Rain

The breeze brushed its cold fingers across one's senses
With just the right touch of course -
A barest hint of tenderness within icy strictness
Instead of deadening dreams, a wakening.

Off with those sandals
Upon the table as naughty vandals
Yet sit - not perch - with a graceful air
As the weaving of dreams caresses fine hair.

Demurely folded hands upon a lap
Feet tucked neatly beneath her chair
(Chair, did I say, table I mean!)
In imitation of a lady fair.

Umbrellas parade the street ahead disguised
As colourful flowers spreading their petals
Behind, the lush green trees of a miniature forest
Whispered unknown secrets

Rain, wash away this empty longing
Wind, guide every strand of hair where you would
Mist, envelop those wistful musings
Of a young maiden approaching eighteen winters.

A piece of me, a piece of you.

Yes please, I’d like to order a little piece of everything, including nothing. Thank you.

As I have always stressed, our imperfections are what make us perfect, for each and every one of us are unique in our own way. The converse holds true, for perfection in itself is an imperfection. Those elusive luxuries in life that are forever goading us – be it material satisfaction for the poor or emotional satisfaction or perhaps, both – are what make life interesting.

A tiny part of me, the part that belongs to the Air element would occasionally spread my wings and soar up into the clear blue skies, gazing down upon the sands of humanity. I do indeed see pure white little crucibles, finely spread out on the vast land below, literally and figuratively speaking. To rest my head upon the soft fluffy clouds and observe the long stretch of beach civilization is founded upon…

It is fascinating, not to mention refreshing. I do understand how it is to be emotionally unaffected after all. To be unattached to any of those dowdy packages that humans are so often burdened with, winging my way through life. To skim the tips of my wings against the crystalline ocean waters, to brush my tail feathers against the tip of snow-capped mountains….

Fleeting daydreams as such allow me to gain a fresh perspective on life and wonder at the tiny things in life that we seem to place so much importance upon. I am, however, a daughter of Fire and Air with the former dominant most of the time. Really, if you boil everything down to the basics…elements are the perfect way to categorise people. I’m sure there are exceptions, though I have yet to meet one. Most people just need to discover their inner self and find an element that they have an affinity for.

So what happens when fiery passion and empty air meet? An equilibrium, you’d reckon? Not quite…for they are both within my nature and have distinctive qualities of their own. I am a temperamental little flame most of the time, however, and it is only when reality starts to fall apart slightly and daydreams of the wind sneak in through the gaps…

But I understand how it is to be Pure Air. I truly know how it feels to be empty like the wind – no past, no future, only now. The precise feeling of how it is to be indifferent, unaffected, unperturbed, unfazed by developments around me. That in itself, is an irony, for empathy doesn’t exactly belong to Air, no? Perhaps that is one of the many reasons why I consider myself to be both. Because it is a part of me and I am a part of it.

Of Dogs and Humanity

Hopelessly lost. Again. I’m directionally-challenged, so don’t ask me what I was doing hanging around my college’s H block when I was supposed to be all the way across the campus, at the college hall.

Well, I’m glad I took the detour anyway, because I met a couple of really sweet stray dogs along the way. You can meet all sorts of living creatures in my college, ranging from those pesky little blood-suckers to monkeys (As a side-note, I haven’t seen those monkeys recently. O_o I wonder what became of them.)

I gave one of my trademark whines, the ones that often get innocent dogs into trouble when their owners nearby assume their pets are making gratuitous noises. It’s an attention-seeking whine, a “Hey, wanna play with me?” signal.

This lovely white and brown dog approached me and gently nipped at my hand, then clamped its jaws around my skirt, tugging playfully. Consequently, I earned a couple of weird eyeballs and a few spectators.

“Hey, no,” I voiced, smiling good-naturedly at the dog. It obediently released my skirt, looking up at me with those infamous, heart-melting puppy-dog eyes.

Resuming my journey to the Hall of Doom aka Exam Hall, I started thinking about the poor dog and how the general public – the ones that don’t understand dogs – would think.
Sure, I understand that it was merely a friendly gesture – but others may not think the same way. Many would strike out in fear, in an attempt to prevent the dog from “biting” them. Don’t get me wrong, I would never blame anyone for trying to defend themselves against attacks from predators.

Nevertheless, defending is one thing, attacking is another. A warning smack or two on the head, a soft kick, a gentle push – and the dog will certainly get the message. I do not condone the abuse of those sweet little creatures (Unless they’re rabid, then by all means, take a gun and shoot them. O_o ). It’s inhuman and cruel. After all, dogs have the intelligence of a seven year old, and they’d certainly comprehend if you admonished them appropriately.

Regrettably, the deterioration of morality is rampant within the current society. I have seen people fling knives at dogs, causing the poor canine to have a knife embedded firmly into its back. I have seen individuals throwing boiling water at them, consequently leaving the poor dogs with no fur and a painfully red skin.

Just recently, there was this plump and friendly puppy that I’d fallen in love with. It was the brightest and sweetest thing I’d ever seen apart from Shadow. The aforementioned puppy disappeared though, and I found a undernourished version of it lying by the gutter a few days later, all but dead.

It had been raining and there were pools of water in its ears. The poor thing was so weak it could barely move. My mother and I tried our very best to nurse it back to heath, but the puppy could barely swallow the milk we gave it. It died a couple of hours later, taking with it a piece of our hearts.

My guess is that one of the fiends out there that claim to be human had kicked it and ruptured its intestines or something. I will personally track down any animal-abuser out there and give it (Yes, IT, for said abusers do not have hearts or brains, therefore they are not fit to be consider homo-sapiens with gender differences.) my trademark double-penguin-kick. I just hope I happen to be wearing my boots (or good heels, at least) when I meet them.

Humanity, or the lack of it, thereof, is saddening.

A tribute to my beloved SJ8C. Thank you for being a part of my life.

Dedicated exclusively to SJ8C-rians:

离

水月相随永不分,

茫茫苍海亦不断;

犹如良伴知心人,

凉风掀起轻呼唤.

天下无不散宴席,

但却无不叹宴客;

送君千里虽佳习,

终需有一别之刻.

绵绵泪水细如雨,

心中乱麻杂如草;

山伯英台欲成鱼,

痛恨离别分离朝.

抽刀断水水更流,

举杯消愁愁更愁;

君若痛恨离别酒,

更是深叹离别惆.

天长地久有时尽,

此恨绵绵无绝期;

离别自古诗人吟,

世世代代诗人提.

学海生涯点点滴,

小女子没齿难忘;

多少回忆记心底,

如那凶涌澎湃浪.

当年君所许之诺,

当年闻所芳花香;

离别在即若曾过,

妹子在此愿君谅.

A peek into the past. SJ8C

The pain never really goes away, you just get used to it…

Dear Shadow. He was such an obedient and adorable dog. There will always be this tiny twitch in my heart that will never be resolved… The only dog I ever loved more than I did him was (and is) Bingo.

*Shadows* cloud life’s lane as I traverse this difficult journey, weaving in and out through thorns and heavy undergrowths threatening to smother me. I once walked alone, or so it seemed, for my loved ones could do nothing more than proffer me sympathetic glances. They could not offer me much physical assistance, for they were too far away to help…

Suddenly, I was not alone. Not anymore. There were warm arms ready to hold me up when I faltered, a strong shoulder for me to lean against when I felt weary… SJ8C. I owe you guys so much. I love you all. You guys are the best classmates I ever had and probably will ever have.

Perhaps I am getting a little too emo for my own good. I have no idea how to write all this down…how to put all of this into words. I can only type out the thoughts as they run through my brain: Uncut, unvarnished, not up to standards... but certainly effective.
I will always be a part of SJ8C, although I know not whether I am acknowledged any longer. A portion of my heart will always be with you guys.

Thank you so much for being there for me right where it truly matters. Thank you for being my friends, true friends. Thank you for showing me that there is still friendship in existence, that true hearts lie beneath the superficial layers of humanity. Thank you for being the reason why I can face the new day with courage and strength and a small smile upon my face.

It hurts to leave you all. I know I’ll have to get used it and I am grateful that at least, we parted while memories were still sweet. I just…love you all so much, more than anyone can ever truly understand. I hope I won’t lose the source, the source of my happiness. I wish I won’t lose it, ever. A vain hope, a vain wish…

On a side note, I had to attend a class with the juniors the other day. I don’t think I like them very much, considering the chaos they caused with our unfortunate Biology lecturer. Perchance, she doesn’t really have good English. But who are they to criticise her English when they do not have perfect English themselves? I do not claim that my English is perfect. I believe, however, that my English is better than them at any rate, considering I’m only good at languages.

Everyone has their own weaknesses. I would never have dreamt of insulting an unfortunate fellow human just because she happened to possess unsatisfactory language skills. Nobody is perfect. Incidentally, why is a Biology lecturer required to speak the Queen’s English? Honestly, I’ll gladly debate them any day and make them sit up a bit. Would you believe it? Even the sentences that they used to criticise my lecturer’s English were grammatical mistakes in themselves. Dear children, I’d advise you to return to grade school and come back after you’ve learnt your grammar.

They were an insufferably rude bunch of immature children. Whatever her faults were, there is never any acceptable excuse for being rude. A little bit of consideration and common courtesy goes a long way. I find it fascinating that those uncouth youths are actually supposed to be elder than me. Juniors will always be juniors…

My friends keep telling me to keep my head down. Well, I never! I was angry and indignant on behalf of the poor lecturer. How dare they do this to her? It’s her first job after all, the unfortunate girl… At least half the lecture hall went quiet after my icy glare and pointed “They think they’re so perfect?” I got an earful from my friends after that, of course. They told me I should keep my mouth shut and not involve myself in matters as such. I agree with them, but I don’t regret my words. However, I shall try my very best to shut up and keep my temper in check, for they are right, after all.

Still, it was pretty satisfying to see the half of the lecture hall that heard me have some sense knocked into their brains. I do not regret my words, though I suppose it wasn’t a very wise thing to do. They deserved it and more, at any rate.

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.

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

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.

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.

“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

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

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.

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.