dementia
i'm not brave
i turn cold at the sight of anything hairy
i'd rather touch a snake than cuddle a bunny
i'd rather take the stairs than share a lift with a terrier
i'm a timid banana
i frown often
i flinch in my sleep
Cra is getting on my nerve - buzz off!
i'm an escapism pro
i conveniently forget to wind my antique watch
i gaze past the monstrous wall calender
i despise mirrors
i gabble - a lot
i don't like broken oaths
i vegetate - a lot
i prefer pragmatism to opinionated irrationality
i laugh easily
convulsing over the chair like a tortured hare
i forget easily
my retention capacity will throw a kitchen sieve to shame
i think u suck, cra.
maybe not exactly
but u are bordering suckism
so said, the demented rabbit.
Every little thing counts
In a heartbeat
the door is closed to yesterday
Between heartbeats
shadows of the day flicker to and fro
Drifting between heartbeats
is the ghost of a smile.
Between heartbeats
little things of beauty
that no one can name
dance and tease
waking up stubborn eyes
to a day worth smiling for
It's past midnight now,
I can follow the flow of heartbeats
till the morrow dawn.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I always think 6 is a magical number.
The Sea of Sunset
by Emily DickinsonThis is the land the sunset washes,
These are the banks of the Yellow Sea;
Where it rose, or whither it rushes,
These are the western mystery!
Night after night her purple traffic Strews the landing with opal bales;
Merchantmen poise upon horizons,
Dip, and vanish with fairy sails.
Why do I love you more
at sunset
when the glory of the day
is fading away
into the unknown?
the tv-chick lit correlation analysis
Nowadays, even the tube is against me. I never get to catch anything except news, parliament updates, forum discussions and silly idol contests with the woooooh and ahhhhhhhh.
Come on, tubie. I'm really sincere in investing an hr on you. Can't you like churn up something more intriguing other than idol contests?
Even my current fav drama, 9 lives eludes me. With the exception of the debut episode, the closest I've come to watch it is from the miserable 1.5 minute trailers on tv mobile. This is really getting unbecoming of you, tubie.
And hence, I took matters to my own hand which later bec0me a semi-obsession with romance comedy. Movies, books and all. It's a hobby that optimises utility with minimum participation requirements. It's like sitting on an express train, watching a fast-forward, fragmented version of other people's lives. Fragmented because only the happiest moments are hand-picked from the whole and gel together. Scene after scene of bright, dazzling smiles and little heartache here and there. Books stuffed to the brim with pockets of candylike sweetness and excessive pinkness sit on the shelves, flaunting and teasing wandering eyes to take them home. With an ally in the uncooperative tv, it's not too difficult to persuade one to bring the chick lit home.
On closer observation, there's a negative correlation between chick lit and tv programmes. The more drab tv is, the higher the interest in chick lit. Chick lit and tv are neither joint products nor perfect substitutes of each other. Perhaps they are more of a portfolio of risky assets. Risky because excessive consumption of either product causes one to lose sensibility and rationality. However, with careful management and proper calculation of investment ratio, these risky assets are none but harmless, temporary deviations from a more serious course of action.
fragments of random talk
J: What're you up to tomorrow?
Me: Fixture.
J: You know in medical terms, fixtures are the things we use to connect your broken joints.
Me: In accounting, fixtures are furniture, screws, anything dead.
J: Hmm...my fixtures are metal pieces.
Me: Non-living too. That's the whole idea. Geddit?
Y: What would you want a guy to notice about you at first glance?
Me: I've never put a serious thought to that. But I've set my eyes on my future spouse.
Y: Oh really? And who's that?
Me: An oil sheikh in Middle East.
Y: (rolls eyes) You're probably the only person to think of that.
Me: I know. Doesn't that just give me an upperhand in the game?
Y: You may just be right.
Me: 1. Control the resources and you control wealth and power. What other resource can beat oil? 2. I'd be a scarce commodity in that part of the world. Considering free market mechanisms, my market value will skyrocket. Besides, I've no qualms about the dressing custom. I can hide my unsightly ding-dang from public view in the modest Arabian dress.
Y: You've obviously put some serious thought on this.
Me: (smiles blithely)
S: Would you like to look at our weight management programme? We're providing free BMI tests and consultation.
Me: Actually I'm not interested.
S: But you know, our programme can enhance your body image.
Me: I'm really sorry but I gotta go.
S: Here's my namecard. Please give me a call if you're interested.
Me: (looks at the card) Should I be motivated to change my image, the last person I'd look for is you. (punctuated with a meaningful, murderous glance)
I never get to see the look on the woman's face. But I figure my message hit home.
the word called love.
Someone said we could grow love like how we nurture a peach tree from seed.
But I said, it's so time consuming and what're the chances of it blooming? What if it never bloom?
We can only watch over the seedling with a prayer. Hoping for a miracle.
Hope. Is that the real reason why we're growing love? The hope that one day the fruit from the tree of love will unfold the secret of love and unroll the map of future. Will our lives be intertwined?
Perhaps the moment of epiphany when we hold the sacred fruit in our palms already justify the wait. Love in the city is a vision that we can all do with.
The City Dictionary. Does the word 'love' still exist in this world?
If we're willing to take a leap and plunge into the unknown; if we're willing to gamble our youth on a seed that may not grow. Then perhaps, the girl above will find love in the myriad of words.
After which, the question is "What is love?" Do you have the answer to that?
Talking thru the nose
I'm impregnated with words. And no, Natasha. These words are not my own. It's theirs.
As usual, I love browsing through ads. Here's one:
Reinventing sensuality
If you think a pint of Haagen-Dazs is merely candy treat for children, you're quite mistaken. It's a sensual treat for the senses. Haagen-Dazs cleverly equates indulgent sexual attraction with its premium ice-cream to seduce the consumers to eat. Call it food porn if you want. But it is fetching consumer dollars in the cash register. So long as it works - the smart, satisficing approach Herbert Simon made classic.
Just like true love. Without the constant nagging and need for approval.It's truly exceptional.
Loves you for who you are. A fake blond with a fake nose.It's truly exceptional.
Other ads include: "I had a one-night stand with a pint of Haagen-Dazs."
That said, it'd be a long time before such ads made headway in this part of the world. I can imagine the frowns and tongues clucking distastefully tsk-tsk. Anyway, I figure most of us have long given our hearts to HD and swear lifetime loyalty to this sinful, luxurious ice-cream.
A tale old as time
Fairy tales are fabricated from goodness of mankind which cannot be fully replicated in modern reality. Though fairy tales can't be consumed as a staple food, it's a necessary and often pleasing diversionary activity. Against a backdrop of a labyrinth of scarlet roses where an intense profusion of fragrance assail your senses and smooth the sharp edges of rationality and pragmatism, is a bold display of unadulterated beauty and truth as it should be.
It says "cools things to put in your blog" and so I did.
| Your Five Factor Personality Profile |
Extroversion:
You have low extroversion.
You are quiet and reserved in most social situations.
A low key, laid back lifestyle is important to you.
You tend to bond slowly, over time, with one or two people.
Conscientiousness:
You have high conscientiousness.
Intelligent and reliable, you tend to succeed in life.
Most things in your life are organized and planned well.
But you borderline on being a total perfectionist.
Agreeableness:
You have medium agreeableness.
You're generally a friendly and trusting person.
But you also have a healthy dose of cynicism.
You get along well with others, as long as they play fair.
Neuroticism:
You have medium neuroticism.
You're generally cool and collected, but sometimes you do panic.
Little worries or problems can consume you, draining your energy.
Your life is pretty smooth, but there's a few emotional bumps you'd like to get rid of.
Openness to experience:
Your openness to new experiences is medium.
You are generally broad minded when it come to new things.
But if something crosses a moral line, there's no way you'll approve of it.
You are suspicious of anything too wacky, though you do still consider creativity a virtue. |
| Your Career Type: Social |
You are helpful, friendly, and trustworthy.
Your talents lie in teaching, nursing, giving information, and solving social problems.
You would make an excellent:
Counselor - Dental Hygienist - Librarian
Nurse - Parole Officer - Personal Trainer
Physical Therapist - Social Worker - Teacher
The worst career options for your are realistic careers, like truck driver or farmer. |
| You Are Balanced - Realist - Powerful |
You feel your life is controlled both externally and internally.
You have a good sense of what you can control and what you should let go.
Depending on the situation, you sometimes try to exert more control.
Other times, you accept things for what they are and go with the flow.
You are a realist when it comes to luck.
You don't attribute everything to luck, but you do know some things are random.
You don't beat yourself up when bad things happen to you...
But you do your best to try to make your own luck.
When it comes to who's in charge, it's you.
Life is a kingdom, and you're the grand ruler.
You don't care much about what others think.
But they better care what you think! |
| Your Monster Profile |
Insane Nightmare
You Feast On: Tofu
You Lurk Around In: The Alamo
You Especially Like to Torment: Your Evil Twin |
I love tofu.
| Your Superhero Profile |
Your Superhero Name is The Magna Midget
Your Superpower is Rapping
Your Weakness is Body odors
Your Weapon is Your Fungal Axe
Your Mode of Transportation is Jet Pack |
A day in the life of a fixture at RM 2.04
Hi, the day begins at 10am.
Fixture tries hard to interpret the mess of papers before her/it.
Fixture feeds thrice a day.
Fixture takes secret pleasure in visiting her/its favourite toilet seat 10 times a time to unload 2 litres of waste liquid.
Thereafter, fixture finds excuses to visit the toilet seat. Can't live without the toilet. Even the toilet rolls (without black fine print and diagrams) are cute.
Fixture thinks she/it is growing into a mushroom.
Fixture waves goodbye at 9pm.
Fixture goes into hibernate mode shortly after midnight and dreams of animated monopoly graphs, the AIDA model, crap cashflow and Robert House's Path-Goal theory.
Fixture apparently does not sleep well.
8am sharp tomorrow and sunday too.
Fixture operates 7 days a week.
Signed,
Fixture Pathetician
Resident of RM 2.04
Tonight we celebrate love
For those who found love; for those whom love elude. For the love from yesteryear; for the love yet to come; for the love embracing the present.
Cheers.
so fragile, thinner than a wisp of silver thread, aren't you?
The result of being 'system rejected'
The school decided to launch a electronic registration gimmick that seems to be only capable of kicking earnest applicants out of the system. People wrestled their way into the ring. Some got thrown out by the neck before they steadied their feet.
Today the 'rejects' marched valiantly to the portal, keeping a watchful eye onto the clock. When I squeezed my way into the system, I almost fell off my chair in helpless laughter. Look at the pathetic slots left for us, poor rejects. Hardly worth a fight.
I mean, who in the world (if they still have something called a brain) would want to fight for sunday classes and weekday night classes?
Nuts.
P.S. I finally get to see the school on sundays. Yeah -_-
It's ever so hard to turn down an earnest person, no matter how busy/distracted/frustrated/exhausted I am. Am I wrong to say yes and walk out of the agreement later?
I'm tired.
This time it's real.
Change me - Make Poverty History
Change Me is an open conversation that brings people together to share ideas through powerful imagery.
Simply find an image that inspires you and use it to express an idea that has the ability to touch or affect the person viewing it.
If selected, your image/idea may appear as part of a global travelling exhibition and be published in a book.
For each submission, Getty Images will donate US$10 to ONE: The Campaign to Make Poverty History - which helps raise awareness about the crisis of extreme poverty and AIDS.
Join the worldwide discussion at Getty Images today.
For s* and all bruised, lost souls.
You're still you by Josh Groban
Through the darkness
I can see your light
And you will always shine
And I can feel your heart in mine
Your face I've memorized
I idolize just you
I look up to
Everything you are
In my eyes you do no wrong
I've loved you for so long
And after all is said and done
You're still you
After all
You're still you
You walk past me
I can feel your pain
Time changes everything
One truth always stays the same
You're still you
After all
You're still you
I look up to
Everything you are
In my eyes you do no wrong
And I believe in you
Although you never asked me to
I will remember you
And what life put you through
And in this cruel and lonely world
I found one love
You're still you
After all
You're still you
sentenced.
On the way to school this morning, I saw a middle-aged blind man walking towards my direction. Could he be walking towards the bus stop? A small voice asked. Felt an urge to run up and give him a hand. But my legs hesitated. A second passed. Two. Three, the man made a left turn at the junction, away from the bus-stop. I was still there, unmoved. An indignant voice in my head said, "See? He wasn't coming your way. Don't get all guilt-stricken. Besides, he looks familiar with the roads here."
Turned my head away for the briefest second and from the corner of my eye, the man walks towards me. Again. No, it's two men walking hand in hand. A tall, broad-shouldered man held the blind man protectively on the arm and steered him carefully towards the bus stop. The bus arrived.
I clambered clumsily up the bus and my eyes immediately darted towards the vacant seat at the back. When I raised my head again, from the back of the bus, the man boarded the bus slowly and sat at the designated green seats, his face towards mine, again.
I forced myself to look out of the window, observing blocks of mundane flats with unusual interest. Talking animated to a passenger next to him, the cheerful man probably didn't know across the bus is a person who had watched him made a wrong turn. A coward who sought refuge at a dark corner instead of giving him a hand up the steps of the bus. A person who glanced at the front seat long after alighting.
My heart feels...No, I don't have a heart.
On bent knees, the accused pleads guilty.
On a noisy wagon.
On the second day of Chinese New Year, behind the wheel is a multi-tasking Mummy who has to
- keep a close lookout for Uncle's car.
- navigate on unfamiliar roads.
- steer clear of speedsters speeding 180km/h. These youngsters came in throngs, mind you. Manoeuvring between the three lanes and screeching their way up front. It was a miracle that their overworked car tyres didn't drop out in protest.
Mum: "Look at these youngsters. Only the old ones are driving at sensible speed."
Me: "That explains why they are still driving on the road (and not lying somewhere else)." - concentrate admist the kopitiam football chitchat and noisy kids games. What do you get when you have two football punters together? Deafening noise with spits, sensational exclaimations of wins and dismaying losses, self-justifying accusations at the team manager, goalie and striker, all thrown in disarray. It puts you on 1-week football abstinence and you go into hysterics at the briefest mention of foobol.
- calm her nerves and pretend she's cruising around the neighbourhood alone.
- check that I was dilligently jotting down the directions and prominent landmarks. Mum didn't have to worry about my efficiency at that point. It was really quite impossible to doze off in the midst of a lively post-foobol match commentary and 4 kids + 1 teen playing some highly audible children games. For your information, we had 9 people on our roomy MPV aka bread van aka barney's bus.
2006 lunar new year has deviated from our usual routine. The angpao revenue wasn't spectacular but little things have made my cny unexpectedly meaningful.
New year's eve was a frentic rush - to digest the sumptuous food in time for the next meal - which is only 2 hours away. I had on average 3 full-course meals in 6 hrs. This glutton act started from saturday and only came to an official close yesterday, spanning over 4 delightful days. My girth has [thus] expanded generously to a middle-age spread.
The most memorable event is having reunion dinner with shifu. I still feel guilty for not emptying my stomach fast enough to fully show my appreciation for shifu's homemade vegetarian cuisine.
Happy Chinese New Year (or happy public holidays if you prefer)!
