Beverly David

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Sun, 16 Oct 2011 03:35:00 -0400

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THEATER EXPERIENCE

In watching a theater , a lot of things come in my mind feels like exciting more queries needs remedy . A great actor and actresses nice effects and good ambiance . In the end I appreciated life how good and bless I am. I always think that I am the one who performed in the front of the people, and also imagined that I am the lead role and my story was the scene reenactment was mine.

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Sun, 16 Oct 2011 03:07:00 -0400

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CHANGE

            With a pair of scissors sharp enough to slice through an rhinosaurous’ collar bone and a swift flick of the wrist, years of long, Farrah Fawcett-esque, golden locks floated to the floor. What survived the blade onslaught was a look that could’ve turned even the strongest of stomachs upside down.

            “Cut it all off,” I demanded as I sat in the elevated blue vinyl chair.



            “Are you sure?” the beautician asked, raising one eyebrow to indicate she thought I was nuts. Typically, I’d only come to her for a quick trim.

“It will take a long time to grow back you know,” she warned me.

            The year was 1990. I was the mother of four very busy young children ranging from eight-years-old down to two. I had a house to run, kids to chauffeur around town as well as a cottage industry (one I singlehandedly created) to manage. Large hair bows were all the rage for both women and children at the time. Having three beautiful models to advertise my creations, I designed and marketed these embellishments to Nordstrom’s Department Store and children’s specialty shops up and down the San Francisco Peninsula. With any extra time I volunteered at our church, in my children’s classrooms and at the dance studio where all four spent many hours prancing about. I was stretched to the max and something had to give before I completely lost my mind.

            “Yep, I’m sure,” I announced with complete confidence and off came the luxurious thick curls that had been - until that day - considered my trademark and crowning glory. Like a lamb that had been sheered for slaughter, I now sported a very short pixie “do” with a thin strand of hair curling down the nap of my neck.

            “Perfect,” I whispered to myself as I stared at my new easy, breezy look. I was sure this would solve all my problems, but believing myself would prove to be much harder than I thought.

            I arrived home, stood at my front door for a couple of seconds to prepare for the

my kids’ reviews.

It was a warm summer day, all for of them were running through the house in their bathing suits about to jump into the pool.

            “Kids! Come here for a second. I have something to show you.”

            Soon, the sound of little feet could be heard as they rushed towards me and as quickly as they ran, they stopped dead in their tracks.

            “What did you do?” my eldest, Michelle, demanded. Taking her usual defiant position when about to start an argument, she stared me down with her eight-year-old fists digging deep into her hips. “I hate it! And what’s with the rat’s tail? Only disgusting boys wear those things.”

            Jenni threw her small seven-year-old hands over her freckled face and sobbed hysterically as five-year-old Lauren ran away to her hiding place when things got testy - under her bed. My two-year-old baby, Timmy, stood completely perplexed, cocking his blonde, curly head of hair from side to side as if mimicking our cocker spaniel. It was clear that he was wondering who this strange woman was standing before him and what did she do with his real mommy?

            Desperate to bring peace back to my family, I cried, “I’m sorry! I just couldn’t deal with my hair any longer.” Completely dejected, I went to my room and hid my new hair style under my pillow. “Maybe I’ll just stay here until it grows out again,” I began to whimper. “One day they’ll be parents and then they’d understand why some changes are necessary.”

            If I’ve learned one thing to be certain in life, it’s that is nothing stays the same forever. Changes come and go in an endless variety of contexts. Some simply happen, many are necessary, while others are crucial to make our world run more smoothly.

            Change can come in all forms. Some are exciting. Some are essential and some are terrifying, especially when everything seems to be going just fine they way it is. So why alter the norm? Occasionally, change is not for the better, but most often it is, when we allow ourselves to accept it. There can be no growth unless adjustments and alterations are made to the path we travel. They are the true test of the metal from which we are made. Do you bend and break like a stick that has been forced one inch too hard or do you stand up strong against the winds that blow at your body in the same way a mighty oak tree weathers a torrential storm?

            Eight years ago, it seemed my life was filled with nothing but changes. My marriage of twenty-two years was ending, my children were beginning to leave the nest one by one, and my mother passed away. Each major and minor change tore at my heart. I cried constantly. The knowledge that the life I had once known, along with the fear that I would never feel happy again constantly gnawed deep within my soul.

            In the early years of my marriage, I dreamt of going back to school and studying for my Masters in Fine Art as soon as the children didn’t need me quite as much. Butwith my divorce, I realized that my dreams would have to be put on the back burner. Instead, I would need to find a new career that would help keep the financial loose ends of our lives securely tied in a neat little bow.

            I tossed and turned every night, pondering my next move. I found myself praying to God, “What the hell do I do to make the kind of money I’ll need to keep this all together?” My prayers were answered. I was guided to do what I instinctively knew best - real estate.

In my early years, before husband and children, I managed commercial properties for large development companies. During our marriage, we designed, bought and sold our own homes, which once again I supervised. It was time to share all this knowledge with others, so residential real estate made perfect sense.

            With the years, my practice has grown and I’m happy to say I’ve successfully helped many others with the largest investment they will ever make - home ownership. I’m even more delighted to know I’ve helped their family on the road to a happy future filled with lots of memories.

            This career path was nothing I ever saw myself doing years ago. In fact, it was the farthest thing from my mind. I had envisioned spending the rest of my life teaching children to dance, working in my garden and exploring all the different mediums art provided on my easel at home. Though there are times when it’s overwhelmingly challenging and I find myself hitting my head against the wall trying to keep a deal together, it has been the best thing to ever happen to me. Sure I wish I had tons of discretionary cash to go play and follow my passion for art, literature and dance, but the true blessing of my profession is that it also allows me the time to follow my passions on the side. I have the best of both worlds.

            Now, when my children go through photo albums of our younger years, I’m constantly asked, “What were you thinking with that look?” I like to remind them that that God awful hairdo did serve a purpose nineteen years ago. It was a change that freed me from hours of primping and fluffing, thus giving me more time to be the mother they needed - SANE! And with a few extra minutes to spare. Change is a good thing.

            Don’t be afraid to switch things up from time to time once in a while. If big adjustments are too unsettling for you and those you love, then just tweak it a little. Welcome changes as tools to help you develop into the incredible person you were meant to be!

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Sun, 16 Oct 2011 03:00:00 -0400

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POINT OF VIEW

Point of view is the position or vantage point from which the events of a story seem to be observed and presented to us. The chief distinction usually made between points of view is that between the third person and first person. A third person may be omniscient, and therefore show an unrestricted knowledge of the story’s events from outside or above them. But another kind of third person narrator may continue our knowledge of events to whatever is observed by a single character or small group of characters, this method being known as limited point of view. The point of view affects how the reader sees the story. If it came from the point of view of a different character in the book, the story would be completely different, because everyone has differing opinions on everything

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Sun, 16 Oct 2011 02:36:00 -0400

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CHARLIE’S ANGELS is a 2000 American action comedy film directed by McG, starring Cameron Diaz, Drew Barrymore, and Lucy Liu as three women working for a private investigation agency. The film is based on the television series of the same name from the late 1970s, which was adapted by screenwriters Ryan Rowe, Ed Solomon, and John August.

My favorite character in the story is the 3 Angels in the movie Charlie’s Angels. Even when I was a child. I idolized them, because of having a unique character. There is a time that I tell to myself that I want to be like them because every challenge they encountered, they fight for the good sake of others and in the end they always win. Being a private investigator is so hard, because they can face a lots of different people and a lots of dfferents cases or problems that they need to fixed. And especially for having a slight ‘kung fu” moves. The 3 angels looks like a ordinary girl outside but then, they are not a simple or a normal girl like us, because they do a lot of things that an ordinary people cannot do. Even a strongest man cannot loose them.

In that, I want to be like them not because they are a private investigators, it’s just because in real life I want to be a brave person as what they are. And sometimes, there are times that comes to my mind that I had to be like them. So in this country that I lived now, the bad person or people would be lessen. And especially now, that my father left. I, who would need to protect or to secure the safety of my family.

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Sun, 16 Oct 2011 01:49:00 -0400

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AUTOBIOGRAPHY”

I’m Beverly Arceo David; my friends call me Bhevz for short. I was born on March 31, 1991 at Obrero Tondo, Manila. My mother is Amelia David 56 yrs. old currently working on Printing Press, My father is Joselito David. I’m the youngest of four children, and I am the one who still studying because they are all graduated. I studied elementary at Cecilio Apostol Elementary School, and in Secondary in Caloocan High School. Now I am currently attending the St. Louis College Valenzuela in an effort to obtain my bachelors degree in Business Administration Major in Banking and Finance. I’ve worked at SM as a Dizer for 2 years. Now I used to work in a Bank just to apply my course that I’ve take.

My hobbies are surfing the net, watching movies and shopping. My favourite song is love song because in this I feel the true emotions of love. My most embarrassing moment in my life is when my dad left because of his illness ( enlargement of the heart and kidney failure ) I was so depressed at that time because I’m closer to him than my mom.

My motto in life is Use friendliness but do not use your friends. My friends knows about me is that I am Very friendly, a friend that always makes the people around her laugh, easy to be w/ and get along with when you’re w/ her you’ll feel at ease, makes them feel that everything is alright, always be there and gives comfort and especially in emotional problems, a very understanding friend, a good adviser when someone is in need of advice, gives her hand just to make you feel comfortable and happy ,never let you feel alone as she’s the one who will approach you when you need some good talks, never let you feel lonely as she will never leave you in times of trouble and sadness, a good joker, funny but when it comes to a serious situation, she will assure you that she can face it confidently, always makes things w/ a smile in her face, and sometimes w/ her loudest laugh, although it may look like’s crazy, she doesn’t mind it, a materialistic one, she will do anything just to reach what she wants, she also likes things organized, she feels irritated if she saw them messy, very spoiled, kind of person who’s always there in times of crisis although she doesn’t seem to look like, sometimes childish, in terms of study, she acts serious, brave person that can protect herself, friends and family, pretty inside and out ..

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Thu, 13 Oct 2011 03:33:00 -0400

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THE POWER OF SUNFLOWER”

by Beverly David

One day the YOUNG MORTAL travel in the woods with PEGASUS his best friend. The purpose of his travel was to find the powerful sunflower because in this, the person who has a bad conditions was making to heal it, and not only who has a bad conditions but also for the person who has a bad intentions.

One time , he saw an OWL . An OWL who can speak, and tried to stop the young mortal to continue travelling , because there is a girl who was a bad intentions to the people who was seen, and that girl is MEDUSA, all she saw in to the eye to eye contact was became a stone, but a YOUNG MORTAL neglect it. Even though, the OWL tried to help him. He guide a YOUNG MORTAL to the ORACLE OF DELPHI, who can foreseen the future, So she can help him to easily or safety find the SUNFLOWER.

The ORACLE OF DELPHI saw that ATLAS “world” became end, because of MEDUSA. So They all afraid now, but in that they didn’t forget ZEUS the GOD , they prayed for him just to helped them that the end of the world was not been done.

After a few seconds of praying they saw a lots of SUNFLOWER around them, that was ZEUS helped. They continue travelling until they saw MEDUSA, but the YOUNG MORTAL was so shocked of whats MEDUSA’s look because in her head a lots of snakes. MEDUSA got an eye to eye contact to the OWL and PEGASUS, so they became a stone. But the YOUNG MORTAL was still alive. He remembered the purpose of the SUNFLOWER. He throw the sunflower to MEDUSA , then MEDUSA got died.

Now, the world is now safe for what they seen to the future.

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Thu, 13 Oct 2011 03:09:00 -0400

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LIFE OF LOVE”

by Beverly David

She is like a star

who makes my life shine

I can live without her

but I couldn’t be happy.

Love is full of mystery

and it fulls of challenge

love is also a feelings

It is not with someone.

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Thu, 13 Oct 2011 03:08:00 -0400

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HAIKU”

by Beverly David

Here in our country

It is like a feeling

Sometimes good and worst.

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Thu, 13 Oct 2011 03:07:00 -0400

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THE BEST THING IN THE WORLD”

by Elizabeth B. Browning

What’s the best thing in the world?

June-rose, by May-dew impearled;

Sweet south-wind, that means no rain;

Truth, not cruel to a friend;

Pleasure, not in haste to end;

Beauty, not self-decked and curled

Till its pride is over-plain;

Love, when, so, you’re loved again.

What’s the best thing in the world?

—Something out of it, I think.

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Thu, 13 Oct 2011 03:06:00 -0400

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WHERE THE MIND IS WITHOUT FEAR”

by Rabindranath Tagore

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high

Where knowledge is free

Where the world has not been broken up into fragments

By narrow domestic walls

Where words come out from the depth of truth

Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection

Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way

Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit

Where the mind is led forward by thee

Into ever-widening thought and action

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Thu, 13 Oct 2011 03:05:00 -0400

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FIRE AND ICE”

by Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

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Thu, 13 Oct 2011 03:04:00 -0400

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HAIKU”

1. Spring morning marvel

sorely nameless little hill

on a sea of mist.

2. None is travelling

here a long this way, but i

this autumn evening

3. Pond, there still and old

a frog has jumped from the shore

the splash can be heard

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Thu, 13 Oct 2011 03:02:00 -0400

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SONNET 116

By William Shakespeare

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove.

Oh no! It is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken.

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.

Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle’s compass come.

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doon,

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

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Thu, 13 Oct 2011 02:52:00 -0400

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DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT”

By Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,

old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their final deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

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Thu, 13 Oct 2011 02:30:00 -0400

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PROSPICE”

by Robert Browning

Fear death?—to feel the fog in the throat,

The mist in my face,

When the snow begin,

And the blast denote

I am nearing the place,

The power of the night, the press of the storm,

The post of the foe;

Where the stands, the arch fear in a visible form,

Yet the storm man must go:

For the journey is done and the summit attained.

And the barriers fall, though a battle’s to fight ere the guerdon be gained,

The reward of it all.

I was ever a fighter, so—one fight more,

D best and the last!

I would hate the death bandaged my eyes,and forebore,

And bade me creep past.

No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers

The heroes of my old, Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life’s arrears

Of pain, darkness and cold

For sudden the worst turn the best to the brave

The black minute’s at end,

And the element rage, the fiend-voices that rave,

Shall dwindle, shall blend,

Shall change, shall become first a peace, out of pain,

Then the light, then thy breast

O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again,

And with God be the rest.

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Thu, 13 Oct 2011 02:29:00 -0400

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ON BEAUTY”

by Kahlil Gibran

And a poet said, Speak to us of Beauty.

And he answered:

Where shall you seek beauty, and how

shall you find her unless she herself be your way and your guide?

And how shall you speak of her except she be the weaver of your speech?

The aggrieved and the injured say, “Beauty is kind and gentle.

Like a young mother half-shy of her own glory she walks among us.”

And the passionate say, “Nay, beauty is a thing of might and dread.

Like the tempest she shakes the earth beneath us and the sky above us.”

The tired and the weary say, “beauty is of soft whisperings. She speaks in our spirit.

Her voice yields to our silences like a faint light that quivers in fear of the shadow.”

But the restless say, “We have heard her shouting among the mountains,

And with her cries came the sound of hoofs, and the beating of wings and the roaring of lions.”

At night the watchmen of the city say,

“Beauty shall rise with the dawn from the east.”

And at noontide the toilers and the wayfarers say,

“we have seen her leaning over the earth from the windows of the sunset.”

In winter say the snow-bound,

“She shall come with the spring leaping upon the hills.”

And in the summer heat the reapers say,

“We have seen her dancing with the autumn leaves, and we saw a drift of snow in her hair.”

All these things have you said of beauty.

Yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied,

And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy.

It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth,

But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.

It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear,

But rather an image you see though you close your eyes

and a song you hear though you shut your ears.

It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw,

But rather a garden for ever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever in flight.

People of Orphalese, beauty is life when life unveils her holy face.

But you are life and you are the veil.

Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.

But you are eternity and your are the mirror.

""

Thu, 13 Oct 2011 02:27:00 -0400

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OZYMANDIAS”

by Percy Shelley

I met a traveller from an antique land

Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,

Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown

And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.

And on the pedestal these words appear:

`My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:

Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!’

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,

The lone and level sands stretch far away”.

""

Thu, 13 Oct 2011 02:25:00 -0400

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ODE ON A GRECIAN URN”

by John Keats

Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,

Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,

Sylvan historian, who canst thus express

A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:

What leaf-fring’d legend haunts about thy shape

Of deities or mortals, or of both,

In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?

What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?

What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?

What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard

Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;

Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d,

Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:

Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave

Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;

Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,

Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;

She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,

For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed

Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;

And, happy melodist, unwearied,

For ever piping songs for ever new;

More happy love! more happy, happy love!

For ever warm and still to be enjoy’d,

For ever panting, and for ever young;

All breathing human passion far above,

That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy’d,

A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?

To what green altar, O mysterious priest,

Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,

And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?

What little town by river or sea shore,

Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,

Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?

And, little town, thy streets for evermore

Will silent be; and not a soul to tell

Why thou art desolate, can e’er return.

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede

Of marble men and maidens overwrought,

With forest branches and the trodden weed;

Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought

As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!

When old age shall this generation waste,

Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe

Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,

“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all

Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”

""

Thu, 13 Oct 2011 02:23:00 -0400

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TONIGHT I CAN WRITE”

by Pablo Neruda

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, ‘The night is starry

and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.

I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.

How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.

And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.

The night is starry and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.

My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.

My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.

We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.

My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another’s. She will be another’s. As she was before my kisses.

Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her.

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms

my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer

and these the last verses that I write for her.

""

Thu, 13 Oct 2011 02:22:00 -0400

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SHE DWELT AMONG THE UNTRODDEN WAYS

by William Wordsworth

She dwelt among the untrodden ways

Beside the springs of Dove,

A Maid whom there were none to praise

And very few to love:

A violet by a mossy stone

Half hidden from the eye!

—Fair as a star, when only one

Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know

When Lucy ceased to be;

But she is in her grave, and, oh,

The difference to me!