The night we spent together
As we laid on the lone bed
I realized i had failed
My own test.
Of control.
Of trust.
From that night on,
I had lost all belief in myself.
In that aspect.
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Saturday, February 26, 2011
and i failed my own test
And looking back on
The night we spent together
As we laid on the lone bed
I realized i had failed
My own test.
Of control.
Of trust.
From that night on,
I had lost all belief in myself.
In that aspect.
The night we spent together
As we laid on the lone bed
I realized i had failed
My own test.
Of control.
Of trust.
From that night on,
I had lost all belief in myself.
In that aspect.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
pining for a lost cause
Pining for a lost cause.
When you smile,
The whole of my world smiles with you.
When you giggle,
My whole world shakes and responds in kind.
And now we're worlds apart.
But a galaxy away i am.
what is this that is written in the stars
Your arrival
Your departure
The birth of a supernova
But the stars aren't placed right.
The birth passes by.
In its wake shooting stars.
I will miss you.
I already do.
When you smile,
The whole of my world smiles with you.
When you giggle,
My whole world shakes and responds in kind.
And now we're worlds apart.
But a galaxy away i am.
what is this that is written in the stars
Your arrival
Your departure
The birth of a supernova
But the stars aren't placed right.
The birth passes by.
In its wake shooting stars.
I will miss you.
I already do.
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Dream sequel
I dreamt a sequel a few nights ago.
Dreams are fascinating wisps of visions bordering on reality and fantasy, somewhere in the category of insanity.
I dreamt i was charging up the stairs and into a classroom. I proceeded to pry open the individual window panes at the back, so as to exit from there and leap into another world, where there were caves and weird dwellings. I had to retrieve a mystical object to save the earth or something like that.
I had actually dreamt this - setting and mission - before. And my mind had actually remembered that, because interestingly enough, I remarked to myself 'not again' and brought up the previous dream. All these within my dream sequel.
The only thing different was that this time round, I wasn't alone. Sadly though, in dreams, you can't really choose which perspective you wish to view it. Unlike in computer games, where you decide which point of view you wish to peer from, you aren't given this freedom of choice in dreams.
Now I'm just waiting for a part three, and it will be a trilogy.
Dreams are fascinating wisps of visions bordering on reality and fantasy, somewhere in the category of insanity.
I dreamt i was charging up the stairs and into a classroom. I proceeded to pry open the individual window panes at the back, so as to exit from there and leap into another world, where there were caves and weird dwellings. I had to retrieve a mystical object to save the earth or something like that.
I had actually dreamt this - setting and mission - before. And my mind had actually remembered that, because interestingly enough, I remarked to myself 'not again' and brought up the previous dream. All these within my dream sequel.
The only thing different was that this time round, I wasn't alone. Sadly though, in dreams, you can't really choose which perspective you wish to view it. Unlike in computer games, where you decide which point of view you wish to peer from, you aren't given this freedom of choice in dreams.
Now I'm just waiting for a part three, and it will be a trilogy.
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i stepped
I stepped
I skidded
Sorry snail
Goo
Death by shoe.
I walked
I leaped
Poor snail
Crushed
By another
Shoe, another
Feet, another
Person.
I skidded
Sorry snail
Goo
Death by shoe.
I walked
I leaped
Poor snail
Crushed
By another
Shoe, another
Feet, another
Person.
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Wednesday, February 23, 2011
different ballgame
You know it's a different ball game when....
first you recess-ed with females who spoke about backstabbers..
then you lunch-ed with females who talked about periods...
now you dinner-ed with females who share about their childbirth experiences...
first you recess-ed with females who spoke about backstabbers..
then you lunch-ed with females who talked about periods...
now you dinner-ed with females who share about their childbirth experiences...
Saturday, February 19, 2011
fore four
Four of them, there are.
All attached too.
Communication comes in many ways.
One I talked to online often, and when we chatted in person, it just became natural: no ice.
Another easy-going. But she guards herself well. Our communication is only as indepth as she says it to be.
The third intrigues me. The questions she asked to break the ice. Favorite color, favorite food. Ingenious. And memorable.
The last, we had no ice. She has my heart. I wonder why.
You know the thing about friends, or maybe, newfound friends, is that the beginning often seems blurry. I can't recall the exact starting events of how I got to know them. I just do. One added me on facebook, and so I know of her. Another was my mentee. I chatted up one. And the last, I simply can't pinpoint when.
But it does not matter, because one should look to the future but live in the present, and not ponder the past.
They draw me out of my shell.
Is it a good thing or a bad thing?
Only time will tell.
Too used am I to helping.
Being helped is a little uncomfortable.
What to make of it.
They make my life rather joyful.
All attached too.
Communication comes in many ways.
One I talked to online often, and when we chatted in person, it just became natural: no ice.
Another easy-going. But she guards herself well. Our communication is only as indepth as she says it to be.
The third intrigues me. The questions she asked to break the ice. Favorite color, favorite food. Ingenious. And memorable.
The last, we had no ice. She has my heart. I wonder why.
You know the thing about friends, or maybe, newfound friends, is that the beginning often seems blurry. I can't recall the exact starting events of how I got to know them. I just do. One added me on facebook, and so I know of her. Another was my mentee. I chatted up one. And the last, I simply can't pinpoint when.
But it does not matter, because one should look to the future but live in the present, and not ponder the past.
They draw me out of my shell.
Is it a good thing or a bad thing?
Only time will tell.
Too used am I to helping.
Being helped is a little uncomfortable.
What to make of it.
They make my life rather joyful.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
you and me
The boy watch the girl
Watch the boy watch the girl
Go by.
You and I.
We watch each other
This visual dance we seem to be doing
Look around (look around)
Focus on me (focus on you)
Our eyes meet (our eyes meet)
Look around (look around)
Focus on me (focus on you)
Our eyes meet (then they part)
Our weekly visual gazes.
Watch the boy watch the girl
Go by.
You and I.
We watch each other
This visual dance we seem to be doing
Look around (look around)
Focus on me (focus on you)
Our eyes meet (our eyes meet)
Look around (look around)
Focus on me (focus on you)
Our eyes meet (then they part)
Our weekly visual gazes.
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Cowardice isn't very nice.
I was lambasted by a customer today.
It was terrible.
Now, my usual practice is to squeeze as many customer-service-y words into my speech as possible. Like 'allow me to assist you' for example. all polite words and courteous and gracious and totally not from the heart kindof words.
But what this customer really challenged me was a verbal argument. Now honestly, I can say nothing has really fazed me. I had a customer scold me fuck you bastard about three times before. And he was yelling for ten minutes before he hung up. That I can get. But what I totally cannot comprehend is the way this customer thinks.
He had accused me, vehemently of not doing my job. And that I was using the wrong words, as I wasn't assisting him, or helping him, but rather that it was my job to fix his problem. I was his job fixer, apparently. (Another title to add to my job portfolio).
His issue was regarding a data roaming charge he had incurred while overseas. His argument was that he had called in regarding the issue. Now it was up to us to fix for him, and to adhere to his demands.
What really struck out at me is that this is supposed to be my job. And not that I was going to assist him, or to aid or to help him, and I simply should not use any selfless words to placate him and just to admit the problem is mine.
Now this is really perplexing, because the way I see it, every problem has to be solved mutually. I liken his argument to say that the job of the police is to protect the citizens and abdicate crime. So, if the city still has crime, it means they aren't doing their job.
Which strikes me as absurd.
So, after I breathe out a little, and let the strong air con at work cool me down, I take a step back and think. Now what's so different about this man? Why does he affect me so?
I come to this conclusion. He was attacking my safety perimeter. I'm proud of my confidence in my language skills. And this dude was attacking it. He was attacking the very heart of my job. Without words, I am unable to perform my job. He was encroaching into my personal verbal space.
Also, he was pushing ALL the blame to me. Seriously, the three telcos should join forces and organize classes at CCs on 'How to turn off data roaming when overseas.'
Lastly, I come to form an impression of him based on his words. He is job-oriented. He knows his limitations of his job, and will not work out of what he is paid to do. He most likely does not display initiative. He is in a managerial level position, where he is accustomed to delegating tasks and that it gets done by whomever he assigns it to. He isn't a perfectionist, though he might think he is. He likes to put others around him down. He is not afraid to speak his mind, which will be to his disadvantage most of the time.
And so, I have unlocked a new type of customer. *drum roll and a cymbal crash*
Oh, and after ranting he hung up on me. What a feelings-cheater. The worst people aren't those that scold and scream at me. It's those that scold and scream and then hang up / run away / zao lor and not allow me to assist, no sorry, to solve their problems. Cowardice isn't very nice.
It was terrible.
Now, my usual practice is to squeeze as many customer-service-y words into my speech as possible. Like 'allow me to assist you' for example. all polite words and courteous and gracious and totally not from the heart kindof words.
But what this customer really challenged me was a verbal argument. Now honestly, I can say nothing has really fazed me. I had a customer scold me fuck you bastard about three times before. And he was yelling for ten minutes before he hung up. That I can get. But what I totally cannot comprehend is the way this customer thinks.
He had accused me, vehemently of not doing my job. And that I was using the wrong words, as I wasn't assisting him, or helping him, but rather that it was my job to fix his problem. I was his job fixer, apparently. (Another title to add to my job portfolio).
His issue was regarding a data roaming charge he had incurred while overseas. His argument was that he had called in regarding the issue. Now it was up to us to fix for him, and to adhere to his demands.
What really struck out at me is that this is supposed to be my job. And not that I was going to assist him, or to aid or to help him, and I simply should not use any selfless words to placate him and just to admit the problem is mine.
Now this is really perplexing, because the way I see it, every problem has to be solved mutually. I liken his argument to say that the job of the police is to protect the citizens and abdicate crime. So, if the city still has crime, it means they aren't doing their job.
Which strikes me as absurd.
So, after I breathe out a little, and let the strong air con at work cool me down, I take a step back and think. Now what's so different about this man? Why does he affect me so?
I come to this conclusion. He was attacking my safety perimeter. I'm proud of my confidence in my language skills. And this dude was attacking it. He was attacking the very heart of my job. Without words, I am unable to perform my job. He was encroaching into my personal verbal space.
Also, he was pushing ALL the blame to me. Seriously, the three telcos should join forces and organize classes at CCs on 'How to turn off data roaming when overseas.'
Lastly, I come to form an impression of him based on his words. He is job-oriented. He knows his limitations of his job, and will not work out of what he is paid to do. He most likely does not display initiative. He is in a managerial level position, where he is accustomed to delegating tasks and that it gets done by whomever he assigns it to. He isn't a perfectionist, though he might think he is. He likes to put others around him down. He is not afraid to speak his mind, which will be to his disadvantage most of the time.
And so, I have unlocked a new type of customer. *drum roll and a cymbal crash*
Oh, and after ranting he hung up on me. What a feelings-cheater. The worst people aren't those that scold and scream at me. It's those that scold and scream and then hang up / run away / zao lor and not allow me to assist, no sorry, to solve their problems. Cowardice isn't very nice.
Monday, February 14, 2011
i confess
I confess sometimes I get a litttle apprehensive when heading out of home into a frequented public area. There're just so many details leaping out at me, seeking to catch my attention.
Now before one thinks 'why would anyone want to catch your attention', bear in mind that most of us wear something or carry something to grasp other's attention. In fact, no matter where you go to, there's always something that catches your eye. Maybe the ad in the train, or the purple dress the girl is wearing, or the business man with a golden pen in his pocket that stands out from his white and black outfit. Or the youth with red and white shades. Or the girl beside me with her ipod and its yellow cover.
And so sometimes i have to brace myself for this onslaught of details. Colors, designs. And that's just the tip of the iceberg.
Most people plug in their earphones to shut out the rest of the world. So we don't hear that loud prc on the phone five seats away. Or the aunties yapping about the latest sale and their repeated 'han nor han nor'.
Now ideally, when we fill our ears with something that doesn't match what we see, our sight gets maximized to notice details. Of course, sometimes we get caught in our own thoughts.
But for me, my vision sortof gets sharpened. Every detail seem to scream at me.
Like the dude opposite me in black shades and green nike shirt with white nike shoes. He wear a crumpler bag. But this is alright, because there're fixed variables in this train carriage. To an extent, this is a controlled environment, because entry and exit is only by the train doors. There's a limit on the influx and outflow of passengers.
However, when i walk out of Bugis mrt station, the real trouble is. I'm not claustrophobic. In fact, when I was young and burrow into some corner to hide and seek relief. Either I watched too many shows of ostrichs and their head in the ground, or I relished death. But that's a topic for another time.
Bugis station is very packed. People coming in, people going out. And sometimes it really hits me. When I walk out, all the detail. Not just clothes or colors or accessories, but mannerisms and expressions. The look on their faces, the emotions in their eyes, their speech and movement patterns, the swing of their hands, the positions they stand.
It can be overwhelming at times.
This is my confession. Overwhelmed by sight.
Now before one thinks 'why would anyone want to catch your attention', bear in mind that most of us wear something or carry something to grasp other's attention. In fact, no matter where you go to, there's always something that catches your eye. Maybe the ad in the train, or the purple dress the girl is wearing, or the business man with a golden pen in his pocket that stands out from his white and black outfit. Or the youth with red and white shades. Or the girl beside me with her ipod and its yellow cover.
And so sometimes i have to brace myself for this onslaught of details. Colors, designs. And that's just the tip of the iceberg.
Most people plug in their earphones to shut out the rest of the world. So we don't hear that loud prc on the phone five seats away. Or the aunties yapping about the latest sale and their repeated 'han nor han nor'.
Now ideally, when we fill our ears with something that doesn't match what we see, our sight gets maximized to notice details. Of course, sometimes we get caught in our own thoughts.
But for me, my vision sortof gets sharpened. Every detail seem to scream at me.
Like the dude opposite me in black shades and green nike shirt with white nike shoes. He wear a crumpler bag. But this is alright, because there're fixed variables in this train carriage. To an extent, this is a controlled environment, because entry and exit is only by the train doors. There's a limit on the influx and outflow of passengers.
However, when i walk out of Bugis mrt station, the real trouble is. I'm not claustrophobic. In fact, when I was young and burrow into some corner to hide and seek relief. Either I watched too many shows of ostrichs and their head in the ground, or I relished death. But that's a topic for another time.
Bugis station is very packed. People coming in, people going out. And sometimes it really hits me. When I walk out, all the detail. Not just clothes or colors or accessories, but mannerisms and expressions. The look on their faces, the emotions in their eyes, their speech and movement patterns, the swing of their hands, the positions they stand.
It can be overwhelming at times.
This is my confession. Overwhelmed by sight.
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Saturday, February 12, 2011
call centre of the future
Imagine you have a problem with your phone bill. (Most singaporeans wouldn't find that hard to imagine.) Or you have a technical problem with your phone or cable or internet.
So, like any other normal being, you call in and send a plea for help. You have a deadline to meet and need to go online to submit the assignment. Or you have an important conference call coming soon. Or you just can't understand the bill.
But you have no clue what the person on the other end is speaking. What wire? What port? Which part of the bill? I don't have that page.
Sometimes it seems so frustrating and you want to see the same thing that the other person is looking at. Perhaps, in the near future you might.
After all, mobile operators offer television and/or internet services, isn't it about time they came out with innovative after-sales service as well?
You have a dispute about the bill. You call in using skype on your office computer. A window opens and a live video conference is done via your built-in webcam. You see a man dressed neatly in a long sleeve shirt and pants. Or a hoodie, shirt and jeans. Doesn't really care as long as he gets the job done right? And he does.
He stands in a small room with a pedestal in front of him, and a touchscreen. You see the bill appear magnified on a screen behind him, and now you can see which part of the bill he is referring to.
If it's a technical problem, you can see which part of the modem he is referring to. Or which port you are supposed to plug in your cable.
Now, wouldn't that be something. A bit csi. A bit high tech. A bit customer service. A bit not cost effective. Or is it? Would this increase or decrease overheads?
So, like any other normal being, you call in and send a plea for help. You have a deadline to meet and need to go online to submit the assignment. Or you have an important conference call coming soon. Or you just can't understand the bill.
But you have no clue what the person on the other end is speaking. What wire? What port? Which part of the bill? I don't have that page.
Sometimes it seems so frustrating and you want to see the same thing that the other person is looking at. Perhaps, in the near future you might.
After all, mobile operators offer television and/or internet services, isn't it about time they came out with innovative after-sales service as well?
You have a dispute about the bill. You call in using skype on your office computer. A window opens and a live video conference is done via your built-in webcam. You see a man dressed neatly in a long sleeve shirt and pants. Or a hoodie, shirt and jeans. Doesn't really care as long as he gets the job done right? And he does.
He stands in a small room with a pedestal in front of him, and a touchscreen. You see the bill appear magnified on a screen behind him, and now you can see which part of the bill he is referring to.
If it's a technical problem, you can see which part of the modem he is referring to. Or which port you are supposed to plug in your cable.
Now, wouldn't that be something. A bit csi. A bit high tech. A bit customer service. A bit not cost effective. Or is it? Would this increase or decrease overheads?
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Thursday, February 10, 2011
soaring
Leap up turn and split
Spin swivel then Jump a bit
Feel the thumpings of my feet.
Why do I feel so.
This hunger. This anguish.
This relief of malice.
Ice cubes have a heart.
It melts.
I have a heart.
It burns for you.
The more I know you,
The more I lose myself.
Into oblivion.
Into esctasy.
Soaring over the wilderness.
Into molten lava.
Beat in grief.
Roar in depression.
Stamp with disapproval.
Whack with disbelief.
But i still believe.
To touch and not to hold.
To hold and not to let go.
To let go and not to live.
To live and not to suffer.
To suffer and not to die.
To die and not to relish.
To relish and not to miss.
To miss and not to give.
To give and not to touch.
Soaring.
In my own world.
Beats beats.
Spin swivel then Jump a bit
Feel the thumpings of my feet.
Why do I feel so.
This hunger. This anguish.
This relief of malice.
Ice cubes have a heart.
It melts.
I have a heart.
It burns for you.
The more I know you,
The more I lose myself.
Into oblivion.
Into esctasy.
Soaring over the wilderness.
Into molten lava.
Beat in grief.
Roar in depression.
Stamp with disapproval.
Whack with disbelief.
But i still believe.
To touch and not to hold.
To hold and not to let go.
To let go and not to live.
To live and not to suffer.
To suffer and not to die.
To die and not to relish.
To relish and not to miss.
To miss and not to give.
To give and not to touch.
Soaring.
In my own world.
Beats beats.
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Monday, February 07, 2011
bus ride home
I'm on the way home on bus 81 as I'm writing this.
Beside me is an upper sec male student and behind him his female friend. I have no clue why they do not want to sit side by side to talk.
So I eavesdrop un-purposefully. After all, I can't Not listen when the dude's mouth faces my ear when he turns to speak to her.
Apparently they have two mutual friends named Marcus and Chelsea. Marcus like Chelsea. Marcus is vulgar. Chelsea suspects but Marcus has not plucked up his courage to tell her yet. So they are discussing how to persuade him to tell her.
The usual scoo-qiu-ren (puppy) love story. But this isn't what impacts me.
What strikes me is that her voice is very irritating. I have no idea if this is scientifically possible but i believe age comes with tone. And from the way her voice keeps zao sia-ing and her various pitches, she either has a very wide vocal range, or she has yet to find her voice.
I believe each of us have our own voice. And we need to find it. The right pitch, and depth, that resonates from the heart.
After all, how do you trust or believe or radiate confidence if you don't even know your own voice? Take the old man in front of me. His head is short and white. He wears a faded short sleeve shirt. His voice stems of confidence. I have no clue what he is saying, cause his cheena a bit chim, but I know that he is confident and speaks forcefully, the weight pressing every word down. He is frustrated about the education system and is identifying every flaw. After identifying, he proceeds to elaborate and provides examples. He would probably score very well for argumentative essays.
Work helps me hone my listening skills; both in tolerance levels as well as in identifying confidence/s.
Some people stammer when they speak. Others shout. Some whisper. Some rant on and on and on. But they fail to realize it is not the speed or volume that warrants attention. It is the delivery. (And I don't mean caesarean or natural).
How you speak what you speak for the reason you are speaking. I could shout but not believe every word I say and you will know it and take me lightly. This is why sometimes I take vocal threats lightly. Not that the dude on the other end is raving mad, or that he isn't worthy enough to be taken seriously, but he's actually just breathing air into the phone. If he said his demands nicely, I would actually take him seriously.
A quick example is this. Think of all the television dramas involving terrorists or hijackers or kidnappers or bank hold-em-uppers (I doubt there's such a word). You know the part where they lists their demands over their phones? They don't shout or scream it through. They say it in slow, controlled tones. And they get taken seriously, don't they.
We always think that volume equals to action. But if this were true, we would all have gone deaf from listening to each other shout. And doctors will never give people with hoarse throats medicine cause they wouldn't be taken seriously.
So the pitch is important as the delivery as well.
Why don't you take a listen and reflect upon what you hear? Just unplug your earphones. And listen. Not the words. (Though that is important too) but the tone. The pitch. The delivery.
For these are non-verbal communicators delivered verbally. Its importance is more than words.
Beside me is an upper sec male student and behind him his female friend. I have no clue why they do not want to sit side by side to talk.
So I eavesdrop un-purposefully. After all, I can't Not listen when the dude's mouth faces my ear when he turns to speak to her.
Apparently they have two mutual friends named Marcus and Chelsea. Marcus like Chelsea. Marcus is vulgar. Chelsea suspects but Marcus has not plucked up his courage to tell her yet. So they are discussing how to persuade him to tell her.
The usual scoo-qiu-ren (puppy) love story. But this isn't what impacts me.
What strikes me is that her voice is very irritating. I have no idea if this is scientifically possible but i believe age comes with tone. And from the way her voice keeps zao sia-ing and her various pitches, she either has a very wide vocal range, or she has yet to find her voice.
I believe each of us have our own voice. And we need to find it. The right pitch, and depth, that resonates from the heart.
After all, how do you trust or believe or radiate confidence if you don't even know your own voice? Take the old man in front of me. His head is short and white. He wears a faded short sleeve shirt. His voice stems of confidence. I have no clue what he is saying, cause his cheena a bit chim, but I know that he is confident and speaks forcefully, the weight pressing every word down. He is frustrated about the education system and is identifying every flaw. After identifying, he proceeds to elaborate and provides examples. He would probably score very well for argumentative essays.
Work helps me hone my listening skills; both in tolerance levels as well as in identifying confidence/s.
Some people stammer when they speak. Others shout. Some whisper. Some rant on and on and on. But they fail to realize it is not the speed or volume that warrants attention. It is the delivery. (And I don't mean caesarean or natural).
How you speak what you speak for the reason you are speaking. I could shout but not believe every word I say and you will know it and take me lightly. This is why sometimes I take vocal threats lightly. Not that the dude on the other end is raving mad, or that he isn't worthy enough to be taken seriously, but he's actually just breathing air into the phone. If he said his demands nicely, I would actually take him seriously.
A quick example is this. Think of all the television dramas involving terrorists or hijackers or kidnappers or bank hold-em-uppers (I doubt there's such a word). You know the part where they lists their demands over their phones? They don't shout or scream it through. They say it in slow, controlled tones. And they get taken seriously, don't they.
We always think that volume equals to action. But if this were true, we would all have gone deaf from listening to each other shout. And doctors will never give people with hoarse throats medicine cause they wouldn't be taken seriously.
So the pitch is important as the delivery as well.
Why don't you take a listen and reflect upon what you hear? Just unplug your earphones. And listen. Not the words. (Though that is important too) but the tone. The pitch. The delivery.
For these are non-verbal communicators delivered verbally. Its importance is more than words.
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Sunday, February 06, 2011
I feel like reposting some of my older posts, just for the kick of it.
Wife: 'What are you doing?'
Husband: Nothing.
Wife: 'Nothing...? You've been reading our marriage certificate for an hour.'
Husband: 'I was looking for the expiry date.'
Wife: 'Do you want dinner?'
Husband: 'Sure! What are my choices?'
Wife: 'Yes or no.'
Wife: 'You always carry my photo in your wallet. Why?'
Hubby: 'When there is a problem, no matter how great, I look at your picture and the problem disappears.'
Wife: 'You see how miraculous and powerful I am for you?'
Hubby: 'Yes! I see your picture and ask myself what other problem can
there be greater than this one?'
Stress Reliever Girl: 'When we get married, I want to share all your
worries, troubles and lighten your burden.'
Boy: 'It's very kind of you, darling, but I don't have any worries or
troubles.'
Girl: 'Well that's because we aren't married yet.'
Son: 'Mum, when I was on the bus with Dad this morning, he told me to
give up my seat to a lady.'
Mom: 'Well, you have done the right thing.'
Son: 'But mum, I was sitting on daddy's lap.'
A newly married man asked his wife, 'Would you have married me if my
father hadn't left me a fortune?'
'Honey,' the woman replied sweetly, 'I'd have married you, NO MATTER WHO
LEFT YOU A FORTUNE!'
Girl to her boyfriend: One kiss and I'll be yours forever The guy replies: 'Thanks for the early warning.'
A wife asked her husband: 'What do you like most in me, my pretty face or my sexy body?'
He looked at her from head to toe and replied: 'I like your sense of humour!'
Link
Names are very very important, most parents would agree. And so they spend hours and hours scouring over encyclopedias and google search results for good baby names. But sometimes no matter how good they are, they can be rather bad when translated in another language. Enjoy what I found online.
Anne Chang
(Mandarin)-Dirty
Anne Chin
(Mandarin) - Keep quiet
Carl Cheng
(Hokkien) - Buttock
Monica Cheng
Hokkien) - Touching your buttocks
Lucy Leow
(Hokkien) - You are dead
Jane Tan
(Mandarin) - Frying eggs
Henry Mah
(Mandarin) - Hate your mum
Paul Chan
(Mandarin) - Bankrupt
Nelson Tan
(Mandarin) - Bird laying eggs
Leslie Tong
(Mandarin) - Rubbish bin
Danny See
(Hokkien) - Squeeze you to death
Pete Tsai
(Hokkien) - Nose droppings
Macy Koh
(Cantonese) - Never die before
Kenny Nair
(Hokkien)- [Need I explain?]
Link
Wife: 'What are you doing?'
Husband: Nothing.
Wife: 'Nothing...? You've been reading our marriage certificate for an hour.'
Husband: 'I was looking for the expiry date.'
Wife: 'Do you want dinner?'
Husband: 'Sure! What are my choices?'
Wife: 'Yes or no.'
Wife: 'You always carry my photo in your wallet. Why?'
Hubby: 'When there is a problem, no matter how great, I look at your picture and the problem disappears.'
Wife: 'You see how miraculous and powerful I am for you?'
Hubby: 'Yes! I see your picture and ask myself what other problem can
there be greater than this one?'
Stress Reliever Girl: 'When we get married, I want to share all your
worries, troubles and lighten your burden.'
Boy: 'It's very kind of you, darling, but I don't have any worries or
troubles.'
Girl: 'Well that's because we aren't married yet.'
Son: 'Mum, when I was on the bus with Dad this morning, he told me to
give up my seat to a lady.'
Mom: 'Well, you have done the right thing.'
Son: 'But mum, I was sitting on daddy's lap.'
A newly married man asked his wife, 'Would you have married me if my
father hadn't left me a fortune?'
'Honey,' the woman replied sweetly, 'I'd have married you, NO MATTER WHO
LEFT YOU A FORTUNE!'
Girl to her boyfriend: One kiss and I'll be yours forever The guy replies: 'Thanks for the early warning.'
A wife asked her husband: 'What do you like most in me, my pretty face or my sexy body?'
He looked at her from head to toe and replied: 'I like your sense of humour!'
Link
Names are very very important, most parents would agree. And so they spend hours and hours scouring over encyclopedias and google search results for good baby names. But sometimes no matter how good they are, they can be rather bad when translated in another language. Enjoy what I found online.
Anne Chang
(Mandarin)-Dirty
Anne Chin
(Mandarin) - Keep quiet
Carl Cheng
(Hokkien) - Buttock
Monica Cheng
Hokkien) - Touching your buttocks
Lucy Leow
(Hokkien) - You are dead
Jane Tan
(Mandarin) - Frying eggs
Henry Mah
(Mandarin) - Hate your mum
Paul Chan
(Mandarin) - Bankrupt
Nelson Tan
(Mandarin) - Bird laying eggs
Leslie Tong
(Mandarin) - Rubbish bin
Danny See
(Hokkien) - Squeeze you to death
Pete Tsai
(Hokkien) - Nose droppings
Macy Koh
(Cantonese) - Never die before
Kenny Nair
(Hokkien)- [Need I explain?]
Link
Saturday, February 05, 2011
If only you knew
If only you knew
every time i see your picture online
the feelings it stirs
To know each time of
his eyes upon your face
his hand upon your hand
his lips caress your skin
Ah, how bitter jealousy is
And envy it's compatriot.
every time i see your picture online
the feelings it stirs
To know each time of
his eyes upon your face
his hand upon your hand
his lips caress your skin
Ah, how bitter jealousy is
And envy it's compatriot.
Friday, February 04, 2011
REcycle REd
Maybe someone should start a recycling plant for red packets.
Less the money of course.
After all, since giving red packets is a chinese tradition,
and china has one of the largest populations on planet earth,
add in the number of chinese nationals living in other countries
add in the number of chinese migrants and their offsprings,
and if every chinese individual recycles at least five red packets,
that would be a lot of paper saved, don't you think?
Besides, what do you do with your red packets anyway?
Less the money of course.
After all, since giving red packets is a chinese tradition,
and china has one of the largest populations on planet earth,
add in the number of chinese nationals living in other countries
add in the number of chinese migrants and their offsprings,
and if every chinese individual recycles at least five red packets,
that would be a lot of paper saved, don't you think?
Besides, what do you do with your red packets anyway?
She walketh by
She walks down the streets,
Her red dress rippling by
the gentle breeze
The shadow she silently desists.
Folly and suppression follow her
as she walks towards freedom
as she heads towards the murky pool of survival
as she lunges towards the end of the
beginning of her life.
She weighs every word she says
balancing it on the scales with
every word that has been said.
She takes time to decide and
in her mind she measures her words
till she is assured of its solidity
before saying it out.
She sits at the piano
gently kneading out her melody
woeful tunes fill the air
tunes of rebellion
melodies of rights
songs of freedom
And in them, she immerses herself
Through chords she paints a picture
of who she was
of who she is
of who she wants to be.
Her sharp eyes view the hole in the dam
the chink in the armor
the loose brick in the wall
And the wall gently crumbles under her watchful gaze
brick by boring brick.
Her red dress rippling by
the gentle breeze
The shadow she silently desists.
Folly and suppression follow her
as she walks towards freedom
as she heads towards the murky pool of survival
as she lunges towards the end of the
beginning of her life.
She weighs every word she says
balancing it on the scales with
every word that has been said.
She takes time to decide and
in her mind she measures her words
till she is assured of its solidity
before saying it out.
She sits at the piano
gently kneading out her melody
woeful tunes fill the air
tunes of rebellion
melodies of rights
songs of freedom
And in them, she immerses herself
Through chords she paints a picture
of who she was
of who she is
of who she wants to be.
Her sharp eyes view the hole in the dam
the chink in the armor
the loose brick in the wall
And the wall gently crumbles under her watchful gaze
brick by boring brick.
Thursday, February 03, 2011
insecurities
The rise of technology means that what was once perceived as minute feelings of insecurities are now amplified as we get cautious and suspicious of every person that comments on our loved one's walls, or tweet mentions, or whatsapp messages, or IMs.
The greater question is, however, does this lead to more trusts, and in time, to the benefit of mankind? After all, companies already google prospective employees to research and verify their background. What more lovers and their loved ones?
The greater question is, however, does this lead to more trusts, and in time, to the benefit of mankind? After all, companies already google prospective employees to research and verify their background. What more lovers and their loved ones?
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