Relief

I here now announce that I will not continue on writing the story on Diki because I am just too lazy. Have a nice day :-)

Tagged

1. What have you been doing recently?
Nothing, and I am proud of it.

2. Do you ever turn your handphone off?
When the battery is dead.

3. What happened at 10am today?
I was dating my laptop.

4. When did you last cry?
Sometime last semester when I watched "1 Litre of tears", or was it last year???

5. Believe in Fate/Destiny?
Fate, not destiny.

6. What do you want in life now?
...

7. Do you carry an umbrella when it rains or put up your hood?
Umbrella obviously. I do not own a hood.

8. What are the nicest things in your inbox?
Pixels

9. Do you tend to make relationships complicated?
I dunno, do I?

10. Are you wearing anything borrowed from anyone?
The atmosphere :)

11. What was the last movie you caught?
The Ugly Truth

12. What are you proud of?
Forests

13. What does the oldest text message in your inbox say and who is it from?
It said something that definitely is not going to affect you and your life, so it does not matter who sent it=) kthxbye

14. What was the last song you sang out loud?
Let me think...Halo???

15. Do you have any nicknames?
Tonnes. And oh, you know at least one of them, congrats:)

16. What does the newest text messgae say and who is it from?
Refer #13.

17. What time did you sleep last night?
12.28 a.m. this morning O.o Ginger sleeps that late?!? This is a rare holiday from AUSMAT, sheesh!

18. Are you currently happy?
Yup yup yup ^.^

19. Who gives you the best advice?
Everyone, because I tend to compile and make my own conclusion.

20. Do you eat whipped cream straight from the can?
Do you eat coffee powder straight from the bottle?

21. Who did you talked to on the phone last night?
Mr Nobody

22. Is something bugging you right now?
Mosquitoes

23. Who is the last person to make you laugh?
Huh, did I laugh today??

24. Do you like yourself?
What kind of question is this?

25. You want $5 or $10?
$5, no $10, no $5, no no $10, wait, why did I put myself through a hypothetical struggle?

26. Do you think you are stupid sometimes?
D'oh.

27. Who is your best best best friend?
My best best best friend.

28. What will you do if you like that boy?
I am straight, thank you.

29. Who are your favourite stars?
I fail at entertainment gossips. So this question is invalid.

30. You hate your mother sometimes in some ways?
I love my mum, though we might have get on each other's nerves at times, but that's just because we share similar personalities.

31. Do you had even stead before??
What's stead? I left my Oxford in the student house and I am too lazy to look it up from merriam-webster.

32. What type of boy do you like?
The male ones.

33. Now are you single/attached?
Attached, do you see my limbs falling off the sockets?

10 people to tag. 10 random names.
Desperately few people reads my not-so-frequently-updated-and-interesting blog, so it's quite difficult to come up with 10 names, but I'll try.

1. Sarah
2. Woei Song
3. Calvin
4. Nicholas
5. Mr Derick
6. Athira
7. Fern
8. Nad
9. Hani
10. Poh Hui

1. Would you date number 5?
We'll talk this over coffee at Starbucks, what do you say Mr D?

2. Number 2 just got in a car crash. How do you react?
Aiyah, Woei Song tu kan MB, tak payah risau lah!

3. You see number 9 with your boy/girlfriend. What do you do?
Hani? They're most probably in One-U or something.

4. You come home and and your room has been ransacked by number 4.
I wouldn't be surprised.

5. Number 1 is acting weird.
And? (It's hard to know what is going on in Sarah's mind.)

6. Numbers 3 & 8 decide to give 10 a haircut.
R.I.P. Calvin and Nad. Poh Hui is going to kill you before you can reach the scissors.

7. Number 7 just got tickets for him/her and you to go to a concert.
Just go if it's a String Quartet.

8. Number 10 takes you to a bar.
I cannot imagine Poh Hui in a bar...

9. Number 4 has to move to the other side of the world.
No! Nic, come back!!! *reaches out my hand*

10. You and number 8 are being chased by the cops for an unknown reason.
Maybe the cops are fans of Anita Sarawak.

11. Number 7 and you are sitting on the couch watching a movie when he/her wrap his/her arm around you.
I don't think Fern will do that. Ever.

12. Number 5 asks you out to dinner.
And say Hi to Starbucks again =)

13. Number 9 and you are sitting on a bus.
And our weight is balanced by the normal force acted on us by the seats.

14. Number 6 calls you in the middle of the night because he/she can't sleep.
Athira! Drink warm milk.

15. You're walking with someone and number 6 runs up and tackles you to the ground from behind.
Maybe drinking warm milk didn't help.

16. Number 1 is crying one day and you ask him/her why and it seems their boy/girlfriend has dumped them.
Ooh, that would be tough...I never consulted anyone on this issue before!

17. Number 2 offers to bake you a meal. As you sit in the other room, the kitchen is suddenly aflame.
Woei Song with his muscular arm and professional Scouts training heaves the fire extinguisher up and skillfully followed the instructions he knew by heart. He took aim with almost prefect accuracy at the flaming gourmet with the nozzle and applies the exact force on the handles with his strong palm. White fumes swirl around the fire, extinguishing it. As Ginger watched the entire procedure in awe, Woei Song calmly said: "Aiya, let's just eat at ATC la..."

18. Number 4 comes to your door one day holding a koala.
What can I say? Both of them are so cute!

19. Number 4 just got you an X-Box.
Now that's random.

20. Number 9 challenges you to a children's card game!
Ok.

21. Number 1 thinks he/she's overweight.
Sarah? Nononononononononono

22. Number 7 looks lonely.
Talk to her la, if I could ever strike up an interesting conversation with anyone.

23. Number 2 asks you rudely to go leave her/him alone.
I must have done something really really bad to tick Woei Song off like that.

24. Numbers 5 and 3 decide to throw a surprise party for you.
Derick and Calvin. I wonder how it will turn out. But the surprise is definitely gone.

25. Number 6 decide to dye his/her hair black. What do you say to that?
LMAO

26. Number 7 tells you he/she is going to go out for a while, and then later you hear about a shooting where he/she went.
Oh, I never knew that Fern is a supermodel. I would want to see the photos.

27. You catch number 9 by him/herself, crying.
Ooh, my mind is always blank whenever I see a girl cry.

28. Numbers 1, 3, 5 and 6 all tackle you at once.
Ouch!!!

Procrastination

...








































...I'll type it later.

What is it that makes it so hard for people to talk to each other? How to break down the emotional wall?

Wow, I think the title of this post broke the record of the longest blog title ever existed.

Anyway, here it is:

It is easy to talk. Just utilise your vocal tract. (D'oh!) If the word "talk" refers to the idea of communication, rather than simply making a voice using the vocal tract, then it is not so easy. A leisurely walk in a bookstore and you will see tonnes of books on display about different communication skills. This shows that how important and difficult communication can be. But, back to the first question, what is it that makes it so hard for people to talk to each other? The reasons are simple. Distance and barrier.

Physical distance, obviously, prevents people to have a tete-a-tete. Web cams are not a solution, you are talking to the person through the monitor's screen. In the movie "A Thousand Years of Good Prayers", Mr Shi Kun is in China, while his daughter, YiLan is in the USA. And this constructed the main plot of the movie, in which Mr Shi is trying to figure out the reason his daughter's failed marriage. YiLan never told her father, and that made him worried enough to fly to the USA to make sure that his daughter is fine. It was after his arrival that in the end, YiLan finally told him the reason.

But why she never told him through the phone or via email? If their relationship is close enough, physical distance is not an impediment. This brings us to the next point, the emotional distance. Emotional distance makes it hard for people to communicate. When one creates a shell around him/her, people find it difficult to approach that person even when they are close to each other. And even when they did approach that person, the talking is void. Void of emotion, void of enthusiasm, void of connection. That was what happened between YiLan and Mr Shi. YiLan has confined herself in an emotional shell that even her father had a difficult time to chisel through. Even when they first met in 12 years at the airport, there is a sense of emptiness though she appeared to be glad to see her father. Unlike YiLan, Madam, a Persian lady, has an open heart, and that eased the communication between Mr Shi and her although they both had limited understanding or English. They connect even when words fail them.

Another reason for that is that there is a barrier of generation gap. When a youth talks to a senior member of the society about, say, MMORPG (Massively Multiplayer Online Role Play Game), the senior member would not understand and had no interest in it. Likewise, when an old man talks to a youth about his recent bonsai growth, most of the time he/she would be turned off. Interest is just one of the barriers. Another barrier is the moral view of the society structure. The older generations are more conservative, while the younger ones are less so. Just like in the movie (again), Mr Shi scoffs at his daughter's volume and etiquette over the phone when she talks to her boyfriend and said that she talks like a prostitute. This opinion arises due to the fact that in Mr Shi's time, a woman is supposed to be quiet and well-mannered. On the other hand, YiLan lives in one of the most liberal countries in the world where conservatives are a rarity. Hence, the generation gap makes it hard for people to talk to each other.

So, how to overcome the problem? Some people say that it is impossible to do so due to individual opinions about the worldly issues. And this difference in opinions make it hard for people to talk to each other. Nay, a similarity in opinions will lead to a discussion. A difference in opinions will lead to a debate. So, just talk. Talk and talk and talk and sooner or later, the sound waves would shatter all the walls. If we don't talk, there will never be a chance for us to connect to people or people to connect to us. And we need an open mind. Be liberal about issues while holding to one's key values or principles. In that way, communication would not be so difficult after all.

Tale of the Fairy Tales - Chapter 3

"My what?" said Diki, astonished.

"Your Fairy Godsister," answered Faef, smiling. "Actually, I can tell you why you are here, but..."

"But?"

"But you look stressed. So I thought it would be better if we talk over some coffee."

"Coffee?", and Diki felt his body was instantly energised by the sound of that word. It was better than milk, though sometimes he likes to drink 'teh-tarik ice'.

"Yes," Faef signalled one of her maids, and the maid went away swiftly.

Within a minute, the maid returned with an expensive, floral patterned china set. Steam curled out of the mouth of the teapot in wisps of seductive white fingers. The aroma of the coffee filled theentire room. Diki looked at the coffee as if it was some kind of big afro hair he longed for.

Ajin took over the tray and poured coffee for each of them.

"How many sugar? Whipped cream? Nutmeg? Cinnamon?"

"Just one sugar will do. And no whipped cream and any of the spice powder. I am on a diet," said Faef.

"I'll have two sugar, no whipped cream too. Thanks," said Diki.

For a moment, there's only silence and the sound of coffee sipping in the room. Diki felt like he was floating in the sky, lying on fluffy white clouds and watching blue birds flying over the rainbow. He thought he would never feel alive again. The coffee was really rejuvenating.

Then, Faef spoke, "Feeling better?"

Diki nodded curtly.

"Okay, good. Now I'll tell you why you are here. You have been sent by certain someone to this world t accomplish a mission. And it's a tough one," she paused as if trying to rearrange her next sntence.

"You, Diki, have to go make the fairy tales right. All the stories have gone crazy lately. And you will regain some of your memories on the way. I know it sounds impossible, but it is true. Don't wory, I'll guide you along.

"Who is this certain someone?"

"You will find out eventually. So, are you ready? We can start now."

"Okay," and he realised that all his wounds were healed magically.

"That's the effect of cat saliva, speeds up healing like crazy," winked Ajin.

* * * * * *

"So, lets get started. Ajin, you know where Hobbes is?

"Sure, why?"

"Because we can find Kelvin then. They are like always together."

"Ooh, I don't think so. Kelvin and Hobbes are kind of separated now, you know, ever since he got his new Toshiba. He grew out of Hobbes, Faef. So Hobbes now just stays in the newspaper archive reading the comic strips about them when they were together. Very nostalgic, he says."

"Do you know where Kelvin is now? We need to find him quick."

"Of course! Ajin knows where everybody is! Don't you remember? He is just right here in the Milk house now. Why Kelvin anyway?"

"He could help us get started. The instructions are in my FaceBook," she said, standing up, "his Toshiba will help us get online."

Ajin led the party out of the room and back to the milk house, where there are less people now. However, there is one teenage boy stood out among the crowd. He was lean and tall. He is bespectacled and was typing furiously into his laptop. His hair was cropped short, and he was wearing a pair of jeans and an orange T-shirt that says "Summer Prosperity" written in Chinese calligraphy.

"That's Kel," Ajin said, pointing to that boy.

Faef took a few steps forward, and asked "Kel, may I borrow your laptop for just a sec? I need to go online for awhile, its urgent."

"Sure, just let me finish typing my lab report. Here," he said, finally looking up and turned his laptop towards Faef. He noticed Diki standing there, and smiled warmly to him. Diki returned the smile.

Faef was typing on the keyboard when she cursed "Dammit! Kaybeeyou have blocked FaceBook, and YouTube too apparently using the Matrix system. Worse still, it's the Augmented Matrix! The probability of beating the Augmented Matrix is almost 0, unless Gaussian is here to eliminate the unknowns and variables. I did not see this coming. Why on Auzzmatt would Kaybeeyou block these websites anyway? Like there are lots of people wasting their time on these things. Great, just great. Now I cannot get the instructions," she said, then stopped and then started to smack her hand on her forehead, and laughed "Oh, I am so used to my FaceBook that I forgot that I made a backup file in my email. I will download it in a sec...Done! Here it is,"

Diki looked into the screen, and the message says:

"Ursa Mother Drowned Cerealis. Boiled Remains Served to Family. Spouse Grouse Over Serving's Temperature is Daily Ritual. Blonde Trespasses Ursa Domicile While Ursa Family Promenaded Amongst Pristine Foliage. Gluttony and Lethargy Brought Havoc. Ursa Family Returned, Shocked. Ursa Father Irated. Blonde Fatally Mauled."

"Well, looks like it's a clue to one of the fairy tales. Guess?" Ajin asked the rest.

* * * * *

The Sun, the Satellite and the Stars

The Sun, with its almighty blaze, lightens up the world. And at the same time over shines the Moon and the Stars.

The Moon, with its soft glow, can only shine when the Sun has set. And it borrows the light from the Sun.

The Stars, with their bright twinkle, complements the Moon. And they shine on their own far away from the Moon and the Sun.

Whenever the Sun is present, the Moon and the Stars will shine invisibly behind it. The Sun will be the leader, the king! People depend on its aura and luminosity to work and to survive. Yet, sometimes the Sun gets too hot, sucking every drop of water from the Earth, bringing devastation. And people will do the rain dance in hope of ending the heat. Rain did fall, yet the Sun continues to shine and shine. Nothing can overcome the Sun's scorching aura except for itself. In the solar maximum the Sun is the hottest, and the solar minimum the opposite. This periodic cycle makes people fear of and respect the Sun.

The Moon shines quietly all the time behind the Sun, but nobody can see it until the Sun is gone for the day. The Moon, unlike the Sun, gives the world a soft glow during the night. During the time of darkness, the Sun has gone, yet the Moon is always there to give the people at least some light, some light it borrowed from the Sun. The Moon is neither scorching nor overwhelming. The Moon, however, reflects different amount of light from the Sun every night depending on its position. There are the full Moon, the Crescent and the new Moon. But if only the Moon is there continuing to glow, the world would die without the power of the Sun. The Moon can only provide some temporary relief to the people from the Sun, because people needs the Sun.

The Stars, guides the people during the night. When the Sun is gone, the Moon cannot guide the people, because its position is constantly changing. However, the Stars, though small, are firm at their positions, guiding the blind all the time, telling them which one is the right direction. And they shine at their own might, without the need of the Sun. They are independent. However, they are so insignificant, easily overcome by light and artificial light. Sometimes, people have to squint to realise their position. They are shy and far away, but very dependable once you find them.

There is only one Sun in the solar system, and it is the centre of it. There are quite a lot of Moons reflecting off the Sun's light. But there are millions of Stars, ready to guide. Sadly, there aren't enough Stars in the world but lots of Suns and a plethora of Moons. And the Sun never listens to what the Stars are saying. The Moon just follows whatever the Sun says. The Stars never show themselves in the presence of the Sun.

Will the world ever in proportion with the natural proportion of the different astronomical light givers?

Assume

Stephen King wrote in one of his novels: Assume makes an "ass" out of "u" and "me". I nod my head furiously in agreement when I read that and it stayed in me until today. Assumptions really cause troubles, almost all the time, and the creator of the word must too, have noticed that. We forgot to bring the textbook to college because we assume that we already have it. We failed to hand in homework in time because we assume that the lecturer will forget about it. Bad things are bound to happen the moment we assume.

Ironically, we love to do just that. Why? Because assumptions make life way easier. Let us imagine Physics questions without assumptions. Projectile motion calculations would be much more complicated. Questions on the orbital motions of planets and satellites would be chaotic. In Economics, assumption plays an even more important role, because the economy is not linear as Physics is. We need to assume the much celebrated ceteris parisbus in order to explain the concepts. The world is too volatile and complex for students, or even experts to scrutinise and study. A random shock (the so-called exogenous factors) could turn the "predicted" trend around.

Assumptions are sometimes fatal, especially in horror movies. The victim would assume the killer/monster/whatever is dead, yet they resurrect most of the times for the final blow (and scare the sh*t out of the audience). Well, those are just in fictional movies. Still, it shows the potential threat assumptions can bring.

Yet, if we never assume, we never learn. Everything would be so complex. Assumptions are a necessity, because assumptions simplifies complex things, and we will learn and develop from there until we get the whole picture. Human learn from the simplest of things, and build on the learnt skills later on. We cannot expect a four-year-old to understand trigonometry when he/she is not even sure how to pronounce the word. He/she would need to have the basics of mathematics before having the ability to at least grasp the concept of it.

We live in a world full of assumptions, and assumptions take part in every aspects of our lives. We assume all the time. We assume when we eat; we assume when we talk; we assume when we argue; we assume when we walk. But whether asuumptions do make an ass out of you and me and the parties involved or not, that will depend on our own wisdom. We must make appropriate, good assumptions to minimise the potential harm. I would now just assume that I would assume carefully when I make my assumptions in the future.

《葬花词》

The following is the inspiration for my poem "Funeral of the Flowers". I will type the original and then will translate it into English as best as I could. Every line in English corresponds to each line in Mandrin before a punctuation mark. The poem is extremely beautiful and melancholic at the same time. Hope you will love it as much as I do.

《葬花词》 著：曹雪芹

花谢花飞飞满天，红消香断有谁怜？

游丝软系飘春榭，落絮轻沾扑绣帘。

闺中女儿惜春暮，愁绪满怀无释处，

手把花锄出绣帘，忍踏落花来复去。

柳丝榆荚自芳菲，不管桃飘与李飞，

桃李明年能再发，明年闺中知有谁？

三月香巢初垒成，梁间燕子太无情；

明年花发虽可啄，

却不道, 人去梁空巢已倾？

一年三百六十日， 风刀霜剑严相逼；

明媚艳妍能几时，一朝飘迫难寻觅。

花开易见落难寻，阶前愁杀葬花人；

独倚花锄泪暗洒，洒上空枝见血痕。

杜鹃无语正黄昏，荷锄归去掩重门。

青灯照壁人初睡，冷雨敲窗被未温。

怪侬底事倍伤神？半为怜春半恼春。

怜春忽至恼忽去，至又无言去不闻。

昨夜庭外悲歌发，知是花魂与鸟魂？

花魂鸟魂总难留，鸟自无言花自羞。

愿侬此日生双翼，随花飞到天尽头。

天尽头，何处有香丘？

未若锦囊收艳骨，一抔净土掩风流。

质本洁来还洁去，强于污掉陷渠沟。

尔今死去侬收葬，未卜侬身何日丧！

侬今葬花人笑痴，他年葬侬知是谁！

试看春残花渐落，便是红颜老死时。

一朝春尽红颜老，花落人亡两不知！

Translation:

The Burial of the Flowers By: Cao Xueqin

The flowers wilted and flew all around the sky,

the girl died/disappeared but who will sympathize her?

Flying spider webs attached softly to the floating gazebo during spring,

fallen willow catkins stuck lightly to the silk curtains.

The girl in the mansion missed the spring evening so much,

she had so much grief but there is no channel for her to let it all out.

So she took out a flower hoe and went out of the mansion,

enduring each step on the flowers while on her way.

The willow blades and the elm tree are attractive their own way,

so they don't care about the plum flowers flying away with the pear flowers.

Plum and pear flowers will bloom again next year,

but who will be in the mansion then?

The love nest had just been built this March,

but the swallow between the pylons are too merciless;

although they will come back the next year when the flowers bloom again,

but they didn't know,

that the people will leave or their empty nest may be collapsed.

There are 360 days in one year,

but the strong winds and harsh snows hits the mansion a lot;

how long can the beauty lasts,

once she leaves it would be very difficult to find her again.

Blooming flowers are easy to spot but the wilted ones are difficult to find,

and the sadness is killing the flower burier in front of the pavement；

she dug a hole alone while crying silently,

her tears strike the bare twigs and blood streaks are seen.

It was evening as the cuckoos are silent,

the girl returned to the mansion and closed the heavy door.

The lone lamp shone the walls while people has just slept,

but the cold rain hit on the windows before the blankets are warm!

You ask for what am I so anxious about?

Half of me is sympathising the spring while the other half is worried about it.

The sympathy came as abrupt as the worriness went,

but it came silently and went without a word.

There was a melancholic cry last night outside the garden,

is it the soul of the flowers or the soul of the birds?

It is very difficult to keep the flowers' and the birds' soul,

because the birds are quiet and the flowers are shy.

I wish that I could grow a pair of wings today,

and fly with the flowers to the end of the horizon.

At the end of the horizon,

are there any fragant hills?

A silk sack is laid down to collect the wilted flowers,

and a lump of soil will cover the beauty of the flowers.

The flowers came as pure as they went,

it is better than being dirtied in the drains.

You died today and I buried you,

what will the time be when I die?

People laughed at my silliness for burying flowers today,

yet who will bury me in the later years!

Looking at the spring fading and the flowers keep on wilting,

that is the time when the girl die old.

The spring ends quickly and the girl aged,

the flowers wilted and the girl died but nobody knows!

The Cow who Jumped

There was once two jolly cows,
Grazing the greens the Earth endows.
Day after day they grazed and grazed
happily under the Sun or haze.
One day one of them looked further away
and realised there are more greens the other way!
Yet there's a river wide and deep
to be crossed only if they leap.
The cows know they are no great leapers,
as lousy as they'll be if they are swimmers.
They stared long at those emerald blades,
wishing all would be on their plates.
They continued to reap their grass
while staring in the other glass.
Before long one of them said:
"Why don't we try and jump with faith?"
The other replied in a solemn tone:
"We'll never make it with our flesh and bones."
The former wanted to go across,
to the other side even if it takes all force.
The latter wanted to stay the same
as the idea of crossing seemed insane!
So the first cow walked close to the bank
while the second will pray if the first one sank.
The water was choppy, fast and swift,
if she falls into the river she sure will drift.
The first cow hesitated for awhile
and thought: Hell, the jump will be worth the while.
Hence she stepped back and gathered her courage
and dashed forward like a bull in rage.
In a moment the hooves are alight,
there's the cow literally in flight!
There was a thump and she looked around,
she had crossed the river safe and sound!
The second cow stared in disbelieving eyes,
her jaws dropped, and gave a long sigh.
Now the first cow ate the grass
but they tasted the same, alas!
However, she felt satisfied
because she ventured to gain her new find.
She yelled back to her timid friend
to ask her to leap whenever she can,
as the feeling of satisfaction from the leap
is more than all the grass they ever reaped.
The second cow pondered and pondered,
"Can I ever make it?" she always wondered.
She decided to stay on her side
and eat her grass bite by bite.
Under the blue sky and bright afternoon Sun,
two cows are grazing until they are done.
The cow who leaped had won her game
even though the grass tastes the same.
The cow who stayed can only assume
the taste of the grass her friend consumes!

Confession

I remember
our first encounter.
Far away, you'd caught my attention -
aloof, sleek yet elegant.
You stood there silently, extravagant.

I remember
your glossy black outfit -
strangely stiff but smooth as silk,
and you stood out
among the crowd.

I remember
your sturdy physique -
solid, monolithic and exotic.
Your slick, silken curves flawless, accented
by the immaculate appearance you presented.

I remember
your ivory teeth,
perfectly shaped, perfectly arranged.
White in sevens;
black in fives.

I remember
your very first words,
spoken to me in a temperate temper,
in a familiar alien language I couldn't understand,
as I listened to your teeth prancing on every strand.

I remember
your crisp, cheery voice
which melted my heart away
as I am immersed in your rise and fall in cadence,
so harmonious, so mellow and dulcet even.

I remember
I closed my eyes
to focus on the tale you tried to tell.
With every syllable, I tried to imagine
what the composer had felt and seen.

I remember
my soul was a violent storm.
Rain and thunder crashed and thrashed,
destroying everything in my path
in uncontrolled, merciless wrath.

I remember
after meeting you
and listened to your stories - classical, jazz, ragtime,
the storm is contained, then sublimed
and the Sun shone for its first time.

I found you,
no, wait. You found me,
and you helped me find myself
after our first encounter,
I remember.

Coffee Addiction

O Dark Mother,
Once again I suckle at Thy addictive teat.
Thy perfume's taunting my hapless conscience,
In wisps of curling white fingers,
Flirting at me, seducing me
With Thy deep, black eyes
To drag me further,
To hold me,
To imprison me,
In Thy invisible cage of
Eternal lust.

Thee slid Thy warm tongue,
Over mine,
Under mine,
Around mine,
Again and again,
In an arousing sense so divine.
And down,
Deep into my throat,
Licking off other tastes
To control,
And rule
My conforming soul.

Thy heavenly kiss is like
Frozen fire
Boiling glacier
Icy toxin
Molten roses
That traps me in thy fantasy
And lingers...

It is a war
Every morning
Between Thee and me.
It is a war
Which is mine to be lost
As Thee asphyxiates my will
with Thy silent seduction
And I shalt fall inevitably
Into Thy hell
Like a moth into fire.

I am poisoned by Thee!
Thy venom flow in my veins
Into my brain
Into my bones
And seep deep into my soul,
Every cell excited.

I am hypnotised,
Brain-washed,
So that I shalt never rebel
And follow Thy wish!

I am Thy puppet
And Thou art the puppet master
Who controls me
(my heart and my body)
Without strings.

O Dark Mother,
Thou art evil, wicked, vicious!
Though I am aware lust to Thee.
No matter how hard I tried
To cut Thee off my life,
Thee will always metamorph,
Camouflage Thyself,
Anmongst the most innocent things
All around me.
Omnipresent.
Then Thee slid Thy tongue
Into my mouth,
Down my throat again
With mesmeric magic
That will transfix me in Thee.
When I realised it,
Alas, I am addicted to thee
Again!

Funeral of the Flowers

A gush of warm air
Caressed the frozen twigs
And left behind miles of
Brittle, flamboyant pink
Which blossomed overnight.

A man
Walked under the curtain of fresh pink,
Enjoying the picturesque scene
Choosing carefully its essence
And snapped photos.
Click.
Flash.
Snap.
In a fruitless attempt
To preserve the fragile blossoms

In a timeless frame.

A gush of warm air
Swept through the pink trees,
Picking off the blossomed,
Petal by petal,
As they floated effortlessly
In the air,
Gliding and dancing
On the invisible stage,
And onto the recent greens
As the man left without a word,
To follow a butterfly,
Attracted to him by the floral fragrance
Lightly grazed on him
From the flowers
By the wind.

The man is deaf
To the flowers' silent cries
As the man who had just admired them
Walked,
Stepped,
And trampled on them,
Leaving them battered.

Up in the greying sky,
A flock of white pigeons flew by
And heard the throbbing sobs
Of the trampled flowers.
They rested on a branch
Listened intently to the story
Of the delicate blooms
And lamented
In their melancholic cry.
But there's nothing they could do
To help the decaying pink
As they called to the man
Who is bewitched by the butterfly,
Oblivious to the birds' calls
That is soon drowned
Amongst the orchestra
Of the cicadas.

The tears of the fallen flowers
Washed themselves
From pink to white.
Wasted, shade by shade.

A little girl heard the flowers' weep
And pulled out her silken handkerchief.
She knelt down on the wet carpet,
Scooped up the flowers,
Laid them softly on her piece of silk
And tied the silk
Into a sack of
Fragrant coffin.

She dug a hole in the frozen earth
Six inches deep
And placed the silk coffin carefully
As if trying not to stir the sleeping flowers.
While she was covering the hole,
Mourning,
She heard a weak whisper:
"Thank you..."
From the flowers' last breath.
The butterfly flapped away,
And the man felt a sense of
emptiness.

Tale of the Fairy Tales - Chapter 2

As they headed out of the house, Diki realised that the door looks just like a pet door and the "house" is like nothing but an isolated prison cell, just without the iron bars. And there are rows and rows of them along a dirt path which Diki construed as roads. Cats were all walking on their hind feet and behaved just like humans, just with more meowing. He made a note to himself: What a strange world.

Not just the buildings, the sun as well. It's already high up in the sky, yet it glows a shining pink, giving everything a sheepish blush. He asked:

"Why is the, err, Nus? Is it? Yeah, your light giver, pink? I thought stars give out white light."

"Oh, because today's Thursday. Its the pink day. Like Monday is blue, Tuesday yellow, Wednesday green, Friday purple, Saturday and Sunday would be random. Sometimes gold, occasionally white, sometimes black even."

"Black? How is that even possible? That means..."

"That means total darkness for the whole day. Can't even see my paws even tough they are right in front of my eyes. Very rare though, about once every decade. The last one was about eleven years ago. So, we are kind of expecting it to happen again soon."

"Why don't you all just turn on the lights?"

"They won't work! Black light remember? The black covers the light, like stars during the day. There's nothing we can do about it."

The world just got stranger, Diki thought.

Soon, a three-storey building was in front of their eyes, ostentatiously lit by blown-up neon lights. The pink light made the appearance worse. The word "HANIBUCKS" blinked silently amongst the rainbow of neon lights, and under the shop name is a picture of a gorgeous looking female milking a cow. Diki squinted his eyes from the painfully bright shop front.

Ajin, apparently used to the grotesqueness of the shop front, pointed joyfully to that building and purred: "Here we are! Can you smell the high quality milk? So sophisticated."

Sophisticated? The signs are so tacky. The milk smells good though.

Together, they pushed through the glass door, and a gush of warm, sweet air greeted them.

"Good morning Ajin! How's your day?" greeted the waiter, also a cat, dressed in a reddish long laced dress with floral pattern. She looked at Diki with questioning eyes and added: "I see you've brought a rather unusual guest today?"

"I'm fine, Teera. This is Diki. Diki, Teera."

Diki and Teera gave each other a curt nod.

"So, is the FFGS still here? I need to see her."

"You are lucky, she was just about to leave. She's right there, in her usual seat."

"Thanks," and she turned to Diki and said: "You stay here," and she pranced across the room into another room. A few minutes had passed with awkward silence between Teera and Diki before Ajin signalled Diki to go in.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The room was circular and mildly scented with roses. Everything in that room looks authentic. The ceiling is three-storey high with an exuberant chandelier hanging extravagantly down. The walls are painted peach pink, with floral vines painted carefully at the top and the bottom of the walls. The furniture are all the replicas of Loius XVI. Heavy tapestry hanged from the walls together with potraits of several royal-looking cats. Roses, lilies and irises filled the room in boughs of pink, purple and white. And at the center of the room, a woman is sitting on a pink armchair with more flowers intricately carved on its oak. Two servants were standing beside her, looking ready to serve her anytime.

She looked like she is in her mid-twenties, dark, velvet hair cropped to her her shoulder with a twist of the latest hairstyle. She was wearing a red Valentino which shows off her flawless curves. She looked at Diki with her eyes, a liquid coal, while lifting a delicate china and sipped gracefully. Ajin is now lying on the carpet beside the chair.

"So, you are from the Earth? That's a whole different dimension. I know why you are here and who you are. Somebody sent you here."

"Can you tell me why am I here and who I am?"

"No," she replied as she sipped from the cup.

"Why would anyone want to send me to this creepy world?"

"I can't answer that right now," and she took another sip from the cup.

"At least tell me how do I get back."

"I can't," and she sipped again.

"Look Missy, I don't who you are, acting oh-so-your-highnessly. But you are not the only one who can help me here. I can and will find somebody else! Nice meeting you, by the way," and he stormed out of the room.

The woman took one big gulp, and said: "Fine, I will see how you can find somebody else who can travel through different dimensions. By the by, I am from the Earth too."

With that, Diki stopped halfway through the door, and turned around:

"What?"

"I said, I am from the Earth too."

Diki stared at her with astonishment. Indeed, she is the only human being he had seen so far, but something about her tells him that she is not to be trusted.

"How do I know that you are from the Earth?"

"You have a crescent-shaped scar on the left of your belly button, am I right?"

Diki stared in surprise. His clothes is obviously covering the scar, and it was not very obvious. Normal people could not really see it unless they touch the scar. He had forgotten how he got that, but it seemed like it is with him since he was born.

"How...how on Earth did you know that?" he looked at the woman, then at Ajin.

Ajin smiled and said: "She knows you very well, I believe."

"How are you so sure? I thought you don't know who I am!"

"I don't, but she does."

"Who is she anyway?"

"We call her FFGS, Faef the Fairy Godsister. She is your Fairy Godsister, Diki."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tale of the Fairy Tales - Chapter 1

He felt pain in the back of his head. Blinding pain. And his body hurts all over. It felt like a bus just hit him.

"What happened? Where am I?" he croaked under his breath.

He struggled to lift his eyelids, and instantly, a halogen lamp shone right to his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut and slowly letting them to adjust to the light. Then he realised that he was in some place somewhere else alien. The room was dark except for where the lamp shone. It was small, maybe ten by twelve feet, and the walls are made of cement. No wallpaper, no paint. Just plain, grayish cement that has a century-old sheen. The air was damp and had a strange odour of rotting wood and wet fur. He cleared his throat as his eyes adjusted to the room.

He looked around and realised that he's the only one in the room with an old, lumpy bed (which is too small for him) he is lying on and a tiny book shelf full of what looks like textbooks which pages had yellowed with age right behind. The room was quiet. Deafeningly silent. Not even the buzz of a housefly. He sat up and buried his face in his palms.

"How did I get here in the first place?" he thought.

Suddenly, he heard some movements at the darkest corner of the room. With a reflex action, he jerked right out of the bed and grabbed a stick-like object. His adrenaline pumped and rushed through his veins like boiling hot water. He squinted his eyes to try to figure out the silhouette at the corner of the room, and ready to attack any second.

"Oops, did I scare you? I am sorry. People always say that I walk like a ghost," a wind-chime-like voice said.

Then, he saw a cat walking out of the corner. Its eyes glinting green in the light, staring deep into his eyes. The cat is striped with orange lines on beige or khaki. He couldn't tell. The paws are white, and its tail swinging in the air lazily. Strange was that the cat was not on its four feet, but it was standing on its hind legs. Even stranger was its eyes. They are filled with wisdom, and very humane.

The cat now circles him, looking at him, scrutinizing his every feature from head to toe. He did the same to the cat, but more with curiosity. He had a feeling that the cat was inspecting him, like a little girl with her new barbie. But he is no barbie, he thought. At that instant, he realised something. He didn't even remember who he is! He tried to recall the last thing he remembered and he only see coffee in his mind. Espresso? No. Wait. Cappuccino. Yes, have to be it. Or is it Latte? He couldn't remember a single thing. All was a blur and now his head hurts again. He touched the back of his head and saw there are blood stains all over his clothes. Then, the cat spoke:

"You have been hit at the back of your head and apparently cut in your limbs. I found you in the woods unconscious, lying in a pool of blood. I have licked your wounds clean and stitched some of them. They are quite deep. You are very lucky that none of them are fatal. You could have lost your life. By the way, you can put that baguette down. That's our breakfast."

A million questions entered his mind. He blurted weakly,"Who are you? "

" My name is Ajinomoto, or Ajin for short, but some people call me Puss in the Kinky Boots." And she took out a pair of black leather high heels shaped in the latest fashion with a killer stiletto so sharp that it can pierce through a rock like butter. "Aren't they pretty? They were a major hit this spring. Every supermodel owns a pair. Man, it was tricky to get hold of one of these. They sell like hot cat nips. Had to sneak into Heidi's house to get the right side and Tyra's house to get the other. Let me tell you, the security is tight there!" She purred and licked her paws.

" Err, okay... And where's this place?"

"Oh, this is my house. It's located in Bee-Saix-Ooo-Saix, a remote county in the country of Kaybeeyou."

"I've heard of Iran, Peru, Malaysia and England, but Kaybeeyou? Is it on the Earth? Which continent is it on?"

" The Earth? Continents? What are you talking about? And what are the things you just said?"

"They are countries. Do you even live on the Earth?"

"Again, huh? In Auzzmatt, there are no countries named like that. Not even close!"

Silence drew in once again as they stared at each other with their head tilted slightly.

"So you mean this is not the Earth? And what is Auzzmatt?"

"I have no idea what the Earth is, but I do know that this is Auzzmatt, the fifth planet from the Nus, our light giver."

He gave the reply a deep thought. Everything felt so surreal. First a talking cat, then the weird names. He decided that he must be dreaming and pinched himself hard in the thighs. He yelped like a chihuahua and knocked his head on the ceiling and yelped some more. He looked up and saw that ceiling was only six feet high. Okay, so he is not dreaming. He decided that he must have been sucked into a different world or something.

"How did I get here? And most importantly, who am I? I couldn't remember anything."

"I brought you back from the woods like I said, and I have no idea who you are. I thought that you are dying so I brought you back to my house to heal you. You have been sleeping for one whole week."

"So you mean that...," And he is interrupted by Ajin,

" Look, I know you have lots of questions to ask, but I am hungry. Go get dressed, bring that baguette with you and lets go to Hanibucks and talk this over some warm milk. Hanibucks serves the best milk around here, just in case you don't know, which I think you don't. I know someone who might be able to help you and restore your memory there. She's a frequent customer of Hanibucks and a good friend of mine," she meowed and pointed to a pile of clothes.

"I made the clothes while you were unconscious. God, how big is your body! With your size, I could've made ten of my own!"

"Excuse me, err, Ajin! I am a vegetarian and I am just the right size, thank you!" he argued.

"Whatever," Ajin said while pointing her claw out and bobbed her head clockwise. "Just hurry up. Hanibucks will be full if you don't move faster. It's hard to get a good spot there nowadays. Since you don't know your name, I shall call you Diki. Sounds sexy to me. Is that fine?"

"Fine...," he answered boringly.

He changed his clothes and Ajin put on that pair of leather boots. Minutes later, they headed out into the sun.

* * * * *

When the time comes doctor...

Nobody chooses their time of their birth, however, many of us would like to have a say in the manner and timing of their death. Nobody wishes a painful and violent death. Most would love to die old, happy, rich and peacefully. Euthanasia is a very controversial issue in the realm of religion, humanity, moral, legislation and ethics. Do human have the right to decide how and when they will die? If they do, do they have the right to help implementing the decision? If it does, is it possible to write legislation that will protect those who are old and chronically sick but wishes to live? My answer is yes, yes and yes.

The main concern of the opponents of euthanasia is the slippery slope effect from the legalising of euthanasia. They are afraid that by making euthanasia legal, many of the vulnerable group of old and sick would be coerced to the hastening of their death to suit the living. Yet, this argument is proposed based on one crucial assumption: it is impossible to make laws to prevent that. However, reality proved otherwise. It had be done before and can be done again. The Australian Territories Rights of the Terminally Ill Bill 2007 wrote an entire series of tight regulations to protect the terminally ill from being killed so that the family can obtain insurance money or any form of benefits. Moreover, the physicians carrying out euthanasia is also protected under the proposed law so that they are not forced to kill his/her patients. Plus, for one patient to be allowed to be killed, he/she must fulfill a lot of requirements stated in the bill. Therefore, there are no worries for the slippery slope because it is possible to write laws to prevent it from happening. The sick and the old who does not want to die can, indeed, be protected.

In the medical world, the term "double effect" raises quite a number of eyebrows and doctors of different doctrines squabble over it. It is the prescription of large doses of painkillers to patients so that they can kill themselves under the pretext of pain relieving. Legally, this is not a misdemeanour as long as the bottle didn't say "Take 50 and die". Yet, it is still a form of euthanasia, which is against the law. This shows that people can still circumvent existing laws to kill or assist killing the terminally ill. Take the case of Chantal Sebire. She suffered from a rare form of cancer called esthesioneuroblastoma, which she said, caused her pain sometimes up to four hours and her loss of almost all physical senses. Her plea for euthanasia was turned down by the French government (who has long been opposing euthanasia). Two days later, she was found dead in her house. Autopsy revealed that her blood contained lethal concentration of pentobarbital, a drug used for animal euthanasia not found in French pharmacies. When someone wishes his/her death, they will do anything to get what they want. Since suicide and attempted suicide is not illegal in most countries, why not just legalise euthanasia and let those people die lawfully with dignity? Euthanasia sounds much better than suicide, isn't it?

Another fear of the advocates of a "no to euthanasia" vote is that people will abuse it. Well, let's take a look at the figures of euthanasia carried out in the permissive Netherlands, which has over 30 years of experience dealing with this issue. From a publication of "Lancet", a medical journal, there are 35,000 general requests of euthanasia are made each year, together with 9,700 explicit ones. Given about 140,000 Dutch death annually, the number seems sky high. But bear in mind, they are just requests. Actual euthanasia is far rarer, about 5,000 a year, which amounts to 3.5% of the total deaths. Not a really big number. Even during the implementation of the Rights of the Terminally Ill Act 1995 in the Northern Territory of Australia from 1995 to 1997, only 4, patients died under that act. Ergo, do these numbers show the abuse of euthanasia? I don't think so.

Religious people, on the other hand, argued that to live is a duty until one dies a natural death, that life is a gift from God and is not one's to dispose of, that it is a dignified death to die in the hands of God. Therefore, to them, performing euthanasia is playing God. Questions surround these arguments. If natural death means to die via sickness, old age or natural disasters, then what about those who are lost their lives in battlefields, motor vehicle mishaps, and any other forms of death? Are those who killed them, be it accidentally or not, playing God as well? What if a person is destined by God to die of euthanasia? Then, are their deaths natural? Any human action alters the nature's course of action, as pointed out by Hume, a Scottish philosopher. He gave an example that if a stone fell onto one's head, then he has already changed the natural course of the falling stone. If one accepts the dogma of that God is a "watch maker" who creates but don't interfere, then Hume's arguments seemed irrefutable.

The less religious argument against euthanasia is that it is plain unnatural to prematurely end one's life, and we owe the society not to kill ourselves. These are curiously double-edged. For the former argument, if it is unnatural to deliberately end one's life earlier than it should be, then it can be said the other way round that it is also unnatural to prolong one's life using life-supporting machines. As stated above, no human action is natural, because we interfere with every move, every breath, every act. As for their second argument, the opponents of euthanasia imply that human life is intrinsically valuable. But to whom? Oneself? The family? The society? Mother nature? God? If they are really valuable, just how valuable is it? Are the doomed lives of the terminally ill with quite a bleak future as valuable as that of a healthy young man with a much brighter prospect? As Hume said :"The life of a man is of no greater importance to the universe than that of an oyster.". Hence, euthanasia is not devaluing life after all.

If you did not notice yet, the above arguments are free of the suffering of the terminally ill as just by how much pain one endures can only be known by one. Others can never know and understand the suffering until they are in that position. And it is extremely subjective. The level of endurance differs from one to another too. Everyone has the right to choose their way of life, so why not their way of death as well? But they should, while doing so, respect other's choice and not condemn them to right or wrong. Legalising euthanasia gives one the right to die, as to whether to exercise the right or not, that is purely personal and not of others to debate on.

A reply to Sarah's "The Mysteries Of A Being"

Dear Sarah,

Words are not destroyers of everything.

The word 'everything' itself is too condemning. Not everything is destroyed by words. We live with words. Words are already part of us, stored in our own biological database, and they grow with us. We can hardly live through a day without words, we need them, like you said, to convey messages, to express ideas, to communicate. Even for those who cannot speak communicates through sign language, which also formed its basis from words. If words destroy everything, then words are now eating us up from the inside then?

We are not always the victims of words. Words can be constructive or destructive. In your typical example of divorce, words are destructive. But prior to that, when the couple is in love, it is words that brought them together in the first place - through the flirting, sweet talks, serenades and "I do". They just chose to use the words destructively later. Yet, as you said, words alone are emotionless. Hence, it is the human brain that interpreted the words in a negative way, which wrapped emotions around the words, which over analysed the cadence of speech, which formed the foundations of rage and irritation. Words alone are not destructive, it is the brain of ours that thought so.

You had also stated that understanding is impossible to achieve because the world is continuously changing. However, understanding per se is constantly changing. What is understood now is different from what is understood before and what will we understand in the future. Understanding something holds true at that time. The same sentence, the same words, can be deciphered differently at different times. The word 'understanding' holds true for what we know, what we can elicit from the given information at that time by that person. Not forever. Nothing stays the same forever. Ergo, it is not impossible to understand, because ultimately what we understand is what we know specific to that particular time.

'Pictures paint a thousand words', 'Silence is golden', 'Thy word is truth'. Hence, words speak as loud as pictures as silence. All three of them are equally important. Words help to clear up ambiguities in pictures. Pauses are needed in between sentences so that speeches and essays make more sense. Some parts of a painting are left empty to balance the whole. Words can form lies, pictures can be deliberately fabricated, and sometimes silence lose its golden lustre. How is it then, that words are destroyers of everything when pictures and silences are equally lethal?

Nothing is good or bad, thinking made it so.


(Oh my, mine were such disorganised words!)

I waited for my turn

It rained the night before, and the sky still heavy with grey cumulonimbus. It looked like it was seven in the morning, but in fact it was eight-thirty. The morning was cool with the saturated atmosphere, plus, the sunlight was softened by the dense clouds a few kilometres above. Far away, the tropical birds called each other amongst the thicket of evergreen foliage. Their chirping and singing was crisp and clear interlacing with the sound of water flowing through the pebbles in the river and the wind whispering through the leaves in this almost pristine rain forest. The noise of trucks, cars and alarm clocks are alien to them. The only form of obvious human civilisation is the wooden chalets built around the area. It is the almost sensual representation of tranquility.

Thirty or so KBU students climbed up a fleet of concrete stairs to a platform, about three storey's high. The boys are mostly excited, because they are going to cross the cable hanging bridge and do the flying fox today. The girls are excited as well, but some felt some fear among their excitement, because they have to cross the cable hanging bridge and do the flying fox today. All of the students had crossed the bridge once the day before; some confident as if he/she had walked the tightrope all the time before, while some shivered their way across the bridge, exaberated by the height and adrenaline rush. That was the day before.For those who were too afraid to walk across the bridge, they considered the alternative of climbing up a hill to reach the flying fox, exposing themselves to the clandestine attacks of thirsty leeches. Posed between the dilemma, some students were deep in their internal conflict, oblivious that people are now forming groups of 5 to cross the bridge.

Most stuck with their group the previous day. Some swapped. I, myself, was among the former, but Wei Xin replaced Franky, because Franky is the council member and have to do the flying fox first, and hence have to cross the bridge before the rest will. After the first few groups have crossed, it drizzled lightly. It felt like the sky is sprinkling powdered sugar down the earth, covering the Earth with a sweet layer of sparkling moisture. Some of the students complained about the rain and talked about how they are going to cross the bridge in the rain, but it was so light that nobody cared. The line is still moving, though slowly.

I enjoyed standing in the drizzle, let the raindrops settle on my skin and feel the instantaneous, highly localised coolness it provided at multiple spots on my body. I like how the raindrops settle on my hair - the moment I feel it, it's gone. I love watching the raindrops gliding through green background like a shooting star in a velvety black night. I love the raunchy smell of the Earth when the first raindrops fell into her. I did not realise when the drizzle stopped, but it gave the canopy a mysterious veil of translucent white mist. It was a beautiful morning. Peaceful. Serene. Quiet.

(to be continued...)

The Wisdom of Crabs

On a table full of seafood, crabs are always the last to be consumed. Be it steamed or deep-fried, nobody seemed to touch the crabs until the very end. The reason is that crabs is one of the most troublesome food to be eaten. We have to remove the shell, and if we are not skillful enough, the meat will get stuck in it. Yet after all these tedious and annoying work, the reward is amazing.

Prior to the consuming part, the catching itself is a drudgery. Crabs live in the dark abyss of the ocean floor. Moreover, the tastier ones dwell in cold sea. However, human by all means will venture into the open ocean in order to catch some of the best crabs, well, to satisfy their taste buds and fill up their coffers. You would understand if you watch the documentary "Deadliest Catch". The weather is so cold that even sea water freeze on the ship and the water is so choppy that even the crew member with the best physique will fall and sprain an ankle.

Even after the catch, to get to the meat is a tricky business. Living crabs do not hesitate to use their pincers, and getting them to loosen their grip is no easy task. The cooked ones are not much friendlier. Their exoskeleton is so hard that a hammer is needed to crack the shell. If not, the shell will do some pretty serious damage to the teeth. Then, we reach the softest part of the creature, with sweat beads forming all over the forehead. For those who are lucky enough not to be allergic to crabs, crab meat is one of the most delicious meat ever.

Ergo, to get to the final reward, it is a battle of wit and strength between human and crabs. The crabs know we want their meat, and they evolved in such a way to stymie our cravings. We, on the other hand, will do everything we could to catch them, cook them, smash their hard exterior just so for the pleasure of eating the meat.

More often than not, our dreams and goals are like the crabs. They are waiting and in prospect, but so vague and far away. Still, we have the advantage of knowing what we want and we work towards that direction. The road is full of impediments and obstacles to be overcome by our intelligence and will. Even when we get it, we have to continue to work hard make it better. Only those who are strong enough to endure the drudgery of the arduous journey will get to taste their crab. It is sad to see people give up and succumb to the pain of hard work. If they can endeavour the crab meat, why can't they do the same for their dreams? Isn't it almost the same?

Interesting...

Find the paradox in the following sentence:

"This sentence is false."

Her

I met her a few months ago,
And what a charming woman she seemed.
She strode cheerfully into my life,
Abrupt, her shine dimmed.

First glance, she was kind,
All smiley and positive and cheerful.
She mingled herself with all of us,
Alas, she was wonderful.

Second glance, and there she was,
Striding down the hall.
With her high heels clanking against the floor,
Reverberating, the crisp sound on the wall.

Third glance, I noticed her hair,
Fierce, wild and dry.
Like twigs bundled up with dried weeds,
Flammable, they seemed, in my eye.

Fourth, fifth and the sixth time's glance,
I started to hate her style.
Overly sensitive and condescending,
Sinister, she smiled her smile.

As for all the glances then after,
Her flaws multiplied like fleas.
Her popularity plunged very quickly,
Oblivious, was she.

Her perpetual need for attention,
Her easily challenged dignity,
Together with her detestable aura,
Tortured, was my sanity.

Ink stained fingers,
Piercing, demanding glare.
Questions are forbidden,
Caution! And beware!

Write a word,
Strike a pose.
This is her signature move.
Annoying, is what she did the the most!

Yet, beneath her skin and flesh,
Is a very troubled girl.
Her soul was like a hurricane,
Wind-blown, was her world.

Oft-times she shared a bit too much,
Leaving us perplexed and puzzled.
She had to know some things are personal,
Shocking, when revealed.

She is like a volcano,
All pressure sealed tight in.
Bit by bit the seal loosened,
Released, was the wrath within.

She really need to take some rest,
Probably even sabbatical.
To clear her mind, to cleanse her soul,
Solved, must be everything mental.

Sadly, I am stuck with her,
No place to run, no place to go.
I hope she could change for the better,
Nostalgic, was I of her a few months ago!

Plot X against Y

This Friday, I had a little chat with Sue during a break in Physics class about men and women. We arrived at the same conclusion: Men are too dominating sometimes. I cannot fathom why some men have a need to be very condescending and try to dominate women, or some become misogynists themselves. Most of all, they can go all the way to prove their masculinity from drinking excessively to adultery, and in the end leaving women beat and battered.

Reading through the history, it is clear that men had been dominating in every field that had become the professions hitherto. It is paradoxical how that the world's eminent chefs had been men when the field of cooking which has always been thought to be exclusively within women's realm. When people talk about chefs, they will sure imagine that it's a he, small, petite, wears a tall white hat. He talks with a French accent while twisting the ends of his moustache, and more than often than not he will have a detestable personality. Now, think of an engineer. Again, a man pop into the mind. The same goes with almost every occupation. All this stereotypes arose from the foundation in which the history had shown mostly of men's glory that overshadowed women's achievements. Sure that Jamie Oliver is famous for his works to promote slow food but how many of us knew Rachel Ray? With the seeds sowed deep and good, and with all the nourishment from the annals of the achievements of men, it is no wonder that some men today just cannot bend the ego tree and accept the fact that women are equally good or even better than them nowadays.

But dig deeper. The history is so because in the past there is the silent majority of the female population before the suffrage. No women was brave enough to voice out their feeling of injustice because they thought that they are the minority few. Majority rules due to the fact that the ideas of the majority is voiced out first. Fear and shame held them back, and they kept quiet for too long a time. Hence men were the ones doing researches, breaks the ground, and immortalised their names. Women had little, if any, chance to do so.

Then the World War breaks, and men are signing up to join the army because they are perceived to be stronger. All economy was brought virtually to a halt, since most men were taking up all the jobs in the market and now they are gone. Women took over and realised that they are as good as men even in laborious jobs such as constructing and farming. Feminism waves broke out and washed all over the West. They realised that they can live without a man controlling them and they did save the economy from collapsing. It was then that a lot of women 'firsts' mushroomed and continued to do so today. Still, it is a bit too late as the mindset of "men are more powerful" is still strong among, well, men. Maybe that's why men today still cannot just accept that fact as mentioned above.

Some did happily accept that. Some, on the other hand, did not. This is a sad fact, and still prevails in the East. Women are still considered to be subservient is a lot culture and are treated as a liability rather than a child, for example Waris Dirie herself in her novel "Desert Flower". Arranged marriage is still going on in India and most Middle-East countries, and some of them ended fatally. When men feel that the power over their women starts to slip, in the fear of losing the power, they start to beat up their wives, so that their wives dare not to disobey them. Ah, the classic use of fear to dominate. The film "Provoked" clearly showed this when the jealous and belligerent husband tried to control Kiranjit Ahluwalia's life by constantly beating her and even raped her. He forced Ahluwalia to wear traditional Indian outfits and stopped her pursue of higher education. (She wanted to be lawyer.) In the end? She, as a battered woman, burned her husband who later died due to the complications of his injury.

Sure, culture goes deep in our soul and flows in our veins, but we must now alter them. Not all traditions are applicable today. Time changed everything and we have to move on. Confucius once said: A woman with no talent or skills is a "good" woman. If your skull is so thick that you still hold this belief, then you will soon be ousted from the society and be labelled as a sexist. That saying was true then, in his time, but obviously not fitting into the society structure today, in which we promulgate gender equality so much. Men no longer predominate and women are climbing up the career and social rungs pretty steadily. So, just shut up and stop complaining about how that woman get promoted and not the man. The masculine wind had already shifted its direction. There are now househusbands and eminent female politicians in the world.

Having the Y-chromosome does not empower an individual. In fact the very chromosome that made men men contains little genetic material compared to the X-chromosome found in women. It is the best when men respects women equally as women respects men. No inclination towards either sexes, a constant gradient. Fair and square. Women are made out of men; not out his head to be controlled; nor out of his leg to be trampled upon; but out of his ribs, on his side to be his equal, under his arms to be protected, and close to his heart to be loved. Remember and practice that, Men!

When Physical Education gets mental...

If you don't know already, I absolutely loathe PE. Hate it, detest it, abhor it. I used to like it a lot, when I was still young and teeming with childhood exuberance, yet I find it more like labour than fun today. I can still escape PE back in Penang, but when I went to study in Singapore, there's no way to run. It was a physical hell there with interminable torture! (It was fun walking around the country and running for the bus almost every morning though...)

Yeah yeah, I know exercise is good for health and all those craps that I'd already but know and memorised. Don't force me to do something that I don't like to do! I still remember my first PE lesson in Singapore, vividly. Okay, it was after SPM and I have not exercised in months, and surprise, surprise, the Annual Marathon of the Junior College that I enrolled was just around the corner when I get there. In order to make sure that we are all fit for the 3.4 km marathon, the Coach made all of us run for 5.1 km in 30 minutes!!! Blasphemy!!! 5.1 KM in the first bloody lesson, for goodness sake! No preparation, nothing, nada, zip. 5.1 km out of the blue, from the thin air, like all of us have that kind of stamina!

Of course most of the people (including me of course) squeezed and pulled some sour faces and sighed abnormally loud, but there's nothing we can do. We can never defy "The Coach"! Seniors had told us some pretty horrifying stories about push-ups and pull-ups for those few who are intrepid and inane enough to try to disobey The Coach's command. And it was not a pretty sight. (Imagine red-puffed faces, popping veins, exhausted groans, wan faces and lots and lots of sweat) *Shudders* Anyhow, after stretching and some warming up, the iron gate to the drudgery was opened and we were all out, en route to imminent lethargy. By the way, did I mention that the day was scorchingly hot?

The first kilometre or two was fine, until I reached the tiny hill of death. Though not very steep and high, with the sun and the oxygen debt in my system, it was extremely taxing. Furthermore, I realised that I am already very, very far behind with the clock still ticking. Hyperventilating, I forced myself to jog up the hill. I was so delighted to be on the peak of the hill. However, to my consternation later, I did not realise that this route is carefully planned and crafted to burn out all our calorie reserves or more. That was just a molehill compared to the next one, and the next one, and the next one. While doing that, more and more people are running past me.

By the time I am done with the "mountain range", it was well passed 30 minutes, still with about 1 kilometre left in my plate. God bless those who built the flat, even, asphalt kerb! Still, I am not happy. The final stretch ends about the horizon. By now, I am literally dragging my sweat coated limbs and trudge towards the end point. My faith in my water bottle where I seek solace kept me going. Well, The Coach on his Bicycle trailing behind me helped too :) I feel like I am more cowed to run rather than voluntary as I can feel His piercing leer behind me, filled with contempt. I wanted to shout to him : I am sorry that you have to trail behind me with your oh-not-so-shiny bike because of my ill stamina, but would you please just leave my dignity alone and stop torturing it?

Finally, the gate to heaven, the gate that signals the end of this arduous journey! I was panting so hard that I can virtually feel my own pulse. Not surprisingly, I am among the last ones to arrive, 20 minutes late. Just when I thought it was over, as a reward for arriving late, The Coach made all the late comers to do 20 push-ups and 20 crunches. My jaw dropped in disbelief. My eyes almost popped out. Bite me, Coach! was the first line in my brain. Reluctantly, I accepted those punishments by grinding the poor muscles of my skinny, deoxygenated limbs and abdomen. I was lucky I didn't get hernia. Then, ave Maria, all was over. What's left was my overworked muscles, which I was sure to and really did ache the next day, sweat-soaked T-shirt and the words The Coach scoffed at my face:

"You need to work up your stamina you know..."

Time don't fly

There are so many times in my life when I find that time not only flies, but propagate like light in vacuum. *Snap* and its gone; *blink* and its gone; *twitch* and its gone. Yet, every time when I realised this, there are only two situations: a) I am having fun and b) I am rushing through my last-minute work, which is not fun at all. However in truth, time is really just sauntering past us in its invisible dimension.

No one hates having fun. Oh wait there are those who just feels guilty for enjoying themselves in their free time and then there are those who love to inflict pain upon themselves. Let me correct that statement, no one rational hates having fun, and while doing so, we tend to ignore the watch or clock or any other time devices.

Recall the time when you watch an American sitcom on the TV, say Ugly Betty, how fast did one hour pass? (Oh my gosh! It's ten thirty already?!?) Compare that to one hour in *cough*chem*cough* ist*cough*ry*cough* class. (What?!? That was just half and hour?!? There must be something wrong with the watch!) The counter in your digital watches functions just fine, its just the number of times you take a glance at your watch. What is there better to do when you are utterly uninterested in one compulsory activity? Doodle, let your mind wander, look as if interested, and in between? Look at the time of course, every few damned minutes. Look at how pathetically slow the seconds are ticking by, wishing that you have the superpower to fast forward time to end the slow 'torture'. Am I right?

Recall the time when you are just being given the assignments. (Meh, I still have 3 more days before the deadline, let's watch Ugly Betty first, homework later.) Compare this to the last-minute rushing. (Dang! I wish I have just one more hour!) Time sure seemed to just zoom past you when there is the feeling of urgency, because you are so steeped in trying to get the assignments done, you didn't look at the watch at all. Every second is precious now. You curse yourself for dropping the eraser and have to waste 3 seconds to pick it up. You swear under your breath when that damned chemical equation just cannot be balanced. You commented mentally: I don't care if the Earth's magnetic field line is 5.5 x 10^-5 T or whatever! Stupid physics question anyway... Now you wish you could slow-mo time, don't you?

However, take a look at those situations - all the time you want to 'fast-forward' and 'slow-mo' balance each other out. Time wasted equals to the time cramped. So the result? Time passes just as normal with each of our breath. It is us, who failed to manage it properly. Happy times seemed to go by so fast that you craved for more. Its just the opposite for unhappy times. Understand time, explore how it works, think how we work. Blend them together so that they complement each other. The resultant mixture is unique for each individual. In the end, it boils down to three words: Time's all relative.

Rain - The Paragraphs

Okay, this week's assignment is to make "Today is a rainy day." into one whole paragraph. Our beloved lecturer Mr D was teaching figurative languages used in fictions and assigned us to that. He wanted us to make the short sentence as interesting and as figurative as possible, or at least this is what I understood from his instructions. Mr D, if you fall asleep reading this, don't blame me!

"At first I thought it was the rustling of wind through the overgrown weeds in my unattended backyard. Like a little girl whispering to her mother. I turned to my side and snuggled my pillow. The cotton pillow casing was surprisingly cool, and felt a bit moist even. Then it grew louder. I climbed out of my bed and looked out of the window. Tiny raindrops were waltzing in the air effortlessly, choreographed by the wind. It was slow and elegant.

After a while it was brought into a crescendo, as the wind picked up. The waltz turned quickly into quickstep, trying to keep up with the tempo of the wind. Raindrops were flying all over the invisible dance floor, crashing beautifully into each other before finally go into the backstage of alluvial soil, quenching it of days of dehydration. Soon, the drizzle turned into a shower, and from shower into downpour. At the climax, it was a deluge from the sky, giving the exposed surfaces of the human civilisation a slippery sheen. I wonder how I was going to go to college with the standing water in the atmosphere.

I looked at the far away clouds, so thick and heavy from days of voracious accumulation. The Sun, with all the heating labour days ago, created its own fluffy, grey bed and slept. There was no sunshine that day, only the meagre amount of lights that managed to penetrate the gargantuan mattress of the sleeping Sun. There were no signs of the rain giving up. I prepared myself for the morning lesson, took my umbrella, opened it, and stepped reluctantly into the torrent of water and plodded my way to the college."

Why Ginger and Blogs collide?

Let's try a bit of poetry today, that'd kill some brain cells. Here goes...

Dawn to dusk,
a day had passed.
Dawn to dusk,
again,
a week had passed.
And again, it is Friday,
and I have to write, but
my brain is clogged,
because I have to blog!

I am at a loss of words
I do not dare to write,
because I know I am the non-expressive type.
Though you may see me
teeming with supreme spontaneity
but deep in my soul
is filled with extreme insecurity.

I am at a loss of words
I do not dare to write,
because I am not sure
what to share and
what to hide.
I need my own space,
my own personal,
private
space.

I have created a purple shell,
and encapsulate myself,
my thoughts,
my secrets,
my fear,
my aspirations,
my memories.

There were times I wanted to shatter the shell,
to release myself from the claustrophobic cell,
to share all
my thoughts,
my secrets,
my fear,
my aspirations,
my memories.

Yet I hold back,
debating to myself:
Is this too personal?
Is this too cynical?

Then in the English class,
I am told to write an online journal.
And this will expose my inner self,
like a bug in a glass,
so open and international,
I cannot protect myself.

So every week I have to select,
pry my mind open,
force out the right kind of subject,
to write in this borderless ocean,
where people surf,
where there is no sense of turf.

Now the shell is chipped away
and is turning a mellow yellow.
One fragment at a time,
one shade at a time.
Through the words that I chose to display,
I let people have a tiniest peek into who I really am.
Still, I am not so comfortable
with all the writing and blogging,
because I feel naked,
bare, and
vulnerable.

And now I am a hypocrite.
After years of anti-blogging,
after years of blog condemning,
here I am,
doing it, writing it.
It felt so right
and so wrong.
Part of me,
want to scream all my thoughts out silently,
via this medium,
at the top of my lungs.
Part of me,
want to keep it all,
in the void galaxy of my soul.
I am torn between me
and my doppelganger.
O blog, why do thy sting?

You, Me and English

Every Friday, I repeat, every Friday, I have to sit in front of my laptop and think. To think, to decide what to write for the week. Usually it takes me at least two hours to think and another two to type. Then probably another half to re-read and correct the grammar. Wow, that takes a hell lot of time there!

I admit I kind of like writing, but not really into it yet. Well, I should thank this for my shaky relationship with English since I was young. English was an enemy but kind of an acquaintance today. I wonder why the grammar is so complex unlike Mandarin in which there is little, if any, grammatical rules! This was before I learned that Russian, French, German etc. have even more complex grammar. I was grateful for not having to learn them now.

My English teacher in my primary school was fierce. She used to cane students A LOT for not finishing her homework, in which sometimes it was because that person don't know how to do it. It was worse after every test. Those who failed to reach her 'cut-off point' will be awarded with more caning, and the fun part is you get to choose your own cane. She taught me my very first three years of English and that created some kind of phobia in me. I never tried to befriend English since then, until 2006.

For your information, I'd only really started reading novels in 2006, and only a meagre amount before that, probably less than 5. I think it's mainly because my family do not buy books. My mum used to say: "Why waste money on novels when you can borrow it from the school library?" The reason here is that the novels in my school library was pathetically BORING and the choice is limited. Furthermore, I used to hate any book that is thicker than 2 centimetres. (Yes, that includes textbooks) But now I love thick books. Some of the thin ones are too fast paced and I love details. Yet, I read quite a lot today, and it is for fun.

Why 2006 is the turning point for my relationship with English? I am not really sure myself either, but it is most probably due to two main factors. One, my English teacher that year is great, and two, my classmate who was sitting beside me led me into the wonderful world of literature. I had the most dedicated teacher I've ever seen in my life for English that year. Though she looked as if she was still living in the 50's, her passion for English was overwhelming. She would scrutinise our essays and really want us to improve. Her aura made me feel guilty if I disappointed her. Then there was Talon (my classmate's alias), who speaks a lot English in a Chinese school and positively pessimistic. At first it seemed kind of weird talking to him. I would speak in Mandarin and he'd reply in English. Somehow over time, I find myself babbling away in English when I was having a conversation with him. Moreover, he is the one who recommended a lot of fictions to me and that was how I started reading novels.

Today, my life is centered around this language and I have to learn it, study it and love it. Though it is my second language, I feel like it is now stronger than my first language. I am still yet to be good in it, but I am working on it definitely. My grammar really is a big problem in both writing and speaking. Well, the fluency and the eloquence too. I don't blame the language, I blame myself for not setting a concrete foundation in my early days. Instead, my foundation for English is made of mostly hatred and fear.

Cooking, cooking!

Since I have resumed my cooking routine few weeks ago, I decided to write about my cooking experiences in the past 8 months! I cook for almost everyday, but mostly dinner only as my breakfast is just either coffee and biscuits or oat meals while my lunch is mostly settled during the lunch break during the weekdays and sometimes I simply skip it during the weekends.

I am an imaginative cook. I imagine how the flavours and textures of each and every of the ingredients that I bought that week would complement each other, and then only I set off to the cooking process. Don't get me wrong, I don't cook complicated food like Foie Gras, quiche, paella, or eclairs. Its just some simple stir-fry, salad or rice congee only, and most of the the time they are probably semi-homemade cooking. Some of them came out much better than I thought it would be, yet, not all imaginations are edible. Below is the list of some accidental Gourmets and hapless Food Fiascoes:

Gourmet:

1) Instant Soup with Grilled Bread
This is a heavenly match, and easy to prepare. First, you heat up some garlic oil in a frying pan, then fry some minced garlic until they are golden. Next, put some minced chicken into the oil and fry until they are a bit dry. Pour some hot water into the pan after that and then add in a packet of instant soup (mushroom or chicken). Pour the mixture into a bowl. Then heat up another pan for the grilled bread. Dip the bread into the soup so that it can absorb some of the soup which totally enhanced the flavour. After dipping, grill it on a pan until a bit crispy. Repeat the process with a few slices of bread. What's left to do now is to eat. Dip the bread into the soup and voila! That's the taste of halcyonity.

2) Mayonnaise with Fried potatoes
This was discovered, actually, just two or three weeks ago, when my friends (Song, Big Cow, Ah Beng, KCV...) and I were cooking on a Saturday. We were making potato salad, yet somehow when I ate the salad, the taste of potato with mayo stood out the most, and again, it's so simple to make. First of all, peel the potatoes and slice them up into thin slices. Heat up some oil in a pan until hot (bubbles form around wooden chopsticks). Fry the potato slices until both sides are golden brown. Drain the oil and absorb the excess oil with kitchen towels. Sprinkle some salt and oregano on the potato slices and toss it in a big bowl. Finally, add enough mayo and toss it again. Mmm-mmm...

3) Stir-fry
This is what I eat most of the time! I devour greens like wolves wolfing down their dinner. The only not-so-convenient part is the washing of the vegetables. Normally I would buy Chinese cabbage, 'yao-mak-choy' and tai bak choy because they are crunchy! So, after washing all the vegetables cut them diagonally or julienne. This speeds up the cooking a lot. Trust me. Later, heat up some garlic oil in a pan and fry some dried anchovies. They are a much better choice compared to chicken because they have a stronger, richer flavour. Plus, you won't need any salt because the anchovies are a bit salty in nature. After the anchovies turn crisply brown, add some fried minced garlic and the vegetable into the pan. Fry until the colour of the leaves turn a deeper shade. This way, the veggie will still be crunchy and sweet. It goes the best with rice congee.

Food Fiascoes:

1) Tea-rice congee
Okay, this is what happens when imaginations go wild and uncontrolled like a loose cannon. Initially, I thought that tea and rice go well. With the faint scent of Chinese tea blending with the aroma of cooked rice, the resultant product would be a delicacy. Somehow I managed to forget about the bitterness of Chinese tea. When the mixture was boiling up in the rice cooker, the aroma escaping the lid was truly nice, it had a calming and soothing effect for me too! Yet smell and taste don't always cooperate, and this time smell was the misleading one. I think I put in a little too much tea leaves and the bitterness was not compensated by the aroma of the tea. Eating it with the stir-fry made it worse. Henceforth I came up with an equation: bitter x salty = disaster.

2) Laver, anchovies and cabbage with noodles
Another catastrophic combination. Don't think that both laver and anchovies come from the sea they are a good combination. They just don't match. Moreover, the anchovies caused the texture of the noodle to be kind of sandy. The cabbage's natural sweetness and flavour together with the too-rich flavour of laver was deadly. So, in the end, I was forcing the sandy, gym-sock-flavoured noodle down my throat. The worst thing is I thought it would come out well and I cooked a lot of it. Just recalling the taste turns my stomach and leaves my spine quivering.

3) Anything with too much garlic in it
Sometimes I crossed the line and put too much garlic in my cooking. Eating it was fine. It's the after taste that matters. It can last until before I sleep. That was when I feel relieved as I do not have to taste the garlic anymore. Let me tell you, the garlic thing, is what evil must taste like. It lingers in your mouth. It makes your breath smells. It causes your burp to smell even worse. Burping is the worst, it somehow concentrated the foul smell. Drinking water is useless and only makes you want to pee more often. The only good solution is drinking something protein-rich like milk or soya milk, which is almost always absent from my pantry.

These are only some of the examples that I can remember right now. Some are so bad that my brain have already blocked the memory. As for the good ones, these are the three best, at least for me, examples as they are easy to prepare and simply delicious. I exclude all desserts as my only dessert here is fruits.

Cooking is fun, eating is fun. I feel sad for a lot of people who doesn't cook just because they feel troublesome to go and purchase the ingredients, prepare them and wash the dishes after that. Remember the phrase 'culinary art'. The word 'art' is not just there for fun. It is there because cooking allows you to imagine, to be creative, to be innovative, to express yourself. For those who have all the cooking appliances, don't just deep fry processed meat. Go for natural food and cook them a la yourselves. Start today, and venture into the culinary realm. It will be fun. I promise.

The Chronicles of Unfinished Essay

Foreword:

First of all, I would like to thank my lousy time management, who was the biggest contributor for this week's blog to be possible.

I would like to thank Stephen King, whom novel I read before the test, which without it, I would not have spent too much time reading the very gripping novel - "The Shining" - and spent too little time on the actual studying to be done.

I would also like to thank Mr D, my EALD lecturer, who initiated this blog and provided an inspiration for me to write this week's blog, or else I would struggle for 2 hours trying to figure out what to write this week. Thanks for making my life easier.

Finally, I would like to thank my parents who brought me to this world, then love and supported me for the past 18 years.

Prologue

It was Friday.

The sky was a marble of grey and white. Blinding, illuminating white. It was surprisingly quiet when I cycled to school. Maybe its because that it was already ten to nine. Or everybody else decided not to go to work at that specific time. I was trying to keep my eyes open when I was cycling, because I had little sleep the night before or should I say this morning at the wee hours.

On the last Saturday, I downloaded "The Shining" from the internet. And son of a gun, what a gripping novel it is! Though not as gruesome as "Cell", I spent a lot of time reading it off the screen of my laptop. The initial progress was slow, sluggish even. By the time I reached the climax, it was already Wednesday. I have heard from other classes that there is going to be a test on Friday but nothing from Mr D yet, since my lessons are on Thursdays and Fridays. Hence, I decided to spend the first sleepness night trying to finish the novel instead of reading up for my test. I did and was satisfied and contented with the happy ending.

Then it was Thursday. Mr D comfirmed the test on the next morning. But that night, my group members and I were trying to finish the 30-second trailer for our documentary which was due Friday. We underestimated the time because we realised that it was already 12 a.m. when the cutting of footage was finished. The next two hours were devoured by editing and choosing the perfect song and timing. Yet, when it was done, we love, no, adore the end product. By the time my head hit the pillow, I was drowned in my soundless slumber for the next five hours. That was the second night in a row with little sleep. For your information, I sleep as much as a one-year-old. I get cranky when I do not sleep enough or disturbed during my slumber.

The next thing I knew, Friday had replaced Thursday mercilessly. I was very anxious and sleepy when I woke up that morning as I did not really prepare for the Essay Test that was be going to be tested on that faithful day. I just cramped up all the studying on that morning after I was awake. The cool morning air did not cool my soul at all. It just compounded my anxiousness.

Chapter 1: The Sentence

I plodded my way to B606, the slaughter room that day. Surprisingly, I was the second person to arrive. Looking at the emptiness of the corridor and the faint ray of sunlight, I decided to do a bit more studying. Not like it will help much anyway, but at least it calmed myself. Minutes passed, and the overcast dissolved into the morning. The Sun was shining again. The effect it had on my mood was nil. Then Mr D, our beloved EALD lecturer, arrived, carrying our - or at least for me -paper of DOOM into the not-so-blissful classroom. Can you imagine this almost weightless, seemingly gentle sheet of A4 which at most gives you a very serious case of paper cut , carry the heaviest words in this semester. They read as follows:

"Show how the characters in at least one print text and one non print text are used to reinforce or challenge accepted ideas/values and attitudes about a particular culture or group in society.

MAKE REFERENCE TO AT LEAST ONE PRINT TEXT AND ONE NON PRINT TEXT YOU'VE STUDIED."

My reflex moved my hand to grab a pencil when Mr D said: You can start now, it's 9.15 so we end at 10.15. I underlined the keywords and spent WAY too much time on the planning. Well, mainly because I analysed the question a bit too much and had to fork out good examples from my still-quite-sleepy hard disk inside my skull. By the time I was finished with the planning of the body of the essay, I repeat, the body of the essay, it was already 9.30. And I was still missing the head. I spent another full 5 minutes on the head. I did not even DARE to bother with the conclusion as time was ticking away, fast and clandestine.

Chapter 2: The Tension

I started to scribble furiously on the empty page of narrow-line foolscap paper but still the momentum of eloquence got stuck frequently. Therefore, I only have ten minutes left when I reached the third paragraph, which is pathetically, body number two. Before I even know it, Mr D announced: "One minute left! Write down your final sentence for the conclusion class!" Conclusion, my God, the conclusion! I am not even done with the second body, not even close! The first word that came into my mind was the four lettered word starting with an 'F' that most ten-year-olds should recognise and it was not 'FISH'.

I was another three and a half paragraphs away from the conclusion and only 30 seconds left! So I tried my best effort to at least end that paragraph I was working on but to no avail. I handed in my not-even-close-to-half-finished essay to Mr D, very reluctantly. I knew at least 50% of the marks gone right after the paper escaped my grasp. With the tiredness and exhaustion, physically and mentally respectively, I never felt so beat before.

If only I studied more. If only I was more well prepared. If only I did not download that novel. If only I spend less time on the planning. If only I could write faster. If...if...if.... So many 'if's in life that appeared when things go awry. Yet I cannot turn time around so face it young man! Face it like a man and stop whining! You, yourself, screwed this up. Blame yourself and not others. You are the one controlling your own life. So, learn from this lesson and reflect on it. Trifles make perfection. Move on, move on and move on. Lingering on one mistake will only make one look immature and shallow.

Epilogue

It is Saturday.

The night is stuffy and humid. The noisy, rapid beating of the ceiling fan in my room only made matters worse, hence, I decided to slow it down. Here I am, in front of my laptop, reflecting on this matter, typing this post in my room, alone. Phase 1, gloating and blaming, is over. Phase 2, reflection and acceptance, is happening now. Phase 3, improving, will follow. This is how I learn.

Let's you and I use some of the free time before sleeping to reflect on things happened that day. Step into another person's shoe. Learn from mistakes and there you go, a happier, better life.