sometimes.

Sometimes you don't need a partner to be loved. Just companions to fill the heart.
Sometimes one delights in others absurdness like posting in a forum and asking if using peer to peer (p2p) software 'can kana virus or not'
Sometimes one ponders what is the world coming to.
Sometimes life becomes so meaningful when you share it with others.
Sometimes everything's perfect except the feeling.
Sometimes two friends drift apart.
Sometimes all one has to do is wait.
Sometimes two friends come back together.
Sometimes friendships require closures too.
Sometimes two friends become two strangers.
Sometimes funerals aren't meant to be sad or grieved.
Sometimes faith and material-less world makes life meaningful.
Sometimes words fail us. And we turn to time.
Sometime sometimes makes sometimes some time and not all the time.

ya mian bao

So there I was at the coffeeshop, ordering duck noodle for takeaway.

Me: Ya mian, bao. (Duck noodle, takeaway)

[Lady from shop behind me]

Aunty: Mian bao? Wo men you zhi shi mei you ya er yi. [Bread? We have, only lacking the duck]

[Duckman daos her while I politely smile and roll my eyes inwardly]

Sometimes people need not be too enthusiastic. Especially when cracking cold jokes at 9 in the morning.

:)

Darn.

And so the realization strikes me. Gmail isn't growing as fast as it should. I've used 80% of my gmail space already. 5701mb to be exact, out of 7075mb.

Which isn't very feasible. Thank goodness I'm ending work in a week. But still, time to do house cleaning.

And the limit for Unlimited space looms near. But then again, that's the freedom of email accounts no? You can create more than one and simply shift stuff around to leverage out the space.

Time to get another gmail account me thinks. :)

Blogging.

I'm actually using my gmail account to compose and publish this post directly, without even logging in to blogger. This way, nobody in office can tell at first glance that I'm blogging. It would just seem as if I'm composing an email. Of course, I could make it even more believable by putting a dear sir/ma'am at the beginning. Or a Dear Diary.

The official definition would be to call it a web log instead of a blog but that would be, like, totally, uncool, like, you know, like yea.
But no matter whether you call it a blog, web log, journal or dear diary, you would probably have seen or experienced part of its evolution.
It was only in 1999 that blogs became popular, but even so, it was only for those in the youth demographic. Students used it to vent out frustrations or post ideas or reflections of lectures. Most would rather write it out than type.

Then the blog revolution came. Hosts like livejournal and blogger gained publicity by word of mouth, and experts all sat around and discussed this new trend. Suddenly it seemed as if everyone was blogging. And why not? It offered simplicity - just type and click publish. It offered freedom - why censor your own words? Just rave and rant! Best of all, it offered a chance to be heard, by the millions of people who surf the web. But if everybody is busy blogging, who's busy reading the posts?

So, a natural evolution came about. Podcastings, videos, blog skins, etc etc, it just came. And so now we have all we could ever have. Password protected posts, so your ex can't read about you hating his guts, or parents finding out your desire to run away from home. Skins of every color and type to help you ensure your blog stands out among the rest. You have advertisements on blogs, so one can write and earn money at the same time. And mobile blogging, and it seems as if there is nothing left to revolutionize it any more.

What's the future of blogging then? Googling doesn't find any answer to the question, and perhaps we would never know. Creation of blogs is still high, as much as its demise. True that there are a lot of blogs doesn't mean a lot of people still blog, since some simply stop blogging. Then again, there are some who own more than one blog.

Will blogging hit the ceiling and fade away, like the burst of the dotcom bubble? Surely not, since it caters to a need inside each of us - the need to be heard. It gives us a voice, and most of us don't bite the hand that feeds us. Perhaps there will be two distinct types of blogs in the future. One which is public and allows us to express our views, opinions on any subject, openly and without discrimination. The other would be that which is highly secure, and hack-resistant. The latter blog allows us to reveal our deepest secrets to ourselves. It allows us to pen down our thoughts crucial to our emotional life, and answers the questions we post.

What do you think? Will blogging decline steadily or simply remain constant till the internet gets overcrowded?

music madness 2

can you feel the rhythm of the falling
raindrops keep falling on my head
head and shoulders knees and
those were the days my friend we thought they'll never
[it's the] end of the world

joy to the world all the boys and
girls watch the boys go
by the rivers of babylon as we sat
downtown where everything's waiting for
you are the sunshine of my
[the circle of] life and it moves us
all or nothing at
all by myself don't wanna
be-yond the sea somewhere waiting for me
me a name i call my self far a
long way to go
go go go go gadget flow.
by lupe fiasco.

cause it's like im in a sphere
and around me float those lines of songs
and phrases and titles
and the emotions all lighted panels
behind and above
and i reach and grasp
and pluck them off their flight plan
but more keeps coming
and the more i take
the more it comes
and a sweep of the hand
and it moves to the left
point the finger and it shrinks
just take and combine
these thoughts in my head
they keep running they keep chasing
these songs in my head
they keep playing they keep singing.

Maybe it's an R thing

I believe in numbers and letters of the alphabet. I don't worship them of course.

7's a nice number. It signifies completion. Seven days in a week. Just read any book of the bible, and seven would be in it. Seven years of famine, the Pharaoh was told. To forgive seventy times seven. Seven seals of revelation, and the list goes on and on.

I kind of look for stuff that could mean one or the other. Names. Letters of names. Numbers of letters of names.

Like me and Js and me and Rs. Coincidence some say, but I don't have, perhaps I don't believe in coincidences.

Second R to fail. History seems to repeat itself. Can't get too close to an R. That's what the R in hurt stands for.

Guilt.

Wouldn't it be nice to just start all over again, and embark on a new life.
Just restart the computer, or create a new email account; a new identity.
But it doesn't really work that way.

We could lock up the memories that we don't need or want and banish them from our minds forever. But there will come a time when they would break free and come back, twice as heavy the burden.

A new name, a new person, but deep down no matter how many new identities we create, or try to imitate or conform to, we will still be the same person, at the end of the day.

And so we live on, day by day, to perish at the end of the day just so we awake alive at the beginning of the next. To do as much good as we can, during the day, because of the bad that we did the day before. Or the week. Or the month. Or the year.

Despite being assured of our salvation.

Guilt.

I saw you yesterday. Wondered if you saw me. Then feared the thought of you even seeing me. Who knows what you might or might not do to me.

'Cause I would be unable to provide an explanation if you asked me for it.
You could pound me all you want, but there would be no possible explanation ever.

Perhaps your friends were right about me. But I did enjoy the time with you. I think you did too.

And it hurts.

'Cause now I'm back to square one.

smile.

And the gavel pounds on the block, and the sound resounds through the skies.

And all stop their rejoicing, and look towards the gates, to see who has arrived next.

Singers pause and prepare their scores for the welcome chorus, while dancers gets into position. Drummers raise their arms in expectation, as waiters prepare the feast for the new addition.

But he does not know this, he that stands behind the gates, he that is in front of
he that pounds the gavel on the block.

And with each pound, a memory flashes through the mind. A good deed, an act done in kindness and with goodwill towards men.

And with every pound, a memory flashes through the mind. An evil deed, a vicious thought, hurtful speeches, and seeds of discord.

And a balance appears, and the deeds of each kind are placed and weighed.

The balance leans heavily towards one side, and it's not the good deeds.

Every being behind the gate, that was rejoicing and dancing and singing now stops, and looks in the same direction, their hearts hoping and praying.

And there is sadness in the air. But then a gasp of astonishment is echoed through the beings, unseen and unnoticed behind the gates. The scales have tipped back to the other side, in favour of the good deeds.

A closer look reveals a drop of blood.

And the gates open.

why so serious

Glass shatters everywhere as he run and crashes into mirror after mirror. Blood trickles down his forehead, as fragments get embedded in his flesh, but he keeps going forward, and onward.

He slips and falls, but picks himself and continues charging forward, towards the light. Each time the light draws near, and he thinks he has found it, only to find it's a mirror and he crushes it to pieces.

He's in a bloody mess by now. Blood all over his face, and shreds of glass cover his flesh. And there's a mirror in front of him, and he's disgusted by what he sees. The monster, the beast, a useless blood-dripping carcass.

And, out of the darkness, a bat whacks him at the side of the head.

And out of the darkness, a voice springs within his head.

"Why so serious" and an evil laughter rumbles through the cave.

The bat falls again, and he reaches forward, his fingers grasping for the mirror; to shatter, to break, to kill the shadow behind.

Only to realise it's not a mirror.

And the bat falls. For the last time.

your eyes.

The door slams shut, and the light goes off.
Pitch darkness. He waves his hand in front of him, and sees
black, cold, cruel darkness.

Then a flame flickers and illuminates the room.
Room of skeletons.

One by one they come alive
and take on human faces
shapes sizes features
people from history.

and then their voices attack.
swift hrash fuirous mericless
cold.

why did you neglect G.
how could you hang up on I
as she laid on her bed and cried
and called you
which you didn't pick up.
why did you make R suffer so much
after all she has already gone through.
how could you do that to J
and leave her crippled and hurt.

and he shudders at the force
of their blasts
and he backs till he can retreat no more

he stammers stumbles trying
to come out with something
reasons or explanations
but no words come out
and the sorrys doesn't
calm the soul

and he feels something trickling down his head
and it ain't sweat but something red
it feels thick and makes him faint
it's getting slick and drives him insane

and he trips and falls
to his knees
and he cries out
for mercy, and for forgiveness

and his legs hit on something
shiny that glimmers
and he picks it up
and it's a double edged sword.

and he walks towards the light
as his life slowly fades
every step he takes
brings him closer to the gates
and he looks around in sadness
at what he has done
and he looks forward with tears in his eyes
as he hears the words
'Welcome home, my son.'

History

The age of 20 draws nigh. And history seems to repeat that many times two.

Cause when two becomes one
you'll be twenty one

Songs in my head
they keep spinning
they keep churning
like a blender overheated
like movies overrated

i like to boogie
boogie wonderland
cause night fever night fever
fever!
cause it's only words
and words are all i have
have you ever really loved a woman
do you remember
oh wake me up when september ends
cause there're two less lonely people in the world
oh don't they know it's the end of the world
softly and tenderly
oh won't you dance with me
cause i'm wishin and hopin
hopin for a lover like you
can you feel the love tonight
cause tonight i celebrate my love for you
you are my sunshine
cause you're the meaning in my life
cause you look wonderful tonight
and i think i'm crazy
so won't you close every door to me
keep those i love from me
because come what may
i will love you
you light up my life
cause it's all or nothing at all
say you say me
if i could turn back time
time goes by so slowly
by the rivers of babylon
i had a dream a song to sing
sing it loud sing it strong
cause three words ain't enough
you and i collide
yesterday all my troubles seem so far away
when you tell me that you love me
cause i'm all out of love
love is beautiful
where do i begin to tell the story of
i believe i can fly
fly fly into the sky
unbreak my heart
do you know where you're going to
and life is a road that I wanna keep going
going to the chapel of love
l is for the way
and i did it my way.

flotsam

Two pieces of flotsam drifting on the waters
bumped into each other
floated for a week
then currents pushed them apart
for a week
they stayed away from each other
till the turn of tide
and they drifted together
in the same direction
for a week
till the tide of turn
and now one would wonder
for a week
whether they will drift together
or in opposite directions.

so near yet so far.
seven years apart.
cares.

WEiRdneSS.

Sometimes being impromptu means preparing beforehand. I encountered a terrible emcee today. Well, his words were fine and his pronunciation had no fault, he did not make obvious mistakes like speaking monotonously or stuff his hands in his pockets, or make exaggerated gestures.

His jokes brought the house down. Onto their knees, begging for relief. I'm not saying it's wrong to crack jokes, but sometimes one has to prepare beforehand and appear as if the joke was thought of seconds ago. And, the jokes have to be linked, to the subject or theme or aim of the event.

I literally cringed every time the emcee came back on stage. True, he redeemed himself a little, when he poked fun at the contestants during an audience participation game, but then he killed all hope, when he cracked a joke. Or tried to.

And participants in competitions should learn not to crack private jokes in public. It's like displaying the hua yi is cool campaign in french or german or russian. Nobody will understand. And what good is a joke if nobody understands?

WEiRdneSS.

Euuu-logy

I've been thinking a lot about my eulogy. Maybe I shall compose and post it before I enlist. In case anything happens, people know what to say at my funeral. haha, I sound so pessimistic. But sometimes it's good to think about your eulogy.

[Just in case you're wondering, it ain't euuu-logy. It can be found in the dictionary, and it's a piece of commendation or praise that is said about you at your funeral, like a testimonial except you can't use it to get a job.]

Sometimes it's good to think about what your eulogy should be. Not that you can force someone to say it at your funeral if it ain't true. After all, it reveals the aim of your life. Let's say in your eulogy, you want it said that you're slow to anger and quick to encourage. You cannot continue being hot tempered and prone to anger, if you get my drift.

Reminds me of the joke I heard. A very very very bad man died, and his brother gave the priest a hundred bucks to say that he was an angel during the eulogy. Now the priest couldn't say no, but to say the guy was an angel was a lie, since he was a bad man. So, the priest started the eulogy and listed every sin the guy did, from adultery to murder to rape to theft. And ended with "But to his brother, he was an angel."

Agar-pella

Perhaps it is easy to sing a medley, since most songs have common words. It's just a matter of tune and rhythm. and pitch. Perhaps not.

I went for the Acapella Championships just now. College and Open category. Honestly, as I heard the first two groups, I contemplated the loss of twenty bucks - the cost of my ticket. Then the third group came, and it made every cent worth.

Probably waaaaaaaaaay back many eons ago, acapella championships were, well, acapella championships. Pure blissful singing and nay a gesture of artistic creativity. Speed up to the current era, and competitors nowadays have it harder. Wider repertoire of songs to choose from, fashion themes to consider, steps to be practiced and roles to remember. You can't just stand and sing. You gotta dress nice, move nice, skip a little here sway a little there blah blah blah.

Of course, if school bands engage the audience attention with their acrobatic movements, and school choirs dabble a little in dancing or comedic storyline, then it would only be a matter of time before acapella groups follow suit.

Now, it just makes me wonder, if so many music groups are doing dances and weird stuff, what about dance and weird stuff groups? What, they gotta sing now?

Five w-s.

Why do we delight in the opposite gender, be it love or companionship. or both?

What draws one to another, or another from another?

What stimulates our senses, allows us to see our mistakes and ways to rectifies them?

What decides who we be with and who we be with not?

Why do we click well with some and not others?

different frequencied song

So the other day I was a bit bored, and decided to brainstorm a bit on what would come again in the future. I mean it's one thing to predict robots and another thing to come up with an actual prototype of robots, if ya get my drift.

And, I got so proud of myself for thinking of tripods for handphones, since megapixels are increasing by the thousands, [no pun intended], and then I went to google and found it was already invented. Darn.

But then I thought of something. Imagine a song where everybody hears a different tune. No no, it's not brainwashing or freaky. After all, songs have different pitches and frequencies right, that's how we hear differences between a bass guitar and an electric guitar and cymbals from the high hats, but what if someone did engineer a song in different frequencies?

We all remember how kids in america used sounds just below 20000hrtz which only they could hear and not adults. Of course then some adults said they could hear, and some kids said they couldn't hear. But well, imagine a song with different tunes or words or beats at different frequencies.

how come

have you ever wondered
there're so many break up songs
all for the persons who have been broken up with
but how come there are no songs for those
who broke up?

job

You know, we always try to find a explanation for trials and troubles that we suffer. Take a look at Job, his friends did just that when they came to comfort him, when he was down and out.

His friends offered all reasons for his sufferings and they all agreed he must have sinned greatly so suffer so much. Loss of cattle and livestock, loss of children, loss of property, loss of position and power, even his wife told him to curse God and left him.

I've always thought about this, you know. Like why Christians suffer. Some say its cause of sin, others say it's a test of faith. After all, James tells us to "consider it pure joy when we trials of many kinds". It ain't easy but it is amazing how we quickly jump to we have sinned or others have sinned when we suffer or we see others suffer.

And what does Job tell us, since he has suffered way much more than any of us, and he emerged with twice of what he lost. He tells us that sometimes the reason we get tested is simply because we need to check ourselves.

The devil wanted to use the lack of Job's riches to set him down. No more kids, no house, no livestock, no this no that etc etc, and he nearly did. His friends even went against him, for a while.

And so the question lies, whether we are in for the riches or for that which is what we were called to be.

"Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you" Luke 6:38

baker bake cake

If you want to criticize the cake,
you gotta make sure that you know how to bake
Then you can criticize the baker
who baked the cake.

No point coming down so harsh on me and my team
if you have no idea what you're talking about.
No farmer can harvest the wheat till he has planted it
and know when's the right time to sow
Likewise, he that is in charge of finance should not
interfere in matters of health or labor
lest he loses respect, and reputation.

Suddenly, I feel a bit of how Moses felt.
When he tried to get Pharaoh to allow his people
to leave Egypt
For a better land.

I've never been more infuriated ever.
Well, except in sec two.
But that was a different matter.
You challenge my handling of anger.
But I shall be kind
and not let my anger reside
as the sun go down.

on'tday essmay ithway echtay.

fall.

Thank God birds aren't humans, cause if they were, no bird would learn how to fly.

I did a quick check on how birds learn how to fly, [no, it's not as simple as installing software], and the bird parents have to be cruel.

The first few weeks, the young would naturally be pampered, fed with a golden beak blah blah blah, but this can't last forever, since birds will die eventually. [perhaps humans could learn something from this too eh]

And, so some birds will cajole their young by offering food from a distance, so they would have to walk out of their nest, while other birds would slowly demolish the nest part by part, so at the end, the young has to fly off because there isn't any nest and any food. The food would be a huge factor of course.

Then there are some who gently carry their kid in their beak and then unceremoniously drop down from a height. Self-survival skills would kick in and the bird has no choice but to flutter its wings and try to fly.

But all hope is dashed, because the parent watches over and swoops in to pluck the young to safety.

Sometimes we seem to be falling too fast too furious that we forget somebody's watching over us, and we try our best to stop falling, and can't and we lose hope.

But what good if a bird loses hope while trying to fly, and can never fly? It'll be as useless as a butterfly hiding in its cocoon and not wanting to leave.

Godsend, Godsent.

Sometimes one feels compelled to help. Perhaps it's a gift, some say it might be a talent, others say it's simply being at the right place at the right time, and others call it a Godsend.

But everybody's a Godsend. One could be at the right place for all time, and you may not know it. Till time passes and Godsend becomes Godsent.

But there's no help in pushing. Further stretching an inflated balloon would burst it instead. It would be like fighting currents. Why waste strength fighting currents when one should save the one about to drown?

Sometimes one wants to help so badly but one can only stand aside and watch. and wait. and pray. Till he can provide assistance in any possible way, even if it means going across the island.

Freedom Fighters

Cause we're all freedom fighters
each of us fighting for our own free land
each of us fighting for a place in the band

Have you ever wondered why
the stars still shine when you're down and out
the moon still glistens as you lie down and sulk

Have you ever wondered
if the birds don't sing and the whole world gets quiet
cause you've just been scolded and just been fired

Cause we're all freedom fighters
each of us fighting for our own space
each of us building our own maze

Freedom fighters, we're full of fuel like lighters
we ain't going down without a fight, cause we'll fight with all our might
and we hope we'll soar to greater heights
in search of the sacred land
getting a place in the promised band
to be the better man
to be the one with Jehovah hand

Let me out (cause we're freedom fighters)
Let me out (cause we're explosive as lighters)
Let me out (cause we're masters)
Masters of freedom fighters.

'Cause life.

To stand in a corner, and observe those that walk on by.
Some walk forcefully. They seem to know the paths set aside for them. Till a pothole appears and they get a bit shaken, and pause and ponder. Some of these some continue trudging on, not giving up. Others pause, sit down and cry.

'Cause life is a wonderful journey, it extends to all directions, and each of us chooses our own path.
'Cause life is but full of adventure and ironies that in retrospect, one can sit back and laugh.

To climb a mountain and gaze down above, and observe those who soar like a dove.
Some fly fearfully, staying low in case they fall. Others fly way up high, if they fall, they know they'll land among the clouds. And others. They fall and walk on by.

'Cause life is like a bed of roses, you aim for the petals and if you fall, you'll land among the thorns.
'Cause life is like an antelope. Some see its eyes, and others focus on its horns.

Some think life is the sea. Eat the prey for it's a fish eat fish world. If you're smaller, you're game. If you're bigger, I ain't going to fight you. Yet. And, they surge forward, with few or little friends. No one to fall back on. And when they do, there's only water.

'Cause life is like the big ocean, full of game, full of opportunity.
'Cause life will never be the same, each stream has a different possibility.

And it doesn't matter rain or shine, day or night, we will all need a friend.
A shoulder to rely on, a source of strength, someone whom can heal and mend.

If I pull you up, will you trust me?
If I lift you up, can I be your friend?
If not me, then who?
If not now, then when?

Parental Slappings

As written by a Stomper to MOE:

"Dear Sir

"I would like to draw your attention to an incident which occurred at Fuchun Primary School on Friday 25th July 2008.

"A student was slapped on the face by the teacher for the simple reason that he was unable to translate "Zebra Crossing" from English to another language.

"The parents learnt of this when the child was complaining of pain. Imagine the dilemma of the parents who have never slapped their child since birth.

"What right had the teacher taken to do such an act? No physical action should be taken at any one time which is in line with MOE rulings.

"I made a call this morning (Monday 28th July 2008) to MOE and spoke to a kind lady to get the director of the school to return my call. Unfortunately, she will only speak to the parents concerned.

"The father of the kid has spoken to the vice-principal on this issue and is awaiting their investigation. We want to expedite this issue and that is why I decided to help the parents concerned to get things done.

"Since things are moving too slowly, we would like to seek your urgent help to investigate this issue and if necessary, we need a public apology in print from the teacher or school to the parents concerned.

Thanks."

I read that article on Stomp an hour ago. Needless to say, I was shocked, not by what the teacher did, but what the writer wrote. "Imagine the dilemma of the parents who have never slapped their child since birth."  Can such a thing happen? Not being slapped since birth? The child must be the most obedient child ever!

There can only be two reasons, the child's parents are parents by name and not by role, or the parents are not the main persons in charge of the child's life. Even animals chide their young when they do something wrong, and not just by screaming or shouting. It could entirely not be the parents' fault. Perhaps they were not around when the child does something wrong, thus not being able to serve out the necessary punishments.

How harmful is a slap anyway? For an adult, it would mean a lot. Loss of pride, status and respect. Unhappiness, perhaps hatred towards he that slappeth me.

What about a child? A child's mind is more sensitive to actions, feelings and events. It could affect him mentally; could result in a fear towards teachers or towards the mandarin language. If he has a younger sibling, he might actually imitate what the teacher did, that is, slapping the sibling when he or she does something wrong.

It would even cause conflict between the parent and the child, at the very least. While the matter would be cleared much quicker by posting online or generating publicity, how about the child? Parents always say they know what's the best for their child. Bullshit, I say. They think they know what's best for their child because it's best for them themselves. Maybe sometimes they are right. Maybe they are not. Which child wants to be known as the one that directly indirectly fired a teacher?

Not many.

And, I would know.

I was one.