I looked into my notebook and found something I had scribbled a month back over lunch. “I am a broken spirit. I haven’t a clue where I’ll find the strength to go on.”

But still, I am here. Diminished… but still here.

I’d now like to talk about real world heroes, yes, real world heroes, not the ones that live in comic books.

Real world heroes vs comic book heroes… yes, there are similarities between them, but the main difference is this. With comic book heroes, more prominence is given to their abilities, whereas with real life heroes, it is about the qualities they possess.

Heroes inspire you to be better than who you are, and every now and then, when you need them the most, they swoop in and rescue you. Heroes earn their badges doing different things. And because we are all different, one person’s hero may not be another’s. To some, the Dalai Lama is a hero. To others it may be Steve Jobs, New York Firemen, or Mother Theresa.

For me, my hero is my son, Oliver. I tell ya, his laughter can power a thousand light bulbs, and he is my fuel. There are things in our world that I fight very hard for, good things. And I do it because of him. He is a huge influence on my life, as all heroes are, and I owe him for who I am today.

Children make parents out of normal people, and their dependence on you forces you to be less self-destructive, because you know you have to be there for them. Comic book heroes may be able to save me from goblins and robots and giant land octopuses, but they can’t protect me from that most destructive villain of all – MYSELF.

My Oliver can.

These days, because I’m juggling a full time job, fatherhood and my book’s promotion, I barely have any free time at my disposal. At present, things aren’t going so hot for me on the financial front, and it will be a matter of time before my bank account loses its final comma. But Christmas is around the corner, so there should be an increase in sales for FUEL. That should help plug the hole.

Yesterday, I peered out the drenched window of my car and saw a family of four squished on a single motorcycle, each soaked to the bone. The children, Oreo-ed between their parents, were no older than 6. Like the outside of my car window, my eyes started to bead and stream.

I looked at my own life, and realized how privileged I was. Felt guilty actually, that I had more to give, but was choosing to keep it all to myself. I was saving up for a rainy day.

I looked out the window again.

“I doubt it’ll get any more rainy than this,” I said to myself.

Today, I’ve made up my mind to donate all of my book’s profits for the month of November and December to charity. Depending on where one purchases it, I make anywhere from 49 cents to $2.66 from the sale of a copy of FUEL. From that, a portion already goes to a kids’ charity I volunteer at in Malaysia. The balance will now go to the Mother Theresa Children’s Foundation.

Be the change you want to see in the world. Be that miracle for someone else. I hope you will join me in this effort.

Ways you can help:
1. Purchase FUEL online. All profits for Nov and Dec will be donated. www.amazon.com/Fuel-Jeremy-Chin/dp/145388615X
2. Help me spread the word. https://www.facebook.com/events/250175248373823