Thursday, July 26, 2007

My lecturer paired us off and made us write sentences one after another. This is a general idea - as much as I can remember - she took the original copy off us. Now let's see what my classmate and I got up to.

Red text= Me

Blue text= Chris



BEAUTY LIES IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER

A pale, insipid face peeped out shyly from within the wraps of a ragged scarf. It was cold. It was one of those nights where the children were reluctant to leave the warmth of the fireplace. And then Santa appeared. He laughed merrily, a huge bag of goodies slung over his shoulder, tinkling bells harmonising with his laughter.


The children started to cry. They realised that this was not the Santa Claus of their bedtime stories, but Santa Claws. They ran and hid behind the trees. “You can’t hide from me forever, children,” cackled Santa. He had a big belly. Santa’s face paint was starting to peel, revealing the horror beneath his façade. Then the Goblin appeared.


A little child trembled as he climbed up a tree, the branches scratching cruelly against his flesh as Santa approached menacingly. The Goblin started to laugh at Santa’s big belly. “Haven’t you heard that beauty lies in the eye of the beholder?” snapped Santa angrily. “No wonder the children are afraid of you,” the Goblin laughed. “Appearances can be deceiving,” said Santa, “besides, Mrs. Claws finds me attractive.”

Saturday, July 14, 2007

What is Art?

It is the common fallacy of our society that art is merely restricted to paintings hung in galleries and such. We have been taught since childhood that art consists of literature, paintings, sculptures, music and the like. The true meaning of art is lost, buried deep beneath the hectic daily lives of humans. Masterpieces that convey a world of meanings, splashes of colours forming portals to fantastic worlds, weaving in an out in an eternal parabola is lost to the general public. They are not aware of the omnipresence of art, that art is everywhere and that we breathe and live art.

Basic art classifications include literature, paintings and music. The works of illustrious writers like Oscar Wilde have been passed down from one generation to another. Compositions of legendary musicians like Beethoven and Mozart resonated through the ages and paintings by artists like Leonardo da Vinci are admired till this very day. Yet is that all there is to art? Art is not mere watercolours slapped upon canvases – it is everything one is able to perceive, though humans tend to reject the blatantly obvious in favour of the safe and tried road of ignorance. There is more to art than meets the eye.

Permit me to provide unusual examples that people would not generally consider a form of art. Several attempts have been carried out to separate the world into science and art, with the former deliberated as the dominant half of humanity. It has been debated that the arts should not be considered inferior to science – pointless arguments in my opinion. The disputers do not realise that the fact art could never be separated from anything and art is also incorporated into so-called science. Proportions of animal and plant cells are artistically arranged by Mother Nature and the concocting of medicines for ailing patients is an art in itself.

Is not genetic engineering considered art? The tampering of genetics within entities, to remove the imperfect genes and replace them with desirable ones…is not the result of this science related branch as much a masterpiece as a novel by writers like Patricia C. Wrede? A human could be said to resemble a lump of clay awaiting its sculptors. Our personal experiences, our environment and other external factors are what shapes us and forces us to become the being as others perceive us now. Hence, it could rightly be said that even the formation of a human is an art in itself.

One does not have to be famous to have one’s work labelled as art for it is not the greatness of the deeds that one does but the extent of the influence of others at the moment. Our speech, thoughts and demeanour are ways we express ourselves, not to mention communicate with other beings. Successful art evokes emotions of all sorts, be it insignificant or dramatic feelings. The transmission of these sentiments is a common occurrence in our everyday lives and art lives within said sensations. Art provides us with the power to change the world and we achieve that by changing a person’s life, however inconsequential an impact it may appear to be.

By means of art, we are able paint our otherwise drab and monotonous world with colours and beauty. One does not require a trained eye to recognise and appreciate art but merely a heart that is willing to accept expressions of any form. It could be said that the very subsistence of mankind is art in itself for it allows us to reach out beyond the generally impenetrable wall of humanity and touch the hearts of others. Our memories and imprints are immortal – they exist in different forms of art and live on long after our fleshly bodies have fully disintegrated.

Sunday, May 27, 2007

My angel, they knoweth naught; My hopes, vague shattered thoughts.

My angel, they knoweth naught;

My hopes, vague shattered thoughts.

The sun sets - it is dusk outside,

Yet the darkness within - I can hardly abide.

How long should one wait,

How long till the bait?

My very bones start to ache,

My heart sings of sorrow’s egg.

Should one’s foolish fears be fulfilled,

A prospect that leaves one chilled;

The fool should do well not to regret,

And of course, the present not to neglect.

A fool, an ignoramus, I’m silly, I know,

I trust in the clarity of the arrow.

Yet it’s a thought by no means cheerful,

Ignorant me, I can’t but help being woeful.

I care too much, you see,

I can’t help it, it’s me.

Everyone thinks a fire is strong,

They know not, they are wrong.

A fire has a strong façade and more,

But when one strikes the inner core;

The naivety,

The vulnerability.

It scares me.

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

An Encounter

A gentle breeze swept through the college, bringing a split-second sense of peacefulness to the bustling students hurrying about the campus.
“Maia!” A twig crunched behind the elder girl and she turned, the sunlight reflecting momentarily upon her face, creating an unusual radiance that harmonized with her outfit.
“Maia,” I repeated, struggling to keep the books in my arm from sliding onto the floor as I stared into the veil of trees, trying to make out the figure of my classmate. “Wait up.” My body shook as I stifled a sneeze.
“Are you all right, Michelle?” The girl next to me asked, a concerned frown playing across her pretty face. “You’ve been sneezing all morning."
“I’m fine, Tai Yun” I reassured my friend as we walked up to Maia. “It’s merely a touch of the flu.”
Maia, as we discovered, was deep in conversation with a lecture-mate (as I found out later) of ours. A lecture-mate I’d never noticed right up till that moment.

“Hi,” he waved casually at me and my companion as we approached, smiling. I just stood there and stared. Those ever-slithering books of mine as well as my compulsion to sneeze were forgotten the instant I set eyes upon this particular lecture-mate I didn’t even realise existed. His bashful smile could best be summed up in one word – captivating.

I stood there and gaped for a long time, vaguely aware that he was saying something to me, although my brain refused to register human speech of any sort at that precise moment.

Forget the fact I had long since harboured a secret shyness of strangers. Forget the fact I had difficulties looking acquaintances I’ve been seeing for five whole months in the eye. This guy was amazing, outstanding, The Unbelievable Exception.

“Well…bye,” He muttered after a while as he reluctantly backed away, obviously unwilling to end the conversation. “See you all around, yeah.”

“Yeah.” I parroted dumbly. “Yeah.”

The instant he was out of earshot, I turned to my classmates with huge eyes as I gestured wildly, searching for the appropriate vocabulary required for a situation as such.

“That guy…who is he?” I finally managed to produce a question in a barely audible awed whisper.

“Why, our lecture-mate, of course,” Tai Yun replied.

What? I’ve never seen him before!”

“He’s from the scholarship class,” Maia added.

“Wow. I mean, wow. Did you…did you see…his smile? Wow. It was amazing,” I muttered, mostly to myself.

My friends were starting to give me the weird eyeball and I didn’t blame them.

“Did you…did you guys see his teeth?”

“What about his teeth?” The dark-haired maiden next to me asked as she stooped down to pick up one of my invariably sliding books that had evidently found a new resting place on the floor.

“His teeth. They were perfectly straight. And I mean straight! Goodness gracious, I’ve never seen anyone with teeth as straight as such. It was as if they were set using a ruler or something.”

“Gee, a lot of people have straight teeth too,” Maia volunteered.

“That’s not it. His teeth were so straight, they didn’t seem real,” I explained. My companions didn’t get the point. How could they, when they were concentrating on the conversation and I was feasting my eyes on one of the most eerily perfect sets of teeth I’d ever seen?

Eerily perfect was right. The unnaturalness of the teeth made one feel as if one were in a horror novel where the teeth would eventually turned out to be some sort of weird phantom. It was something right down Stephen King’s lane – indeed, I recall having read a story by King entitled “Chattery Teeth” a couple of years ago.

As I headed in the direction of the lecture halls with my associates, a shiver ran down my spine and I sneezed. Then again, it could just have been my bout of constantly recurring flu, returning to haunt me.



Hah, tricked you all, didn’t I? Sorry, there isn’t a romantic conclusion to the day. ;)

But I’m actually serious. This human has the most unnatural, eerily perfect set of teeth I’ve ever set my eyes upon. He scares me. O_o

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Humans

They say that each person is unique. What, may I ask, contributes to the shaping of a humanoid? Genetic factors? Environmental influences? Personal experiences?

Upon arriving at my college half an hour earlier because of my decision to walk (yes, mon chere, walking to my college is actually quicker than taking a bus but I am not going to write about deranged buses, for that is a topic to dwell on another day), I was suddenly overwhelmed with questions pertaining the differences between humans. I should think humans are like…onions. (Great, now I sound like that donkey from Shrek.)Permit me to take you on a journey into the various layers of homo sapiens.

First and foremost, we have physical appearances. A mask that covers the other layers, it may or may not be an accurate depiction of one’s inner layers. People often say that beauty is only skin-deep and we should not judge a book by its cover. Unfortunately, a large portion of humanity can be very shallow and fall for facades. Allow me to pose a question: Would you still love your family if they were involved in a freak accident, consequently becoming scarred for life? How about your partner? Your friends? Your classmates/colleagues? How many of you will still stay by the so-called “loved one”’s side when said person is permanently disfigured?

I wonder how many people are still braving this expedition with me. Regrettably, I daresay quite a lot of individuals would have forsaken this quest by now due to their untoward inability to see past the first layer. Now is when things start to get complicated. You see, the inner layers are mostly blended together in such a way that one would find it impossible to tell where one layer begins and where it ends. Layers upon layers overlapping each other, dancing an eternal dance of the layers, held together by something far more complicated than sigma bonds.

Think of it as graphite, if you wish, although graphite isn’t quite the same with its distinct layers. Elementary, my dear Watson. Or perhaps, not quite so elementary after all, considering the fact scientists have been attempting to puzzle out the exact science behind the complexity of human nature for centuries and are still trying to do so. The inner layers shine out from beyond the first layer, emaciating a special glow that envelopes the first layer. Sadly, some people have a strange handicap named “superficiality” whereby the unfortunate being is unable to see exceptional radiances.

Moving on from the inner layers that define our personality, we have the nuclei.

(All right, I confess – I’m still stuck in Chemistry Test Mode.) It is the central, the very core of what our true nature really is. Seldom shown to others because of its vulnerability, this nucleus is what some would call “the deeper aspect”. This may or may not be a direct contrast of one or more of the previous layers. Owing to the fact it is made of very delicate matter, this core is very much sought after, but only a select few will have the privilege of discovering it.

Will anyone really unearth the secret of what delineates a person? I doubt it.

Sunday, April 15, 2007

PROLOGUE
19th April 2998, day three in Serene Settlements.

Memories…so many memories…all of them buried deep in a drawer at the back of my mind. No, I am not trying to forget them, quite the contrary in fact. I need to unlock the drawer…and remember. Happy, sad, angry, frustrated recollections…recollections that a fifteen year old like me had no business having! Till this day, I do not know what truly happened, and I probably will never find out either. I wonder if things like this happen to everyone, only they keep quiet and never tell their tale.

I know I am in an asylum. Do you think I do not have eyes? I can see for myself. The guards like to patrol those cells every half hour or so, in case the “mentally disturbed patients” harm themselves. Only we aren’t supposed to call them guards. They are Ms. Iris and Ilea, our so-called friends. And that means ‘guards’, you and I both know that. Mentally disturbed patients. Hah. Why don’t they just come right out and call us lunatics? I know I probably shouldn’t take it out on Iris and Ilea. They have good intentions, after all, and it wasn’t their fault I was stranded in this prison.

Nevertheless, those women get on my nerves all the time, with their slow, deliberate voices, almost as if I was a three year old. I am already fifteen, perhaps elder. Also, you know the way identical twins sometimes finish their twin’s sentences? Well, Iris and Ilea are like that, only they do it all the time. Iris never finishes her sentences and Ilea always completes them. I wonder how they cope when they get separated. Iris would probably go like, “So, how…?” to some random person while Ilea, in a different place would go like, “…are you?” That would indeed be a hilarious situation and I wish I could be there to see it if it ever happens. However, those two seem to be inseparable and it is enough to drive anyone up the wall to listen to their talk…that is, if they haven’t already went off their rocker in the first place.

In addition to that, Iris is the twin with a loud, hearty voice while Ilea has this high-pitched, scratchy voice. Do you still wonder why they work in Serene Settlements? I guess it is the only place anyone can bear their contrasting voices completing sentences. Iris and Ilea are tall, pale and dark-haired. The colour of their skin is unreal. There’s always this ghostly tinge and the twins seem to radiate this chilly aura despite their warm personalities. I wonder if it is because they meet with so nutcases everyday. They also have worried frowns on their faces, and narrowed, suspicious eyes. All of the guards in Serene Settlements have the same look. Serene Settlements…such a dumb name, but perfectly suitable for a funny farm.

I have a room mate, or rather, cell mate, incidentally. Her name is Sara and she’s pretty nice except for her tendency to suddenly start kissing the wall as she hangs herself by the legs from her bed frame. Sounds impossible, but you have to see her before you get what I mean. Otherwise, she’s quite peaceable and twists loose strands of hair around her finger, humming a melodious tone. I have tried to ask her the name of that song, but I don’t think I can get her to understand me. She just stares up at me dreamily with this wide grin on her face whenever I attempt to strike up a conversation.

Poor girl, her mind has completely gone, probably just like all the other inhabitants of Serene Settlements. Except for me, of course. I have not lost my marbles…not yet, at least. I have no idea how long it would take for my mind to give out in this dreadful place. One day, I will be one of those broken-spirited people, wandering around the hallways of Serene Settlements, mumbling to myself, asking everyone the truth…what is true and what is not. This place has that effect on people, you see. I stared at the pure white wallskin with the tiny grey swirls, spinning forever and ever. Looking down at the blank piece of compaper on the desk in front of me, I pressed the button on my simple chain that activated my e-pen. I needed to write the whole story down…to let everyone know the true story. Permit me to take you for a stroll down the forbidden memory lane, the memory lane that was not supposed to belong to me…
This is a work of fiction, written for amusement during a period of excessive boredom.

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

風火の雲氷炎

土曜日

おさない すすんだ

ふるえてる その ひかり

ここまで たどてきた

ぎかん ふし さまよい

さがし すずけて きたよ

なまえ さえ しらないけれど

ただ ひとす おもい

あなた てわたしたくて

とき いたみ

ふかく だきとめ

けして ゆくけと わたし

おぼえている

ずとー

わたし むね おく

いすからか ひびいて いたー

よすゆ しずく より

かすかな ささやきだけど


いてすく
ほし やみ

すむぐ いのり

とどく よう にー

ルオ ハオ ヱンさん,

ゆエ しン

Monday, February 12, 2007

Stop. Ponder.

It annoys me greatly when I come across people moaning about the unfairness of life and their imperfect existence just because something does not according to their plan. Stop whinging on about your unfortunate subsistence. I can guarantee that at least a million people out there are less fortunate than you.

Most of you aren’t physically handicapped. Certainly all of you aren’t mentally handicapped for you apparently have sufficient intelligence to read and comprehend this sentence. In fact, a lot of physically handicapped people don’t complain, but take life as it is, facing challenges each day with admirable courage.

Obviously, you have a roof over your head and victuals when you need it. (What are you doing online if you can’t even afford food or shelter?) You apparently have access to the Internet.

Hence next time when you open your mouth to complain, think of the less fortunate. Think of the mentally handicapped. Think of the people who starve to death, cold and lonely. Think of the homeless. That’s it. Stop being so self-centred for once, honestly.

Be happy you can actually afford normal clothes instead of bawling your eyes out just because you can’t buy that pretty Laura Ashley dress. Some people have to go about clad in rags.

Be pleased you can actually afford sufficient education to enable you to read this instead of blaming the world just because you can’t meet the expense of going to Oxford. Some people don’t have the opportunity to learn reading skills.

Be glad you can actually afford to have your meals instead of complaining that you don’t get enough steaks, abalones and whatever. Some people starve to death.

Be satisfied you have adequate finances to afford Internet access. Some people never set eyes on a computer in their whole lives.

Be thankful for each and every of your blessings. Count all the good things providence gave you instead of the bad things in life. The world can do with more cheerful people instead of self-indulgent, pathetic and shallow people behaving morosely like an inferior little horror.

We are like dancing butterflies fluttering across life’s deep sea, all living for the moment. Beware, lest you slip and fall into the watery depths of life. It is hard, but not impossible for a butterfly to re-emerge from the waters – the way it breaks out of its cocoon and flies away freely, as a unique and dazzling butterfly.

Life is as fragile as a glass ball on a table’s corner. Do not waste your subsistence by complaining, but do something meaningful. Contrary to popular belief that one should do something of importance in order to be remembered when one is long gone, it is not the greatness of the deeds one does, but the extent of influence one has on others. You have the power to change the world, yet you can achieve that by changing one person.

You don’t necessarily have to be rich and famous to be considered successful. The true meaning of life isn’t so that people should remember you for decades to come. It is the influence you have on others – the people you’re closely acquainted with. You do not have to live on in memories as a name, but rather live on in memories by your deeds. The greatest sense of achievement comes from knowing that you’ve brightened someone’s life, if only for a mere second. That one second is what the world needed.

PS: Occasional complaints are normal and acceptable. Self-centred people are defined as the pathetic branch of the human race that believes everything revolves around them and sulk for weeks on end (give or take) just because something doesn't go right for them.

Wednesday, January 31, 2007

A story without the vowel “e” with obvious exception of title. (A reader challenged me to attempt this.)

“Do you think cows can fly? I saw a cow fly. ” A dirty-looking boy said softly at Solomon’s Roads.
“And pigs can fly too,” I said, smiling.
“It’s not an untruth,” this boy said indignantly.
“All right,” I said, humouring him. “Show this girl a flying cow.”
Thus, our young lad brought yours truly to a tiny rundown barn down a path off Solomon’s Roads. I shall abstain from portraying said barn’s aroma for I worry administrators would bring a particular humanoid into custody on indict of polluting minds of our young scholars.
I saw nothing but a skinny cow with this black coat of fur that I thought was originally brown. “Moo,” said Blawn.
“John, this cow can’t fly,” I told my youthful pal.
“It can fly. I saw it,” insists my childish companion.
“All right,” said I again, about to turn away and walk off.
John told Blawn “Cari bombi loo lanny ma kalia phsaki rani santai.”
I always thought this child was odd. I was about to say a word or two but Blawn was sprouting a pair of pink crystal wings at that point. Blawn hung in thin air by his wings. Gobsmacking but spot on. Cows can fly, I murmur ramblingly.
It did not occur to yours truly right away that Blawn was no ordinary cow. “Wow. Cool,” I told Blawn. It was a wrong thing to say. For an unknown basis, Blawn took an instant look at this girl and did not akin to what it saw…
“Do you think cows can fly? I saw a cow fly. ” I said softly at Solomon’s Roads, soot framing my mug, dust and dirt clinging to my clothing.
“And pigs can fly too,” an old man said, smiling.
“It’s not an untruth,” I said indignantly.
“All right, show this guy a flying cow.”
I think “Cool” is Blawn’s word for “Kick” in human vocalizations.

Friday, January 26, 2007

A story without the vowel "a". (Of course, except for this title.xD)

Once, there used to be this huge country house right in the middle of town. Five beings resided in there, one from this world, two not from this universe, one from the skies, one from the undergrounds. They lived blissfully until the time the white monster from Iou turned up unexpectedly. Hence, the nice beings invited the white monster in for lunch. Surprisingly, the white monster decided to join them for dinner too. The white monster showed them plenty of cooking tricks, before he went off. So, the being from this world decided to try the tricks the white monster showed him, yet the other beings decided to try the tricks too. People told them plenty of cooks spoilt the broth, but they never listened. They put too much pepper in their morning serving of food, blowing off the roof of their mouth. Thus, they were forced to visit their doctor, this odd guy who only wore green shirts with this purple tie. The doctor told them they were considered to be lucky for despite the red smoke coming out of their mouths, they did not explode from the result of consuming too much of the explosive condiment – pepper from Jupiter. He stitched up their mouths, told them not to jump for the next twenty-four hours, consequently sending them home. The five beings were very sorry for themselves in the end, vowing never to invite white monsters from Iou into their country house in the middle of town in future.

Thursday, January 25, 2007

“Education divides, rather than unites society.” Discuss.

It is of my belief that education causes division rather than amalgamation, as is the common fallacy of our society. I quote the well-renowned poet, William Butler Yeats on his take of education: “Education is not the filling of a pail but the lighting of a fire.” Unfortunately, education is something that does not merely remain dormant within every educated being but is of a somewhat explosive nature and erupts automatically whether one chooses to let it or not.

“True education makes for inequality; the inequality of individuality, the inequality of success, the glorious inequality of talent, of genius,” the famous educator, Felix E. Schelling commented. The fact that individuals of our society inadvertently receive varying degrees of education consequently indicates the unavoidable class disparities amongst the public exists. A poem by Ghulam-Sarwar Yusof, The Midnight Satay Vendor is a prime example where the poet expresses the differences induced by education, especially the final paragraph:

“but education tells me I am halus, he kasar

for don’t you see I’m a Shakespeare-wallah

with this degree that clings to me like a vise

and a middle-class air-conditioned nose?”

Moving on from class discrimination provoked by the measure of education one receives, the disputes between similarly educated people can also be caused by scholarly pursuits. Some people, after receiving considerably decent education have a tendency to develop their own trains of thought and are too obstinate to accept differing views. Epictetus voiced a similar opinion on this matter: “It is impossible for a man to learn what he thinks he already knows.”

I would also like to highlight the astounding fact that knowledge can be misused in a huge number of ways. A Scottish author, Saki (H. H. Munro) once wrote: “But, good gracious, you’ve got to educate him first. You can’t expect a boy to be vicious till he’s been to a good school.” The ability to poison minds via the media and communication as well as the capability of endangering one’s health is in the hands of the learned. With education, one has the power to trigger wars and construct weapons of mass destruction, hence inciting division.

Regrettably, education can be considered a temptress for she entices people to take advantage of the less knowledgeable. “A man who has never gone to school may steal from a freight car; but if he has a university education he may steal the whole railroad,” as Theodore Roosevelt so quaintly put it. The less educated public are more vulnerable to exploitations by the so-called sophisticated people. Therefore, we can observe obvious class segregations in instances as such whereby the victims of con-cases usually did not receive sufficient education.

In conclusion, I would like to reaffirm my perspective that education divides, rather than unites society. The writer and historian Henry Brooks Adams inscribed these golden words of all time: “Nothing in education is so astonishing as the amount of ignorance it accumulates in the form of inert facts.” It is the cause and core of social problems faced by humanity and consequents in the fissures and craters hidden behind the many facades of civilization.

“Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.” – Nelson Mandela

Monday, January 22, 2007

A Cursory View of Social Disparities in Our Current Society

The rich:
~It is considered fashionable to wear articles of clothing or jewellery that caused the death of animals.
~Thanks to your generous contribution, thousands of trees are cut down every year because of your excessive usage of paper. (Bills.)
~Inflation is caused by your willingness to pay a high price for goods.
~You sometimes do not pay for your food because you found it to be unsatisfactory.
~Just because you don’t like the way your fish was fried, you have a right to send it back and yell obscenities at the restaurant owner, demanding a full refund.
~Drinking liquor and swearing at night clubs is a mark of status and a form of entertainment.
~Paranoia of thieves/robbers is granted.
~Shopkeepers are polite and efficient. They offer you their best goods and they give you special discounts you don’t even have to ask for.
~Platinum/Titanium credit cards promising membership privileges and the best discounts are offered to you wherever you go.
~You have never truly looked behind the eyes of people from the lower class and considered their life story
– Hawkers are just robots you program to cook your food so you can gain nourishment. Toilet cleaners are cleaning machines you can program to keep your bathroom clean and sweet-smelling.

The poor:
~The World Wildlife Fund probably loves you because you never buy garments or ornaments that will endanger an animal’s life – you can’t afford to!
~You’re also loved by forest rangers because you used every bit of empty space available on a piece of paper before disposing of it – at the recycling centre in exchange for money.
~You quietly pay for your food and swallow down every morsel even though it is inedible.
~If the restaurant messed up your order you either shrug, eat it anyway or you enquire politely regarding the mix-up.
~Drinking liquor will get you labelled a good-for-nothing drunkard.
~You don’t have to worry about thieves because you have nothing to lose, literally.
~Shopkeepers give you the weird eyeball when you walk into their shop and they don’t pay much attention to you except to make you sure you don’t steal anything.
~Banks are reluctant to approve your application for a Visa Card.
~You can usually relate to the working-class people either through personal experience or relations who work under the same situations. It is understood that each plate of rice you order from a food stall did not come easily.
~Cherishing what you have is second nature to you.

This is a cursory view of social discrepancies in our present civilization; hence all the stuff I crapped up does not necessarily apply to everyone and is only a very rough (probably highly inaccurate) generalization
………
Actually, I just thought we needed an update. ^^;;
……
Okay, fine. I admit it. I was bored and in a crazier mood than usual. =P

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

The Man on the Moone and Friends

The damsel of about eighteen stared at the scenery around her in amusement. She had long, silky dark hair carefully put up with combs, large, innocent wide eyes as soft as that of a doe and a figure so graceful it reminded one of a lovely swan immediately. The young lady had a creamy complexion with a tinge of roseate; her skin was as soft to the touch as a baby, as if it had never been used before. The dark-haired girl was dressed in appropriate to that of an ancient Chinese dynasty. Her robes were weaved out of the softest fabric you ever saw, frail and easily-crumpled by appearance, but strong to the touch. She was in fact wearing numerous layers, each layer peeking out from underneath the previous one, all tastefully matched in accordance with pure winter tones: white, green, blue and grey.

“Good evening kind sir,” she said haltingly in an oriental-sounding accent. “Would I be so fortunate to be meeting the famous Man in the Moon?”

The lanky thin man who had previously been staring at her with an amused expression on his pallid face snorted and looked away distastefully. “Get your grammar right, Earthling,” he muttered. “I certainly don’t live in the moone. I live on the moone. And it’s moone with an ‘e’.

“An ‘e’?” the girl enquired politely.

“Yes. Can’t you people understand simple English? I live on the moone. I don’t quite know what is wrong with you Earthlings…I mean, honestly – what’s your name?”

“For now, Chang Er,” said she.

“Well, Chang Er, how would you like it if I just dropped the ‘r’ from your name and just called you Chang E?”, the Man on the Moone asked.

“Actually, people do that a lot,” Chang Er voiced. She was getting tired of being civil – the Man on the Moone wasn’t well-mannered at all.

“See what I mean?” the Man slapped a hand against his forehead. “I don’t even know why Earthlings are so uninventive.”

“What do you mean?” the young maiden snapped, feeling insulted.

“I’ve met a dozen girls on the moone in the past week, all of them named Chang Er. Eleven of them had white rabbits with them and the twelfth had a white dog. She said she couldn’t find a white rabbit at such short notice. Where’s your pet?”

“I don’t have one,” Chang Er said indignantly. “I’m not like them at all.”

“Oh?” The Man on the Moon looked interested. “Then what’s your story, if not having an idiotic notion of swallowing longevity pills?”

“Longevity pills don’t work – everyone knows that,” the dark-haired damsel expressed, rolling her eyes. “Those salesmen will do anything these days. It’s all a scam.”

“Try telling it to all the Chang Ers I’ve met. They were so annoying I sent them all away, ” the male replied. Wisps of a bond begun to creep between the acquaintances. “How did you end up here, then?”

“It’s a long story,” she sighed.

“Make yourself comfortable,” the Man on the Moone said graciously as he settled down on a moone rock and motioned for his companion to do the same. “After all, we aren’t going anywhere soon, are we?”

“I guess it all started because I was so inadequate. This great Feng Shui master came to my name-giving ceremony, you see.”

“And he predicted something?”

No. He told my second sister Huang Zhao Jun that she would grow up to be a very beautiful singer and marry a king. My third sister, Xi Shi shared a similar fate. Yang Gui Fei, my eldest sister kept making him drink wine and before the Feng Shui master could reach me, he was too drunk to say anything. He didn’t even get a chance to name me, although he had named all my sisters during their name-giving ceremonies.

My relatives quarrelled a bit about my name and they finally settled it by drawing lots and asking the wisest man they could find to pick a name out of the box. They didn’t like the name he picked, so they drew another.

Hence, my first name was Xiao Long Nv. My parents bought an Ancient Tomb for me to live in and…”

“They made you live in a tomb?” the Man on the Moone exclaimed incredulously.

“Ancient Tombs are very fashionable on earth,” the young maiden reassured her friend. “Anyway, the lessons were my problem.”

“Lessons?”

“They made me take lessons from an emotionless lady who attempted to teach me a special type of martial arts where one was forbidden to show feelings of any sort.”

“How ridiculous,” he said.

“Yes. I did have a liking for martial arts, but I certainly didn’t like being restrained.

Therefore, it was the end of that name for me. My relatives came together again, and after much discussion decided to name me Zhi Nv.”

“Oh? Fascinating.”

“Not really. They made me sew day and night and I hated sewing. They also mentioned eligible shepherds named Niu Lang to me whenever they could. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against shepherds. I just wasn’t interested, do you understand me? After a while, they gave up. Yet again, my relatives wanted to choose a new name for me. I don’t quite understand the difference my name makes – I’m still me. After going through Princess Chui Ping, Princess Huan Zhu, Mei Chao Feng, Zhao Min, Huang Rong…they decided to name me Chang Er and bundled me onto a spaceship headed for the moone. Of course, the spaceship left immediately. They told me to tell you I came here because I’d swallowed my husband’s longevity pills, but obviously I don’t have a husband yet, I’m too young. I guess their last option was to strand me on the moon,” the Lady on the Moone muttered as she rolled her eyes again. “How about you?”

“Me?” the pale man asked, looking surprised. “Oh, I wasn’t very satisfactory either,” he said diffidently.

“When I was six, my parents left my younger sister and I in the woods. We wandered about and found a gingerbread house. The pleasant lady we found there gave us a decent meal and showed us our way home the next morning, giving us sweet rolls to take along on the journey. That was when all the trouble started.

After my eighth birthday, they told me to pull a sword out of a stone. I did pull it out, but the young man next to me started crying. Nobody was watching, so I handed him the sword to pacify him and he was the one who ended being known as ‘The Lad Who Pulled out the Sword from the Stone’.

I was twelve when they got very upset at the idea that I wanted to grow up and I didn’t agree when the fairy Tinkerbell offered to take me to Never Never Land. It sounded like a preposterous place to me. Apparently, my parents didn’t think so.

My parents were very disappointed when I wasn’t turned into a frog by the age of sixteen. ‘How else, can you find a princess to marry?’ they asked me. I merely shrugged. I didn’t exactly relish the idea of being turned into an amphibian. They then told me to go and rescue a girl with ridiculously long hair by climbing up her hair to the tower she was locked up in, but I was afraid of heights. I was next asked to go to a ball and look for a poor girl who was mistreated by her stepmother and stepsisters. Nevertheless, I couldn’t find any. I picked up a glass sneaker at the end of the ball and gave it to my younger sister. I think she still has it.”

“A glass sneaker? How…refreshing,” the Lady on the Moone replied, startled.

“Yes. My parents weren’t pleased at all. They told me to find a mermaid who had exchanged her voice for a pair of feet but she was too quiet for my liking. In desperation they sent me to the funeral of this girl named Snow White. I stared into the plastic coffin of the olive-skinned young lady with dark hair and I mourned for her in the proper way. I still don’t understand what I should have done that day, my parents yelled at me every time the funeral was mentioned.”

“People can be weird,” the maiden said, shaking her head.

“I know – hey!” he stopped halfway through his sentence and stared as a man with a huge axe approached them.

“Who are you?” the duo asked in unison.

“I’ve been sent to cut this tree…” the newcomer broke off awkwardly. “Are you two the Man and the Lady in the Moon?”

“On…” Chang Er corrected.

“…the Moone…” her partner finished.

The woodcutter stared for a long time. “Well, I’m sorry for intruding. I was only sent here because I was so derisory…”


A little long, a little redundant, but oh well. One of the Man on the Moone's perspectives.

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

The tale of a bus-challenged high school student.

Not for the first time, I've been forced to walk home when I could have been happily sitting behind my desk in school and flipping through my books...or doing whatever it is a high school student does.

"Ring...."
*Groans*
...
...
*Moans*
...
...
...
(Procedure is repeated.)

Reluctantly I pull myself away from the warm covers and climb down my bed.

Glancing at the clock, I felt pretty pleased with myself for being able to wake up early this time round. It is only 6:30 in the morning as I lock the front door of my house and head for the bus station.

Upon approaching the bus station, I see some students from my school. I nod politely to them – we aren’t really on close terms considering the fact they’re in a lower form.

*Sits and waits*

Two empty buses appear on the horizon, each of them trying to overtake the other.

“Hey, wait, wait for me!!!”

The busses roar pass.

*Waits again impatiently*

A couple of guys from the school next to mine walked up and sat down on the bench. Another girl I don’t know(wearing my school’s badge)emerges from the darkness and begins flirting with them. Her flirting with them is almost as disgraceful as the way the boys flirt back. (Importance of Being Earnest?)

Eventually, another bus appears. It is packed.

“Hey, I don’t mind sitting on the roof at all…really…just stop, please!!!”

The piece of cold, unfeeling metal ignores me and drives on without stopping.

*Sits back down and glares indignantly at the taillights*

The sun is beginning to show his face on the side of our planet. Oh no. I’m going to be horribly late for school and it wasn’t even my fault this time.

“Did you hear that a lot of busses broke down yesterday?” A lady next to me asked her friend in a loud voice.

At long last the bus I’ve been waiting for arrives.

Thankfully, I step up onto the first step of the bus…and remain there. That’s how packed it was. It was like being packed into a squashed can of sardines. My face is squashed into somebody’s chest and my hand was clinging onto the pole for dear life as I look at the roads. The doors aren’t closed – if they were I wouldn’t be on the bus. After doing a spot of worrying, I manage to tear my eyes away from the fast moving ground and got a shock.

The bus is moving in the opposite direction of my school! But…I am sure this is the right bus!!! Hesitating a little, I shout out to the driver over the heads of numerous passengers.

“Uhh…Mister?”

The passengers shoot me a dirty look. Well, how else was the driver supposed to hear me over the traffic sounds outside?

“Yeah?”

“Does this bus go to(Inserts bus-stop in front of my school)…?”

“Yeah.”

I wonder briefly if the driver’s vocabulary consists of only one word.

“But…we’re headed for the South! (My school is in the North.)”

“Yeah.”

“…Uhhh…how long will it take to reach my destination?”

Some of the passengers are now giving me the evil eye. Well, I'm SORRY, but it is very difficult to hang from a pole for dear life and conduct a sane conversation with the driver when I am practically half a step away from getting off the bus. Or rather, falling off the bus. You'd think they'd show some sympathy. So I ignored them.

“Depends.”

Well…it was good to know the driver could say something else other than ‘Yeah’.

“Depends on???” I’m starting to get desperate as the bus moves towards the official animal shelter which is in the complete opposite direction of my school.

“The traffic.”

I’m sorry, but I so don’t get him. Is he going to make a U-turn, pass the bus station where I got on and head for my school eventually? How long is eventually? YEARS?

Well, I’m pretty sure it won’t take years. Maybe a couple of hours that I don’t have.

I press the stop bell, take half a step and got off the bus. I start to walk in the direction of the original bus station I’d been at, which is right outside my house.
*Stomp stomp stomp*
*Trudge trudge trudge*
*Drag drag drag*
*Mumble mumble mumble*
*Stomp stomp stomp*
*Trudge trudge trudge*
...
...
When I reach the bus-stop, I look at the time. 7:30. I didn’t sit down and wait for another of those dratted contraptions we call buses. Oh no. It was as if I'd run a marathon. I dragged my feet around the corner and went home.

Seriously…one could pop a blood vessel. And this isn’t even the first time. I can’t wait till I get my driving licence. In the meantime, I’m stuck with those wonderful, fickle inventions that we call “buses.”

Excuse me.

Sunday, August 06, 2006

The light at the end of the tunnel

Part One
It has been said that
sometimes the people
who go into the darkness
and come out the other side
are the strongest people ever.
Just remember, bear this in mind
don't ever go deeper and deeper inside
never to come out again, never to emerge
from the end of the tunnel to bath in the light.
I'm not Shakespeare, I'm not Picasso, or Leonardo,
but I believe that every single person has the power
the power to change the world and determine destinies.
Always trust, always presevere throughout time - eternal.

Part Two
An empty soul wandered the length of a tunnel dark,
every inch of the darkness it left its mark.
Aimlessly floating dust specks in the tunnel long,
emotions of bygone years a lost song.
Dim figures, reminiscences of the past,
seemingly an eternity it'll last.
Light at the end,
around the bend.
Future destiny,
Sanctuary.

Descending this time.

The light at the end of the tunnel
Combined:
Part one: The beginning of the journey
Part two: The ending of the journey

Part I and II creates the illusion of one entering a tunnel through a narrow entrance - the tunnel widens in the middle - and finally contracted again.
Note that the first line in Part One is of moderate length, whereas the final line in Part Two consists of a single word. Hence - the other end of the tunnel is tapered down to a higher degree than the beginning.
Part I does not rhyme and the words are simply strung together without much calculation yet the meaning is clear. Part II portrays more uniformity but the meaning is strangely vague enough. Go figure. The middle of the journey is lost somewhere in between.

The Meeting Point of Destiny

Dancing butterflies fluttering across life's deep sea,
Dreams and thoughts...memories.
Reality versus illusion,
The fragilty of life, a glass ball on a table's corner.
Tell me, who are you, really,
Who am I, really.
The meeting point of destiny,
Where does it begin..
Where does it end...
Someday our paths may cross,
Yet we would just brush past without knowing
That I could have been
That you could have been.

Friday, July 14, 2006

42 Ways to Maintain a Healthy Level of Insanity

1. Page yourself over the intercom. (Don't disguise your voice.)
2. Find out where your boss shops and buy exactly the same outfits. Always wear them one day after your boss does. (This is especially effective if your boss is a different gender than you are.)
3. Make up nicknames for all your coworkers and refer to them only by these names. "That's a good point, Sparky". "No I'm sorry I'm going to have to disagree with you there, Sport."
4. Send email to the rest of the company telling them what you're doing. For example "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the bathroom."
5. "Hi-lite" your shoes. Tell people that you haven't lost your shoes since you did this.
6. While sitting at your desk, soak your fingers in "Palmolive."
7. Put mosquito netting around your cubicle. Play a tape of jungle sounds all day.
8. Put a chair facing a printer, sit there all day and tell people you're waiting for your document.
9. Arrive at a meeting late, say you're sorry, but you didn't have time for lunch, and you're going to be nibbling during the meeting. During the meeting eat 5 entire raw potatoes.
10. Insist that your e-mail address be: zena_goddess_of_fire@companyname.com or Elvis_the_King@companyname.com
11. Every time someone asks you to do something, ask him or her if they want fries with that.
12. Send email to yourself engaging yourself in an intelligent debate about the direction of one of your company's products. Forward the mail to a co-worker and ask her to settle the disagreement.
13. Encourage your colleagues to join you in a little synchronized chair dancing.
14. Put your garbage can on your desk. Label it "IN."
15. Determine how many cups of coffee are "too many."
16. Develop an unnatural fear of staplers.
17. Decorate your office with pictures of Cindy Brady and Danny Partridge. Try to pass them off as your children.
18. For a relaxing break, get away from it all with a mask and snorkel in the fish tank. If no one notices, take out your snorkel and see how many you can catch in your mouth.
19. Send e-mail messages saying free pizza, free donuts etc... in the lunchroom, when people complain that there was none... Just lean back, pat your stomach, and say, "Oh you've got to be faster than that."
20. Adjust the tint on your monitor so that the brightness level lights up the entire work area. Insist to others that you like it that way.
21. Put decaf in the coffee maker for 3 weeks. Once everyone has gotten over his or her caffeine addiction, switch to espresso.
22. Send e-mail to the rest of the company to tell them what you're doing. For example, "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the bathroom, in Stall # 3."
23. Reply to everything someone says with, "That's what you think."
24. Finish all your sentences with "in accordance with the prophecy."
25. Adjust the tint on your monitor so that the brightness level lights up the entire working area. Insist to others that you like it that way.
26. In the memo field of all your checks, write 'for smuggling jewels'.
27. Dont use any punctuation
28. Use, too...much; punctuation!
29. As often as possible, skip rather than walk.
30. Ask people what sex they are. Laugh hysterically after they answer.
31. Specify that your drive-through order is 'to go'.
32. Sing along at the opera.
33. Call the psychic hotline and don't say anything.
34. At lunch time, sit in your parked car w/sunglasses on and point a hairdryer at passing cars. See if they slow down.
35. Go to a poetry recital and ask why the poems don't rhyme.
36. Call 911 and ask if 911 is for emergencies. (warning: you can get arrested for this, but that can be instructive too)
37. Five days in advance, tell your friends you can't attend their party because you're not in the mood.
38. Have your coworkers address you by your wrestling name, "Rock Hard."
39. When the money comes out of the ATM, scream "I Won!", "I Won!" "3rd time this week!!!"
40. When leaving the zoo, start running towards the parking lot, yelling "Run for your lives, they're loose!"
41. Tell your boss, "It's not the voices in my head that bother me, its the voices in your head that do."
42. Tell your children over dinner. "Due to the economy, we are going to have to let one of you go."


~Snitched this from somewhere~

20 ways of Insanity - Exams.

1. Bring a pillow. The big, fluffy type.
2. Do a Gollum/Smeagol impersonation when debating whether to choose 'A' or 'B'.
3. Threaten to sue because the chairs do not have headrests.
4. Bring an abacus for Mathematics.
5. Raise your hands from time to time, and when the invigilator comes, claim that you are merely improving blood flow to your brain.
6. Ask for extra paper. At the end of the exam, tear them all up and throw the pieces into the air while yelling "CONFETTI!!". When the invigilator comes to collect your paper, simply point to the pieces of paper on the floor.
7. Stare at the invigilator. When he/she comes over to inquire, say "Your face.... It gives me great inspiration." Then start writing.
8. Scribble some random doodles on the table after the exam has commenced. Midway through the exam, scream, " Oh no!!! I didn't know this table was rigged! I'm innocent, I tell you, INNOCENT!!"
9. Wink at the nearest girl/guy occasionally. If questioned by the invigilator, reply "What, a person can't flirt from time to time?" ( If you haven't noticed by now, most of these steps involve giving a hard time to invigilators. But then again, they might just appreciate the amusement. )
10. Bring lots of pens/pencils. Uno-stacko. Enough said. ( or Jenga, whatever suits your taste ).
11. Water balloons. Enough said too.
12. Use chalk to draw a square around your table and label it "My Thinking Area".
13. Juggle erasers.
14. Bring a pair of glasses that are tinted blue ( or any colour you prefer ). During the exam, put them on and stare and point at the front board while jabbering "invisible ink, invisible ink......"
15. During the objective paper, keep flipping a coin. After each flip, mutter audibly " heads...." and fill in your answer. Make sure the sound of the coin hitting the table is not muffled so it can be heard clearly. (alternate between heads and tails)
16. Perform a ritual prior to the exam on your table so that you will be more lucky for #15.
17. Turn your table and chair around, facing the back of the room instead of the front. Insist that this configuration is essential to optimize your Chi flow.
18. Do breathing exercises to relax. Loudly. If the invigilator ( or anyone else ) asks you to stop, shout to them " you're messing me up even more!".
19. Practice yodelling.
20. Write all of these down as your answers during the exam.

~Snitched off Jason~

22 ways of maintaining insanity while in a lift.

1) CRACK open your briefcase or handbag, peer Inside and ask "Got enough air in there?"
2) STAND silent and motionless in the corner facing the wall without getting off.
3) WHEN arriving at your floor, grunt and strain to yank the doors open, then act as if you're embarrassed when they open themselves.
4) GREET everyone with a warm handshake and ask him or her to call you Admiral.
5) MEOW occasionally.
6) STARE At another passenger for a while. Then announce in horror: "You're one of THEM" - and back away slowly
7) SAY -DING at each floor.
8) SAY "I wonder what all these do?" And push all the red buttons.
9) MAKE explosion noises when anyone presses a button.
10) STARE, grinning at another passenger for a while, then announce: "I have new socks on."
11) WHEN the elevator is silent, look around and ask: "Is that your beeper?"
2) TRY to make personal calls on the emergency phone.
13) DRAW a little square on the floor with chalk and announce to the other passengers: "This is my personal space."
14) WHEN there's only one other person in the elevator, tap them on the shoulder, then pretend it wasn't you.
15) PUSH the buttons and pretend they give you a shock. Smile, and go back for more.
16) ASK if you can push the button for other people but push the wrong ones.
17) HOLD the doors open and say you're waiting for your friend. After a while, let the doors close and say "Hi Greg, How's your day been?"
18) DROP a pen and wail until someone reaches to help pick it up, then scream: "That's mine!"
19) BRING a camera and take pictures of everyone in the lift.
20) PRETEND you're a flight attendant and review emergency procedures and exits with the Passengers.
21) SWAT at flies that don't exist.
22) CALL out "Group hug" then enforce it.

~Snitched off Jason~