Sleepless.
Sarcastic, Too.
Short person who is full of himself, don't like.
Sucker, I am.
Squalor, Living in.
Scrumptious, food!
Sexy, Sometimes.
Sardine, Brain of a.
Selfish bitch.
Saccharinely sweet, Not.
Sea.
Sacred cows, Kill!
Sock in your mouth, Put a!
Sadist, Secret.
Secrets.
Safe sex, No sex is.
Soup, My favourite food is!
Security, In-.
Seasons - Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter.
Soft, My voice is the opposite of.
Sweet, I wish I was.
Sushi, sashimi and salmon are yummy!
Salads, Cows eat.
Salary, I need a raise in my.
Silly, hilly, billy.
Stoopid.
Steak, Medium rare.
Sucking up, Bad at.
Self.
Sanatorium for mad people, that's probably where I will spend my old age.
Sapiens are wierd, Homo.
Sane, Am I sure I'm quite that?
Satire, My favourite kind of story.
Sound of Music, My favourite musical.
Sausages and mash potatoes a Bangers and Nosh make.
Safe and saved.
Snake, My Chinese Zodiac sign.
Soft, or otherwise known as flabby.
Scrabulous, Addicted to.
Scallywags, The wrong type of man to fall for.
Scale, The one in the bathroom keeps going up.
Scandals, Avoiding them.
Scared all the time.
Sharp-nosed and -tongued.
Scarred for life.
Scatter-brain.
Schmuck!
Scintillating, Me!
Sentimental, semi-mental.
Simplicity and sincerity, out of fashion.
Snobbishness, Most hated quality in any human being.
Sequitur, Non-.
Split personality.
Seventies, Born in the.
Shameless.
Shape-shifter wannabe.
Spiders, do they have ears?
Small talk, smart aleck, smart ass.
Screwball, Screwed-up.
Soya-bean, favourite bean.
Sponge Bob Square Pants
Shrew.
Sense and sensibility, too much of one and too little of the other.
Soul-searching.
Sing songs.
Soundless Sobs.
Sweet Sleep.
Saturday.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Friday, December 28, 2007
Something...
..stupid.
I wish I will stop doing stupid things.
Just when I think I've become older and wiser and smarter, and then I do something stupid to spoil all that.
What sophistication? What maturity? What wisdom are we talking about?
At the end of the day, I find out that I am just...
A silly girl
Who ought to know better.
When?
Will I grow up
And stop doing
Something stupid?
I wish I will stop doing stupid things.
Just when I think I've become older and wiser and smarter, and then I do something stupid to spoil all that.
What sophistication? What maturity? What wisdom are we talking about?
At the end of the day, I find out that I am just...
A silly girl
Who ought to know better.
When?
Will I grow up
And stop doing
Something stupid?
Dark Meanderings
Times like this,
late at night when the noise around ceases into a deafening silence,
and one can hear the beating of one's heart in one's ear-drums.
It's so quiet it's disconcerting;
it's so peaceful I'm not used to it at all.
It takes me a little while to get accustomed to it.
The heart calms down to a steady rhythm.
My breathing slows down as well, my tensed muscles relaxes.
My tightly wounded-up mind starts to relax.
And the emotions that have been squashed up tight into a little ball is released,
and starts to expand,
until it becomes bigger than me, and submerges me.
And I just let it carry me wherever it wants to take me.
Mostly, it's a dark lonely place, where there is nothing, no one and nowhere to go.
This is quite crap. But I don't care. No it's not suppose to be a poem. And no I don't know what this is suppose to be. It has No Name.
late at night when the noise around ceases into a deafening silence,
and one can hear the beating of one's heart in one's ear-drums.
It's so quiet it's disconcerting;
it's so peaceful I'm not used to it at all.
It takes me a little while to get accustomed to it.
The heart calms down to a steady rhythm.
My breathing slows down as well, my tensed muscles relaxes.
My tightly wounded-up mind starts to relax.
And the emotions that have been squashed up tight into a little ball is released,
and starts to expand,
until it becomes bigger than me, and submerges me.
And I just let it carry me wherever it wants to take me.
Mostly, it's a dark lonely place, where there is nothing, no one and nowhere to go.
This is quite crap. But I don't care. No it's not suppose to be a poem. And no I don't know what this is suppose to be. It has No Name.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Merry Christmas!
Last few minutes before Christmas Day of 2007 slips away, never to return.
Despite myself and my aversity to the holiday, Christmas this year exceeded my expectations.
I think, deep in my heart of hearts, I love Christmas and all it stands for. It's just that I cannot stand the commercialised aspects of what could have been a good thing.
The meaningless giving of meaningless presents as a social activity.
The poor excuse for all the incessant and continuous debauchery.
The ridiculously out-of-proportion pressure being manufactured.
Therefore I hate Christmas, and I hate what it has evolved to become, a twisted machination of man's greedy makings.
I hate the fact that the work of men always turns what is good and lovely into something ugly and fake and mercenary.
It somewhat reminds me of the story, Midas' touch. In it, whatever Midas touched turned into gold. Most think him lucky, but personally, I think him pitiful. Because whatever he touched turned into paltry sordid gold. Anything and everything became squalid, vile, and lewd.
At which point did we turn into something like that? Why don't we have the ability or the capacity to retain what is good and lovely and noble, that which is worthy and principled and admirable? Or must everything that we touch turn cold and hard and stamped with $$ signs?
Maybe I'm being too harsh here. One way to test the meaning of Christmas in our lives is...
When we think of Christmas, do we think of friendship, of hope and faith and love?
Or do we think of having to buy what present for whom, what dress to wear to which party, retail therapy, and indulgent feeding and drinking and partying?
What really is the true meaning of Christmas to you?
Despite myself and my aversity to the holiday, Christmas this year exceeded my expectations.
I think, deep in my heart of hearts, I love Christmas and all it stands for. It's just that I cannot stand the commercialised aspects of what could have been a good thing.
The meaningless giving of meaningless presents as a social activity.
The poor excuse for all the incessant and continuous debauchery.
The ridiculously out-of-proportion pressure being manufactured.
Therefore I hate Christmas, and I hate what it has evolved to become, a twisted machination of man's greedy makings.
I hate the fact that the work of men always turns what is good and lovely into something ugly and fake and mercenary.
It somewhat reminds me of the story, Midas' touch. In it, whatever Midas touched turned into gold. Most think him lucky, but personally, I think him pitiful. Because whatever he touched turned into paltry sordid gold. Anything and everything became squalid, vile, and lewd.
At which point did we turn into something like that? Why don't we have the ability or the capacity to retain what is good and lovely and noble, that which is worthy and principled and admirable? Or must everything that we touch turn cold and hard and stamped with $$ signs?
Maybe I'm being too harsh here. One way to test the meaning of Christmas in our lives is...
When we think of Christmas, do we think of friendship, of hope and faith and love?
Or do we think of having to buy what present for whom, what dress to wear to which party, retail therapy, and indulgent feeding and drinking and partying?
What really is the true meaning of Christmas to you?
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Christmas Bug
Humbug that is!
I'm a humbug when it comes to Christmas season.
Because I cannot for the life of me stand this season of supposedly sharing and giving!
(And I believe I gripe and complain and make a fuss on my blog about this year after year after year!)
I hate the jostling amongst the crowds in our hot humid weather.
I hate receiving cursory gifts given as a matter of non-choice.
I hate the Christmas carols that they play ad nauseum.
I hate the pressure of having to buy gifts because people inform me in advance that they have gotten me "something".
I hate having to attend parties because I have to "show my face".
It's such a season of pretending, of stressing out, of panicking, of suddenly wishing I had no friends it's sacrilegious!
I think this Christmas, I'll just do what I normally do...
To hide at home and read my books.
Or to find some unpopular Christmas place, like the gym or the swimming pool and spend a luxurious afternoon there. And I'll be exercising too, how beneficial!
If not, I'll be sulking (on the inside!) and outwardly doing my fake-smile at some "show-face" party somewhere.
Merry Christmas everyone!
I'm a humbug when it comes to Christmas season.
Because I cannot for the life of me stand this season of supposedly sharing and giving!
(And I believe I gripe and complain and make a fuss on my blog about this year after year after year!)
I hate the jostling amongst the crowds in our hot humid weather.
I hate receiving cursory gifts given as a matter of non-choice.
I hate the Christmas carols that they play ad nauseum.
I hate the pressure of having to buy gifts because people inform me in advance that they have gotten me "something".
I hate having to attend parties because I have to "show my face".
It's such a season of pretending, of stressing out, of panicking, of suddenly wishing I had no friends it's sacrilegious!
I think this Christmas, I'll just do what I normally do...
To hide at home and read my books.
Or to find some unpopular Christmas place, like the gym or the swimming pool and spend a luxurious afternoon there. And I'll be exercising too, how beneficial!
If not, I'll be sulking (on the inside!) and outwardly doing my fake-smile at some "show-face" party somewhere.
Merry Christmas everyone!
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
A world without strangers
I've been "keeping in touch".
With people I haven't been keeping in touch for a long time.
I'm not sure why this sudden urge to catch up.
Maybe it's the Xmas season.
Maybe it's just me being tired of all the crap and games and pseudo-friendships that have recently developed, and I'm missing the old friends.
Maybe it's because I'm growing old and sentimental and nostalgic.
So I've been keeping in touch, via sms-es, over the phone, even face to face.
But smses are just so inadequate a communications tool.
And so is talking over the phone.
Even face-to-face meetings aren't that satisfactory, especially if no one is willing to let his/her guard and to remove the mask of affability and civility
And so I wrote an email, to one who was more stranger than friend. Which is a strange thing really.
But I guess it's precisely because he's more stranger than friend, and therefore, precisely because I have no hidden agenda and no vested interest in his life and his friendship, that he let down his guard and wasn't wary about what he said to me.
Because he knew I'm just trying to do what I can to well, relate to another human being at a level at which they need some catharsis.
Because he knew, that althought we were not friends per say, but there's still a smidgeon of concern on my part about him and his welfare.
And what he told me about himself made me just so incredibly sad. At the same time, I'm touched that he was willing to trust me with something close, something rare, something dear to himself.
This world has sprung another surprise on me, that strangers can be even better friends than the real deal.
That even in this world of politics and selfish ambition, there's still a little bit of that which is good and pure and honest and lovely and true.
Even between strangers.
With people I haven't been keeping in touch for a long time.
I'm not sure why this sudden urge to catch up.
Maybe it's the Xmas season.
Maybe it's just me being tired of all the crap and games and pseudo-friendships that have recently developed, and I'm missing the old friends.
Maybe it's because I'm growing old and sentimental and nostalgic.
So I've been keeping in touch, via sms-es, over the phone, even face to face.
But smses are just so inadequate a communications tool.
And so is talking over the phone.
Even face-to-face meetings aren't that satisfactory, especially if no one is willing to let his/her guard and to remove the mask of affability and civility
And so I wrote an email, to one who was more stranger than friend. Which is a strange thing really.
But I guess it's precisely because he's more stranger than friend, and therefore, precisely because I have no hidden agenda and no vested interest in his life and his friendship, that he let down his guard and wasn't wary about what he said to me.
Because he knew I'm just trying to do what I can to well, relate to another human being at a level at which they need some catharsis.
Because he knew, that althought we were not friends per say, but there's still a smidgeon of concern on my part about him and his welfare.
And what he told me about himself made me just so incredibly sad. At the same time, I'm touched that he was willing to trust me with something close, something rare, something dear to himself.
This world has sprung another surprise on me, that strangers can be even better friends than the real deal.
That even in this world of politics and selfish ambition, there's still a little bit of that which is good and pure and honest and lovely and true.
Even between strangers.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Hello, how are you?
Excerpt from a real-life email to a friend of mine
Hello, how are you?!
I'm sorry I haven't contacted you for so long. And then all of a sudden I look you up.
It's precisely for the above reasons that I will tell you certain things I may not tell somebody else.
There's no embarrassment.
There's no judgement.
There's no awkwardness
So, how are you? Are you doing well? Are you happy?
And I've always wanted to but have never dared asked, "How are you? And are you really ok?".
Maybe I'm just being sensitive. But there's something melancholy about you despite what you portray to the world, and I especially felt it when I spoke to you recently.
I'm not trying to be your friend. (Haha!)
I'm just trying to do what I can to well, relate to another human being at a level at which they need some catharsis.
I'm just trying to tell you, we may not be friends per say, but there's still a smidgeon of concern on my part about you and your welfare.
I don't know about you, but I find that a comforting thought, that in this world of politics and selfish ambition, there's still a little bit of that which is good and pure and lovely and honest and true.
And one finds it in the strangest of places.
That's all.
You may choose to or not to respond to this email of course.
In fact, at various points of writing out this email, I'm still contemplating whether to send this out.
It is a laughable offence to be sending an email like this out; I know for sure you're laugh at me. But I think I'll risk it, risk my pride and my face and risk looking stupid, and hopefully, this will make your xmas season slightly different (I dare not say "better"!) this year.
Merry Christmas.
And Happy New Year.
Hello, how are you?!
I'm sorry I haven't contacted you for so long. And then all of a sudden I look you up.
Maybe it's the Xmas season.
Maybe it's just me being tired of all the crap and games and pseudo-friendships.
Maybe it's my realising the true essence of friendships.
People tend to make mistakes, especially when it comes to friendships and relationships.
Those whom were thought to be friends were not. And those whom are least expected turn out to be priceless.
For some strange reason or other, C and myself lost touch. And I haven't been able to regain contact with her, despite trying.
For another strange reason, you barely knew me and you didn't mind wasting a bit of time giving me good advice. (Thanks for that.)
The ironies of life
It's precisely for the above reasons that I will tell you certain things I may not tell somebody else.
There's no embarrassment.
There's no judgement.
There's no awkwardness
So, how are you? Are you doing well? Are you happy?
And I've always wanted to but have never dared asked, "How are you? And are you really ok?".
Maybe I'm just being sensitive. But there's something melancholy about you despite what you portray to the world, and I especially felt it when I spoke to you recently.
I'm not trying to be your friend. (Haha!)
I'm just trying to do what I can to well, relate to another human being at a level at which they need some catharsis.
I'm just trying to tell you, we may not be friends per say, but there's still a smidgeon of concern on my part about you and your welfare.
I don't know about you, but I find that a comforting thought, that in this world of politics and selfish ambition, there's still a little bit of that which is good and pure and lovely and honest and true.
And one finds it in the strangest of places.
That's all.
You may choose to or not to respond to this email of course.
In fact, at various points of writing out this email, I'm still contemplating whether to send this out.
It is a laughable offence to be sending an email like this out; I know for sure you're laugh at me. But I think I'll risk it, risk my pride and my face and risk looking stupid, and hopefully, this will make your xmas season slightly different (I dare not say "better"!) this year.
Merry Christmas.
And Happy New Year.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Let's keep in touch....
Well, after having laughed, I felt bad about laughing.
Reading back, the previous article about "friendship" seemed awfully cynical and kind of extreme.
Which is telling about my character actually; I'm an all-or-nothing person.
So, you're either my friend or you're not. I either like you or I don't.
Which can be a bad thing sometimes.
Because the world we live in exists in not a single shade but various shades of black and white and grey (and whatever other colours you may prefer).
Which means friends come in various shades as well. And it's naive of me to think that I can blatantly ignore someone I don't like, because I've realised I have to learn this thing called political correctness.
Damn politics and its accompanying correctness!
I guess it IS a little petty of me to be so snobbish and uptight about who to incept into my little wee world of little people. So I've decided to expand my perimeters of friendship a little, to include all and sundry.
Anybody. Everybody. Anything. Everything. Come into my open arms. Be my friend.
I'll be your friend if you want and need me to. Never mind if you irritate the hell out of me. A new year is coming after all. I should let go of past dislikes, unfair remarks and forgive and forget other people's stupidity.
So I guess I have to learn to unbend a little in terms of expectations. I can't expect people to behave with the severest of strictures. Friends may not always be about desiring what is best of you, and treating you with esteem, respect and affection.
Friends may neglect you, and dump you after they're done with your usefulness. Friends may tell you sweet little lies which they don't mean at all. Friends take you for a fool and for a ride.
I guess Wikipedia was wrong in its definition after all. Friends are actually a dime a dozen.
The important people in my life are actually known as "Sarkers"!
Reading back, the previous article about "friendship" seemed awfully cynical and kind of extreme.
Which is telling about my character actually; I'm an all-or-nothing person.
So, you're either my friend or you're not. I either like you or I don't.
Which can be a bad thing sometimes.
Because the world we live in exists in not a single shade but various shades of black and white and grey (and whatever other colours you may prefer).
Which means friends come in various shades as well. And it's naive of me to think that I can blatantly ignore someone I don't like, because I've realised I have to learn this thing called political correctness.
Damn politics and its accompanying correctness!
I guess it IS a little petty of me to be so snobbish and uptight about who to incept into my little wee world of little people. So I've decided to expand my perimeters of friendship a little, to include all and sundry.
Anybody. Everybody. Anything. Everything. Come into my open arms. Be my friend.
I'll be your friend if you want and need me to. Never mind if you irritate the hell out of me. A new year is coming after all. I should let go of past dislikes, unfair remarks and forgive and forget other people's stupidity.
So I guess I have to learn to unbend a little in terms of expectations. I can't expect people to behave with the severest of strictures. Friends may not always be about desiring what is best of you, and treating you with esteem, respect and affection.
Friends may neglect you, and dump you after they're done with your usefulness. Friends may tell you sweet little lies which they don't mean at all. Friends take you for a fool and for a ride.
I guess Wikipedia was wrong in its definition after all. Friends are actually a dime a dozen.
The important people in my life are actually known as "Sarkers"!
Hey Sarkers, I love you guys!
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Friendship
I laughed.
Wikipedia actually has an article on "friendship".
Apparently, it is defined as the co-operative and supportive behavior between two or more humans, and which involves mutual knowledge, esteem and affection, and engaging in mutually helping behaviour such as exchange of advice and sharing of hardship. Other values which are often found in such relationships are - desiring what is best for one another, sympathy and empathy, honesty, loyalty and trust.
Well, I'm glad Wikipedia is so definitive and specific. In that way, I can certainly weed out quite a number of my, erh, friends from the original list.
Non co-operative or supportive behaviour? Out.
No esteem, no affection, no trust? Out.
No engaging in mutually helpful behaviour? Out.
Not desiring what is best for me? Unloyal? Untrustworthy? Dishonest? Out out out out!
For the rest of you who're left, please feel free to leave the room if you want to.
If you don't like my face or my voice. Or if you are angling for some short-term benefit of my friendship, of which I can assure you I have neither money or fame or connections, or anything else that can better your miserable lot in life. Or if you're only wanting me to up your friends numbers in your Facebook account. Or if you think I'm a hippocrite or that I'm not pretty/sexy/rich/clever enough to add to your entourage of ardent fans.
Please, please feel free to leave.
I do not want to waste my time and energy on those who are not worth it.
For the few who are left, you have my word that I will do my utmost to be your friend, to be all of the above, and even more.
Thank you for being my friend.
Wikipedia actually has an article on "friendship".
Apparently, it is defined as the co-operative and supportive behavior between two or more humans, and which involves mutual knowledge, esteem and affection, and engaging in mutually helping behaviour such as exchange of advice and sharing of hardship. Other values which are often found in such relationships are - desiring what is best for one another, sympathy and empathy, honesty, loyalty and trust.
Well, I'm glad Wikipedia is so definitive and specific. In that way, I can certainly weed out quite a number of my, erh, friends from the original list.
Non co-operative or supportive behaviour? Out.
No esteem, no affection, no trust? Out.
No engaging in mutually helpful behaviour? Out.
Not desiring what is best for me? Unloyal? Untrustworthy? Dishonest? Out out out out!
For the rest of you who're left, please feel free to leave the room if you want to.
If you don't like my face or my voice. Or if you are angling for some short-term benefit of my friendship, of which I can assure you I have neither money or fame or connections, or anything else that can better your miserable lot in life. Or if you're only wanting me to up your friends numbers in your Facebook account. Or if you think I'm a hippocrite or that I'm not pretty/sexy/rich/clever enough to add to your entourage of ardent fans.
Please, please feel free to leave.
I do not want to waste my time and energy on those who are not worth it.
For the few who are left, you have my word that I will do my utmost to be your friend, to be all of the above, and even more.
Thank you for being my friend.
The little things....
How many of us really give a damn for the person next to us, the person in the next seat on the bus, the poor dying starving people in the next country?
There's so much talk about humanity and human rights and freedom of speech and liberty and all that crap. But seriously, most of us will not lift a finger to help the old lady with the groceries or lift our butts for the pregnant lady in the MRT trains.
Shame on us!
And I'm talking to myself as well.
For those of us who have a little spare cash (as little as US$25), and who want to do their bit to make this earth a slightly more humane place, go to kiva. org.
What Kiva does is to make use of the internet to connect with and loan money to small businesses all over the world, helping the poor work towards economic independence.
Business Nation was just showing how a paltry US$100 loan has managed to helped a Kenyan family out from the poverty trap, and into doing their own small business. They've upgraded from a mud hut held together with sticks, to a concrete house which has a gate. Still horrid by our standards, but to them it's a mansion.
So much for so little.
Now I call that an incredible bargain.
Well, I'm not saying that you all have to give away all your money after reading this.
But what I'm saying is this, just get out of your chair, and do something, anything for goodness sakes!
Donate blood. Give up your seat to the old lady. Give way to a frantically signalling car on the road. Smile at bus driver. Send somebody a smiley pleasant sms. Apologise to the person you should have apologised to 10 years ago. Kiss and make up with whomever you quarrelled with. Beg forgiveness if you've done something wrong. Ask your old friend out for a meal. Return the CD which you borrowed from your neighbour 5 years ago. Bake your friend a cake.
Today.
"The best portion of a good man's life: his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love." William Wordsworth
There's so much talk about humanity and human rights and freedom of speech and liberty and all that crap. But seriously, most of us will not lift a finger to help the old lady with the groceries or lift our butts for the pregnant lady in the MRT trains.
Shame on us!
And I'm talking to myself as well.
For those of us who have a little spare cash (as little as US$25), and who want to do their bit to make this earth a slightly more humane place, go to kiva. org.
What Kiva does is to make use of the internet to connect with and loan money to small businesses all over the world, helping the poor work towards economic independence.
Business Nation was just showing how a paltry US$100 loan has managed to helped a Kenyan family out from the poverty trap, and into doing their own small business. They've upgraded from a mud hut held together with sticks, to a concrete house which has a gate. Still horrid by our standards, but to them it's a mansion.
So much for so little.
Now I call that an incredible bargain.
Well, I'm not saying that you all have to give away all your money after reading this.
But what I'm saying is this, just get out of your chair, and do something, anything for goodness sakes!
Donate blood. Give up your seat to the old lady. Give way to a frantically signalling car on the road. Smile at bus driver. Send somebody a smiley pleasant sms. Apologise to the person you should have apologised to 10 years ago. Kiss and make up with whomever you quarrelled with. Beg forgiveness if you've done something wrong. Ask your old friend out for a meal. Return the CD which you borrowed from your neighbour 5 years ago. Bake your friend a cake.
Today.
"The best portion of a good man's life: his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love." William Wordsworth
Friday, December 14, 2007
Ennui
History repeats itself.
Time and time again.
Without fail.
They say those who don't learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat it.
Is my mistake then in travelling?
Maybe they's why they call it "wanderlust".
There is a lust, an insatiable appetite for more whenever I return from a trip. I rise to grandiose visions of having the world as my oyster. There is no place I can't go, nothing I cannot see if I choose to. I shall go, I shall see and I shall conquer.
And then I come back home and I rush back to reality with a huge bump, and that is always disconcerting.
The ennui then sets in.
So much to see, so much to do, and so much to explore.
That I don't want to go home.
Home. Home is where the heart is they say.
Where's my heart gone then?
Time and time again.
Without fail.
They say those who don't learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat it.
Is my mistake then in travelling?
Maybe they's why they call it "wanderlust".
There is a lust, an insatiable appetite for more whenever I return from a trip. I rise to grandiose visions of having the world as my oyster. There is no place I can't go, nothing I cannot see if I choose to. I shall go, I shall see and I shall conquer.
And then I come back home and I rush back to reality with a huge bump, and that is always disconcerting.
The ennui then sets in.
So much to see, so much to do, and so much to explore.
That I don't want to go home.
Home. Home is where the heart is they say.
Where's my heart gone then?
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Missing Hong Kong 2
I miss Hong Kong.
Being alone.
Unfettered, timeless, effortless, clueless.
Aimless meandering. Like the fragrant waters of the harbour, waiting for neither time or men.
The parks, the harbours, the views. The journeys, the walks, the rides.
I see, I touch, I feel, I smell, I taste.
A bewilderment of the senses. The panaromic chaos. The concoction of flavours. The sensual and the sensuous. The bouquet of hte fresh and the stale.
All belieing a hard softness that is...
Hong Kong.
Being alone.
Unfettered, timeless, effortless, clueless.
Aimless meandering. Like the fragrant waters of the harbour, waiting for neither time or men.
The parks, the harbours, the views. The journeys, the walks, the rides.
I see, I touch, I feel, I smell, I taste.
A bewilderment of the senses. The panaromic chaos. The concoction of flavours. The sensual and the sensuous. The bouquet of hte fresh and the stale.
All belieing a hard softness that is...
Hong Kong.
Missing Hong Kong
I miss Hong Kong.
The city where nobody sleeps and the streets are abuzz with life and energy and opportunities.
Where anything and everything can happen. If you want to make it happen.
Where you're awashed in the millions of crowds of a solitary one.
How everything seems familiar and warm and yet you're aware of yourself being the most unfamiliar thing of all.
Hong Kong.
The ebb. The flow.
Of fragrant waters.
Of things gained and things lost.
So near and yet so far.
So warm and yet so aloof.
So familiar and so strange.
So uncultivated and so fertile.
So raw. So surreal.
Hong Kong.
The land of contradictions.
The city where nobody sleeps and the streets are abuzz with life and energy and opportunities.
Where anything and everything can happen. If you want to make it happen.
Where you're awashed in the millions of crowds of a solitary one.
How everything seems familiar and warm and yet you're aware of yourself being the most unfamiliar thing of all.
Hong Kong.
The ebb. The flow.
Of fragrant waters.
Of things gained and things lost.
So near and yet so far.
So warm and yet so aloof.
So familiar and so strange.
So uncultivated and so fertile.
So raw. So surreal.
Hong Kong.
The land of contradictions.
Friday, October 19, 2007
The Centripetal Force of Life
There is something in Physics called the "Centripetal Force".
In short, it is the force that exists when you're twirling something, anything in a circular motion. It is this force that keeps the object moving in that circular path, for as long as you want to keep twirling. It is also the force that prevents the object from dropping, from flying off in a tangent, from going on a different path from the one it is travelling.
Sometimes it feels that one is embarked on Life's path of never-ending cycles - unrelentlessly, inexorably the same thing, over and over again.
With the advent of something new, something fresh, we thought life is freshly exciting and new and a world of new probabilities and happenings has enfolded before us, but before we know it, we start to see the familiar landmarks and signs and hints, that we're on the same cycle of whatever it is that we were trying to move away from before. We're back in the same rut, perhaps a rut with a different name, different wall colours, or in a different country, but a rut nonetheless.
We go round and round and round, locked in this unceasing cycle, bored, weary and frustrated. We'll do anything and everything to get out of this rut, if only we know how to.
Back to the Physics of things, for this object which is subjected to the cursed centripetal force to escape from this ridiculous path of constant continuity, it has to break free of that cycle. The only way to break free is when the string/rope being attached to this object snaps. And then off the ball or whatever will fly, to wherever and whatever. It is now free to go whereever it wants to go.
So the question is, what is that thing that is keeping me on this stupid inexorable course of boredom, insipidity, and dissatisfaction that I'm on? What's keeping me from flying off in a tangent to why I want to go and want to be?
What is that breaking point? I need to find that breaking point? That point of new things, that point of breakthrough, that point of getting out of this rut-like state.
Please save me from a life of boredom.
In short, it is the force that exists when you're twirling something, anything in a circular motion. It is this force that keeps the object moving in that circular path, for as long as you want to keep twirling. It is also the force that prevents the object from dropping, from flying off in a tangent, from going on a different path from the one it is travelling.
Sometimes it feels that one is embarked on Life's path of never-ending cycles - unrelentlessly, inexorably the same thing, over and over again.
With the advent of something new, something fresh, we thought life is freshly exciting and new and a world of new probabilities and happenings has enfolded before us, but before we know it, we start to see the familiar landmarks and signs and hints, that we're on the same cycle of whatever it is that we were trying to move away from before. We're back in the same rut, perhaps a rut with a different name, different wall colours, or in a different country, but a rut nonetheless.
We go round and round and round, locked in this unceasing cycle, bored, weary and frustrated. We'll do anything and everything to get out of this rut, if only we know how to.
Back to the Physics of things, for this object which is subjected to the cursed centripetal force to escape from this ridiculous path of constant continuity, it has to break free of that cycle. The only way to break free is when the string/rope being attached to this object snaps. And then off the ball or whatever will fly, to wherever and whatever. It is now free to go whereever it wants to go.
So the question is, what is that thing that is keeping me on this stupid inexorable course of boredom, insipidity, and dissatisfaction that I'm on? What's keeping me from flying off in a tangent to why I want to go and want to be?
What is that breaking point? I need to find that breaking point? That point of new things, that point of breakthrough, that point of getting out of this rut-like state.
Please save me from a life of boredom.
As good as it can possibly get...
The truly great movies are never about special effects and grandiose themes and bewildering twisty and complicated plots.
To me, it's about hitting where it matters most - the heart and the head.
That's why "As Good As It Gets" belongs to that genre of the truly great movies.
It's good. It's real. It even hurts to just watch it.
On how difficult it is just to keep breathing sometimes
Simon Bishop: I'm losing my apartment, Melvin. And Frank, he wants me to beg my parents, who haven't called me, for help. And I won't. And... I... I don't want to paint any more. So the life that I was trying for, is over. the life that I had is gone, and I'm feeling so damn sorry for myself that it's difficult to breathe.
Who is that "only person" in your life? The one who knows you're the greatest person on earth? Melvin Melvin Udall: I might be the only person on the face of the earth that knows you're the greatest woman on earth. I might be the only one who appreciates how amazing you are in every single thing that you do, and how you are with Spencer, "Spence," and in every single thought that you have, and how you say what you mean, and how you almost always mean something that's all about being straight and good. I think most people miss that about you, and I watch them, wondering how they can watch you bring their food, and clear their tables and never get that they just met the greatest woman alive. And the fact that I get it makes me feel good, about me.
Where do you go when you have nowhere to go? Melvn Udall: I had to see you. Carol: Because? Melvin Udall: It relaxes me. I'd feel better sitting ouside your apartment on the curb than any other place I can think of or imagine.
It's real. It's true and lovely and good. It's as good as a movie can get.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Think Tank
I came across this in my Inbox (one of those things people forward), and thought it made quite a lot of sense...
- Your thoughts determine your character.
- Be careful of your thoughts; they may break into words at any time.
- Don't waste your thoughts on those who don't hunger for them.
- The first person you lead is you, and the first organ you master is your mind.
- Don't let your mind drift into vain envy.
- Stay confident that your vision will come to pass.
- Discipline your thoughts to remain steadfast in what you know is right.
Peter Pan said, think happy thoughts and you can fly!
System Error
Close all windows.
End all programs.
Delete all files.
Re-boot.
If only I can do that to my brain.
End all programs.
Delete all files.
Re-boot.
If only I can do that to my brain.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Cringe-worthy English
What irks me really really badly is when Singaporeans who have supposedly been speaking and reading the language all their lives speak horribly bad English!
There's no such word as "beared"! What on earth is that? A "bear" that has died and gone to heaven is "beared"?
*cringe*
It's too embarrassing for words!
ARGH!
There's no such word as "beared"! What on earth is that? A "bear" that has died and gone to heaven is "beared"?
*cringe*
It's too embarrassing for words!
ARGH!
The Golden Rule
The golden rule I will try to live by...
I'll always give others the benefit of the doubt. Even if I think they're the evil spawn of the devil, I must try to think well of them.
As for myself, I will always doubt myself. Only by constantly checking and examining myself, can I make sure that I have only the purest of intentions and am not attempting to try to mask ill intentions beneath a veneer of respectability and excuses and lies.
Geez. It's going to be tough.
I'll always give others the benefit of the doubt. Even if I think they're the evil spawn of the devil, I must try to think well of them.
As for myself, I will always doubt myself. Only by constantly checking and examining myself, can I make sure that I have only the purest of intentions and am not attempting to try to mask ill intentions beneath a veneer of respectability and excuses and lies.
Geez. It's going to be tough.
Topsy Turvy
I feel like I've gone to bed the right side up and woken up with the world turned upside down.
The world I knew yesterday is not the world I know today.
It has become a different ball-game today, with the rules of the game, the players and even the spectators to the game all changed.
What a mix of metaphors!
I thought that nothing that happens in this world we live in will surprise me anymore - wars created out of a mere nothing but to prove a point, and barely a point worth anything to boot, irrational and unwarranted violence, the means people will go to just for money, and power, politicking and power-play etc etc etc. I thought I had seen it all.
In fact I had seen so much I think I've become suspicious and jaded and world-weary; everything I now see and touch has become adulterated because I have become tainted and defiled.
And because of that I don't know what what is good and lovely and true anymore. I have lost the ability to recognise all that is kind and pure in another person.
The irony of this all is not lost on me: I have become what I decry. The very thing I despise I am inevitably and inexorably changing into.
So much so that a random act of human kindness and left me bereft of speech, and feeling like the my rug with all my perceptions and judgements of this world, has been pulled out from underneath my feet, leaving me gasping and bewildered.
But it's a good sort of bewilderment.
I will love to be proved wrong, this time round, that the world is not going to the dogs. That people are still good and decent and without guile; they have still the ability to love, purely and unconditionally and absolutely.
Please prove me wrong again.
The world I knew yesterday is not the world I know today.
It has become a different ball-game today, with the rules of the game, the players and even the spectators to the game all changed.
What a mix of metaphors!
I thought that nothing that happens in this world we live in will surprise me anymore - wars created out of a mere nothing but to prove a point, and barely a point worth anything to boot, irrational and unwarranted violence, the means people will go to just for money, and power, politicking and power-play etc etc etc. I thought I had seen it all.
In fact I had seen so much I think I've become suspicious and jaded and world-weary; everything I now see and touch has become adulterated because I have become tainted and defiled.
And because of that I don't know what what is good and lovely and true anymore. I have lost the ability to recognise all that is kind and pure in another person.
The irony of this all is not lost on me: I have become what I decry. The very thing I despise I am inevitably and inexorably changing into.
So much so that a random act of human kindness and left me bereft of speech, and feeling like the my rug with all my perceptions and judgements of this world, has been pulled out from underneath my feet, leaving me gasping and bewildered.
But it's a good sort of bewilderment.
I will love to be proved wrong, this time round, that the world is not going to the dogs. That people are still good and decent and without guile; they have still the ability to love, purely and unconditionally and absolutely.
Please prove me wrong again.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Heroes
If you could have any super power you choose, any one at all, what would YOU choose?
The power to fly? To walk through walls, to be invisible, to have incredible strength?
Or the power to change your shape, or to read minds, to change the weather?
Gee, what would I choose?
The power to fly? To walk through walls, to be invisible, to have incredible strength?
Or the power to change your shape, or to read minds, to change the weather?
Gee, what would I choose?
Friday, October 05, 2007
An Uninspired Post
I know.
I have been a bad girl.
I haven't been blogging.
Or exercising. Or combing my hair. And all the other stuff good girls are suppose to do.
(I haven't been Facebook-ing either. That's because I don't know how!)
The truth of the matter is, I haven't been feeling very inspired lately to write the philosophical crap which is quite my genre.
And while others are particularly talented about turning the most random of things to the most interesting of articles, I alas am cursed. I make the most interestingly random things just plain ol' random. How boring is that!
That's the reason why I can't make a good story-teller. The Cinderella story will probably turned out to be as short as "Girl abused by step-family marries prince. Period."
I told you I was boring!
Anyway, here's a list of randomness amassed throughout the last couple of days, just not interesting enough to be turned into a blog entry.
Here goes nothing!
Have you noticed how the folks in movies don't need to go to the bathroom, or have lunch or take their vitamins?
Spiderman goes around swinging from building to building like a spider-ly George of the Jungle, and he never stops to take a leak?! Come on now! Maybe he pees while he's swinging over the heads of innocent pedestrains in New Yory City or wherever it is that he lives? And doesn't he ever get heat rash from wearing spandex. In fact, it will probability affect his virility, being squeezed into a tightsuit all day long. Poor Mary Jane.
Even in 24, which is suppose to show, minute by minute, one 24-hour day of some guy who has every terrorist in the whole world after his ass or something; the guy doesn't eat, doesn't shower, doesn't take a leak, doesn't do anything except run around with guns and being attacked by people. What an exhausting job! I hope he's paid well for his efforts. And he probably only has to work one 24-hour day, in one year! What a job!
Even Reality TV's far from realistic. They fight and bitch and scheme and quarrel all the time. I don't even see them eating because on Survivor, they're not quite allowed to eat unless they earn a million points killing dinosaurs or something. And seriously, how come nobody's thrown anything at the TV cameras or the host guy who comes and gloat over the losing team who has nothing to eat while the winning team gets to eat barbequed wild boar. I would have thrown rhino's dung at him!
Now if only I can do away with the eating and the drinking and the showering and the sleeping and the what-not, I'm sure my life would be just glamourous, don't you think?
What is the deal with Facebook?
I don't get it, and I don't think I ever will! The only reason why I signed up with the damn thing was to appease my colleagues nagging. So I have an account, and a photo posted on it. And before I know it, lo and behold, I get inundated with pokes and drinks and notifications and suddenly, everybody wants to be my friend!
I would love to see the latest photos of you and maybe have a conversation with you on how you're doing. But all that poking and throwing pies at what-not?! I mean, I thought we were friends?
I'm wishing now I can find the application that allows me to throw mud at people. Splat!
Alrighty! Enough randomness for today. I'll continue to bore all you poor people another day. *evil laugh*
I have been a bad girl.
I haven't been blogging.
Or exercising. Or combing my hair. And all the other stuff good girls are suppose to do.
(I haven't been Facebook-ing either. That's because I don't know how!)
The truth of the matter is, I haven't been feeling very inspired lately to write the philosophical crap which is quite my genre.
And while others are particularly talented about turning the most random of things to the most interesting of articles, I alas am cursed. I make the most interestingly random things just plain ol' random. How boring is that!
That's the reason why I can't make a good story-teller. The Cinderella story will probably turned out to be as short as "Girl abused by step-family marries prince. Period."
I told you I was boring!
Anyway, here's a list of randomness amassed throughout the last couple of days, just not interesting enough to be turned into a blog entry.
Here goes nothing!
Have you noticed how the folks in movies don't need to go to the bathroom, or have lunch or take their vitamins?
Spiderman goes around swinging from building to building like a spider-ly George of the Jungle, and he never stops to take a leak?! Come on now! Maybe he pees while he's swinging over the heads of innocent pedestrains in New Yory City or wherever it is that he lives? And doesn't he ever get heat rash from wearing spandex. In fact, it will probability affect his virility, being squeezed into a tightsuit all day long. Poor Mary Jane.
Even in 24, which is suppose to show, minute by minute, one 24-hour day of some guy who has every terrorist in the whole world after his ass or something; the guy doesn't eat, doesn't shower, doesn't take a leak, doesn't do anything except run around with guns and being attacked by people. What an exhausting job! I hope he's paid well for his efforts. And he probably only has to work one 24-hour day, in one year! What a job!
Even Reality TV's far from realistic. They fight and bitch and scheme and quarrel all the time. I don't even see them eating because on Survivor, they're not quite allowed to eat unless they earn a million points killing dinosaurs or something. And seriously, how come nobody's thrown anything at the TV cameras or the host guy who comes and gloat over the losing team who has nothing to eat while the winning team gets to eat barbequed wild boar. I would have thrown rhino's dung at him!
Now if only I can do away with the eating and the drinking and the showering and the sleeping and the what-not, I'm sure my life would be just glamourous, don't you think?
What is the deal with Facebook?
I don't get it, and I don't think I ever will! The only reason why I signed up with the damn thing was to appease my colleagues nagging. So I have an account, and a photo posted on it. And before I know it, lo and behold, I get inundated with pokes and drinks and notifications and suddenly, everybody wants to be my friend!
I would love to see the latest photos of you and maybe have a conversation with you on how you're doing. But all that poking and throwing pies at what-not?! I mean, I thought we were friends?
I'm wishing now I can find the application that allows me to throw mud at people. Splat!
Alrighty! Enough randomness for today. I'll continue to bore all you poor people another day. *evil laugh*
Monday, September 24, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
The Perfect Storm
"There will be no calm without if the storm within does not cease."
It's true isn't it?
Think about it....
It's never about us.
It's always about the other person - the boss, the colleague, the parent, the sibling, the other woman.
Other jobs are always better, other families are happier, other people's salaries are higher, other women's figures are better.
There's always this lust, this ache, this itch that causes us to hanker after more things, other people's things, what's on the other side.
There's a space within us that's so empty, so desolate, so arid that it even spills over to our perception of the external.
We're so deficient on the inside, nothing on the outside can ever substantiate.
As a result, we let ourselves fall prey to everything and everybody around us.
The weight of the world becomes an overpowering pressure and burden, crushing us without and even more within.
The question is, why do we let this happen to us?
The truth is, there's nothing and no one in this world who can touch us if we won't let it.
Seriously. Believe me.
It's true isn't it?
Think about it....
It's never about us.
It's always about the other person - the boss, the colleague, the parent, the sibling, the other woman.
Other jobs are always better, other families are happier, other people's salaries are higher, other women's figures are better.
There's always this lust, this ache, this itch that causes us to hanker after more things, other people's things, what's on the other side.
There's a space within us that's so empty, so desolate, so arid that it even spills over to our perception of the external.
We're so deficient on the inside, nothing on the outside can ever substantiate.
As a result, we let ourselves fall prey to everything and everybody around us.
The weight of the world becomes an overpowering pressure and burden, crushing us without and even more within.
The question is, why do we let this happen to us?
The truth is, there's nothing and no one in this world who can touch us if we won't let it.
Seriously. Believe me.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
So Woman
I'm becoming more and more woman, especially when it comes to desiring beautiful things.
Or is it old age?
For the love of what?
I'm disappointed.
With the state of things.
Bush wants to go to war for some strange inexplicable reason. So strange I can't even begin to understand why. Don't people go to war for more than just some nebulous excuse for a reason nowadays?
Nobody loves knowledge for the sake of knowledge anymore. To them, knowledge is a means to getting what they ultimately want.
Qualities like kindness and integrity and "getting the job done" are no longer qualities that are admired. Character, principles and good moral values no longer make for a good friend and partner.
It's all for, the love of money.
What a state that we are in; I can't help but lament.
With the state of things.
Bush wants to go to war for some strange inexplicable reason. So strange I can't even begin to understand why. Don't people go to war for more than just some nebulous excuse for a reason nowadays?
Nobody loves knowledge for the sake of knowledge anymore. To them, knowledge is a means to getting what they ultimately want.
Qualities like kindness and integrity and "getting the job done" are no longer qualities that are admired. Character, principles and good moral values no longer make for a good friend and partner.
It's all for, the love of money.
What a state that we are in; I can't help but lament.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
The 小猫咪 Theory
Translation: The Dear-Little-Pussy-Cat Theory
Apparently, in any verbal encounter with any one of any age, race and sex, only 30% of the listener's attention is focussed on what is being said. The other 70% of the time, they concentrate on your body, your tone and the other nuances that is so undefinable and yet so critical in any verbal communications.
In a ten minute conversation that means, 3 minutes is spent on hearing what you really have to say, and the other 7 minutes, checking out the decible of your voice, the intonation, the accent, the tone, the playing with the hair, the licking of lips, the cleavage of the baring of fangs, and possibly your bad breath.
And they have the results to prove it.
In an experiment involving a cat and a human being, it was noticed that the cat responds to the tone of the person rather than the content of the speech. The cat would sidle up to the person and purr and rub itself against the person's leg when a coaxing, loving tone was used, even though the essence of that communications was, "I'm going to boil you in hot water, and then skin you and impale your head on a stick."
(As an aside, it just proves my point that cats are not the most intelligent of creatures.)
So the point to the above whole tirade is, just speak nicely to the cat. Be as gentle, as sweet, as loving, as disgustingly coy as you need to be, and never mind what you say. It doesn't matter what you say, really.
Oh, and the same applies to human beings as well, of any age, sex, race, colour and intelligence level.
I need to start pretending I'm a nice, sweet, gentle, tactful person.
Add to that, I think I'll be brushing my teeth more often too.
Apparently, in any verbal encounter with any one of any age, race and sex, only 30% of the listener's attention is focussed on what is being said. The other 70% of the time, they concentrate on your body, your tone and the other nuances that is so undefinable and yet so critical in any verbal communications.
In a ten minute conversation that means, 3 minutes is spent on hearing what you really have to say, and the other 7 minutes, checking out the decible of your voice, the intonation, the accent, the tone, the playing with the hair, the licking of lips, the cleavage of the baring of fangs, and possibly your bad breath.
And they have the results to prove it.
In an experiment involving a cat and a human being, it was noticed that the cat responds to the tone of the person rather than the content of the speech. The cat would sidle up to the person and purr and rub itself against the person's leg when a coaxing, loving tone was used, even though the essence of that communications was, "I'm going to boil you in hot water, and then skin you and impale your head on a stick."
(As an aside, it just proves my point that cats are not the most intelligent of creatures.)
So the point to the above whole tirade is, just speak nicely to the cat. Be as gentle, as sweet, as loving, as disgustingly coy as you need to be, and never mind what you say. It doesn't matter what you say, really.
Oh, and the same applies to human beings as well, of any age, sex, race, colour and intelligence level.
I need to start pretending I'm a nice, sweet, gentle, tactful person.
Add to that, I think I'll be brushing my teeth more often too.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Dear....
Dear Person,
I regret to inform you that the word "dear" has ceased to be a term of endearment to me. A wonerful word has been corrupted, because of its too often usage, and has left me impervious to its charms.
From now onwards, the word "dear" shall only be used by me in the begining of a letter, as per this example.
Yours sincerely,
Someone who is not a "dear"
PS This is dedicated to dear Wee. Haha!
I regret to inform you that the word "dear" has ceased to be a term of endearment to me. A wonerful word has been corrupted, because of its too often usage, and has left me impervious to its charms.
From now onwards, the word "dear" shall only be used by me in the begining of a letter, as per this example.
Yours sincerely,
Someone who is not a "dear"
PS This is dedicated to dear Wee. Haha!
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
What's in a name?
Long before double Christen names were a fad was my grandmother.
In fact, my grandmother was probably one of the pioneers of double-naming her grandchildren, which has since become a very Singaporean trend in naming babies in Singapore, all because these parents probably couldn't quite decide between two, or three, or four names, and decided to stick all the names into the poor child's birth certificate. What they don't realise of course is that the poor child will end up suffering from identity crises all the rest of its days.
Anyway, back to me and my double names.
When I was younger, I couldn't spell my main English name because it was too complicated for a young child, plus I wasn't particularly bright for my age. So I went to school with the other English name that I could spell AND pronounce, albeit still with a certain measure of difficulty.
At this point, I think I should interject with this extra piece of information, besides saddling me with TWO English names, my wonderful grandmother also wanted to reinforce the first impressions I make on other people, by giving me three-syllabic names! Oh, and not to mention my super ultra special Chinese name as well.
Which thus explains why I grow up scarred and traumatised by an entire childhood of people asking me to repeat my name umpteen times. (For a Primary One child on her first day at school, that can be pretty traumatic!).
I also had to put up with mis-spellings and mispronounciations of my name, not that I actually knew how to pronounce it properly myself in the first place, it was so rare a name in those times, and even now actually!
When I turned 18, I decided that enough is enough. No more answering stoopid questions about my name and how to spell it and was I from Timbuctoo! So I decided to revert to my rightful name, which incidentally, while a bit less rare, still poses the same problems. But this I only realised on retrospect.
It's funny how Singaporeans pride themselves for being cosmopolitan and well-educated with high English-speaking capabilities, and still yet unable to pronounce much lest spell a name! The various corruptions of my name, if not so bewilderingly and baffling ridiculous, would have been quite funny even. Some even tried to change my sex by calling me by the male version of my name.
On the flip side, the name has increased my memorability level on first meetings. At least I hope that people found me, and my name, intriguing and mysterious, as opposed to freakish.
Anyway, thanks to Google, I've finally realised the potential of my names, when previously I just thought they were concoctions of my grandmother's overactive imagination. Either that or she got it off from a peanut butter brand label in her holidays abroad.
But I've realised, never mind how alienishly wierd my names sound, they do really have quite nice meanings. Both have Latin origins, and one means "joy" and the other "peace", which in truth is a wonderful combination of characteristics in a personality. Whether there is any truth in those names in MY personality, that remains very much to be seen, still.
Even Shakespeare questioned "what's in a name?". Hundred of years later today, I still don't know the answer to that question.
I guess a name just makes for easy identification, practically speaking. At the end of the day, it's really growing into the name that will make it come alive. I, for one, am keeping my fingers crossed that I will grow into joyfulness and peacefulness.
So, you can call me "O" and "Oei", whichever you prefer!
In fact, my grandmother was probably one of the pioneers of double-naming her grandchildren, which has since become a very Singaporean trend in naming babies in Singapore, all because these parents probably couldn't quite decide between two, or three, or four names, and decided to stick all the names into the poor child's birth certificate. What they don't realise of course is that the poor child will end up suffering from identity crises all the rest of its days.
Anyway, back to me and my double names.
When I was younger, I couldn't spell my main English name because it was too complicated for a young child, plus I wasn't particularly bright for my age. So I went to school with the other English name that I could spell AND pronounce, albeit still with a certain measure of difficulty.
At this point, I think I should interject with this extra piece of information, besides saddling me with TWO English names, my wonderful grandmother also wanted to reinforce the first impressions I make on other people, by giving me three-syllabic names! Oh, and not to mention my super ultra special Chinese name as well.
Which thus explains why I grow up scarred and traumatised by an entire childhood of people asking me to repeat my name umpteen times. (For a Primary One child on her first day at school, that can be pretty traumatic!).
I also had to put up with mis-spellings and mispronounciations of my name, not that I actually knew how to pronounce it properly myself in the first place, it was so rare a name in those times, and even now actually!
When I turned 18, I decided that enough is enough. No more answering stoopid questions about my name and how to spell it and was I from Timbuctoo! So I decided to revert to my rightful name, which incidentally, while a bit less rare, still poses the same problems. But this I only realised on retrospect.
It's funny how Singaporeans pride themselves for being cosmopolitan and well-educated with high English-speaking capabilities, and still yet unable to pronounce much lest spell a name! The various corruptions of my name, if not so bewilderingly and baffling ridiculous, would have been quite funny even. Some even tried to change my sex by calling me by the male version of my name.
On the flip side, the name has increased my memorability level on first meetings. At least I hope that people found me, and my name, intriguing and mysterious, as opposed to freakish.
Anyway, thanks to Google, I've finally realised the potential of my names, when previously I just thought they were concoctions of my grandmother's overactive imagination. Either that or she got it off from a peanut butter brand label in her holidays abroad.
But I've realised, never mind how alienishly wierd my names sound, they do really have quite nice meanings. Both have Latin origins, and one means "joy" and the other "peace", which in truth is a wonderful combination of characteristics in a personality. Whether there is any truth in those names in MY personality, that remains very much to be seen, still.
Even Shakespeare questioned "what's in a name?". Hundred of years later today, I still don't know the answer to that question.
I guess a name just makes for easy identification, practically speaking. At the end of the day, it's really growing into the name that will make it come alive. I, for one, am keeping my fingers crossed that I will grow into joyfulness and peacefulness.
So, you can call me "O" and "Oei", whichever you prefer!
The immeasurable and unquantifiable quality of Love
I'm not sure why I'm feeling so all out of sorts recently.
Possible explanations could be PMS (I so hate being female sometimes!), or a lack of sugar, or too much sugar even considering how much chocolate I've been eating. Or it could be that my body is deficient in potassium and sodium chloride or iron or whatever minerals are swimming around in the body. Or it could be that I'm just going stark raving mad!
And the thing is, once I allowed myself to embark on this path of thinking and pondering and brooding over dismal and dispiriting bleak thoughts, I found myself on a downward spiral of which I couldn't get myself out of.
It's funny how I finally managed to snap myself out of that depressive state. It wasn't even a big momentous event, just a couple of small little happenings that coupled together, assured me that Somebody Up There is taking care of me.
The first event was when a friend texted me a message to inform me the friday meetings I normally have has been cancelled. It wasn't even a big deal, nothing too difficult or too stressful, just 3 hours meeting up with people and basically chilling out. But somewhere, it felt nice to have a break and have some free time for myself. So, Friday evening was spent with comfortable desultory conversations amidst piping hot dumplings and wonderfully sweet dessert.
One thing followed the other, and the keyboard classes that I have on Saturday afternoons ended up being cancelled that same weekend. Finally, a chance to sleep in, and not have to wake up with the ringing of the alarm clock! Oh joy!
And then, it seems that somebody must have read my mind about craving for crab for lo and behold, I was invited for a fabulous crab dinner on Sunday evening - black pepper crab from the famous hours-long queue store at Joo Chiat no less! Oh double joy! There was so much crab there wasn't even a need for anything else to feel filled-up. The feeling of bursting from the seams from crab - pure bliss!
Just when I felt that life was too tiring a journey, just when I felt that I couldn't move another step, just when I want to stop and sit down on the curb and sob from sheer tiredness, just when I feel that my mind, my body, my spirits can no longer be strong enough to support myself let alone somebody else, I'm reminded not once, but many times, through different people, through text messages and through innocent casual conversations, that I'm not alone, that my efforts have not gone unseen even if people have not been very appreciative, that Somebody Up There sees and knows everything; He even knows that I like black pepper crab!
It's a comforting thought, that there's a love so wide so long so high so deep, a love that surpasses what I can ever be able to comprehend and even try to understand with my natural mind, a love that will always cocoon me, no matter how utterly unworthy and wretched and contemptable I may be or I feel.
It's a comforting thought, to know that the Guy Up There will make sure that for every non-supporter that I have, there will be 10 others who will be behind me, that I am surrounded by people who have pure unadulterated hearts whose only wish for me is for me to do well and to be happy, that there'll be people who'll not only bend over backwards but will turn somersaults just for me.
And during the last few weeks and even these couple of days, they've been nurturing and feeding me with the good stuff, the stuff that uplifts instead of pull down, they've been cushioning me against the blows of this hard cruel world and its artificial selfish inhabitants, at least until I'm well enough and strong enough to deal with all the crap on my own.
At no point of time did I hear judgemental comments, sarcasm and disappointment that I am not strong enough, not good enough, not able enough. Their love has covered over a multitude of my failings.
Love endures long and is patient and kind; love never is envious nor boils over with jealousy, is not boastful or vainglorious, does not display itself haughtily.
It is not conceited (arrogant and inflated with pride); it is not rude (unmannerly) and does not act unbecomingly. Love does not insist on its own rights or its own way, for it is not self-seeking; it is not touchy or fretful or resentful; it takes no account of the evil done to it [it pays no attention to a suffered wrong].
It does not rejoice at injustice and unrighteousness, but rejoices when right and truth prevail.
Love bears up under anything and everything that comes, is ever ready to believe the best of every person, its hopes are fadeless under all circumstances, and it endures everything [without weakening].
Love never fails [never fades out or becomes obsolete or comes to an end].
Possible explanations could be PMS (I so hate being female sometimes!), or a lack of sugar, or too much sugar even considering how much chocolate I've been eating. Or it could be that my body is deficient in potassium and sodium chloride or iron or whatever minerals are swimming around in the body. Or it could be that I'm just going stark raving mad!
And the thing is, once I allowed myself to embark on this path of thinking and pondering and brooding over dismal and dispiriting bleak thoughts, I found myself on a downward spiral of which I couldn't get myself out of.
It's funny how I finally managed to snap myself out of that depressive state. It wasn't even a big momentous event, just a couple of small little happenings that coupled together, assured me that Somebody Up There is taking care of me.
The first event was when a friend texted me a message to inform me the friday meetings I normally have has been cancelled. It wasn't even a big deal, nothing too difficult or too stressful, just 3 hours meeting up with people and basically chilling out. But somewhere, it felt nice to have a break and have some free time for myself. So, Friday evening was spent with comfortable desultory conversations amidst piping hot dumplings and wonderfully sweet dessert.
One thing followed the other, and the keyboard classes that I have on Saturday afternoons ended up being cancelled that same weekend. Finally, a chance to sleep in, and not have to wake up with the ringing of the alarm clock! Oh joy!
And then, it seems that somebody must have read my mind about craving for crab for lo and behold, I was invited for a fabulous crab dinner on Sunday evening - black pepper crab from the famous hours-long queue store at Joo Chiat no less! Oh double joy! There was so much crab there wasn't even a need for anything else to feel filled-up. The feeling of bursting from the seams from crab - pure bliss!
Just when I felt that life was too tiring a journey, just when I felt that I couldn't move another step, just when I want to stop and sit down on the curb and sob from sheer tiredness, just when I feel that my mind, my body, my spirits can no longer be strong enough to support myself let alone somebody else, I'm reminded not once, but many times, through different people, through text messages and through innocent casual conversations, that I'm not alone, that my efforts have not gone unseen even if people have not been very appreciative, that Somebody Up There sees and knows everything; He even knows that I like black pepper crab!
It's a comforting thought, that there's a love so wide so long so high so deep, a love that surpasses what I can ever be able to comprehend and even try to understand with my natural mind, a love that will always cocoon me, no matter how utterly unworthy and wretched and contemptable I may be or I feel.
It's a comforting thought, to know that the Guy Up There will make sure that for every non-supporter that I have, there will be 10 others who will be behind me, that I am surrounded by people who have pure unadulterated hearts whose only wish for me is for me to do well and to be happy, that there'll be people who'll not only bend over backwards but will turn somersaults just for me.
And during the last few weeks and even these couple of days, they've been nurturing and feeding me with the good stuff, the stuff that uplifts instead of pull down, they've been cushioning me against the blows of this hard cruel world and its artificial selfish inhabitants, at least until I'm well enough and strong enough to deal with all the crap on my own.
At no point of time did I hear judgemental comments, sarcasm and disappointment that I am not strong enough, not good enough, not able enough. Their love has covered over a multitude of my failings.
Love endures long and is patient and kind; love never is envious nor boils over with jealousy, is not boastful or vainglorious, does not display itself haughtily.
It is not conceited (arrogant and inflated with pride); it is not rude (unmannerly) and does not act unbecomingly. Love does not insist on its own rights or its own way, for it is not self-seeking; it is not touchy or fretful or resentful; it takes no account of the evil done to it [it pays no attention to a suffered wrong].
It does not rejoice at injustice and unrighteousness, but rejoices when right and truth prevail.
Love bears up under anything and everything that comes, is ever ready to believe the best of every person, its hopes are fadeless under all circumstances, and it endures everything [without weakening].
Love never fails [never fades out or becomes obsolete or comes to an end].
Monday, September 03, 2007
Sometimes
Sometimes, I just want to run away from everything and everyone, even if it's just for 5 minutes, it'll be such a relief.
Sometimes, I find ourselves not believing in all the things that I believe in.
Sometimes, hate and darkness and unhappiness seems more real than truth and love and goodness and kindness.
Sometimes, I just want to point and wave that universal finger of non-peace and non-goodwill to every person who is even remotely related to me.
Sometimes, trying hard is not good enough. Sometimes, nothing is ever good enough.
Sometimes, the combined powers of drugs and booze and mindless TV programs and comfort food eating are not even good enough to bring me away from that which is reality, that which is so ugly.
Sometimes, the amount of fake teeth-baring smiling, the pretend 'ha-ha-ha's, the hello-how-wonderful-to-see-yous are more than enough to make me want to hurl my breakfast on the speaker's lap. Sometimes, I find yourself turning into one of these 'hypo' people and I feel like killing myself, but I still do it anyway.
Sometimes, I hate life with a vengence, and there's not even a real reason why.
Sometimes, I just want to stay home, and eat crisps while watching cartoons on the telly.
Sometimes, I suspect that there is alien life breeding inside my body, and that alien life occasionally surfaces and turns my normally optimistic personality to more schizophrenic and psycopathic. Sometimes I even wonder whether the nice parts were merely play-acting on my part.
Sometimes I love life. Sometimes I just can't wait for the end to come.
Sometimes I wish I have an explanation for my wierd behaviour. I'm just keeping my fingers crossed that I'm not as insane as I feel.
Sometimes, I daren't show my blog to anybody. Because the things I write doesn't do fulfill the objectives of my blog, which is to make people happy.
Sometimes, I find ourselves not believing in all the things that I believe in.
Sometimes, hate and darkness and unhappiness seems more real than truth and love and goodness and kindness.
Sometimes, I just want to point and wave that universal finger of non-peace and non-goodwill to every person who is even remotely related to me.
Sometimes, trying hard is not good enough. Sometimes, nothing is ever good enough.
Sometimes, the combined powers of drugs and booze and mindless TV programs and comfort food eating are not even good enough to bring me away from that which is reality, that which is so ugly.
Sometimes, the amount of fake teeth-baring smiling, the pretend 'ha-ha-ha's, the hello-how-wonderful-to-see-yous are more than enough to make me want to hurl my breakfast on the speaker's lap. Sometimes, I find yourself turning into one of these 'hypo' people and I feel like killing myself, but I still do it anyway.
Sometimes, I hate life with a vengence, and there's not even a real reason why.
Sometimes, I just want to stay home, and eat crisps while watching cartoons on the telly.
Sometimes, I suspect that there is alien life breeding inside my body, and that alien life occasionally surfaces and turns my normally optimistic personality to more schizophrenic and psycopathic. Sometimes I even wonder whether the nice parts were merely play-acting on my part.
Sometimes I love life. Sometimes I just can't wait for the end to come.
Sometimes I wish I have an explanation for my wierd behaviour. I'm just keeping my fingers crossed that I'm not as insane as I feel.
Sometimes, I daren't show my blog to anybody. Because the things I write doesn't do fulfill the objectives of my blog, which is to make people happy.
Sometimes, I wish life's a lot more easier and simpler.
About, The Lowest Form of Humour
Ever since I was a little girl, I knew I had special powers.
But every time I showed people my special powers, they all looked askance at me, as if I'm some kind of freak.
It's NOT my fault if I was born to be SARCASTIC! Why can't people understand that?
It's not my fault I seem to find irony amusing.
It's not my fault I have an affinity towards all that is ridiculous.
It's not my fault I have a wry sense of humour.
And most of all, it's not my fault my special sarcastic powers have left me without a normal sense of humour that causes people to laugh uproariously at the stupidest things which aren't even remotely funny; and they call THAT humour?
I say, save the sarcastic people, save the world!
But as I've grown older, and wiser, I have realised that not many people take to sarcasm, because of its biting and cutting quality, even though my sarcasm is more about situations and things than it is about people.
I've learn to bite my tongue to prevent all that's biting and cutting and caustic and acerbic and cynical from coming out, and to just keep it as something for my own amusement and nobody else's. And if I tell anybody, I make them first promise to not get mad at me.
If the joke is too good to not be shared, I then make sure that I'm the victim of my own sarcasm to make sure nobody gets offended by what is essentially, a funny joke.
I guess that's the way it is, genius is often misunderstood and unappreciated.
You non-sarcastic folks out there, here's a question for you. If, sarcasm is really the lowest form of wit, then please name me the higher forms of wit. Or is it really true that sarcastic people are usually the clever ones?
But every time I showed people my special powers, they all looked askance at me, as if I'm some kind of freak.
It's NOT my fault if I was born to be SARCASTIC! Why can't people understand that?
It's not my fault I seem to find irony amusing.
It's not my fault I have an affinity towards all that is ridiculous.
It's not my fault I have a wry sense of humour.
And most of all, it's not my fault my special sarcastic powers have left me without a normal sense of humour that causes people to laugh uproariously at the stupidest things which aren't even remotely funny; and they call THAT humour?
I say, save the sarcastic people, save the world!
But as I've grown older, and wiser, I have realised that not many people take to sarcasm, because of its biting and cutting quality, even though my sarcasm is more about situations and things than it is about people.
I've learn to bite my tongue to prevent all that's biting and cutting and caustic and acerbic and cynical from coming out, and to just keep it as something for my own amusement and nobody else's. And if I tell anybody, I make them first promise to not get mad at me.
If the joke is too good to not be shared, I then make sure that I'm the victim of my own sarcasm to make sure nobody gets offended by what is essentially, a funny joke.
I guess that's the way it is, genius is often misunderstood and unappreciated.
You non-sarcastic folks out there, here's a question for you. If, sarcasm is really the lowest form of wit, then please name me the higher forms of wit. Or is it really true that sarcastic people are usually the clever ones?
Friday, August 31, 2007
Neither here nor there
I just hate it when it's neither here nor there.
Simply because it's not here, and it's not there; then where is it really?!
How do you know where you stand if it's 'neither here nor there', and if you don't know where you stand, then how do you know in what direction to go next?
I want to know.
I want to know, am I here? Or am I there?
If I'm neither here nor there, then I rather not be anyway near at all
Simply because it's not here, and it's not there; then where is it really?!
How do you know where you stand if it's 'neither here nor there', and if you don't know where you stand, then how do you know in what direction to go next?
I want to know.
I want to know, am I here? Or am I there?
If I'm neither here nor there, then I rather not be anyway near at all
Tired.
Wasted. Fagged. Drained. Burned-out. Distressed. Done-for. Fed up. Pooped. Weary. Empty. Enervated. Haggard. Dog-tired. weary. Stale. Knackered. Jaded. Whacked. Spent. Unprofitable. Lost. Barren. Useless. Battered. Used. Weak. Incapacitated. Insubstantial. Flimsy. Smirched. Sullied. Defeated. Unhappy. Had enough. Dead. Beaten. Ruined. Kaput. Depleted. Used up. Insipid. Monotonous. Colourless. Dismal. Uninspiring. Pointless. Enfeebled. Paralyzed. Frazzled. Lusterless. Wan. Depressed. Discontented. Unsatisfied. Befuddled. Confused. Unsteady. Drab. Tedious. Lifeless. Spiritless. Loser. Nothing. Stupid. Wearisome. Subdued. Indifferent. Neglectful. Apathetic. Careless. Callous. Flabby. Flaccid. Slack. Deficient. Zero.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
People are strange
People are strange creatures. They always want to be somewhere else.
And when they are there, they want to be somewhere else again. Or, they want to be back where they came from.
Why this restlessness within? Why the wanderlust?
Is it because there is something within that is not satisfied, and so they can't help wander the world in search of that which is missing?
"Consider your ways and set your mind on what has come to you.
You have sown much, but you have reaped little; you eat, but you do not have enough;
You drink, but you do not have your fill; you clothe yourselves, but no one is warm;
And he who earns wages has earned them to put them in a bag with holes in it."
We should really think about it, why this insatiableness. And we probably don't have to look very far for the problem even. We just have to look within.
And when they are there, they want to be somewhere else again. Or, they want to be back where they came from.
Why this restlessness within? Why the wanderlust?
Is it because there is something within that is not satisfied, and so they can't help wander the world in search of that which is missing?
"Consider your ways and set your mind on what has come to you.
You have sown much, but you have reaped little; you eat, but you do not have enough;
You drink, but you do not have your fill; you clothe yourselves, but no one is warm;
And he who earns wages has earned them to put them in a bag with holes in it."
We should really think about it, why this insatiableness. And we probably don't have to look very far for the problem even. We just have to look within.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Leaving on a Jet Plane
I'm leaving on a jet plane.
At some ungodly hour tomorrow morning, for Beijing.
I love flying. And a gadzillion times later, I think I'll still love flying.
In fact, I don't know whether I'll ever get sick of that feeling of being airborne many many miles above the earth, suspended on nothing but air molecues and trusting in the the relationship between plane velocity and air pressure that is Bernoulli's Theorem. (I'm good! I still remember my 'A' level Physics!)
The best part of the flying experience, to me at least, is that minuscular moment when the plane goes from being grounded to being airbound; when wheels of the plane actually really and officially leaves the ground.
It's an incredible feeling and I never cease to be amazed by the physics behind the miracle of flight.
It's a bird! It's a plane! It's O in flight!
At some ungodly hour tomorrow morning, for Beijing.
I love flying. And a gadzillion times later, I think I'll still love flying.
In fact, I don't know whether I'll ever get sick of that feeling of being airborne many many miles above the earth, suspended on nothing but air molecues and trusting in the the relationship between plane velocity and air pressure that is Bernoulli's Theorem. (I'm good! I still remember my 'A' level Physics!)
The best part of the flying experience, to me at least, is that minuscular moment when the plane goes from being grounded to being airbound; when wheels of the plane actually really and officially leaves the ground.
It's an incredible feeling and I never cease to be amazed by the physics behind the miracle of flight.
It's a bird! It's a plane! It's O in flight!
Monday, August 13, 2007
A celebration of friendship
I thought it was just going to be another wedding.
I thought it was just going to be another social event of polite conversation with people who are unfortunate enough to end up at the same table as me, attempting to enjoy a very expensive dinner.
I thought it was going to be boring.
But I thought wrong.
I think this is one of the happiest weddings that I've been to, if not the happiest; because it was a celebration of friendship on so many levels.
I was happy to see E and D's years of friendship culminate in an event of love and celebration. It was a climax for the world to see, and also signifying the beginning of a greater friendship and relationship.
I don't care what they say, but I do think that friendship is the beginning of love, and the friendship type of love can endure longer and can go further than passion and romance and the rest of the shebang jessmazz. The rest of the world may equate love to extravagant and dramatic gestures, to transports of desire and ecstacy, to being caught in the throes of agony and worship and adoration even. But I think that's all Hollywood and Bollywood.
Love is nothing of the above. Love is very hard work.
I don't even need magic powers to know that this is a friendship that has potential, that has the capacity to grow and to flourish, that is able to be a example for others to see, that in this hard and cynical world, something like true friendship and love can overcome any and every silly little thing that comes their way.
So I'm happy for them.
Because E is my friend. And because D is my friend too. I think.
And seriously, I'm happy as long as she's happy. And if it requires tough love to keep her that way, that's what she's going to get. (E, I've warned you already.)
It was a reunion for so many of us too. The same familiar faces, just more mature, wiser, happier even. I was glad to see everybody looking contented. At a certain age, one doesn't ask for more anymore but just hope that everybody's healthy and well. The only sad part is that I didn't have much time to disturb Weak, to see Jackson and Colin's baby photos and to generally be a pest and harassment to all the rest.
Amazing how an ordinary weekend could turn out to be so great.
So I rest, contented and happy.
I thought it was just going to be another social event of polite conversation with people who are unfortunate enough to end up at the same table as me, attempting to enjoy a very expensive dinner.
I thought it was going to be boring.
But I thought wrong.
I think this is one of the happiest weddings that I've been to, if not the happiest; because it was a celebration of friendship on so many levels.
I was happy to see E and D's years of friendship culminate in an event of love and celebration. It was a climax for the world to see, and also signifying the beginning of a greater friendship and relationship.
I don't care what they say, but I do think that friendship is the beginning of love, and the friendship type of love can endure longer and can go further than passion and romance and the rest of the shebang jessmazz. The rest of the world may equate love to extravagant and dramatic gestures, to transports of desire and ecstacy, to being caught in the throes of agony and worship and adoration even. But I think that's all Hollywood and Bollywood.
Love is nothing of the above. Love is very hard work.
I don't even need magic powers to know that this is a friendship that has potential, that has the capacity to grow and to flourish, that is able to be a example for others to see, that in this hard and cynical world, something like true friendship and love can overcome any and every silly little thing that comes their way.
So I'm happy for them.
Because E is my friend. And because D is my friend too. I think.
And seriously, I'm happy as long as she's happy. And if it requires tough love to keep her that way, that's what she's going to get. (E, I've warned you already.)
It was a reunion for so many of us too. The same familiar faces, just more mature, wiser, happier even. I was glad to see everybody looking contented. At a certain age, one doesn't ask for more anymore but just hope that everybody's healthy and well. The only sad part is that I didn't have much time to disturb Weak, to see Jackson and Colin's baby photos and to generally be a pest and harassment to all the rest.
Amazing how an ordinary weekend could turn out to be so great.
So I rest, contented and happy.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Do not say....
Do not say, "Why were the old days better than these?" For it is not wise to ask such questions.
The end of a matter is better than its beginning
The end of a matter is better than its beginning
Tick Tock...
Hee hee. I quite like my new watch.
I've been looking for this mesh band for quite a while already. Finally found it.
It's really better to wait than to settle for second best.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Words of Wisdom
Somebody sent me one of those pass-it-on emails (which I don't usually pass on, by the way!) And it sort of made sense to me...
Don't make promises when you are happy.
Don't respond in your sadness.
Don't make decisions when you're angry.
Well, that's me alright - rashly responding to the emotions I feel without thinking enough of the consequences and inconvenience I put myself through.
This is a good reminder then to not be temperamental. I've actually improved quite a fair bit from before already, but there's definitely room for improvement.
Another thing I need to remember, so I won't go to the other extreme, is that, objectivity doesn't mean being emotionless.
Don't make promises when you are happy.
Don't respond in your sadness.
Don't make decisions when you're angry.
Well, that's me alright - rashly responding to the emotions I feel without thinking enough of the consequences and inconvenience I put myself through.
This is a good reminder then to not be temperamental. I've actually improved quite a fair bit from before already, but there's definitely room for improvement.
Another thing I need to remember, so I won't go to the other extreme, is that, objectivity doesn't mean being emotionless.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Please leave a message
The person whom you are trying to contact is currently unavailable to you. Please leave a message, and she'll call you back once she feels like she wants to talk to you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Everybody and Nobody
If everybody is complaining that everybody else is not doing their jobs properly and skiving and incompetent and ineffective, then exactly who are the ones doing all the work?
It is a possibility that the fate of the whole world and its economies lies in the hands of only those few. Or worse still, on absolutely no one at all.
Quite a worrying thought that.Funny Bird Flu
I can just imagine the following scenario...
Doc Chicken: Tell me your symptoms.
Kok Cock: My comb is burning. My feathers are aching. And my wattle feels sore
Doc Chicken: I think you have the flu. Have plenty of fluids. And keep your diet light; just have earthworms. Stay away from the caterpillars and the centipedes. Take a couple of days off from rising at dawn and crowing.
Oh my gosh. I'm so lame. But it's just too funny to not share.
Doc Chicken: Tell me your symptoms.
Kok Cock: My comb is burning. My feathers are aching. And my wattle feels sore
Doc Chicken: I think you have the flu. Have plenty of fluids. And keep your diet light; just have earthworms. Stay away from the caterpillars and the centipedes. Take a couple of days off from rising at dawn and crowing.
Oh my gosh. I'm so lame. But it's just too funny to not share.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
My friend garfianc again...
My friend garfianc is angry with me and Noni, because we were, erh, idiots...
DIE!
Now we need to figure out how to make her un-angry, so that she will talk to us on MSN and will answer our calls.
Plus, our delicious bak chang are being held hostage by her.
She even threatened to throw them away. *GASP*
Below is Noni and mine cunning plan,......
~NoNi~ says:
she so damn piss
ollie says:
i think she also dun want to talk to me
~NoNi~ says:
die die
~NoNi~ says:
i've never seen her so pissed
ollie says:
she's also ignoring my call..
ollie says:
HOW?!
~NoNi~ says:
die lah
ollie says:
we are SO screwed
~NoNi~ says:
okie later then we try calling her again
So much for a plan..
DIE!
Now we need to figure out how to make her un-angry, so that she will talk to us on MSN and will answer our calls.
Plus, our delicious bak chang are being held hostage by her.
She even threatened to throw them away. *GASP*
Below is Noni and mine cunning plan,......
~NoNi~ says:
she so damn piss
ollie says:
i think she also dun want to talk to me
~NoNi~ says:
die die
~NoNi~ says:
i've never seen her so pissed
ollie says:
she's also ignoring my call..
ollie says:
HOW?!
~NoNi~ says:
die lah
ollie says:
we are SO screwed
~NoNi~ says:
okie later then we try calling her again
So much for a plan..
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