Anniversaries.

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Living to see the day, living to see the following year, living on. And on.
"An anniversary, the annually recurring date of a past event, especially one of personal importance."

I'd just spent the weekend in a great way. Not that it was academically rigorous, just the otherwise, but personally, it was meaningful (: It's the things closest to you that matters most in the end, I believe. Yeah, they do.

I've gone through some bad patches with my family; everyone does. But it just isn't the same, I'm sure. 17 was crudely, one hell of a year. (I'd remember how I was at 1-2am on certain days, how skinned knuckles came about, and why they came about. I'd shudder remembering how I was when I'd flared up, yeah, and the things that I thought I would do, and did. 'rnaj.' damn.) Of course, you can't have rainy skies all year round, and yeah, there were good memories too.

Too much to list, at any point of time. But I'd dare say, without our family, we'd be nothing. I'd be nothing, at the very least. The love of a family, it is life's greatest blessing. Call it companionship, a lifelong relationship, parenthood or whatsoever, many of our greatest times and moments spawn with our families.

It's definitely an amazement, of how our parents, and their parents, and their parents, managed to maintain a loving relationship. I wonder if that would be possible for everyone today. As they say, as we increasingly are more prosperous, more intelligent, traded off is our ability to appreciate, and love. Sigh.

The more I think, the surer I am: I'm a blessed kid, I am. (:

Though 4 days in advance,
Happy 18th Anniversary, Mom, Dad.
Lots of love,
Jonathan.
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Busy like a bumble bee,
Sardine can packed to the max.
Tighter than Scrooge Mcduck.
But I don't really give a .

Commitments are a challenge. But I'll really give it my best.

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------------ The English Language-----------------
There is no egg in eggplant, nor ham in hamburger; neither
apple or pine in pineapple. And while no one knows what is
in a hotdog, you can be pretty sure it isn't canine.

English muffins were not invented in England nor French
fries in France.

Sweetmeats are candies, while sweetbreads, which aren't
sweet, are meat.

We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes,
we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square,
and guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.

And why is it that writers write, but fingers don't fing,
grocers don't groce, and hammers don't ham?

If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn't the plural of booth, beeth?
One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, two meese?
Choose, cheese? One mouse, 2 mice. One louse, 2 lice. One house, 2 hice?

If teachers taught, why didn't preachers praught?

If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat?

Why do people recite at a play, and play at a recital?
Ship by truck or car and send cargo by ship? Have noses
that run and feet that smell? Park on driveways and drive on parkways?

How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a
wise man and a wise guy are opposites?

How can the weather be hot as heck one day and cold as
heck another? When a house burns up, it burns down. You fill
in a form by filling it out and an alarm clock goes off by
going on. You get in and out of a car, yet you get on and
off a bus. When the stars are out, they are visible, but when
the lights are out, they are invisible.

And why, when I wind up my watch, I start it, but when I
wind up this essay, I end it?