I was doing a very intellectual thing today. I was actually reading TIMES magazine, as opposed to reading some thrashy girly magazine, filled with aneroxic women in beautifully expensive clothes.The issue I was reading was about the TIMES magazine Persons of the Year, so named because of all the good they're doing for the poor and starving and the dying all around the world, and they are, in no particular order, Bono (the musician!), and Bill Gates and his wife Belinda Gates.So half the issue was about all the wonderful things that they are doing with their millions, to feed starving children, providing healthcare for those who are dying and for those who can't afford it, and other great things as well. Much as I applaud them for the efforts at making the world a better place, I also think, with that amount of wealth, they ought to be shot if they weren't making some attempt to allievate the sufferings of the many that are suffering and dying!With all that money, it isn't difficult to do stuff like feeding starving children, providing relief to disaster struck areas etc etc etc. Heck, with that amount of clout and money behind me, I will want to make sure that I am doing all of what they're doing, and more if possible! (Somebody please make sure I do it, and not become swollen-headed and full of myself, and use my money to fill a swimming pool with Dom Perignon when I become rich!) The thing is, without much money, are you still able to do something to make a difference in this world?! The test of a man, is not what he does with the much that he possesess, but what he makes of the little that he has.You don't need to be a millionaire to be able to spend some money on buying school books for a child who cannot afford it? Are you waiting to strike the lottery so that you can not work and spend some time doing social work? Or are you already spending a couple of hours every weekend, giving tuition to kids who need help with their school-work? Instead of lamenting that you have to work, and can't afford to take time off to go help out at some disaster stricken area, you can jolly well just spend some time with a friend who's ill in hospital, and desperately needs some form of cheering up and encouragement. Come on! Look around you and see what you can do! If you cannot do anything with what little resources you have now, you won't be doing anything much even if you had millions in your bank, even if you do have it.If you see a need today, just fill that need! And you'll be a Person of the Year too, together with Bono and the Gates, just not in TIMES magazine that's all! (Hahah!)
It's been 6 months since I started blogging. And even as I read through my blog entries for the last 6 months, I marvel at the change that has taken place. From a shy tentative blogger who was insecure about writing for the rest of the world to read, I became more confident, more expressive and more open about my life and myself.The blog also charts my personal growth and development as a person. Even as I'm joting down my thoughts and life's lessons learnt, I myself were learning from the articles that I was writing. In just the last 6 months, I learnt so many lessons that will do me well for the rest of my life...I learnt about forgiveness, about writing in sand when people hurt me. In fact, if people can be won over to this concept of writing in sand, the world will really become a better place, one person at a time. And for the things that I'm grateful about, to write them on hard rock, so I will never forget or turn ungrateful.And I've learned to not merely talk about the quality of Mercy, and Mercy being superior to Justice, and Mercy being an attribute of God, but to practise it in my life.And I know that, should anything happen to me tomorrow (Touch wood! Haha!), there will be at least some people mourning my death. And I feel like the luckiest person alive, to be so blessed with people who love me and are so concerned about my welfare, even to the point of putting theirs to one side. For that, I am so grateful.And, whatever happens, I am going to hang on to my sense of humour about life. And to remember to be thankful and grateful for all my blessings. Happy Christmas everyone! Peace on earth and good will to all men! May you have peace in your heart, and may you be surrounded by people who love you and whom you love! For these are the greatest blessings of all!
Why are people telling me that I know what is going on, when I really don't?Whare are people crediting me with more cunning and more smarts when I'm really quite blur and stoopid?I really do wish that I am as smart and as good as they say I am, but sad to say, I'm not.
P and I finally broke up. Yesterday afternoon. After about 5 years together (It'll be 6 years come February next year.)
I still remembered I was a sweet young (and slim damn it!) 23 when I first met P. After 2 weeks, we decided to get together, and we've been together ever since. Until yesterday that is. The last 5 years have not been all sweet and lovey-dovey. There were good times and there were bad times. There were fights and there were tears. But we stayed together despite it all. There were other offers, but I wanted to try to work things out with P as much as possible. After all, P's actually quite nice, despite some faults, and I'm really comfortable with P. So I stayed, and workedd as hard on the relationship as I possibly could.
It was recently that I realised that P and I have grown apart in the last 6 years. We now have very different ideas of life, of people, of goals and objectives. But despite all that, I was very loath to let P go.
But circumstances have a way of taking place, that lets you know that it's time to let go. And everything culminated into a meeting yesterday, where we officially called it quits. It was all kind of sudden really, and I didn't really have time to react or respond. Before I knew it, it was all over. As to the hows, whats and whys of when P made that decision, I'm really not sure. Maybe P already has some other woman! (Hahaha!)
I would have preferred it if I was the one doing the dumping actually. (Ah girl never gets dumped! She only dumps people!) But oh well, whatever, it doesn't matter. It's time to move on, and leave this behind.
My lovely friend and colleagues are all upset and angry for me over this. And to all my dear friends, don't worry about me. I'm good. Really. You have to trust me.
I'm not going to let a little thing like this get me down. I'm not going to let something like this negatively affect my health, my emotions and my state of mind. I want to be happy, and I want to be able to go to sleep at night without shedding tears of anger and bitterness. I want to keep my heart and emotions clean, clean from things that are bad, and that may cause me to have some kind of cancer or heart attack in future.
At the end of the day, it doesn't matter what anybody else has done, to me. They can do what they want, it's all water off a duck's back. All I am concerned about is, that I do the right thing, that I don't do anything against my conscience, that I do all I can to make this world a slightly better place. As long as I do that, I'm happy. It's me, and not other people, that I have to live with, all the rest of my life you see!
And you guys, I know you all feel for me and all that, but do me a favour, and be nice to P. (This is an order!) Just let it be! And especially, don't do anything that requires any burning down of things!
Disclaimer: For all of you blur sotongs, P is not a person! I'm merely personifying a work relationship that has just ended. Stoopid! (Hahaha!!)
They say I look really pretty today.
I combed my hair, and let it down, instead of all tied-up.
I wore a dress and wore dainty shoes with bows.
I put on eye-shadow and mascara and some pink blusher.
(No lipstick though. I hate the taste of it.)
I stayed away from coffee.
I kept my mouth shut, and smiled my sweet demure smile.
I spoke in dulcet tones, and said "Please" and "Thank You" and "How are you?"
I look pretty today.... And it's all because a client is in town.
6.15am The alarm clock rings. It's time for the 1st exercise of the day. With a practised arm, I fling the alarm clock at the wall at the far end of the room. The wall has already registered my best javeline clock throws, with the deeper dents and cracks giving testimony to the prowess of my arms.6.35amAfter 15 more minutes of snooze time, it's finally time to do The Roll. With a swift roll, I've rolled myself off the bed, and landed with a loud thud unto the floor. As always, my precision is to the exact millimetre, and I landed on that same exact spot on the floor which I've fallen for the last don't-know-how-many years of my life.6.35 - 7.00 amThe Sprint! Within 25 minutes, I have to take a shower, wash my fair, clean my face, brush my, teeth, wear my clothes, put paint on my face, grab a glass of milk and sprint out the door into a waiting taxi! It used to take me 45 minutes, and I've managed to shave 20 minutes off. I deserve a gold medal for this!7.30amCardio work-out starts. As I open up the mail-box and sees the long list of emails from the client, my pulse started to pick-up. With every email that I open up to read, my heart rate increases until I reach my peak, and I go into over-drive. At this point, my heart is racing. My blood is coursing through my veins like rally cars in a Grand Prix race. My ears are pounding with the blood rushing to my head. The adrenaline surges, and I start to hyperventilate. 8am - 12pmTo further improve my body's stamina, extra training is required to make sure the body is in tip-top shape, and able to survive high surges of stress and frustration. Long conference calls with many many parties involved are the best form of circuit training. It improves stress and irritation stamina, hones your abilities to sift through talk that doesn't mean anything, and teaches your body to go through the motions with the fake laughs and insincere compliments.12pm - 5pmInterrupted bursts of short trainings. Short sprints up and down from first-level office to the 2nd-lavel office. Quick curt conversations which sends pulse racing and blood pressure climbing. Polite squabbles which teaches the art of passing lie detector tests - by appearing calm on the outside while boiling with rage on the inside. Also, more meetings and more phone calls from the clients. 5pm - 11pmA frenzied race to the finish! I had better work harder and faster than I've ever worked in my life at this point! Because the client wants everything now, now, NOW! No mercy! No sleep, no dinner, no food. They just want it NOW!Adrenaline rushes through the body like flood waters. Surge after surge of adrenaline courses through the body, as I type frantically at my computer. The heart beats unrelentlessly, trying to keep up with the adrenaline surges. Electrical pulses sparks within the brain, as the brain attempts to squeeze out every once of creativity and idea to meet the deadline which is lit-up in bold neon lights in the conscious mind. At the final burst, as the brain activity climbs to the climax, the brain lobes almost tremble with the activity of it all. With cranial activity reaching to the hilt, it is almost threatening to explode into millions of bloodied pieces of flesh strewn all over the floor like some CSI episode. I finally threw in the towel, flung up my hands in despair and collapsed into a heap unto the floor. There! All done! Finally. I can go home.1am - 6amI toss. I turn. I flip. I kick. I bite. I dream. I laugh. I have nightmares!After 6 continuous ideas of horizontal exercising, it's time to wake up again!So you all now know how I keep my figure so perfectly....
My most ardent fans have been complaining about my all too infrequent blogging nowadays.Sigh! I know you've missed me and all my nonsense. But I guess that's the thing about us geniuses. Though we're exceeding talented and gifted and are the most amazing of people, we're also unpredicatable and susceptible to temparaments and mood swings and periods of deep profound silence.(At this point of time, I can just imagine everybody who's reading this throwing up..)I must admit that it's not easy being a genius - the pressure of the knowledge of knowing one's incredible abilities. If not for the fact that I'm so amazingly well-balanced and down-to-earth (being a project manager definitely helps keeping me sensible and level-headed), I might have knuckled under the stress a long time ago, and ended up in some mental asylum. Genius has its perils. Everybody wants a piece of my brilliance, so that they can lay claims to knowing me when I become famous and rich and popular. And Genius needs plenty of sustenance to keep it burning, sustenance in the form of, for example, food and high-calcium horlicks and money.Most of all, Genius is a little mad. But as Shakespeare so aptly phrases it, there is some method in my madness, just that the method is so obscure, even I can't spot it!
Somebody asked me whether I liked children...Of course I do!Kids are cute and fun and cuddly, and nice to hold and to squeeze. What's there not to like? Anyway, I've compiled a list of why I like little kiddies...- I like the fact that it's so easy to make children laugh. Even if I'm only doing a stupid ugly monkey face, or merely acting the clown, their ready laughter makes me feel like I'm accomplished some great act. By the way, have you noticed most children laugh really funnily (funny-weird as well as in funny-haha). They all sound like gurgling bubbling brooks. (If you don't know what that sounds like, tilt a full glass of water into your mouth and gargle, and laugh at the same time. That's what a gurgling bubbling brook sounds like, stoopid!)- They are small enough to fit into anything - the washing maching receptacle, the wastepaper basket, cupboards, under the table... The reason why I know is obviously because I've tried. Don't worry, it's all just props used for our harmless games. Like putting the kid into a wastepaper basket and have her pretend she's Cinderella and the basket's her maginificent carriage, and I'm her horse obviously. The cupboard was just to see whether the kid's afraid of the dark. And I have no good explanation for why I put them in the washing machine and under the table. Anyway, I'm convinced I can fit a small-sized kid into the refrigerator, for when the weather's too hot, and they want to cool down.- They're so stupid that they believe everything you say. When I was a kid, I used to believe the tallest stories thatmy mother made up to made me do what she wants. (Yes, I know I'm stoopid that's why?!) Anyway, I've done my fair-share of putting strange ideas into children's heads and traumatising their otherwise very boring childhood. The classics are: small men living inside ATM / radios / television sets whose sole purpose in their minute lives are to dispense money / talk and sing / act movies for the pleasure of us normal sized folks. Obviously, I've concocted quite a few of my own stories as well, but I'm not telling any of you! I shall compile them into a book, and make you people buy it, and make millions from it instead! I'll be rich! *Evil laugh* - 2 words: free labour. If you're ingenious enough to come up with games to suit your own purposes, which I obviously am, you can get the kids to do anything for you, and it's all free! In the morning, they help me fetch peanut butter and milk from the fridge. Sometimes I make them give me massages. Or they help to blow up balloons for my party. And they clean my floors for me by rolling all over it, in their clean clothes! (I really should wet their clothes with floor detergent for cleaner and sparkling floors!)- Kids help with muscle definition, and stamina and strength development as well. Try playing hide and seek, or MONSTER! with them, and you'll find yourself sweating buckets as you run all over the place, up and down the stairs, and crawling under beds as well! (For the uninitiated, MONSTER! is a game where I'm obviously the wicked ugly monster that eats up children, and the kids have to make sure they don't fall into my evil clutches. The game can be re-named DINOSAUR! as well. It really depends whether you feel like a monster or a dinosaur that day.) Another game to play is to hold them by their hands (They have to be short enough!), and then you swing them around and around in circles. (The physics behind this is Centripetal Force.) Obviously, once is not enough for the kid, and when there're more than 1 kid involved, you'll find yourself dizzy and with aching arms after swinging 5 children around times 10 times each. (I think you can call this game OUCH!)And when you play with boys, they will insist on pretending that you're a tree and they're monkeys, and attempt to climb up you. Try having 2 'monkeys' on you, and let me know how that feels... Do try it, it's fun. Kids are a bundle of joy, even if they ask too many "why?" questions and talk too much, and frequently cry and puke all over your clothes. If I can afford it and am not so afraid of pain, I don't mind having at least 7 kids. But I think not, I'm too chicken. I'll just stick with borrowing my friends' kids to play with. At least, when they start getting irritating or they start crying, I can drop them like a hot potato, threw them back to their parents and head for the EXIT!
I am an avid traveller. So far, I've been to, in no particular order, Italy, Greece, Mongolia, China, Greenland, Middle East, Australia, New Zealand, Russia, Alaska, Morocco, Vienna, Japan..and loads more palces with unpronounceable names - all from the comfort of my living room couch! (Hahah! I'm such a cheat aren't I?)Yes yes yes I've been travelling the world with the Globe Trekker travellers, and I even have my favourite Globe trekkers. Ian Wright is just so hilariously rubbery-faced. And Megan McCormick is just such a sweet lass that I warmed to her immediately.Whenever I watch Ian and Megan, my wanderlust just starts to kick in big time! I just wish I was like them, travelling around the world and eating strange disgusting creatures, and sleeping in weird motels and getting lost.I've always liked slightly more unplanned holidays - where I have the time to wander off the well-worn paths to the off-beaten tracks, and get well and truly lost. I love getting lost! But I've never had the chance to do that. Because the friends that I go on holiday with are well-planned and organised (unlike me!), and know exactly what they should be doing at any time of any day! (So boring!)I hating visiting the places that tourists like going to. I want to do and see the 'ordinary' things that the locals do! And I guess that's why I love about Globe Trekker; they do the most amazing things on their travels that I'll probably won't get the chance to experience, even if I go the the same place. Knowing how my organised friends are, they'll probably pack me unto a pre-arranged tour with loads of other well-coifed tourists who don't want to get their swanky white capris dirty! (Come on, who wears white capris when they're travelling?! Stay at home in your posh hotel rooms for goodness sakes!)So far, my holidays abroad have not been as interesting and as much of an eye-opener that I've hoped they'll be. I have no idea how to go about planning a holiday that I will enjoy really. How does one go about planning for a holiday that is spontaneous and fun and unexpected and out-of-the-ordinary?! How does one plan to get lost?! I guess the best thing I could do for myself the next time I go on holiday, is just to not plan at all! Hahaa!Sigh! Anyway, until I can get that figured out, I guess I'll just have to stay on my couch, and turn on Globe Trekkers and watch Ian and Megan do their thing.*Sulk*
The time has come, and the inevitable has happen. I was sort of waiting for this to happen actually...I've come to a stage in my blogging where I'm actually averse to it. When I set up the blog, my original intentions were to keep it matter-of-factly true to life, and most importantly, real. No masks, no subterfuge, no games, nothing. It's all real life, my life - the pure, unadulterated and the unabridged version of things happening in and around me, in my head and in my heart.My friends who are my initial fans, have told me that my articles have been all of the following - inspiring, thought-provoking, sometimes just so funny, and at times, heart-wrenching even. I liked what I heard, and that was my inspiration to continue with my writing. It was my way of making a difference in the lives of people that I care about, in this horribly awry and warped world that we live in. I liked the thought that in my little way, I was planting seeds of hope, of love, funny seeds that could spout into trees of new life. For what is life otherwise? How do we continue living our normal work-laden, frustrated, and sometimes pathetic lives without seeds of hope inside our hearts? There had to be more than the reason of merely surviving for real living you see.I don't know at what point that my articles changed. Although barely perceptible at first glance, the change did take place, slowly but surely. It's like drawing a straight line; a line that is merely 0.0001 degrees awry, when extropolated could result in a big deviation from the straight and normal. I discovered that my writing recently has been more flippant than amusing. I have unwittingly slipped into the mode of hitting out at the world and the people around me. I seemed to have slipped into a abyss of dismay that can do nothing for myself, nor anybody else for that matter, with its broody contemplations.What happened to me? And why?It's time to take a step back and reassess myself again. Life is too short and too precious to waste on worthless and unfruitful things. I will not and cannot allow myself to slip into retrograde. People only move in 2 directions, either forward or backward. If I haven't been progressing the last few months, then I must be regressing. Or I am standing still at a single spot. Whatever it is, it is not a good thing. I do not want to find myself worse off at the end of the year as compared to how well I started off 2005. It's only less than 2 months less to the end of 2005, and I cannot afford to waste this year.2 months more! Arghhhh! *Presses Panic Button*
Why do people blog?Why do I blog?Because I'm a narcissistic individual. Because I want a page that has my name in capital letters on it. Because I want this webpage to have my pictures, record my thoughts, express my feelings. Because it's all about me, me and more ME!Satisfied?!
There are times that you just want to crawl into bed, and not emerge from under the covers until the people of the world have destroyed each other, leaving nothing. Then will it be safe to emerge from your cocoon.Why?A group of maids were discovered lying huddled on the cemented backyard of a terrace house, sleeping on thin mattresses, mats and newspapers underneath the zinc roofs. The owners of the house owned a maid agency, and had the cheek to tell the neighbours to mind their own business.A car sales person was killed in a test drive that went awry, all because the 23 year old potential customer was a colossal idiot with the ego to match, and crashed the Mazda Miata, killing the car sales person, as well as wrecking a BMW and a van, killing his passenger, as well as hurting 5 others. The guy even manage to stagger out of the wreck, with not as much as a broken pinkie!5 people were charged with donating HIV-infected blood, and lying in the pre-donation questionaire. They could jolly well have infected an innocent person with their tainted blood. Out of the 5, 2 of them are under-graduates, which means they should have more sense and more of a conscience, both of which, they sadly lack.Two brothers, only teenagers, were infected with HIV by their care-giver. What kind of an end can the world come to, with such callous, selfish and inhuman people living in it? Why don't you tell me?
I know Christmas is suppose to be a time of loving and giving and all that. But I'm having none of that crap. I freaking hate Christmas. And you know why?!Because Christmas is the time when I'm expected to buy freaking presents for people! That's why!!I'm by no means a Scrooge. In fact, I consider myself pretty generous when it comes to my friends and people I care about. (Case in point, I always buy an extra cup of high calcium horlicks for Weak. All the time! How's that for friendship, and sucking up to the boss?!) So, I have absolutely no qualms about buying gifts. But it's the thought of having to think of things to buy for the many people who are my friends, in a limited period of time, that puts me off. I hate it that the festive season places upon me the burdensome obligation of having to buy gifts for my friend, because it's a self declared season of "giving and sharing and loving", and specifying that the gifts that I give them, have to be wrapped up with pretty ribbons and given to them on no less than 25 December itself!Why can't I buy presents for my friends at other times of the year? Why can't I just put the gift in a newspaper and give it to them? Why must my present be bought at a shopping mall, and why can't I just give my friends hugs and kisses? So, for those of you out there, know this for a fact: you're not getting any beautifully wrapped-up present from me on the 25th December. Period. And no whining about it.You may just get a hug and a kiss from me on the Christmas Eve, or on boxing Day though, when I'm high and happy on drugs and booze. (Won't that be nice??)
Bend it like Beckam is a comedy that had me tearing at some parts. Which is what I like about this movie. I hate movies that dwell too much on the sad, or the depressing, or the pathetic. Because life isn't always sad, depressing or pathetic. Not to me at least. I prefer to think of my life as a comedy, interjected with a little romance and a little truth and a little love.Well, enough of my meanderings.... I'm suppose to be talking about the movie...I like British films. Somehow, they appeal to me more than the Hollywood stuff most of us watch. Not to say I don't enjoy Hollywood's blockbusters, but I often come away with nothing. For the British films that I've watched so far, I've always come away feeling a little something - a little wistful, or a little poignant, but there's always something. I'm not sure how they managed it, but whatever it is, I'm definitely coming back for seconds.Bend it like Beckam. For the uninitiated, it's an Brit-Indie flick, which seems all the rage nowadays. I recognized some familiar faces from "Goodness Gracious Me" (a hilarious sitcom about British Indians, played by British Indians, and very funny of course!). Another big plus, it's got Keira Knightley in it, and boy do I have the hots for her. I think she's great, as a girl who's great-looking and with a great figure. But, I digress...The plot was simple, and the message even more of a no-brainer. The plot, Indian girl pursues a dream to play football professional, fighting family persecution and cultural norms. At the same time, she also falls in love with another racial minority in UK, an Irish bloke. Nothing complicated about the story-line. And the morale of the film, believe in your dreams and fight for it. Simple and to the point. In fact, Hollywood will scoff at the very simplicity of it all; Hollywood seems to revel in unheard of storylines and complicated plots - all the better to entertain you with. But the Brits have done it, and done it well. They've managed to turn water into wine. They've made a film that has made millions laugh, and also gave them a sense of hope, all at the same time. Now, that is what I call, talent.So now, after watching the film, I'm inspired. So I'm suppose to follow my dreams, and believe in love.
A thought came to me last night before I fell into sleep... What happens if I die tomorrow?Maybe it was because of all the backlog newspaper reading that I was going through, and seeing all that bad news in the papers, that spurred this thought. I don't know. That doesn't really matter. The question still remains...What happens if I die tomorrow?A morbid thought, but interesting enough for me to mull over anyway....Still mulling.....
It's official. I need to go on a diet.I've just been told, by a very reliable source that I need to freaking lose some weight. The source did tell me of course that I still look incredibly sexy in a bikini. But what's the freaking use! I don't want to be an elephant anymore! My great ambition now, is to be, a baby elephant! *Thunderous Applause*(As you can tell, I'm a person with no great ambition!)OK! So what's the plan?Well, first I guess I have to learn to stick a finger down my throat, so I can start throwing up whatever I eat.Next, I have to plan my meals. Considering the many types of diet with conflicting theories out there, I think the best way is to combine all the theories, and just not eat at all. So here's the plan....Breakfast - a glass of waterLunch - 2 glasses of waterDinner - No water, because water drank before bed, bloats you up and makes you, well, bloated (l
ike a corpse retrieved from the sea...Eeeeewwwww).Supper - I will raid the fridge in the middle of the night, and if finding no food in the fridge, will eat my dog's food, which is actually full of all the supplements that you need to survive, and it's made of real meat, dried up of course. (Well, that's what the advert says!)And then, my exercise regime will be to excercise excessively, night and day. I will have to wake up at some obscene hour in the morning to work out before work, skip lunch to go to the gym, and after work, to hit the gym until it's time to go home, just in time to fall into bed. I should cultivate a feeling of guilt whenever I'm unable to adhere to my strict exercise regime. And that great sense of guilt will cause me to binge, after which I'll feel even guiltier, and perhaps bang my head against the wall in an attempt to hurt myself.All of the above should be sufficient to cause me to go down 2 dress sizes in a matter of a week or so. But it probably also means that I'll be really evil-tempered and grouchy and bitchy, so all you folks had better stay away from me if you know what's good for you. Plus, all that dog food should make my bite even snappier then before.Darn! Who am I kidding! I won't be bothered enough to go through all that crap, just to look like good. I don't even comb my hair normally! Oh forget it! I like elephants, so there!I may be fat, but you're short/ugly/pimply/fatter! HAHA!
What is the most impossible thing of all?To try to capture the fluidity and the manifold beauties of the sea unto a piece of canvas.I will love to be proven wrong on this one.
For all those who have visited and added comments on my blog, you must have noticed the word verification thing.You have to key in the word you see before they allow you to submit and publish your comment. It's to prevent spamming because spam cannot read text yadda yadda blah blah blah..So my question is this, does it mean that dyslexics cannot post comments on my blog?! Oh no! I don't mean to discriminate people who have dyslexia. I'm as neutral toward this category of people as I am towards other groups of strangers. If only someone can find some way of sifting out spam, and yet allowing dyslexics to comment on blogs with the word verification function turned on.....
"A rose by any other name will smell as sweet," Shakespeare says. Why don't I ever smell things like roses? I smell only strange things. Or rather, only strange smells affect me.I was in the toilet today, and somebody had sprayed Glades Country Garden (It's air freshner, dah-ling!) all over. The smell transported me back into my early years with the company, back to the days when going to the office meant going to a whole-day party with friends, and work was fun.I must have spent quite a fair bit of time in the loo then, to have remembered the smell of Glades Air Freshner, Country Garden flavour. Funny how the most synthetic and sickening of smells can even be associated with good memories. I have another anecdote about strange smells....I discovered an old bottle of face cleanser the other day. (Don't ask me where. I hoard all sorts of things, including dust and lizards. Can?!)Opening it up, the smell hit me and an image flashed in my mind's eye - a blue bathroom, with freezing cold bathroom tiles, a bath-tub, in Bristol England. The year was, errr, 2002 I think, and the flat was a friend's. And the reason why I had to shuffle the floor mat all over the bathroom floor, from sink to the door, was because I wasn't allowed to switch on the radiator even though it was freaking cold! (I still love you anyway sweetie!)I was visiting friends as well as holidaying in UK, and obviously, very excited to be spending time with this particular friend, even though I was feeling cold all the time I was visiting. The memories associated with this strange smell were both sweet, and funny. (Actually, they're more funny than anything else.) Car rides in rain, walks in rain, walking all over the place in the rain, shopping in the rain, fun in the rain. clubbing and getting sloshed, in the rain as well. As you noticed, the rain was a large part of my memories in UK. Oh, and on one of those days, a memory of a paper thin layer of ice that melted within half an hour. Ooohhh.... Happy happy days....Strange (bad?) smells equals good memories?! That's just really weird.
What is a 'sucker'?The obvious answer to that is, quite obviously, 'one that sucks'.Sometimes, it means a lollipop as well.And do you know plants have 'suckers'? (A new piece of useless information for you to know.)A sucker is also a person who is shameless enough to insist that she be amongst the top ten people that I blog about, because she is such an important person in my work life, that without her presence in the office, the atmosphere will be deadly quiet and silent.Suckers shameless exposes her tummy and shows to all her sundry the patterns on her bra, and sometimes her butt crack as well. A sucker also has tiny slit eyes.They are often known as rude things who can often turn suddenly and unreasonably cross. ("I don't want to talk to you!" Don't talk don't talk lor! Who scared who?!)Suckers feed on vegetables and high calcium soya bean milk. And Auntie Botero's prawn noodles.And despite eating all that good food, they are short.And, a sucker is one who will beat me up and call me rude hokkien things, once she read this. Boo Sucker!Oooohhh... I nearly forgot, the term 'sucker' is also a term of endearment for people who are your sometimes your friends and sometimes not your friends, depending on whether you want to bite them at that point of time or not. And they usually stay around for a long time in your life, and things usually seem a bit weird and quiet when the sucker is not around.Sucker!
There's this great kick-ass futuristic cartoon going by the title Futurama. Containing a robot, a one-eye girl, and a blur-block of a chap, it's like a futuristic version of the Simpsons, just as rude, irreverent and dusfunctional. After all, it was created by the same person, the very great Matt Groening.Futurama is also what I called an old old friend of mine. (Now don't ask me why Futurama is called Futurama. It just is, and don't ask so many questions!)So old a friend Futurama knew me by my every action, my very character, my every flaw, and my every thought. (Well, almost all anyway) Futurama had an uncanny sense of what I am, which is why I got freaked out so badly sometimes. Futurama can complete almost sense what I think sometimes, and I could have sworn, would have finished my sentences for me, if given the opportunity.Almost like soul mates don't you think?If you noticed, I spoke of Futurama in the past tense. Even for the most perfect of relationships, it can come to a premature and abrupt end, if not cherished carefully. So now, I can only wonder what the friendship would have turned out to be like, if only we had continued.
Ever since my recent blogs about Sotong and Rambutan, I've been innuadated with requests, no more like demands, from people in my live, to write about them.Well, to all of you out there - Sucker, Weak and the other un-named, all I have to say to you is this. WAIT CAN?! You think you what?!Translation of the above into proper Queen's English, as per below...Do you mind just waiting for a bit you ass?! It'll be nice if you have some idea of your self-worth really. Do I look like I have all the time in the world to write about you, just because you say so?! My finger hurts from all that blogging. My eyesight is going. I'm losing my hair trying to think about what I should blog about. I don't think like a normal human being anymore. I now think in terms of blogs -titles, content, the punch line. Aaaarrghhhh! Oh no! I'm turning into a blog-dict! Aaaaarghhhhhh some more!It's amazing how concise and impactful Singlish, as a language, can be. So few words can mean so much.....PS Ok Sucker, I promise you're next on the list.
I'm not sure why, but the following text, which I memorised during my secondary school English Literature days, came to mind. Just like that...Fot the uninitiated, this is from The Merchant of Venice, William Shakespeare...The quality of mercy is not strained.
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.
‘Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown.
His scepter shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings.
But mercy is above this sceptered sway;
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings;
It is an attribute of God himself;
And earthly power doth then show like God’s
When mercy seasons justice.
I love the way the opening line sounds "The quality of mercy is not strained. It droppeth as the gentle rain rain from heaven upon the place beneath." I don't really get what it means really, but I just like the way it sounds. But what really hit me are the closing lines "But mercy is above this sceptered sway...It is an attribute to God himself; and earthly power doth then show like God's when mercy seasons justice."Justice versus mercy; a prevalent theme that ran through Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice. But that's not what I want to talk about. I want to talk about Mercy and Justice, in real life. Despite what I learnt about Mercy being better than Justice, as a hot-headed youngster, I never did appreciate the value of it all. To me, I was right, and the other party was wrong, and that's all there is to it. The world was in black and white to me, and I appreciated not the subtleties of the world and all its nuances then.I think it's old age or something, but I've realised that right and wrong is not all there is to things.What's so great about justice if the people I love are afraid of me for being such a stickler for rules, and refusing to give people another chance when they do wrong?What's so great about justice if my heart was as hard as flint, and I break up friendships, just because they hurt my feelings without thinking on one occasion?What's so great about justice if I have no friends, because they all don't live up to my expectations of what a good friend should be like, and play by my standards and rules?I don't know about mercy being a God-like attribute, but I know it's one of those qualities that separate us humans from the animals. People are people and not animals because they have the ability to feel compassion, and mercy for another human being. Try being more of a feeling human today, if you please. Temper your justice with a little mercy. Have pity on us poor people who tend to err and do stupid foolish things. In your greatness, remember a little mercy.Remember, mercy is an attribute of God....
You know the word 'rainmaker'? Well, do a google on it if you don't.Well, I'm a noisemaker....I bring noise to places of deafening, stifling silence. Dead silence seem to settle gloomily over the atmosphere once I walk out of a room. And whenever I walk in a room, pure noise comes in and out goes the evil broody silence. Like light in a dark room. In comes noise, personified in the form of a person, namely me, and out goes silence. Ooohhhhhh...I feel like a super hero. And my super powers is to rid the world of bad, evil, gllomy, dead silence, to replace with lively noise!Yayyyyy!!!!
You all must know this pre-schol kiddies' song....One little elephant went out to playOut on a spider's web one day. She had such enormous fun,That she called for another elephant to come.Anybody want to come and play with this elephant (aka Me!)?! Only elephants are allowed. Skinny little people go play elsewhere! (At least until I manage to lose some weight, and look less like an elephant anyway.)Anyway, for now, let's have a sing-a-long!!!Dum dum dee dee dum...
The continuation of the story that I heard the other day...The two friends continues their journey through the desert. And after a while they chanced upon an oasis, palm trees and springs and all.Obviously, after travelling through a dry thirsty desert for days, they headed straight for the huge refreshing pool of water. After a bit of swimming and performing weird acrobatics in the water, the friend got into some difficulties and went underwater. (Although I can't for the life of me figure how he managed to get into any spot of trouble in a calm pool of water, that's how the story goes, and that's how I'm telling it.)The man, of which this story is supposedly centred around, went underwater and managed to pull his friend out of his almost watery grave. The friend gasped his thanks gratefully, and they both had a group hug. OK, and this is where I want you to pay attention. This is a story that teaches an important moral, despite of how it's being flippantly told by its very irreverent author.Anyway, the friend gasped his thanks, took a rock, and carved on a huge boulder on the side of the pool, "My friend saved my life today."End of story. Beginning of my ramblings...It's often been said that one wrong mistake can undo a whole lifetime of good things done. Isn't it ironic how ungrateful a bunch of people we human beings seem to be?Save a dog from being stoned to death by a bunch of young heartless punks, and chances are, the dog will jump on you and lick you wet for saving its life, and follow you around until the day it breathes its last.Even ferocious animals in captivity know not to bite the hands that feeds it. Even though its natural instinct might be to taste blood and human flesh.But what is it with human beings? Do one thing wrong accidentally, and your whole lifetime of acts of kindness and love, is forgotten.Let us not be ingrates. Let us not forget the deeds born out of love that the people around us have performed for us. And make sure that you choose a nice sturdy rock to carve those memories on, so that it can withstand the weathering of the element. The winds of change and time will beat against it, but not break it. The heat of misunderstandings and politicking may shine on it, but will not melt it. And the rain and snow of quarrels and hurts and words of anger uttered may fall on it, but will melt and disappear against its hard flint surface.Let's cast something in stone today. And even if the sand of hurts and anger blows against it, that which is cast in stone, will remain cast in stone, until the end of time...
I heard a story the other day.A man was travelling through the desert with a friend. Something happened, and they quarrelled. (The story doesn't specify exactly what transpired between the two friends.) The argument got more heated, and finally, this man slapped his friend hard across the cheek. The friend held his cheek for a while, and then wrote something on the sand, "My best friend slapped me." He then continued walking.The two friends continued working. After a while, the man could hold his curiosity no longer. He just had to ask what the siginificance of his friend's actions were.The friend replied, "I was very angry when you slap me. But I knew you didn't mean to do it, so I kept my temper, and did not retaliate. My writing on the sand was to express my disappointment with you."The guy still didn't get it. "But why write on the sand?""Because sand can be easily smoothen over by the winds of time. The writing in the sand will only stay for a short time, until the next time a wind blows over the horizon, and erases whatever hurt, disappointment and anger that was printed into the sand by human hands.""I may be hurt by your show of temper, angered by your hard-handedness towards me, a friend. I may be disappointed that my friend will choose to treat me as such over a minor skirmish. But because this friendship is important and precious to me, I will not allow little things to eat away at the friendship like maggots. But I choose to write all these things on a forgiving surface. I will choose to hold no grudge, and allow the winds of forgiveness to wipe the slate clean. So now, the winds have come and blown away the past. We're friends again."A cheesy and moralistic story. But I like it, for the principle it contains.What's the point of holding a grudge and staying angry, somebody please tell me...I admit it feels good to envision the most cruel and torturous of revenges against someone who may have hurt or angered us. But hey, you're the one who can't sleep at night because you're just so mad, while the person you're mad at, is sleeping like a wee baby.What it does to us, is to eat into us, like some form of cancer, eating away at our peace and our joy and confidence, until it leaves us a snivelling wreck of a human being, uptight and ready to explode like a human bomb at any stupid little thing that comes along. What kind of a miserable pathetic form of existence is that I ask you?So, do yourself a favour, start writing in sand today....If the whole world learned to write in sand, this world will be a better place I should think....
I was watching some Discovery Channel show. Again. And found out something amazing. About babies.For the first 6 months of the baby's life, you can drop one of them into a tub of water, and they'll be able to survive in it, for a couple of minutes or seconds or something.Apparently it's because babies have been ensconced in their mother's amniotic fluid in the wombs for 9 months, and they have the super powers to actually breathe in water, or to not breathe when in water. It's either one or the other. I can't remember which.Whatever it is, isn't it amazing?!I'm not sure whether they've done actual tests to prove this; as in dropping an actual real life baby into an actual tub of water. But they do sound pretty sure of themselves, so I'll just believe them.Anybody who's got a baby who's less than 6-months old that they're willing to loan me?Guess not huh...I'll guess I'll have to get my own baby to try it out then. All in the name of science.Sigh! Even if I manage to get myself impregnated tonight, somehow or other, I'll have to wait at least 9 months to test it out. Which is really a long time to wait. I guess I won't bother rushing it then. I'll wait for a baby to appear in good time. As and when.Guess you guys just have to wait....For all those smart people who know how it actually and really works, feel free to drop me a line, and tell me that I'm so wrong! I'm always on a quest for new knowledge.
What if, one day, I find myself bored of blogging?!
It may be hard to imagine now, but it doesn't mean that it's an impossible thing to happen. After all, I am known to have the attention span of a goldfish. And I'm sure I'm not the only one. I'm sure there're others who are just like me. They get all excited about something, for all of 5 minutes, and moves along once their interest wanes.
And you know too, how societal trends move in waves - a wave receeds and a new wave of the latest and greatest technologies washes up, and wows everybody for a while, until it too receeds, and yet another a bigger and more dazzling new wave comes up. What if, one day, a whole colony of bloggers, find themselves bored of blogging?An exodus of bloggers take place, moving on to whatever's the latest new-fangled thingey that's taking the world by storm, then. Leaving behind them a whole blogpolis of virtual civilisation - turning into ghostly, ruined, desolate and uninhabited virtual ruins.I wonder what they will find in virtual outer space, spanning many virtual galaxies.Virtual space exploration anyone?
Why am I always hungry?No, seriously, I want to know why?I wish I was one of those who eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat, and never gain an ounce of fat.When you see me the next time, and feel an incredible urge to go "oink!", drop me a hint. I'll really appreciate it.
I love watching Top Gear.
I love watching the ever-funnily wry Jeremy Clarkson, although he's definitely pretty lacking in the looks department.
I love watching cars that I can't afford.
I love watching fast cars zooming all over the place, although I don't understand half the stuff he's talking about, since I'm by no means a 'car person'.I love the feeling that these cars give me. It's like flirting with fire, because however much I lust after them, I'm not even sure whether I'll dare drive them even when given a chance. The amount of pure sheer power and energy that emits from the car's engine from a mere tap, no not even a tap, from the teeniest nudge on the accelerator is enough to send your head whirling and your head spinning.
I was just watching Jeremy Clarkson introduce the BMW M5 over the weekend.
There were other cars of course, but it was the M5 that captured my imagination.
I don't care what they say, I still think it's a bee-yoo-tee-ful car, just by virtue of it being a M5.
And there's this one button in the M5, which is pretty much the same as the red 'launch' button on a space rocket...
...There is only one feature in the M5's electronic armoury that's good; it's a little button marked with an M on the steering wheel. Quite what M might stand for, I have no idea. Motorsport? Mohawk? Mombasa? I like to think it might be M*********** because that's the effect it has.
In M********** mode, this car is pretty hard to describe. But 'perfect' will do for the moment. The engine, which sounds like a diesel when you start it up, is transformed to a machine of unparalleled brilliance, churning out such a prodigious amount of power that there is simply no let up in the speedo's rate of climb...
We are talking about a machine that maximises its full 507 horse-power. (If you can't imagine what 507 horse-power feels like, just imagine the car being pulled by 507 sturdy strong fully grown horses. That's always how I envision horse-power in my mind.) To grip that amount of pure power in my hands, I think I'll happily give up being the ruler of the universe, assuming that I actually have that choice to choose between of course.
Sigh...
Anyway, what on earth does M stand for?!
John Travolta is the coolest guy..Ever....Never mind if he's fat!He proves that one can be fat, yet sexy!Like me...Hahahah
Over the weekend, I got to know a little bit more about myself.Lucid Maxima shared with me this personality test thing, which was pretty complex, and seemed pretty accurate. I discovered that I was weirder than I already thought I was.Ouch!And I realised that I'm an introvert.Huh?!I never fail to amaze myself.
I'm a multi-tasker...
A true-blue thoroughbred. The kind who feels uncomfortable just doing a single thing at one single point of time. The kind who gets withdrawal symptons after 5 minutes of not being able to multi-task.
Even while sleeping, I dream up stories and watch cartoons on that great big plasma TV that is my imagination. (And that's why I wake up so tired every morning!)
Sometimes, my obsession get so much the better of me that I become rude even. I type out an email while talking to my colleagues at the same time. Funnily, I actually focus better multi-tasking, than focussing on doing a single thing.
So now, the question is, how do I multi-task and not appear rude at the same time? Somebody tell me how!!
Rambutan just went to get his hair cut.And now, he looks like, well, a rambutan... All spike-ly hair and all...And it doesn't matter how many times he's got his hair cut to resemble a tropical fruit. I still find it endearingly funny.But best of all, his hair cut is going to keep me entertained, and in hysterics, every time I see him, for the next couple of weeks, until it grows out again.You know what they say about jokes becoming stale? Well, this is one thing that's going to never fail to crack me up, every time Rambutan shows up with his rambutan hair-cut.Now, if I can just only find more friends who resemble tropical fruits, my life won't be just good, it will be great.
I know I can write a bit. Some people say I'm funny. Others say that I'm pretty inspiring. I know I do have some fans of my blog (All 5 of you, please raise your hands!)But, me, talented? Me?!! Well, maybe I'm one of those who actually know words that have more than 2 syllables, and who actually knows how to use them. Ok, maybe I do read quite a bit, ok, quite a lot. And maybe I do belong to the category of people who actually like reading Jane Austen. But, me, talented? Isn't that a bit, well, much?!I've never thoughted of myself as "talented". After all, anybody can write. So I always thought I was one of those "anybodies". But in the space of one week, I've actually 2 people come up to me to tell me I'm talented. (Wow.. That's quite a record, for me. I'm more used to people telling me to "shut up lah"!)Ok, it's true that the 2 people who said I was talented aren't, well, exactly the greatest authorities on 'talent'. One doesn't even read much, and the other, I affectionately called Sotong. And well, we all know what sotongs are like.... It's kind of hard to take very seriously the words of a squid. (You know I still lup you Sotong!)But still, it's nice to be thought talented, even by people who may not recognise talent even when it bites them. I know you people really mean it from the bottom of your heart, and all that. And thanks very much, but until somebody actually puts money, real money and not Monopoly money on the table, and commisions me to write an epic novel that's already slated to win the Pulitzer Book Price, even before the book has ever to be written, I think I'll still stick to my humble blog scribblings.Or.....Until I get at least 1,000 comments on this blog entry, asking me, no, begging me to start writing my book novel.....
I got something in the mail today.A real piece of mail. Which came in a brown envelope, with my name and address hand-written, albeit scribbly-ly, on the front.The kind which you tear apart to get to the contents inside.It came as a real nice surprise really. Besides bills and more bills, I hardly get mail that comes in envelopes anymore. I was able to recognise the hand-writing as well as the sender's address on the envelope. It was definitely Sotong who was writing from UK. But it was a nice feeling which I hardly get anymore nowadays; a kind of excitement and anticipation, even though I knew who the sender was, wondering what the envelope contained.It could be a nice long hand-written letter, which means some hours spent trying to decipher Sotong's handwriting. Or it could be a lock of her hair. Or maybe some vitamin C tablets. One never knows, when it comes to Sotong. She could have been using the envelope to contained her nail clippings when she trimmed her fingernails, and decides, on impulse, to send it across an entire ocean, to me. But I hardly get mail anymore. So I would have been happy to receive anything. Even vitamin C tablets. Maybe not so much the nail clippings. But the nice girl that she is, she sent me a little gift, a little butterfly brooch. With it was a little note, in her hand-writing, that I still recognise after all these years, "Yoohoo! Don't know who to thank for your writing talent. Keep it up and be happy." Short, to the point, and very sweet. Sotong is tall, to the point, and very sweet.And she knows, that despite my succintness and apparent lack of intense emotion, that I'm really very touched by, her efforts at actually sending me something via snail mail. Thank you Sotong, for remembering me. *Long distance hug and kiss*Thank goodness you're not here. I wouldn't want to get all weepy and mushy in front of you. That'll have been so embarrassing, and so weird.
I thought I was good. But I realised that I'm still not good enough.I realised that it didn't take me very much to lose my cool, and to start panicking. And everybody knows, panicking is a sure way to make anyone go all to pieces, and start blabbering nonsense. And that's what I did; I panicked, I lost my head, and I started talking nonsense, saying things I really shouldn't really be letting people know. And you know what the worse thing is? I can't remember what I said. So much for damage control. So I was totally embarassed and humiliated and ridiculed yesterday; I cringe at the very recollection even.But you know what they say; you can't keep a good man down.And I'm the best yeah!
I've been very very bad today...
Whatever happened today, it's really no excuse for my bad behaviour...
All I can do is to start anew tomorrow, and try again, to be better.
And I'm proud to say, I was the reason why his pants kenna kopi...*Thunderous Applause*I was drinking my kopi-o when somebody said something, and out it came. Right unto Weak's pants, dangerously near to his family jewels. My aim was poor. Sigh.So, things I've learned from this episode..Never drink anything when Weak and the rest are talking. And especially not when they're talking about muffs and ear muffs.I should aim higher next time. I shouldn't gargle my kopi-o. Or any other beverage for that matter. I should just be drinking it, and not gargling it like a bubbling brook.
I was doing a very intellectual thing today. I was actually reading TIMES magazine, as opposed to reading some thrashy girly magazine, filled with aneroxic women in beautifully expensive clothes.
