SNDC

Sheares celebrated National Day a couple of days ago, and the guest of honor was some minister. He gave a speech of which I mostly ignored, focusing instead on the rubber of a chicken chop they served for dinner.

I looked up when he mentioned that he had just came from a session in parliament where they debated on having a by-election. I was interested to know the conclusion but I was sitting all the way at the other end of the hall and could not really make out his words. I did hear something along the lines of how young people these days can only see suntec city, and orchard road but forget what happened during the 1960s racial riots. Yes, I know, what the fuck has a by-election got to do with racial riots? Shrug. Maybe that's why I'm not invited to any tea parties. Political maneuvers are lost on me.

He went on to tell a story about a king without a thumb. It's a dumb story, and its moral is simply that "things could have been worse". I don't know about you, but it seems to me that when a country's leaders start talking like that, it's time to start worrying a little.

Screw that, here are some photos :)



---------------
Now playing: Oasis - Slide Away (Acoustic)
via FoxyTunes

Obar

Prost? Get me orange juice.

Prost? Get me orange juice. It was a case of too many people and too many drinks. Last night's party might have been a blast, but if it was, I don't really remember. My clearest memory is of Terence buying me a Flaming. Ok, that's exaggerating a little; I remember most of what went on, especially being 2 inches away from the grass and merrily attempting to puke out my guts.

Thanks for coming guys and girls. Thanks for coming, friends. I'll post the photos up soon, cam whores :)

Next time, we'll have orange juice.

The Chameleon

And whatever remains of the flame went out earlier this evening, and what's left behind is a dank, cold, darkness.

-

The Chameleon approaches her prey. She has done this many times before without failure, and this one will be no exception. It's simple really. You sound the prey out, listen to his views, discover his personality and most importantly, what he lacks in his life and what he secretly longs for.

Strait-laced boys long for a girl to disrupt life's boring routines. Despite their most vehement protests, adrenaline in their blood's not unwelcome. Present to them the Rebel Girl, the Carefree Soul, and they'll lower the drawbridges to their hearts.

The self-professed player's probably jaded. Probably he has been cheated on a couple of times, played around a little on the side himself, and True Love to him is almost like a bad joke. Present to him a facade of an innocent girl, untainted by the debauchery he thinks the world is made of. Dangle the possibility of a ticket out of his hedonistic and empty existence; offer a safe harbor, and the battle's half won.

The Chameleon smiles. This is going to be easy.

Infatuate

I hate being infatuated. I hate feeling like my entire life's happiness hangs on a person's whim and fancy. Obviously that's not the case, but it sure feels like it. When you check your phone every couple of minutes, and when your heart skips a beat upon receiving a message, and skips twice upon seeing that the message is from the Object of desire.

You melt when the Object giggles and smiles, you are filled with warmth with the slightest of physical contact. Your bank account, sleep, and schedule need no management when you're with the Object.

This is when you've to, Stop Yourself. Any concessions made during courtship will come back and bite you in the ass. Surrender yourself utterly, and you might as well lie on the floor in front of the door and paint "welcome home" across your face.

Infatuation reminds me of who I am. It's comforting in a way, yet pathetic to know that after so many years, and after so many relationships, I'm still more or less, unchanged. I remember putting a lot effort crafting each text message, saying how much I miss, and/or love the Object of my affections. I remember not getting replies. I remember wondering whether the network was lagging, or whether the Object received my messages. I remember being utterly pathetic.

I won't deny that it still wrenches my heart to not get replies. But I get over it a lot quicker now. That's some improvement at least.

Phuture

LETTHE.RECORDPLAY says:
hahaha ok that good to know

[c-towner] Sanctus Shaun says:
haha its bullshit la

LETTHE.RECORDPLAY says:
if not, bully for your phuture girlfriend

[c-towner] Sanctus Shaun says:
HAHAHAH

LETTHE.RECORDPLAY says:
OH DAMMIT i mean FUTURE

[c-towner] Sanctus Shaun says:
what phuture girlfriend

[c-towner] Sanctus Shaun says:
HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA

[c-towner] Sanctus Shaun says:
ok that's blogworthy

LETTHE.RECORDPLAY says:
crapp.

Oh. The Glory.

Last night saw Singapore winning her second Olympic medal of all time.

Here's what the Guardian has to say about it:

Somewhat dulling the achievement for the country of 4.6 million, the players and coach that carried Singapore to victory were all imports from table tennis powerhouse China.

It was however, Singapore, that provided them with the nurturing that contributed to their success. After all, Li Jia Wei came over more than a decade ago when she was talent scouted in China at the tender age of 14.

The coach has this to say about winning the medal:

"I feel very honoured. I've been in Singapore for just over two years and can help it get an Olympic medal, at least a silver, for the first time in 48 years," coach Liu Guodong said.

Here's some info on Feng Tianwei on Wikipedia:

Feng Tianwei (Chinese: 冯天薇; pinyin: Féng Tiānwēi) (born 31 August 1986) is a Singaporean table tennis player who is ranked among the top ten athletes in her sport. She began training in Singapore in March 2007 and commenced her international career in competitive table tennis the following month. She became a Singapore citizen in January 2008.

Citizen in January, Olympic medal in August. Living embodiment of the benefits of foreign talent.

There is little shame in this though. For Chinese players compete under other nations colors as well, not just Singapore. Here's a good article: http://passtheword.wordpress.com/2008/04/12/ping-wrong-chinese-dominate-us-table-tennis/

Personally, I would rather see these Chinese grooming local talent, if there is any to be found.

Booze. Students. Residences.

It's a well-known fact that Students, Booze, and Student Residences are the holy trinity of colleges. They are inseparable. Obviously not every single resident in a Hall/Hostel will participate in drinking parties, or a get together with a couple of friends for some beers, it's safe to say that such activities exist, and there should be a framework of rules to govern such behavior.

For example, in Waterloo where I did my exchange, we were allowed to consume alcohol only in our rooms, and not in the common lounge as a drunkard brawl broke out the year before, resulting in the ban.

A quick search on Google brings up alcohol regulation from a couple of universities:

Queen's University:

Residents of legal age may consume alcohol in private or semi-private areas. Private areas are defined as a residence room or suite, while semi-private areas are defined as floor common rooms.

Bishop's University:

It is against the law to consume alcohol in buildings or public areas of the campus other than in designated "licensed" areas, in a private residence room, or residence common rooms.

Mount Allison University:

RESIDENCE ALCOHOL POLICY

The following policy for the possession and consumption of alcohol in residence applies to all residents of University residences and their guests.

Rooms
Risk Assessemnt forms are not required for consumption of alcohol by students in their own rooms.

Lounges
Floor or lounge party permits are not required for the consumption of alcohol in student lounges as long as the following conditions are respected and the Don of the individual residence agrees.

1) Only one drink per person and thus one container, which must be made of plastic or other non-breakable substances is permitted in the lounge at one time. Opened cases and bottles must remain in students' rooms.

2) Only containers which hold twenty (20) ounces or fewer are permitted.

3) The number of people in the lounge at any one time may not exceed reasonable numbers as determined by the residence Don.

4) Drinking games are not permitted;

5) Residents and their guests must comply with House By-Laws.

Ok you get the point. NUS has a much simpler solution though. NO ALCOHOL IN HALLS. Period. Simple solution by people only too eager to cover their own asses.

Balance

I get my moments.

Moments when I actually recognize myself.

Moments when I look at passably attractive girls and I start feeling self-conscious; looking everywhere but at them.

Moments when I ponder about the virtues of being in an exclusive, stable, loving, and supportive relationship.

Moments when I'm saddened upon hearing friends tell me all they're looking for are flings - instead of patting them on the back and saying well done bro, welcome to the world.

Moments when the emptiness of decadence hits while I am indulging, and not after like it usually does.

Balance. That's what I need. Yes, a revision is needed. Same path, but revised, slightly.

Stuffed

I'm stuffed. In fact, I feel mildly pregnant. Boss treated the team to Kushin-Bo as a farewell party for me, and I, naturally, was the biggest eater at the table.

That's not surprising. What's surprising is the Beluga sitting at the next table diagonally across me. She must have eaten at least 1.5 times what I ate.

Burp. Last day of work folks.

Diesel

High diesel prices? Bollocks. Or at least it is to the Malay driver of a Premier KIA taxi I took to work this morning (yes, i zouked last night, peeled myself off the bed at 10am, and was horribly late for my last day of work).

With the way he accelerated and floored the gas, one would think that diesel has fallen back to 60cents per litre. Not that I'm complaining cause I obviously wanted to get to work as soon as possible but I wondered a little about how his lack of fuel conservancy will affect his earnings. Personally, I've become a tortoise of a driver; slow, slow, pick up, and a cruising speed a couple of km/h +/- the speed limit. Gas is expensive, and I'm a poor bloke.

It was a pleasant surprise when I arrived though. It states clearly on a sticker on the window that there would be a 30cents diesel surcharge added to the fare. Given my abysmal math ability, I asked him how much it would cost after adding the surcharge to my $9.80 fare. Guess what? He smiled, shook his head and said "Don't worry about that! Have a nice day!" Wow. Nice dude. Nice guys lose out, don't they? 30cents per customer. Maybe it's immaterial, as Angela would put it.

Imagine

There's a motivational poster in my office that says:

As you think
so you are ...
As you Imagine
so you Become!

The graphic is of a caterpillar and a majestic butterfly. I'm guessing it's meant to show that even an ugly and worm-like creature such as the caterpillar can become a beautiful butterfly. Inspiring, is it not? No. It's depressing. Why? Because a caterpillar can only become a butterfly because it is _created_ to do so. It's encoded in its genes and all.

An earthworm gifted with exceptional imagination, will remain that - an earthworm. No beautiful colors and happy fluttering from flower to flower for it.

Of course we're not earthworms. With enough luck, blessings and hard work, we can succeed even without trust funds.

Unintended

"Life, of late, has been filled with unfinished pages in a chapter that never seems to have an end. Just like how a life consumed with worldly pursuits is a futile effort to fill the emptiness left by our departure from God, so is the life chasing the transient a mere imitation of the love God intended to exist between Man and Woman."

Dig the cryptic post, Junnie? Haha.

Transsexual Toilets

Check out this article.

"They used to be teased every time they used the boys' toilets," he said, "so they started using the girls' toilets instead. But that made the girls feel uncomfortable. It made these boys unhappy, and started to affect their work."

So the school offered to build the transgender boys their own facility, and they welcomed it.

Cynical

It's tempting, in one's youth, to mistake cynicism for wisdom. One fancies oneself so broken and jaded that nothing is taken at face value. Everything is said with underlying innuendos, unmentioned motives. Everybody has something to hide, and truth seldom surfaces unless to cover more lies.

It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy; when one spurns love, or anything remotely resembling genuine affection. You don't recognize love even when it's staring you in the face. You scoff and without even knowing it, turn love away, the very love you refuse to believe in, the very love you crave.

Adversary

I'll melt the snow,
knock down the door
nowhere in heaven
will you find a better friend

I'll take you to the depths of hell
and bring you safely back
We'll plunge into darkness
but I'll never loose your hand

Singapore 0 - Brazil 3

But of course. What's interesting, however, is the last statement in this article on Channelnewsasia.

"...Singapore's Coach Raddy Avromovic felt that his team did not take their chances well.

Still the game helped his players.

"We help them in their preparation and we help ourselves in some part of the game as the players can see that they can compete for some moments with the top teams," he said.

The Brazilian Coach Dunga felt that his team had performed well under the challenging weather conditions, and their lack of full match fitness.

Captain Ronaldinho, who was mobbed by the media, also gave his and the teams performance the thumbs up.

"I am happy I scored a goal, but more importantly, I created the opportunity for others to score and do well in the Olympics."

The Brazilians leave for Vietnam on Tuesday, the second of their tune-up matches ahead of the Beijing Olympics.

But against Vietnam, the Brazilians can expect a more physically demanding and challenging game as the Vietnamese are known to take their football more seriously."

I see, so the reason why we suck so badly in football is because we don't take it seriously enough. Complacent, maybe. :D

Back

So I'm back in hall, in my room on level 8 and with it nice, neat, and almost completely spruced up. I'll take a few pics when I'm done to commemorate the joyous period where my room doesn't look like a cyclone just went through.

Why am I awake? I'm waiting for my sheets to dry - they're in the dryer. I can't believe how difficult it is to get a dryer. And it's vacation period. Gosh.

Nvm, I've videos of BoA to pass time with.

path

Using a dual-monitor set-up is almost a reflection of how I'm choosing to live my life; I can't seem to focus on one thing at a time. I've multiple windows open, and my attention is scattered among the open windows even as my overtaxed processor loudly protests.

That reminds me. Toshiba notebooks seem to have awfully noisy fans. Or maybe I just need to format my hard disk and reinstall Windows. Explorer and Firefox routinely take up 55% of the CPU time. No idea why.

I spent Friday night alone at home, MSN-ing, eating instant mee-goreng, clicking through facebook, and watching episodes of "How I Met Your Mother". Hilarious series, btw.

Saturday looks like it's unfolding in a similar vein, except that I'm going to start moving stuff back to hall later. I haven't even started packing.

So why the photo? I see a beaten, relatively straight path heading towards a destination that looks pretty pleasant. One can either stick to the path and walk directly to the destination, or stop to check out the beautiful trees along the way.

PLU

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Backache

This isn't the most exciting of posts but my back hurts. Really, really hurts. I believe it's due to the lousy chair I sit on at work - 9 hours a day. Urgh.

Darkness

Watching the Dark Knight left me with a profound sadness. The movie tries to bring some Light into the darkness through the Joker's little sociological experiment, but in all honesty, I'm sure that if that particular experiment was repeated in society, one of the two entities involved would have gone up in flames.

The sadness lingered with me as I bused home, and as I looked inwardly at my current state, I realized I'm so broke that I can't afford to put all my money on a counter.

In these troubled times, I have to diversify; it's my only defense. One more wrong choice and I would be wiped out. I would be floored, lying as Lestat did on the cathedral floor in his velvet jacket. I have to diversify, tide through this rough patch, and hopefully, when the outlook of the economy's better, place my bets on one choice counter.

I know I don't make any sense, but do watch The Dark Knight!

Courtesy or Business

"Kindness is My Business", it said on the hot pink tee worn by a young Indian member of the Suntec Fountain Terrace food court's cleaning team. Two Caucasians were eating Boon Tong Kee chicken at the table next to mine, and they had just emptied the plates of chicken and veg onto their rice, leaving the empty plates and the trays beside them. Young Indian guy happily came along, placed those empty plates on the trays, and cleared them.

"THANK YOU! for clearing your table and returning your tray after you meal." says the free packets of tissues being distributed for this particular courtesy campaign. Praytell, how on earth are they supposed to return their trays when they've already been cleared? Those guys were still eating, and after they're done they would little choice but to leave their plates, bowls and cutlery behind.

Maybe the Indian cleaner was being smart. If everybody started returning their trays to collection points, the food court's management will see no point in hiring so many cleaners. He'll probably lose his job. Or maybe not him, but some handicapped or elderly cleaner. Our lack of courtesy is the only reason why he has a job. So yes, Kindness, IS his business.

Always Fresh

"Always Fresh", or so my display picture on MSN says. I swear I think it's mocking me every time I look at it. I feel like shit. My head's throbbing, nose is blocked, and I'm breathing heavily through my mouth.

What happened? Wednesday Night happened.

Which floor

I stepped into the lift at my block and held the door open while this granny shuffled slowly in carrying plastic bags of groceries.

(Speaking in mandarin) Me: Aunty, which floor are you going to?

(Replying in Teochew) Granny: What's the time now?

(Switching to Hokkien) Me: 6:50pm

Granny: Oh ok, 12th floor then.

Me: Your son lives on the 12th?

Granny: Ya, they've no time to buy groceries so I bought some for them -indicates eggs and some tins of what I think is condensed milk- If it's 7pm then I'll return home on the 5th floor to watch tv.

Me: Ah, how nice of you. Channel 8 program?

Granny: Ya, ya. Very nice.

-Lift reaches 12th level-

I was just thinking; what if that's my mum, and my wife happens to be some anal bitch who only eats organic eggs and uses only low fat milk in her coffee.

Imagine the poor granny walking at a rate no faster than 20 steps per minute going all the way to NTUC to buy groceries only to have her daughter-in-law wrinkle her nose and go "ee, not organic. wa lau, you know condensed milk how fattening not."

Never marry a fussy woman.

Sick

I'm awfully ill. My throat hurts, nose runs, and I swear I feel a fever running up. No problem. Drank Luo Han Guo, ate vitamin C, poloramin, set phone to silent, and went to bed at 735pm.

Why am i blogging you ask? I forgot about the phone in my room. 3 mins ago it rang, and my dad asked:

Dad: You're sleeping? Oh sorry. I want to access my yahoo mail, but why is it aunty alice's one when I log in?

Me: You see the "sign out" button on the top right hand corner?

Dad: Top right hand corner..oh oh ok can already.

And now I'm awake, throat's hurting worse than ever.

Work

Boss: So Shaun, enjoying work so far?

Me: Yup, I have

Boss: Learning a lot?

Me: Yup..

Boss: Looking forward to doing this for the next thirty years?

Me: ...

Boss: Your expression tells me everything.

OO

Entering Double-O, as Japheth puts it, is like opening a can of sausages. I corrected him, saying it's more like opening a can of sausages and finding that hey the manufacturers threw in a couple of rotten peaches as well.

But they serve $7 Jaggerbombs. I've no beef with that.

I miss Canada

Yes I know everybody is sick of me saying this, but I miss Canada, and I miss Waterloo.

It's almost like pinning for an ex-girlfriend.

Who

Well there's nothing I truly desire
There's nothing that I really want
But the times I find myself in the fire
You choose between the right and the wrong

I wish I could control all my judgements
Understand every move
Take my mind and all of it’s voices
Tell me what should I do

Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in your head
And I wonder (who d'you think you're talking to)
One day I’ll move get away
From these feelings getting stronger (who d'you think you're talking to)
Sometimes I feel like it's not so fun
To see what's under (who d'you think you're talking to)
Let me out let me out
I don’t think I can stand it any longer (who d'you think you're talking to)

I remember being part of that era
I remember being so far from home
All the times I needed someone to hear me
Cos I’ve never felt so much on my own

All the trouble that you have with your future
All the rules that make your life so secure
There are people who will give their opinions
But tell me what do they know

Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in your head
And I wonder (who d'you think you're talking to)
One day I’ll move get away
From these feelings getting stronger (who d'you think you're talking to)
Sometimes I feel like it's not so fun
To see what's under (who d'you think you're talking to)
Let me out let me out
I don’t think I can stand it any longer (who d'you think you're talking to)

Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in your head
And I wonder (who d'you think you're talking to)
One day I’ll move get away
From these feelings getting stronger (who d'you think you're talking to)
Sometimes I feel like it's not so fun
To see what's under (who d'you think you're talking to)
Let me out let me out
I don’t think I can stand it any longer (who d'you think you're talking to)

Who d'you think you're talking to
Who d'you think you're talking to
Who d'you think you're talking to


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Now playing: Five O'Clock Heroes - Who (Ft. Agyness Deyn)
via FoxyTunes

Exhausted

I collapsed on the deck chair, exhausted. Mentally, physically and spiritually exhausted.

I imagine flinging myself face down into lush, green pastures by still waters, utterly contented - wanting nothing, needing nothing.

I imagine myself sinking slightly into the soft ground, breathing in the natural aroma of grass, feeling the sun gently warming the back of my neck and drifting gently, to sleep.

I'm tired, friends. This is the result of chasing after the wind. Emptiness. But for just a little longer, I'll continue the chase.

Paul Van Dyk

PVD is coming to Singapore and spinning at Zouk. Naturally, there's a facebook event set up for it, and just as naturally, we've ..

Rebecca Koh (Singapore) wrote
at 3:25pm

its not R&B right?

Judas Iscariot - The Perfect Sin

Judas Iscariot watched impassively as his fellow disciples distributed the bread and fish with expressions varying from disbelief to utter awe and amazement. "Fools," he thought, "it's obvious that Jesus is no charlatan. There's no mistake that he possesses an unique power. It is his divinity that is questionable."

He remembers when he first heard of the Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth, who though coming from a family of carpenters, taught at a tender age in the temple and spoke with the authority of Moses. Religion, Judas knows, can be a powerful weapon. One only has to look at the virtually absolute power the pharisees wield over their people for a glimpse into how this power can be turned to profit in the hands of the right person. Someone intelligent enough not to be blinded by the hindrances that come with religion - someone, like him.

Judas started following Jesus, keeping his distance, and observing the mannerisms of this so-called Messiah. He saw Jesus calling Peter and the others to follow him, to become fishers of man. So this Messiah is looking for disciples. He was sharp enough to know then, that Jesus would attract a huge following, and that by following him, he might be able to maneuver himself to a position of power and profit.

He walked out from behind the crates at the dock, looking straight into the eyes of Jesus and inclining his head in a subtle salute. Jesus returned his gaze and said very words Judas craved, "follow me." Judas widened his eyes in surprise, and thought to himself that for all his claimed divinity, Jesus seemed to lack even the basic mind-reading ability of the back-alley psychics. Couldn Jesus not sense that the heart of his latest disciple was anything but pure? He briefly entertained the thought of ignoring Jesus, but his feet shuffled towards Jesus and his disciples, and he found himself excitedly saying "Yes Lord, of course!"

What followed then were some of the hardest days of Judas Iscariot's life. He had always prided himself on being wise, and above the trappings of religion, but seeing the works and miracles that Jesus performed, how can he be anything but what he claims? Judas was an antagonised Jew at best, and treated the many petty rituals the pharisees taught and require with contempt. He allowed himself a little snigger; at least that's one point he and Jesus agreed with. Judas had watched with no less than vidicative glee when Jesus thrashed the temple of Solomon and took delight when then the hapless pharisees went half mad cursing Jesus and the Devil.

Naturally, Judas found himself in charge of the group's finances. The followers of Jesus numbered in the thousands, and many of them brought gifts of fragrances and precious oils which Judas shrewdly sold for hefty profits and conveniently pocketed huge slices of them. Judas wasn't poor; he certainly didn't need the money. He did it because he could, and also to test the divinity of Jesus, who called himself the Christ, God Incarnate, all knowing, and all powerful. For all his amazing miracles, why could the Lord not notice that one of his disciples not only doubted him, but was cheating him! It confounded Judas, and troubled him to no end.

And then there was all the talk of Jesus leaving, and going to a far away place that they would not be able to follow, at least not for a while. Where was he intending to go? And why did it sound like he was going to die! God doesn't die, and certainly not his son, and not a son who claimed to be one with the Father. It sounded all mildly ridiculous at best, and utterly insane at worst.

Judas looked now at Jesus, who sensing his eyes on him, stopped mid-sentence and threw him a chunk of bread with a smile and a nod as if to say, "go ahead, have a bite." He has affection for Jesus. He might secretly suspect that Jesus was slightly off his rocker, but he's a friend. A friend who's going to die. Try as he might, he was unable to dispel that thought.

He stood up, and walked away from the multitude, from Jesus and all the other disciples. He walked into a clearing by the water and sat down on a boulder with a sigh. Why couldn't he just believe as the others do in the divinity of Jesus? Why did Jesus choose someone as cynical as he is to be one of the chosen twelve?

He was pondering this thoughts when he saw beneath his eyes, a pair of exquisitely beautiful feet with nails so polished they looked almost translucent. The feet were clean; a rarity in the desert, and bare, which was absurd considering the heat of the ground. Judas allowed his eyes to travel slowly up, taking in the white, shimmering robes of the person and his clean, almost perfect hands and nails. He gazed upwards, squinting against the sun's glare, and found himself looking into the face of an angel.

The angel's hair fell carelessly in locks of chestnut brown, in almost the exact same shade as that of Jesus. His features were defined, and symmetrical, lips curled upwards in a sort of half smile. It was his eyes though, that arrested the attention of Judas. Behind the blue-gray of the irises lay basins of melancholy so profound it was all Judas could do to not rip his clothes and cry out in the traditional expression of sorrow his people are so fond of.

"Judas," the angel said to him, "Judas Iscariot, my brother, the partaker of my fate and the adversary of God Incarnate." With a sudden realization, Judas knew he was in the presence of the Devil. He jumped to his feet, causing the Devil to take half a step back with a bemused expression on his face, raising both hands slightly with the palms facing Judas in a gesture of peace. "Whoah," said the Devil, "easy, boy."

"Th..e Adversary," Judas stuttered, "the adversary of God, the Devil!"

"Yes, that's who I am. And you, my friend, were created for similar purposes as I was. Who created me? I am a son of God, created out of nothing by the Almighty himself, he who calls himself the Alpha and the Omega, the omnipotent one, the all knowing one.

"Look at me!" and as if to illustrate his point, The Adversary spread the wings behind him, their radiance almost blinding Judas, causing him to shield his eyes with his hand and turning away from the Devil. "I am beautiful, am I not? God in his majesty and grace created me in his likeness, and believe me, no other angel even comes close to my beauty. I am Lucifer, the Son of Morning, the Prince of Air, and the ruler now of this world you tread on.

"Didn't God, in his omniscience, know that I was going to rebel? And not only I! A full third of heaven's host joined me in my rebellion. What did we rebel against? Precisely that which troubles you! We did not understand why God did things the way he did. Why did God create this earth, and all the universe only to populate one tiny garden, the Garden of Eden with two humans, created also in his likeness. What was to become of us, the angels who could do nothing but sing his praises since time immemorial.

"The humans, Adam and Eve, frolicked in the springs, enjoyed the company of the animals and spent time with God in the evenings. God walked among them, and spoke to them, fellowshiped with them. What was the purpose! Weren't we enough? Was God so greedy he was not content with his heavenly hosts?!

"I questioned God repeatedly on this, and he could only say "Trust me, Lucifer", and left it at that. Why bother infusing me with intelligence and brilliance without peer if not for me to question and to understand his actions? He could have been contented with the other archangels like Michael and Gabriel who in their simplicity trusted him without question. Why create me if not for me to question?

"Spurned by God, I traversed the universes, walking along what is now called the Milky Way, and seeing planets barren and devoid of life. What was God's plan for these stars? Did he create them just to demonstrate his capability! What arrogance! I went down to earth and listened as the green herbs he gave as food to Man and the animals cried out in agony as they lost their lives only so the moving creatures could live. Why was this so? Why did God create life only for it to be lost for such meaningless a purpose? Why couldn't God create every moving creature to be self-sufficient like he is? Like we are? I was lost. And as I spoke to the lesser angels about my views, more and more were swayed to my side till finally God exploded in his fury and all of heaven stopped to turn their gaze on him"

"Lucifer!" he roared, "take your doubting angels and leave. Leave heaven, for you obviously trust not in the Lord, your God. Live then with creation, and understand if you will, why I do the things I do, and made creation the way it is."

The Adversary sighed and turned his back towards Judas, raising his hands to the heaven as he continued, "I was cast down from heaven, hurling towards the earth like a common rock. All around me I saw the other angels, my friends who had listened to me speak and agreed with me that our God despite his awesome glory was incomprehensible.

"We landed, as luck, or God's will would have it, outside the Garden of Eden where God's favored creatures lived. The first of your reproachable kind. Your father, and mother, Adam and Eve. Pure, and innocent. Yet I remembered God's commandment for them not to eat of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Of course, another question emerged in my mind. Why tell the humans not to eat of the tree and yet put it smack in the middle of the garden? And why cast me out of heaven only to put me where his precious creatures lived. It was obvious to me then that I was created for this very purpose. I was to be God's Adversary. That was why he imbued me with the powers and intellect that I have. He wanted a worthy Adversary. It was his will; who was I to fight it?"

The Adversary turned and looked at Judas. Shrugging his shoulders, he continued, "This, my friend, is where you find yourself. You've wondered why Jesus chose you despite your obvious corruption. Why didn't he know that you've been stealing from him? You fool. Of course he knows. He is omniscient isn't he? It's all part of God's plan. He is to be betrayed, and you are to be the instrument of his betrayal."

Judas Iscariot could only stare in shock at the Adversary. For all his self-claimed brilliance, he was only mortal, and the avalanche of information the Devil has flooded him with in the past few moments was overwhelming to say the least. He opened his mouth to speak, but the Devil raised his hand wearily, "We'll have time for conversation soon enough, my friend. For now, your master seeks you." And with that, he, the Adversary of God, disappeared.

Judas collapsed to the ground, drenched in perspiration, trembling with exhaustion after the encounter with the Devil.

He awoke to find himself on his bed, alone in his room. He awoke slowly, dressed, and made his way down to the communal hall where he could hear the voice of Jesus speaking to his disciples. "Come join us, Judas, you've had a fever" said the Lord, and when the Lord commands, there was nothing to do but obey. Jesus was talking once again of betrayal, and his impending death. Judas found himself unable to keep his eyes on Jesus, unsure whether the encounter with the Devil had been a fever-induced hallucination.

"The one whom I give is bread to, will be the one to betray me," he heard Jesus say, and like before, tossed the bread to him, saying "Go, do what you have to do."

Stricken with grief and fear, Judas took the bread, and slinked away into the night, the same night in which he would betray the Son of God with a kiss, and in the process, committing the perfect sin, giving up the lamb of God to be crucified on a cross for the salvation of humanity.

-

Word Count: 2,136

I've no idea why I came home immediately after climbing and spent over an hour writing the above. I hope you people read it in its entirety. I hope some of you like it. This is crazy ...

"True Love"

"True" in the phrase True Love is redundant, don't you think. Love has to be true, otherwise it should be replaced with other words such as Infatuation or Lust.

----------------
Now playing: Mystery Jets - Hideaway
via FoxyTunes

From bash.org

DragonflyBlade21: A woman has a close male friend. This means that he is probably interested in her, which is why he hangs around so much. She sees him strictly as a friend. This always starts out with, you're a great guy, but I don't like you in that way. This is roughly the equivalent for the guy of going to a job interview and the company saying, You have a great resume, you have all the qualifications we are looking for, but we're not going to hire you. We will, however, use your resume as the basis for comparison for all other applicants. But, we're going to hire somebody who is far less qualified and is probably an alcoholic. And if he doesn't work out, we'll hire somebody else, but still not you. In fact, we will never hire you. But we will call you from time to time to complain about the person that we hired.

-

A: what should I give sister for unzipping?
B: Um. Ten bucks?
A: no I mean like, WinZip?

-

A: man, my girlfriend left me for some faggot named robert
B: you don't live in Hope mills do you?
A: ya, why man?
B: lol, just wondering, was her namne alisson?
A: you mother fucker

-

A: Man, my penis is so big if I laid it out on a keyboard it'd go all the way from A to Z
A: wait, shit

-

A: hey baby, whats up?
B: umm....nothing?
A: So....want me to like come over today so we can fuck?
B: Wait....did you want to speak to my daughter?
A: Yes Mrs.Miller.. :-/

-
A: Hey Mike
B: what?
A: Pussy.
B: er?
A: Pussy.
B: and?
A: Pussy.
B: ...
A: Pussy.
B: i dont get it
A: AND YOU NEVER WILL.
B: bastard

-

JstWnnaHveFuN08: do you think i should call a guy friend and talk to him about my problems? or will he not care?
Thilo: Here's how it works: if a guy helps you with your problems, you're obligated to give him a blowjob.
JstWnnaHveFuN08: lol thanks that cheered me up
Thilo: No problem. That'll be one blowjob please.

----------------
Now playing: Mystery Jets - Veiled In Grey
via FoxyTunes

Pray

文| says:
later u go church must pray for me k. i turning 24 on monday. pray i everything will smooth smooth good good zai zai.

Shaun 林金 [519](L)Waterloo says:
haha

Shaun 林金 [519](L)Waterloo says:
angie

Shaun 林金 [519](L)Waterloo says:
i not going temple leh

文| says:
ya i noe ah. why cannot go church pray i good good? just phrase it something like ermz: I commit my sister Angela into your Hands and i pray for her wellbeing and all her endevous to be good and excellent

The Andromeda Strain

Arguably the most retarded Michael Crichton book I've read. The ending's anti-climatic, explained nothing, and leaves you hanging. I would understand if somewhere there's a web supplement to the book, or a sequel, but the book's standalone.

The story's about a virus that MIGHT be alien, or might have just been carried up to space on a satellite, mutated and brought back to earth when the satellite crashed. What's irritating is that at the end of the book, we STILL don't know. We don't even know how the damn virus kills. Michael Crichton's narrator seems to know, but in his infinite wisdom he chose not to share it with his readers. Or maybe I missed something, I don't know. Someone please read the book, then explain to me, cause I'm mightily irked. Here he talks a little about the book. I must admit the story's pretty convincing though.

Googled it immediately after finishing the book, and I found a trailer for a mini-series based on the story. Listening to the actors and the voice-over describe the damn virus is almost hilarious to someone who has just finished reading the book. I don't want to spoil the story for anyone, so just grab the book, and read it. It's an easy read at least; finishable in a day or two.

Here's the trailer to the oh-so-exciting mini-series:

Little pleasures

I was on standing on the down-riding escalator heading back to office after dropping off a card for Mum at the post office and listening to three girls argue about the location of Carrefour when they reached the bottom and one of them turned around.

Surprise, surprise. It was the girl I unsuccessfully tried chatting up a year ago at Iguana. I noted with a certain grim satisfaction that she's now the proud owner of a pear shaped body.

Ah, the moments of little pleasures in life.

Idiot Wife

Valerie shared this on the Block C Diary, but here's the link for the rest of you :

http://idiotwife.blogspot.com

World War II or Euro

Shaun 林金 [519] Waterloo says:
japheth

Shaun 林金 [519] Waterloo says:
did i step on your toes without realising?

japheth says:
hahahahhahahaha

japheth says:
ok i shut up

Shaun 林金 [519] Waterloo says:
i like havent whack you in such a long time

Shaun 林金 [519] Waterloo says:
then u like that

Shaun 林金 [519] Waterloo says:
hurt my feelings

Shaun 林金 [519] Waterloo says:
like germany

Shaun 林金 [519] Waterloo says:
attacking russia

Mr Smileyface says:
they din play in the euros wat

Shaun 林金 [519] Waterloo says:
...

Shaun 林金 [519] Waterloo says:
dude

Shaun 林金 [519] Waterloo says:
WW2 can?

japheth says:
HAHAHAHAHAHA

Snore

You know you're severely sleep deprived when you can hear yourself snore. Yes, I'm not kidding. My mind wakes up before my body, and I can hear my own gentle snoring. And yes, it was gentle.

I'm been a little too lazy to blog. Work's good; I find myself doing similar work to the other engineers and it feels good on one hand, but then again I've only been doing this for a month and I'm already tired of it.

OpenBSD and CentOS are cool I suppose, but being locked in a server farm or office interacting with only a black screen and white text can get extremely depressing. Coding is not much of an improvement either.

I guess a good job to have would be one that requires me to be mobile; having lunches/drinks with clients, trying to sell some big ticket product or service. Mobile is good. Extremely Mobile, ie. traveling abroad, would be even better.

Thursdays are official Dumb Days. I'm getting far too old for two hour sleeps.

I read Memnoch the Devil again. It's still captivating, but this time it didn't screw my mind all that much. I see the flaws in her story, and it's not halfway as convincing the second time round as it was the first. Still, check it out - Anne Rice's Memnoch the Devil. And the takeaway quote by Lestat:

"I don't like myself you know. I love myself. I'm devoted to myself till my dying day. But I don't like myself."
- Lestat

Theft

I lost my mobile. Or, more accurately, it was stolen out of my bag when I was climbing in Climbasia.

Send me a text message with your name so I can add you to my phonebook. I'm using an ancient relic of a Nokia now. How the mighty has fallen.

war

"Even the greatest of empires are conquered inch, by inch. Attempt not a frontal assault, which will undoubtedly be turned away, if not out of shock, then of principle.

Borrow instead from the ancient Greeks the idea of the Trojan Horse, where with an innocuous and even welcomed gesture, you get troops behind the enemy's line of defense.

Advance steadily deeper into enemy territory, avoiding the cities most strongly defended. Establish a presence in lightly defended cities. These shall be your beachheads and your safe havens. Retreat to these cities when the expeditionary force encounters stiff resistance.

Any ground gained shall be garrisoned and used as forward bases for further attacks. Never cede these lands;any resistance thrown against you by the enemy will now be weak, half-hearted and ineffectual.

When all land surrounding the fortified cities have been successfully conquered, it will be time, then, to convene the main assault."

Smoke

Big Boss: Do you ever get any girls' phone numbers during your smoking break?
Collegue: No...
Big Boss: That's like pretty useless man.

Intern

Free Perks So Far (Yes, I'm a cheapo.)

Day 1:

330pm : Chai Latte at Starbucks
530pm: Saketinis at Keyaki

Days n:

Toast Box Breakfast
Duck Rice near Pasir Panjang

Last week:

Heineken at 5pm in office

Today:

330pm: Kung fu Panda
540pm: Warsteiners at Balaclava

As far as free perks go, I'm having a blast of an internship :) Not to mention the cans of coke I grab happily and regularly from the pantry fridge.

Alexander : The Virtues of War

Read it.

The sarissa's song is a sad song
He pipes it soft and low.
I would ply a gentler trade, says he,
But war is all I know.

Lost

Eight Years Ago:

he strains to see her in the dark, sitting a metre of so across him. he can hardly make out her features, let alone make eye contact. she's a friend of his cousin whom he met online when his silly cousin added her to his contact list and was probarly to lazy to delete it. he recalls their first encounter online, or at least he tries to. it comes back to him in bits and pieces. the only thing he remembers clearly was his confident online flirting with her. he smiles. how interesting. he keeps his eyes locked on her, trying desperately to catch her attention. at times it really seems that she's looking at him, but he really can't be sure. the thought that's constantly on his mind is 'she's cute..real cute..but ah..don't be crazy'

he reluctantly walks away with his friends, unwilling to take his eyes away from her. he feels it. 'damn..shit shit shit..don't even think about it..damn.' he's not going to have yet another crush on yet another girl again. this is crazy. can't someone put a rein on his whatever-you-call-it. he can almost predict the results, the outcome of this ridiculous feeling. here's his life - he likes girl, girl doesn't return the affection, girl rejects, he feels sad, he sees another .. ah the cycle goes on. what does this look like to you? its something he himself can't even comprehend. he shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. he's a gonner. silently he sings the lyrics of 'heaven'. oh and guess what, he hasn't even spoken more than ah..3 sentences to her.

-

his heart is beating at an amazing rate. she's sitting beside him. they're sitting on a damp bench, both their brains must have been slacking to have allowed them to ignore the dampness. he smiles again; realises that he has been smiling a lot, even breaking out into big grins, sometimes cheesy ones. doesn't matter, he's happy, happy like um..anything. she likes him too, he knows that by then, she having already confirmed his suspicions over the phone. an idea struck him. risky, no doubt, but feasible. he smiles yet again. 'eh..see your hand?' yeps, its this corny. doesn't matter though, she fell for it. he raises his right hand slightly, palm facing the sky. she looks at him; places her left hand onto his right hand, exclaims something about his hand being big. he's not listening. he shifts his hand slightly and gently bends his fingers inwards, in doing so holding her hand. silence. time passes. he holds on to her hand. another thought. he looks down at their hands, fingers interlocked. he brings up her hand and kisses it. shock on her face. he looks at her. time passes. 'are we attached?' 'nopes, not yet.' 'okay..' he pops the question..the question he thinks he knows the answer to, he can't be wrong can he? she nods her head, says something like 'yes' or 'okay'. doesn't matter. he isn't listening. he's overjoyed. he grins, like a little boy who finally got the toy plane he longed for.
-
he sits at an uneasy 2 feet away from her, sideways. her bag is in between them. hm. he pauses, listening to the sound of the waves crashing onto the breakwater. its high-tide, he notices. its cloudy, he notices. the darn bag is in the way, he notices. he takes a deep breath, picks her bag up, places it onto her other side, and shifted himself next to her, reducing the 2 feet to 2cm. much better. a chain of events led to him hugging her from the back while leaning against a wooden pillar.
thoughts flooded his mind at this instant. he realises once again that this is not all there is to a relationship. no doubt, they were both adolescents, but thats hardly an excuse for irresponsible behaviour. a relationship, at any age, involves a commitment. think about it, even a young kid who owns a pet goldfish has a commitment to the little creature - he has to feed it, change the water in the tank, scrub the tank, et cetera. what happens most of the time? the young kid gets sick of his new toy, not realising that the little fishy is a living creature. what happens next? the fish dies of course. the kid may feel the pain, or he may not..
corny analogy. but thats what most adolescent relationships are about. each regarding his or her partner as a new fish, alacriously carrying out the required responsibilities. they live in blissful happiness till the day the infatuation wears out and they tire of each other. its sad but true. don't you think so?
this relationship will never end up this way, not if he can help it. he makes a silent commitment to the relationship, silent but strong. promises..promises he will fulfil.
-
the relationship grows well. there are times when he feels like a little kid's fish but well, things are still going fine. insecurity comes into every relationship, but shouldnt it be present in the girl most of the time? he shrugs mentally, continuing his observation of the ceiling in his room. hm maybe observation is the wrong word to use here; the room is dark and the ceiling is almost flawless..whats there to observe?
he has fallen completely in love with her and he knows it, at least in his current mentality it is love. it may not be really how true love is, but give him a break will ya? he's sixteen, how much does he know? he's happy, more or less, on the whole. he wants to grow with her, to mature together with her, to enter this savage garden together, the real world. 'growing old with you' .. how appropriate.
-

8 Days Ago:

I'm Shaun, the nice guy, the weak guy, the one trampled upon, the one who's clingy, needy and, adaptable(to use a euphemism) to the whims and desires of the girls I date. I'm still Shaun, but I've turned apostate, exchanged idealism for cynicism, embraced hedonism instead of faithfulness, and in the process, lost myself.

There's Black, there's White, and there's a whole spectrum of colors in between. I love being an oddity, a contrast. I've pulled off several roles, and now it seems I'm trying for the role of an Honest Asshole, or as honest as honest can be without appearing to be a total jerk.

What do you do when you find you aren't attracted to your partner? What happens when you know how awesome the person is but are simply not attracted? What happens when you realize this when you're 9,000km away but harbor hopes that the flame will re-ignite upon reunion? What happens when reunion, instead of sparking a bonfire, darkens the heart?

A better man will press on. A man better than myself.

One day God will slap me, and wake me up. Till that day, I will attempt to successfully indulge in hedonistic pleasures.

Today:

Tear your clothes and weep, kid, for instead of growing, you've descended into debauchery and exchanged wisdom for folly. The devil offers the world on a silver platter, and for mere potential you sold your soul. Just a little bit more, he cajoles, Heaven is forever, life is short. Jesus forgives all sins and washes them with his blood, turning your rotten soul white as snow. Even a little sin is unbearable in his sight, so what difference does it make how filthy your soul is upon repentance?

Quite a compelling argument. The danger lies though, in falling so far from the glory of God that he hardens your heart, and you never ever find it in your soul to confess and repent. So far down the road to ruin that inertia alone prevents salvation. In time you lose sight of God, and forget his voice. He still calls, but you no longer listen. If the world is your oyster, then hell is death by hepatitis.

This meeting is adjourned.

London

"Sitting cross-legged on slightly damp grass in the middle of a park with the Buckingham Palace on my left and endless streams of french speaking tourists strolling pass me on the pavement by the lake, I'm in London, the sun's in a cheery mood and there's a plesant breeze.

A distant clock chimed twelve; six more hours before I have to make my way back to the Underground and catch a train back to Heathrow airport for my flight back home. It's beautiful here, and many a time I don't want to leave. I want to work, study, bum around, do anything here. In fact, I love every city I've been to in my travels this exchange. Chicago, New York, Seattle, Vancouver, Montreal, Quebec, Toronto, heck, even Waterloo, I love them all. I love the weather, I soak in the smiles, the friendly faces, the new friends, the partying, the crazy flip cup game.

But I'm going home; to family and friends, people who love me and in whose hearts I've significance, it's where I belong. I am truely glad that I'll soon see familiar faces. The most beautiful sights in the world mean nothing if you've nobody to share them with.

So I'll enjoy my day in London, my first city in Europe, and pray that the next time I'm here it will be with people I love."

And so it begins again.

Today my conscience speaks, in a gentle whisper echoing from a dusty grave.

Mercy would have it be enough, but Karma wields a heavy hammer, and the barrage I will face will by no means be small, and by no means would I not deserve it.

If she's a spacecraft I'm unqualified to pilot, and this flak I get is for getting off, what will be in store for me should I continue piloting and crash into the Atlantic.

Chicago -> New York

I write this entry sitting on board an United Airlines domestic flight to New York, LGA, while my $20 imitation North Face duffel bag sits somewhere in the Chicago O'Hare airport waiting to board the next available flight to New York. How did this happen, and why would American air transport rules allow a passenger and his luggage to travel on different planes?

For the second question I can only shrug, and mention that might it not be possible for a time-bomb to go undetected in a check-in bag and detonated on a different flight as the terrorist? Heck, suicide bombing will be passe if this catches on.

As to why it happened in the first place? It all started with me asking for directions to the airport from the asian lady behind the hostel's reception desk. All I managed to understand from her chupsomebonk accent was that I should go west of Congress to La Salle station and take the blue line. Blue line, I thought, I know for sure how to get to Jackson station and it's also on the blue line, so I made my way there, only to find that Jackson's closed for the weekend for upgrading. Closed, on a weekend?! Why don't they work in the middle of the night like considerate Chinese and Singaporean construction firms; it's dark in the tunnels anyway.

What followed next was 30 mins of me walking haphazardly asking for directions to La Salle station and realising that there are 3 Lasalle stations; one serving the purple/brown/orange lines, one some sort of rail station, and the last serving the blue line. With a tip of the hat to ol Murphey, I paid a visit to the other 2 stations before finally arriving at the correct station, and hauling both me, and my duffel bag on board the train to O'Hare.

I settled down with Shadow of the Hegemon and was minding my own business reading when the train operator announced that the track between some station and some station is closed, and that we should alight at the next station to transfer to a shuttle that would take us two stations down towards O'Hare. Fantastic, more upgrading. So, off the train, to the shuttle, to another station, and back on the train towards the airport; 30 mins worth of traveling time.

Finally, we're at the airport(I used "we" purely to avoid soundly like some lonesome soul) and I brisked walked to Terminal one, half appreciating the soothing vocals of a black busker while wondering why he was even allowed to busk in the airport. Maybe it's because of the crumpled handwritten "God Bless You" sign he has with him. Terminal 1, United airlines check in desk with probably 50 people ahead of me in line. Awesome. Joined the queue, made my way to the front, found out it was too late to check in, put my luggage and myself on waiting list for the next flight, and left with a confirmation ticket.

Confirmation ticket in hand, I went through security where like in Heathrow, I had to remove shoes and belt, and found myself at gate B9 where my flight was boarding. Presented the confrimation ticket to the staff and got in exchange a boarding pass for that flight. What of my luggage, I asked, and was told that it would be on the next flight out.

Still with me? I'm bored on the plane after finishing my book. I need to get the next one, and probably end up returning to Singapore with 10 books. Getting sleepy, think I'll watch some bleach while the flight attendant walks down the aisle repeating "Seatbelts" at the rate of once every 4 seconds.

Youniverse

Gwen did it, so I thought maybe I should too.

http://youniverse.com/

Apparently my love type is "crazy in love" as compared to her "wistful soul"

I would copy and paste the results, but it's in a flash file.

Tomorrow I leave for Chicago.

8th May will be when I return to Singapore.

----------------
Now playing: Iain Sutherland/New World Philharmonic/Tasmin Little - Schindler's List
via FoxyTunes

Niagara Glen

I miss you people

Especially my dad. Doesn't he look sweet and harmless. Ah, I thought I was a rock in canadian winter, but a little bit of web camming with Gwen, and a few of my dad's photos, and I miss home like crazy.

snapshots

Alive in Canada

I'm still alive. Facebook is killing the blogging star. Why blog when Facebook is so much more convenient, at least where posting photos is concerned. The last I checked, I've over 700 photos on Facebook, gosh. I don't write much on Facebook though, so here's an attempt at regaining some writing ability while listening to mandarin songs.

Speaking of mandarin, the term used for mainland Chinese here is FOB, as in, Fresh Off the Boat. Interesting, eh? Not a very nice thing to say, but yeah, interesting.

I've one more week in Waterloo before my last day of exams and getting kicked out of residence the next day. Unlike NUS which at least is merciful about moving in/out dates, the students here are only allowed to move in one or two days before term starts, and have to leave 24 hours within the end of their last paper. Quite ridiculous if you ask me.

Where will I be going after that? Chicago, for two nights, and after that I've no idea. Maybe New York City. Then it's back to Toronto before coming back to Sunny Singapore. I'm positive that I'll melt as soon as I step out of Changi Airport. Double digit temperatures are rare here, and when that happens, everybody goes out in tee shirts; girls in skirts(:D).

Just as how I miss my friends in Singapore while I'm here, I'm sure as hell going to miss all the cool people I've been hanging out with here. As how Japheth put it recently, it's cool to sit down at a table and ask "so where's everybody from?". Ask that in Singapore and you'll get quizzical looks and "er, Hougang?".

I'm glad I'm coming home though. I miss all you guys back home! I'm coming homeeeeeeeee.



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Now playing: 陶喆 - 愛我還是他
via FoxyTunes

Facebook

Facebook has this Compare application that's good for a few laughs. Check out my rankings:

1st in "Who has better taste in music"
1st in "Who more likely to succeed"
2nd in "Who is more attractive"
3rd in "Who is more talkative"
3rd in "Who more likely to skip class"
3rd in "Who has a better body"
5th in "Who is a better listener"
5th in "Who is smarter"

That's okay right. Apparently people don't think I study very much, and nobody trusts me. And of course, how can someone who stutters be a good public speaker.

175th in "Who is a better public speaker"
181st in "Who is more trustworthy"
194th in "Who studies harder"

And the bomb:

Would you date Shaun?"

YES	4 votes
NO	17 votes
Total	21 votes

Toronto

Healthy emo-ing

I can't remember whether I've posted this before, but it looks like a relatively nice piece so here it is.

I can't understand why some people do the things they do.
I can't understand greed. I can't understand lust. I can't understand resentfulness,
though of course, of all the above I've experienced.

I weep for loss, shed tears for broken hearts, pity the weak, love the lonely.
I love, but I am locked.
Locked deep within the deepest, darkest corners of my soul.
Useless, those emotions.

People expound on those, to impress, to cheat, as weapons to fulfill their hidden desires.
Nobody loves, for the sake of loving. Nobody cares, for the sake of caring.
I love you. Love me back.
I give to the poor. LOOK AT ME!
I care for my children. They better return the favor.

I mourn, for the loss, of innocence.

and one more:

An unbidden tear flows from my right eye, as I trudge slowly home.
How fitting, I thought, that I should tear from only one eye.

The hot tear on my right cheek
It's almost like a part of me is weeping
For what I've become.

Frail

Convinced of my deception
I've always been a fool
I fear this love reaction
Just like you said I would

A rose could never lie
About the love it brings
And I could never promise
To be any of those things


Chorus:


If I was not so weak
If I was not so cold
If I was not so scared of being broken
Growing old
I would be...
I would be...
I would be...


Blessed are the shallow
Depth they'll never find
Seems to be some comfort
In rooms I try to hide


Exposed beyond the shadows
You take the cup from me
Your dirt removes my blindness
Your pain becomes my peace


[Chorus]


...frail

The fool has said in his heart, "There is no God."

Why do you boast in evil, O mighty man?

Wit's a poor substitute for righteousness, and the knowledge of God is not the fear of God.

When you first err, God nudges you gently back to the straight and narrow. He lets you pass, should you shrug him off, only to remind you time after time like a flashing U-turn symbol in a racing game. Next comes the sharp slap on the face, and things basically go downhill from there.

How long you partake in the sweetness of Sin depends on your sensitivity towards the voice of God and your judgment of how severe His warnings are becoming. As long as the pleasures triumph over guilt, we happily set God aside to enjoy the banquet of the world.

What's the difference between a Christian and Unbeliever? The nagging feeling that you've erred, are erring, and should scurry back to the straight and narrow or face the wrath of God and the disappointment of a Father.

I find myself probably at the stage where God is slapping me on the face. Maybe it's time to do a little scurrying before He decides an earthquake is in order.

I'm not particularly thrilled at that prospect, but who am I to complain.

Close to Gwen

Why do birds

Suddenly appear?

Everytime you are near

Just like me

They long to be

Close to Gwen



Why do stars

Fall down from the sky?

Everytime you walk by

Just like me

They long to be

Close to Gwen



(*) on the day that Gwen born

The angels got together and decided

To create a dream come true

So they sprinkled moondust in your hair

Of gold and starlight in your eyes of blue



(**) that is why all the boys in town

Follow you all around

Just like me

They long to be

Close to Gwen



Repeat (*)

Repeat (**)



Just like me

They long to be

Close to Gwen



Woo... close to Gwen ...

Brilliance

Q: “So, how serious is the brain drain, sir?”

Mr Lee: “The brain drain is pretty serious, our brain drain, losing them...”

Q: “To China?”

Mr Lee: “No, losing them to America. No, we’re not losing to China.”

Q: “Not China?”

Mr Lee: “China, they’ll come back. You want to be Chinese or do you want to be Singaporean. You go to China, you’re going to compete against 1,300 million very bright fellows, hardworking, starving. Do you stand a chance to be on top of that pole? No, but if you go there as Singaporean with a different base, speaking English which they can’t, with connections to the world, then you’ve got a different platform.

What happens is they go to America, Americans then collect them, the bright ones. You stay for two, three years in their companies, acclimatize them to the company culture and take them to China, if they speak Chinese. So, they’re part of the American team. Now, if they are working in China, I think they’ll come back because they don’t want their children to compete against Chinese.

But if they decide to take the Green Card and settle in America, then I think we’ve lost them and they are going to America and those who don’t want the hard competition here go to Australia and Canada.”

Q: “You have percentages on that, sir?”

Mr Lee: “We’re losing about… According to the people who give up their citizenship and take out their savings, their pension funds, we’re losing about, at the top end, 1,000 a year, which is about, if you take the top 30 per cent of the population, thereabout four or five per cent. It will grow because I think the numbers are growing.

Every year, there are more people going abroad for their either first degree or second degree or whatever. But we’re making up by getting many bright Chinese and Indians coming here because of better prospects, learn English, you can learn Chinese at the same time and so on and the Indians are near home, First-World standards as against Indian infrastructure.

The trouble is many of the Chinese then use us as a stepping stone to go to America where the grass is greener. But even if we only keep 30 to 40 per cent and we lose 60 to 70 per cent, we’re a net gainer. But the day will come, maybe 20 years, maybe 30 years, when Chinese say, look, my life is better than yours or as good.

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Q: “In fact, we don’t have great statesman anymore anywhere in democracies. Do you have a view as to why that is no longer possible to have someone like you or Charles De Gaulle or Margaret Thatcher?”

Mr Lee: “No, no, no, you will now have, I don’t know for how long this phase will last, an electorate that’s influenced by the mass media and a mass media run by a group of media barons with their appointed surrogates getting tired of leaders after a short while and wanting change, always believing that the next one
will be better. So, Tony Blair, use-by-date over, out. They’ve got Gordon Brown. Is he better? I don’t know. He doesn’t measure up, out. David Cameron, is he better? After awhile, out.”

Q: “So, the power of the media has made it impossible to be a great statesman or great stateswoman?”

Mr Lee: “I’m not sure. I think it depends upon the crisis. When a real crisis sets in, people begin to feel it in their bones and their opinion-formulators also begin to feel that this is life-and-death, it’s no longer pontificating and better be cautious about this. Let’s stick by somebody who knows what this is all about and will stay the course.”

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I guess this explains "MediaCorp is 100% owned by Temasek Holdings, the Singapore government's wholly owned investment arm."

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Full interview here

Relativity

As kids we were told, that the stars we see at night, might already be long dead. They're simply so far away that the light they gave out a long time ago is still traveling towards us.

In similar fashion, a wad of spit on the 18th of January took almost a month to reach its target. Stop spitting on me, it cries, leave me alone. You've had peace, no? I've not said anything to you since. The slow speed of your comprehension ability is none of my business, there is nothing I can do, so quit whining.

Oh. Is this going to torment you for another month?

Oops

Oops. Seems like I was wrong about my Creation of Man poster. It was Man who had his hand extended loftily, and God who was straining to reach him. Ah what the hell.

http://www.globalgallery.com/enlarge/018-21551/

Posters and More

The third installation in Orson Scott Card's Ender Saga, Xenocide.


It's imported! Flew in all the way from Singapore in a huge brown parcel complete with chinese new year goodies, and ..

Haha, yes, I never thought I would one day be a proud owner of a Singapore postcard, merlion and all. Nope, darling, the postcard didn't make me homesick, the bak kwa did. =(


I got myself a new poster today. Don't be shocked, but here it is:

My other posters get the cork wall


Yes Jeryd, I'll give you the starry night poster k. It's as good as new. No point buying another one. I've no space to put it up in Singapore anyway.

Groundhog Day

February 2 is Groundhog Day. A groundhog is coaxed/grabbed from his hole, and is left to look for his own shadow. If he sees one, he scurries back to his hole and that signifies 6 more weeks of winter. If he doesn't, it means an early spring is coming.

A quick search on google showed some groundhogs seeing their own shadows, and some who don't. Where does that leave us? Stock up on the booze, people. Early spring - time to partayyyyy. More winter? Keep your blood warm by .. partayyyiiing.

Day Trip to Toronto

UW's Bouldering Room

Smaller than the climbing gym in NUS, but unlike NUS, it's usually empty, and the tapped out routes are a lot more technical, and fun :)

The crowd in the photo is only cause of some climbing competition.