No man ever said on his deathbed I wish I had spent more time at the office."

Don't ever forget the words my father sent me on a postcard last year: "Ifyou win the rat race, you're still a rat."

Or what John Lennon wrote before he was gunned down in the driveway of the Dakota: "Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans."

You will walk out of here this afternoon with only one thing that no one else has. There will be hundreds of people out there with your same degree; there will be thousands of people doing what you want to do for a living. But you will be the only person alive who has sole custody of your life. Your particular life. Your entire life. Not just your life at a desk, or your life on a bus, or in a car, or at the computer. Not just the life of your mind, but the life of your heart. Not just your bank account but your soul.

People don't talk about the soul very much anymore. It's so much easier to write a resume than to craft a spirit. But a resume is a cold comfort on a winter night, or when you're sad, or broke, or lonely, or when you've gotten back the test results and they're not so good.

Here is my resume:
I am a good mother to three children.
I have tried never to let my profession stand in the way of being a good
parent. I no longer consider myself the center of the universe.
I show up.
I listen.
I try to laugh.
I am a good friend to my husband. I have tried to make marriage vows mean what they say.
I am a good friend to my friends, and they to me. Without them,there would be nothing to say to you today, because I would be a cardboard cutout. ButI call them on the phone, and I meet them for lunch.

I would be rotten, or at best mediocre at my job, if those other things were not true. You cannot be really first rate at your work if your work is all you are.

So here's what I wanted to tell you today: Get a life. A real life, not a manic pursuit of the next promotion, the bigger paycheck, the larger house. Do you think you'd care so very much about those things if you blew an aneurysm one afternoon, or found a lump in your breast?

Get a life in which you notice the smell of salt water pushing itself on a breeze over Seaside Heights, a life in which you stop and watch how a red tailed hawk circles over the water or the way a baby scowls with concentration when she tries to pick up a Cheerio with her thumb and firstfinger. Get a life in which you are not alone. Find people you love, and who love you.

And remember that love is not leisure, it is work. Pick up the phone. Send an e-mail. Write a letter. Get a life in which you are generous. And realize that life is the best thing ever, and that you have no business taking it for granted. Care so deeply about its goodness that you want to spread it around. Take money you would have spent on beers and give it to charity. Work in a soup kitchen. Be a big brother or sister. All of you want to do well. But if you do not do good too, then doing well will neverbe enough. It is so easy to waste our lives, our days, our hours, ourminutes. It is so easy to take for granted the color of our kids' eyes, theway the melody in a symphony rises and falls and disappears and rises again. It is so easy to exist instead of to live.

I learned to live many years ago. Something really, really bad happened to me, something that changed my life in ways that, if I had my druthers, it would never have been changed at all. And what I learned from it is what, today, seems to be the hardest lesson of all. I learned to love the journey, not the destination. I learned that it is not a dress rehearsal,and that today is the only guarantee you get. I learned to look at all the good in the world and try to give some of it back because I believed in it,completely and utterly. And I tried to do that, in part, by telling others what I had learned. By telling them this: Consider the lilies of the field.Look at the fuzz on a baby's ear. Read in the backyard with the sun on yourface. Learn to be happy. And think of life as a terminal illness, becauseif you do, you will live it with joy and passion as it ought to be lived.

Who Moved my Wachamacallit?

I cleaned my room today, and this is such a rare occasion (happens only twice or thrice a year) I had to mark it on the calendar proudly, like I’d won an award or climbed a mountain. Shit, I could actually see the floor!

My room and my daily planner are contradictions. If you walk in (after pushing the door forcibly because it doesn’t open all the way because of the mattress on the floor and the bags I hung at the back of the door), you’d think it was an abandoned warehouse. Everything is in disarray- cabinets vomiting books, the closet door parted because the underwear drawers are stuffed to the brim with socks, boxers, and briefs, a locked suitcase with a conspicuous padlock lies on the floor with magazines on top, towels hung on the headboard, laptops on the pull out bed I never use, my comforter carelessly strewn on the rumpled bed, swim goggles and speedos on the chair, reference books, novels, DVDs, photocopies, projects, a manuscript, lotions, scents, chargers, and Kelly forceps (Wtf?), bags, shoes, slippers, my Clinical uniform, and a mountain of laundry litter the rest of the surfaces.

Yet in the middle of the pile are my planners (yes, three of them). They assure that everything gets done on time and future plans are set. One is for school and travel, another is for budget, bills and taxes, and the third is for fitness (ang arte!) which records my weight fluctuations, diet, dates when I last exercised (may kasama pang smiley face pagnag swim or gym)- and sometimes, if I get really crazy, I calculate calories I burned and calories I consume.

The standing policy in our house is: whatever you do, don’t touch my stuff! Sure, a snake or a scorpion may possibly be living in the crevices of that mountain of laundry, but once, all hell broke loose when a well meaning household help cleaned my room without my knowledge, and in the process, lost an important document. We had to sort the trash downstairs and comb the house to look for the item. She never attempted to clean my room again. Amazingly, even if everything was in disarray, I knew exactly where I put each item- and if someone moved it I’d know.

So there, I’m probably crazy and I’m a slob. Three cheers for acting normal today!