Happiness
If you don't have it, how do you get it?
Life is the teacher whose words are never exciting, but never tedious.
They are measured out in the portions you need, and never too small or too big.
Looking at happiness, here is what I've learnt:
Happiness can't be bought
like a bouquet of flowers
or a box chocolates
it's not a commodity to be traded
Happiness can't be given
like a friendly hug
or a word of encouragement
it's not an action to be gifted
Happiness can't be made
like a paper airplane
or a cross stitch artwork
it's not a piece to be constructed
Happiness can't be nurtured
like a tender pot plant
or a pet companion
it's not a living being flourishing
Happiness can't be expected to happen
like a rainbow after rain
or the sunrise after night
it's not an event to be scheduled
Happiness can only be found
like the oasis in the desert
or the rose among the weeds
it is a treasure to be discovered
Once you've found it
the feeling is indescribable
Once you've lost it
the feeling is indescribable
And I would look for it
But then again
I would never find a white crow
Amongst all the black crows either
Tuesday 20 January 2009
Monday 27 October 2008
The Things You Hate, and the Things You Hate More
I realize this blog deviates from the usual style I present my entries, but my mood wouldn't let me write this any other way. There are times in which I fail, not as a student, not as a friend, but as a person. Like any other person, I have times where I am feeling like no number of tomorrows would solve my problems, no amount of rainbows would put the smile back on my face, and no amount of kind words would heal my broken heart. These are all common instances in real life, something we all must learn to live with.
But unlike the many people who deal with these problems, I try time after time to face these problems alone. Relying on an already broken and burdened spirit to be the only source of solutions to my problems, I am quite sure that it's only by God's intervention on many occasions that I am still here today. People are interesting to me, and it's a blast to hang out with them once in a while, but I can never seem to rely on them when I should. Not because they themselves are unreliable, but because I have never learnt to trust people to carry me through my darkest hours.
The one person I always find myself talking to about my problems is... myself. The majority of my deep and meaningful conversations are with my own thoughts. This probably isn't as productive as a conversation with someone else, and definitely not as healthy. I am well aware of the 'issues' that this kind of behaviour is indicative of, but I need that interaction, even if it is only with myself. So for the remainder of this entry, I'd like to present one such conversation with myself, jazzed up with a few touches from my literary interests.
I approached My Self with a calm exterior, and it rightly reflected my interior feelings, because as anxious and uncertain he would often appear about his own insecurities, I always knew what was real underneath the fake veneer he used. My Self wanted to meet, to discuss something important. I was curious as to what it would be, but I had a pretty good idea of what to expect.
"Hey," I said, catching his attention. Waving briefly, I continued, "So what did you need to talk about?"
My Self was nervous and agitated, and it was a part of him that I really didn't like, but I've never complained too much. He looked around, as if paranoid we were being overheard, before replying, "I wanted to talk about how I have problems talking to other people."
I sighed on the inside. This was exactly what I expected would come up. Showing some concern, I asked patiently, "What sort of problems?"
"Sometimes I like hanging around people, but sometimes I can't stand having to be there when they're around. When we hang out, they can make me feel great, but other times, they can just as easily leave me feeling like crap, wishing I'd never been there in the first place."
"That's pretty common, isn't it?" I reasoned to My Self, shrugging with nonchalance. "I mean, there's bound to be people out there who are nice to be with and some who you just shouldn't be spending time with anyways, right?"
My Self continued to furrow his brow, maintaining a troubled expression on his face. "It's more than that. I mean, it's the same people that can make me feel both ways sometimes. How is that even possible? It must be something about them that just changes from time to time. Why else would I feel like this?"
I shook my head in disbelief. It was as though he was blind. The answer to his problem was within his grasp, but he just couldn't see it, and it was as though he just hoped it was a problem with other people and not himself. I didn't really want to reveal that to him. But I saw no other choice.
"You don't ever really be yourself." I was exasperated, telling My Self this answer. "You don't let people see who you really are, and you will always end up in worse shape doing that."
"I don't like the fact that people know what makes me who I am," My Self replied with a cringe. "I hate that people know who I really am."
His expression seemed resolute, but his voice was quavering noticeably.
"You're right about that," I confirmed cheerlessly. "I know that you absolutely hate it when people find out the real facts about you. But I also know that you actually hate it more when they don't know who you really are."
I could see that My Self was taken aback by these words, and he seemed to become more defensive in his stance, so I dived quickly into my next sentence.
"Sure, it's crap when people find out something about you and you lose your sense of mystery about you," I argued sarcastically. "I'm sure that's a huge letdown for someone who wants to seclude himself from the rest of society. But I know that you're very disappointed when someone doesn't take the time and effort to find out those things about you without you actually telling them."
"Well, they should take the time and effort, I'm not worthless," My Self pouted, a bit indignant at the thought. "It's not impossible for them to talk to me once in a while about something that isn't just shallow and trivial."
"Actually, you'd be surprised," I said plainly. "There are so many things about you that need to change for that to happen."
"Name them."
I was blunt about it, because gentleness simply wasn't an option. "People think you carry the truth about you, think you care about it, but you're a compulsive liar, and you will never tell the truth if the lie will serve you better."
My Self and I, we could lie to anyone, but we couldn't lie to ourselves. He couldn't be truthful if his life depended on it, he lies like it's a skill, but in the end, it's just anything but the truth.
"You keep putting that stupid smile on your face, like you're happy with your life and your relationships, but inside, you're almost always feeling down, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot, and you try your best never to let it show."
To the world, My Self is happy, and is often seen with that stupid stupid smile of his, but deep down, he's unhappy all the time, and he tries to make sure no one sees it.
"You're so sincere and earnest about wanting to do good and serve other causes than your own, but always thinking about your own circumstances at some level, seeing where you might benefit from it."
My Self thinks about a lot of things, he is good at generating ideas, but a little too good, and sometimes just ends up being too self-centered in his thinking.
"You pretend like you like hanging out with the crowd, being part of the group, but you feel just as detached, just as alone with other people around as you do when you're by yourself."
I see My Self with people, and he reacts like he should on the outside, but he never really changes on the inside. After the people have disappeared, he's the same as he always was, without that connection to the other people.
My Self was troubled by my statements, not because they were false, but because they were true. He seemed silent, so I continued on.
"Why do you think you are who you are?" I quietly asked. "Why did you end up being so distant and unwilling to open up to other people about these problems?"
His answer was tentative, but he seemed committed to it. "I don't know why, but I've always had the feeling that people were more interested in what I do than who I am. The things I've accomplished are far more interesting than I actually am."
"That doesn't make you uninteresting," I comforted.
"I know." My Self nodded in acknowledgment. "But I don't know how I could ever get them to see that."
"They probably do. And they probably know a little bit more about you now than they did before."
We said our goodbyes, and walked our separate ways, at least for now. We would meet again to discuss our thoughts soon enough, because we were the same person, all things aside.
So this narration is a literary rewrite of an actual conversation I had with myself. I don't remember ever doing this before, but since this blog is all about me, it's probably an appropriate place to put it. I don't doubt that some people will find it a little weird. If so, excuse my quirky personality/personae.
My Self is who I portray myself as, when I am out and about in the world. This is who you see, but not necessarily who I am. The narrator 'I' is the person who I really am, and who I would be if I stripped away all the false layers.
In the end, they are both a part of me, but they serve different purposes, and I would like to get rid of one of them eventually. But I don't know when that will be yet.
Well, that wraps up another entry. It's helped me lift my spirits a little, just to write my thoughts down, because my deep and meaningful conversations with other people are very few in number.
Thanks guys,
See you all next time
But unlike the many people who deal with these problems, I try time after time to face these problems alone. Relying on an already broken and burdened spirit to be the only source of solutions to my problems, I am quite sure that it's only by God's intervention on many occasions that I am still here today. People are interesting to me, and it's a blast to hang out with them once in a while, but I can never seem to rely on them when I should. Not because they themselves are unreliable, but because I have never learnt to trust people to carry me through my darkest hours.
The one person I always find myself talking to about my problems is... myself. The majority of my deep and meaningful conversations are with my own thoughts. This probably isn't as productive as a conversation with someone else, and definitely not as healthy. I am well aware of the 'issues' that this kind of behaviour is indicative of, but I need that interaction, even if it is only with myself. So for the remainder of this entry, I'd like to present one such conversation with myself, jazzed up with a few touches from my literary interests.
I approached My Self with a calm exterior, and it rightly reflected my interior feelings, because as anxious and uncertain he would often appear about his own insecurities, I always knew what was real underneath the fake veneer he used. My Self wanted to meet, to discuss something important. I was curious as to what it would be, but I had a pretty good idea of what to expect.
"Hey," I said, catching his attention. Waving briefly, I continued, "So what did you need to talk about?"
My Self was nervous and agitated, and it was a part of him that I really didn't like, but I've never complained too much. He looked around, as if paranoid we were being overheard, before replying, "I wanted to talk about how I have problems talking to other people."
I sighed on the inside. This was exactly what I expected would come up. Showing some concern, I asked patiently, "What sort of problems?"
"Sometimes I like hanging around people, but sometimes I can't stand having to be there when they're around. When we hang out, they can make me feel great, but other times, they can just as easily leave me feeling like crap, wishing I'd never been there in the first place."
"That's pretty common, isn't it?" I reasoned to My Self, shrugging with nonchalance. "I mean, there's bound to be people out there who are nice to be with and some who you just shouldn't be spending time with anyways, right?"
My Self continued to furrow his brow, maintaining a troubled expression on his face. "It's more than that. I mean, it's the same people that can make me feel both ways sometimes. How is that even possible? It must be something about them that just changes from time to time. Why else would I feel like this?"
I shook my head in disbelief. It was as though he was blind. The answer to his problem was within his grasp, but he just couldn't see it, and it was as though he just hoped it was a problem with other people and not himself. I didn't really want to reveal that to him. But I saw no other choice.
"You don't ever really be yourself." I was exasperated, telling My Self this answer. "You don't let people see who you really are, and you will always end up in worse shape doing that."
"I don't like the fact that people know what makes me who I am," My Self replied with a cringe. "I hate that people know who I really am."
His expression seemed resolute, but his voice was quavering noticeably.
"You're right about that," I confirmed cheerlessly. "I know that you absolutely hate it when people find out the real facts about you. But I also know that you actually hate it more when they don't know who you really are."
I could see that My Self was taken aback by these words, and he seemed to become more defensive in his stance, so I dived quickly into my next sentence.
"Sure, it's crap when people find out something about you and you lose your sense of mystery about you," I argued sarcastically. "I'm sure that's a huge letdown for someone who wants to seclude himself from the rest of society. But I know that you're very disappointed when someone doesn't take the time and effort to find out those things about you without you actually telling them."
"Well, they should take the time and effort, I'm not worthless," My Self pouted, a bit indignant at the thought. "It's not impossible for them to talk to me once in a while about something that isn't just shallow and trivial."
"Actually, you'd be surprised," I said plainly. "There are so many things about you that need to change for that to happen."
"Name them."
I was blunt about it, because gentleness simply wasn't an option. "People think you carry the truth about you, think you care about it, but you're a compulsive liar, and you will never tell the truth if the lie will serve you better."
My Self and I, we could lie to anyone, but we couldn't lie to ourselves. He couldn't be truthful if his life depended on it, he lies like it's a skill, but in the end, it's just anything but the truth.
"You keep putting that stupid smile on your face, like you're happy with your life and your relationships, but inside, you're almost always feeling down, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot, and you try your best never to let it show."
To the world, My Self is happy, and is often seen with that stupid stupid smile of his, but deep down, he's unhappy all the time, and he tries to make sure no one sees it.
"You're so sincere and earnest about wanting to do good and serve other causes than your own, but always thinking about your own circumstances at some level, seeing where you might benefit from it."
My Self thinks about a lot of things, he is good at generating ideas, but a little too good, and sometimes just ends up being too self-centered in his thinking.
"You pretend like you like hanging out with the crowd, being part of the group, but you feel just as detached, just as alone with other people around as you do when you're by yourself."
I see My Self with people, and he reacts like he should on the outside, but he never really changes on the inside. After the people have disappeared, he's the same as he always was, without that connection to the other people.
My Self was troubled by my statements, not because they were false, but because they were true. He seemed silent, so I continued on.
"Why do you think you are who you are?" I quietly asked. "Why did you end up being so distant and unwilling to open up to other people about these problems?"
His answer was tentative, but he seemed committed to it. "I don't know why, but I've always had the feeling that people were more interested in what I do than who I am. The things I've accomplished are far more interesting than I actually am."
"That doesn't make you uninteresting," I comforted.
"I know." My Self nodded in acknowledgment. "But I don't know how I could ever get them to see that."
"They probably do. And they probably know a little bit more about you now than they did before."
We said our goodbyes, and walked our separate ways, at least for now. We would meet again to discuss our thoughts soon enough, because we were the same person, all things aside.
So this narration is a literary rewrite of an actual conversation I had with myself. I don't remember ever doing this before, but since this blog is all about me, it's probably an appropriate place to put it. I don't doubt that some people will find it a little weird. If so, excuse my quirky personality/personae.
My Self is who I portray myself as, when I am out and about in the world. This is who you see, but not necessarily who I am. The narrator 'I' is the person who I really am, and who I would be if I stripped away all the false layers.
In the end, they are both a part of me, but they serve different purposes, and I would like to get rid of one of them eventually. But I don't know when that will be yet.
Well, that wraps up another entry. It's helped me lift my spirits a little, just to write my thoughts down, because my deep and meaningful conversations with other people are very few in number.
Thanks guys,
See you all next time
Wednesday 6 August 2008
Tea Trip Pull Sea
Hello! :)
Let me tell you a story about a boy who made some mistakes in his life. He believed in a world that was constantly against him, until he soon faced each morning thinking it was him against everyone else. It was a world where he trusted himself above even his friends and family. Life was preciously gifted, but painful nonetheless. Each day was dreaded, each moment squandered without a thought for what could have happened instead of what did.
In fact, this story is about me. Perhaps the only part of it that is false is that I would rather refer to myself as a man than a boy. Otherwise, it perfectly and succinctly summarises how I felt about my own existence, until my views on life were changed.
Everybody loves acronyms. Acronyms may be the single most useful invention since the abacus. And that was made a long long time ago. Well, a bit of an exaggeration really. 'Useful' is hardly the term that describes them well. But 'memorable' is.
Tea trip pull sea. Or, you could remember this instead: TCCC. (In case people are still scratching their heads, I'll explain that 'tea trip pull sea' is phonetically identical to the pronunciation of the acronym TCCC, ala "T triple C")
A month or two ago, I gave a short presentation on TCCC concerning how it was something I learned at our annual youth camp, but to be perfectly honest (apologies to anyone who was deceived by my deception) it was a concept that had been blossoming for a long time before camp. It is really something that has emerged as my new understanding and view of the importance of social interaction (i.e. between me and everyone else), somewhat of an ideal which I would like to aspire to.
It's probably time for me to present what TCCC is indeed an acronym for. It's so simple that an idiot could have (and did) invented it.
T hankfulness
C onsideration
C ourtesy
C ooperation
T hankfulness
The world is largely a thankless place. The deserving things we've received we take with pride and arrogance, the undeserving things we're received we regard with little thought and humility, the deserving things we've been denied we whine and moan about as injustice, and the undeserving things we've been denied we still whine and moan about as unjust. I believe to give thanks takes something unworldly, inhuman by design, because we constantly want, and rarely feel content and satisfied with our present self.
Perhaps I feel that way about how my social interactions have been. It is true that very oftentimes, I am the one who, at a party, eventually fades from the foreground to the background, perhaps because i fade easily, others are more interesting, or I simply don't have the social endurance to sustain intense interactions for lengthy periods of time. These rationalisations were firm on the surface, but crumbled deep down in my psyche. I was upset that people devoted so much of their time to people that weren't me.
But in realising that there are also times where they do devote their time to accompany me, entertain me and make me feel appreciated, I believe I need to show a great deal more thankfulness for these moments, and a great deal less self-pity and unwarranted greed for attention. Only then can I realise the true value of the precious moments that I spend in the company of those who are dear to me.
C onsideration
I believe when it comes to social interaction, there are two voices that speak to you. One says, "I... I... I... I... I...", while the other says, "They... they... they... they... they...". However, most people will experience a great discrepancy between their perceptions of one versus the other. In the majority of people, the first voice will sound much louder than the second, and as a result, people tend to focus their attention on selfish thoughts and motives, without adequate consideration for others'.
In the past, I very often saw the needs of only myself, and no other. I felt as though the people around me constantly ignored my existence whenever possible, and where I saw people forming tight circles of friendship, I saw myself being excluded and isolated from these circles, always observing from outside, unable to truly experience what happened within the bond of true friendship. Holding onto that perception of my own self-pity and loneliness, I wished, and indeed, expected that such loneliness should have been compensated, by a kind word, a gentle action when I needed it, but when such things happened, it was ephemeral and short-lived.
What was it that made my friendship so much less appealing than that which was formed with someone else? Why did my 'friends' never attend to me in the same manner they did others?
I believe that in writing this, I will unintentionally insult at least one person who reads it, and for others still it will stir within them a sense of guilt. But I should interject first by saying that as a memoir of my past, this entry has no power on the present but to inform. If you feel such a feeling arising, it is unnecessary. I am not trying to place blame or burden anyone with despondent feelings of guilt or remorse.
I came to the realisation that in believing that I was deserving, I was raising myself to a higher status than I had actually obtained for myself. I was a 'friend' by name, but by actions and deeds, what had I given to my friends that was of value and was sufficient enough to be considered for reciprocation? Better 'friends' to my friend were certainly more deserving in this respect, and had every right to receive everything they did. In belittling myself (in a good way), I could see how much bigger the world was, and how little I had actually explored and discovered for myself. At the same time, a smaller me needed less attention, and I became more content with the acknowledgment I already received. I needed to be considerate, and in turn acknowledge that there is a reason some people are liked more than others. I believe that for some, they may just be a better friend than I.
C ourtesy
Gifted with a mind capable of calculation, invention and imagination, we sometimes calculate too much the value behind the actions of others, invent too much the motives behind the actions of others, and imagine too much the emotions behind the actions of others. A mind that is incapable of stopping, for fear of losing its advantage over mindless others, can be a terrible burden to its owner, and a terrible strain on even the strongest links between people, if it is not contained within the bounds of courteous thought.
To be perfectly honest, this aspect has changed the least, for the reason that my mind is unkempt and unleashed. But discipline is on my agenda, and with time, I hope to possess a courteous mind towards others. However, much of my past experience echoes my current experience in this regard, to my great disappointment.
Reading into the motives of others is second nature for a great number of people, because it serves to gauge why someone chooses their course of action. Reading into the dispositions of others is second nature also, because it serve to gauge why someone chooses their course of interaction with the reader. However, when one perceives the majority of his or her social interactions to be negatively tinged, it is only logical that dispositions are all too often read to be negatively tinged also.
I am extremely prejudiced towards the people I know. From the outset, I will forgo all prior knowledge I have of them and presume they dislike me. During a time, this was an extremely accurate strategy. However, as time has progressed, I have held onto this view, most likely out of sheer laziness. It is much less accurate now, but still permeates my view of the people around me. It has become second nature for me to assume that the people in my life dislike me at some level, which is unfortunate for a number of reasons.
Firstly, I will undoubtedly treat someone whom I believe holds me in positive regard differently than someone who feels oppositely. Second, I will likely never be as close to these people as friends than I could have otherwise, because I feel no point in trying. And lastly, it's insulting to everyone who are genuine in their positive regard towards me, for me to replace such intentions with fabricated attitudes of animosity.
This in my mind is not courteous towards my acquaintances, and distances me from people around me. There may well be times where someone's actions leads you to think on such negative thoughts, but we need to have a buffer capable of absorbing a number of misfortunes before we form our judgments. We wouldn't like others to expect perfection of us, nor should we expect perfection of others. Holding this courtesy towards others is a step towards better interactions.
C ooperation
Zero-sum games are very difficult to tolerate. They prelude one side's eventual loss, when the other triumphs. Zero-sum games are incapable of conducing harmony between participants. Even the best of friends can be torn apart by such a contest, simply because the nature of zero-sum is the windfall of one facilitated by the downfall of the other. In contrast, non-zero-sum games are able to generate a great deal of harmony and cooperation, even between the most unlikely partners. In such a sense, what importance does this logic hold for social interaction?
Time is a luxury that we have been given to squander as we see fit. The vision a person holds for their life determines how wisely he spends his time. If all he sees is what interests himself, when no other holds the same vision, he is destined to pour his efforts into ventures which are a zero-sum game. He will be isolated, lonely, and forgotten. He travels a road he paves himself, because he holds no interests in those laid by others before him.
However, if he sees others in his future, he can pour his efforts into ventures which are a non-zero-sum game. He will spend his time in the presence of others with similar ventures, similar hopes, similar futures, and be surrounded, accompanied, and remembered. He travels with companions who are happy to have him in their company and he is happy to have them in his. Together, they forge a path more prominent than a single man could ever make.
Perhaps this seems a bit poetic (a bit). What of it though? Do we see greater value in pursuing an individual dream, or do we see greater value in pursuing a collective dream? One person is capable of good things, but many people are capable of great things. Very often, I refer to myself as a non-conformist. Slowly, ever so slowly, people acknowledge that this ideal is fading. Partly because I feel slightly jaded by the ideal, but also because I want to be involved in the lives of others.
I admit that I feel awkward in situations where I step away from my usual persona in doing something different from my routine, but I enjoy it. I enjoy it not because the activity was adventurous and exciting, but because the company I was with gives me a feeling of contentment that is equal to none. But the nature of cooperation is to lose a part of yourself to create something much much bigger.
I don't know if you expected to learn anything significant from this entry. To my mind, this was a chance to write my thoughts and express a part of me that is in the dark the majority of the time. I am a complicated person. Above that, I try hard to hide myself from others, and I will often know more about someone else than they will know about me. However, hopefully, after today, my thoughts on social interaction will not be a mystery unknown.
Till next write --
N.B. This post was completed on the 15th August 2008, and took 9 days to finish
Let me tell you a story about a boy who made some mistakes in his life. He believed in a world that was constantly against him, until he soon faced each morning thinking it was him against everyone else. It was a world where he trusted himself above even his friends and family. Life was preciously gifted, but painful nonetheless. Each day was dreaded, each moment squandered without a thought for what could have happened instead of what did.
In fact, this story is about me. Perhaps the only part of it that is false is that I would rather refer to myself as a man than a boy. Otherwise, it perfectly and succinctly summarises how I felt about my own existence, until my views on life were changed.
Everybody loves acronyms. Acronyms may be the single most useful invention since the abacus. And that was made a long long time ago. Well, a bit of an exaggeration really. 'Useful' is hardly the term that describes them well. But 'memorable' is.
Tea trip pull sea. Or, you could remember this instead: TCCC. (In case people are still scratching their heads, I'll explain that 'tea trip pull sea' is phonetically identical to the pronunciation of the acronym TCCC, ala "T triple C")
A month or two ago, I gave a short presentation on TCCC concerning how it was something I learned at our annual youth camp, but to be perfectly honest (apologies to anyone who was deceived by my deception) it was a concept that had been blossoming for a long time before camp. It is really something that has emerged as my new understanding and view of the importance of social interaction (i.e. between me and everyone else), somewhat of an ideal which I would like to aspire to.
It's probably time for me to present what TCCC is indeed an acronym for. It's so simple that an idiot could have (and did) invented it.
T hankfulness
C onsideration
C ourtesy
C ooperation
T hankfulness
The world is largely a thankless place. The deserving things we've received we take with pride and arrogance, the undeserving things we're received we regard with little thought and humility, the deserving things we've been denied we whine and moan about as injustice, and the undeserving things we've been denied we still whine and moan about as unjust. I believe to give thanks takes something unworldly, inhuman by design, because we constantly want, and rarely feel content and satisfied with our present self.
Perhaps I feel that way about how my social interactions have been. It is true that very oftentimes, I am the one who, at a party, eventually fades from the foreground to the background, perhaps because i fade easily, others are more interesting, or I simply don't have the social endurance to sustain intense interactions for lengthy periods of time. These rationalisations were firm on the surface, but crumbled deep down in my psyche. I was upset that people devoted so much of their time to people that weren't me.
But in realising that there are also times where they do devote their time to accompany me, entertain me and make me feel appreciated, I believe I need to show a great deal more thankfulness for these moments, and a great deal less self-pity and unwarranted greed for attention. Only then can I realise the true value of the precious moments that I spend in the company of those who are dear to me.
C onsideration
I believe when it comes to social interaction, there are two voices that speak to you. One says, "I... I... I... I... I...", while the other says, "They... they... they... they... they...". However, most people will experience a great discrepancy between their perceptions of one versus the other. In the majority of people, the first voice will sound much louder than the second, and as a result, people tend to focus their attention on selfish thoughts and motives, without adequate consideration for others'.
In the past, I very often saw the needs of only myself, and no other. I felt as though the people around me constantly ignored my existence whenever possible, and where I saw people forming tight circles of friendship, I saw myself being excluded and isolated from these circles, always observing from outside, unable to truly experience what happened within the bond of true friendship. Holding onto that perception of my own self-pity and loneliness, I wished, and indeed, expected that such loneliness should have been compensated, by a kind word, a gentle action when I needed it, but when such things happened, it was ephemeral and short-lived.
What was it that made my friendship so much less appealing than that which was formed with someone else? Why did my 'friends' never attend to me in the same manner they did others?
I believe that in writing this, I will unintentionally insult at least one person who reads it, and for others still it will stir within them a sense of guilt. But I should interject first by saying that as a memoir of my past, this entry has no power on the present but to inform. If you feel such a feeling arising, it is unnecessary. I am not trying to place blame or burden anyone with despondent feelings of guilt or remorse.
I came to the realisation that in believing that I was deserving, I was raising myself to a higher status than I had actually obtained for myself. I was a 'friend' by name, but by actions and deeds, what had I given to my friends that was of value and was sufficient enough to be considered for reciprocation? Better 'friends' to my friend were certainly more deserving in this respect, and had every right to receive everything they did. In belittling myself (in a good way), I could see how much bigger the world was, and how little I had actually explored and discovered for myself. At the same time, a smaller me needed less attention, and I became more content with the acknowledgment I already received. I needed to be considerate, and in turn acknowledge that there is a reason some people are liked more than others. I believe that for some, they may just be a better friend than I.
C ourtesy
Gifted with a mind capable of calculation, invention and imagination, we sometimes calculate too much the value behind the actions of others, invent too much the motives behind the actions of others, and imagine too much the emotions behind the actions of others. A mind that is incapable of stopping, for fear of losing its advantage over mindless others, can be a terrible burden to its owner, and a terrible strain on even the strongest links between people, if it is not contained within the bounds of courteous thought.
To be perfectly honest, this aspect has changed the least, for the reason that my mind is unkempt and unleashed. But discipline is on my agenda, and with time, I hope to possess a courteous mind towards others. However, much of my past experience echoes my current experience in this regard, to my great disappointment.
Reading into the motives of others is second nature for a great number of people, because it serves to gauge why someone chooses their course of action. Reading into the dispositions of others is second nature also, because it serve to gauge why someone chooses their course of interaction with the reader. However, when one perceives the majority of his or her social interactions to be negatively tinged, it is only logical that dispositions are all too often read to be negatively tinged also.
I am extremely prejudiced towards the people I know. From the outset, I will forgo all prior knowledge I have of them and presume they dislike me. During a time, this was an extremely accurate strategy. However, as time has progressed, I have held onto this view, most likely out of sheer laziness. It is much less accurate now, but still permeates my view of the people around me. It has become second nature for me to assume that the people in my life dislike me at some level, which is unfortunate for a number of reasons.
Firstly, I will undoubtedly treat someone whom I believe holds me in positive regard differently than someone who feels oppositely. Second, I will likely never be as close to these people as friends than I could have otherwise, because I feel no point in trying. And lastly, it's insulting to everyone who are genuine in their positive regard towards me, for me to replace such intentions with fabricated attitudes of animosity.
This in my mind is not courteous towards my acquaintances, and distances me from people around me. There may well be times where someone's actions leads you to think on such negative thoughts, but we need to have a buffer capable of absorbing a number of misfortunes before we form our judgments. We wouldn't like others to expect perfection of us, nor should we expect perfection of others. Holding this courtesy towards others is a step towards better interactions.
C ooperation
Zero-sum games are very difficult to tolerate. They prelude one side's eventual loss, when the other triumphs. Zero-sum games are incapable of conducing harmony between participants. Even the best of friends can be torn apart by such a contest, simply because the nature of zero-sum is the windfall of one facilitated by the downfall of the other. In contrast, non-zero-sum games are able to generate a great deal of harmony and cooperation, even between the most unlikely partners. In such a sense, what importance does this logic hold for social interaction?
Time is a luxury that we have been given to squander as we see fit. The vision a person holds for their life determines how wisely he spends his time. If all he sees is what interests himself, when no other holds the same vision, he is destined to pour his efforts into ventures which are a zero-sum game. He will be isolated, lonely, and forgotten. He travels a road he paves himself, because he holds no interests in those laid by others before him.
However, if he sees others in his future, he can pour his efforts into ventures which are a non-zero-sum game. He will spend his time in the presence of others with similar ventures, similar hopes, similar futures, and be surrounded, accompanied, and remembered. He travels with companions who are happy to have him in their company and he is happy to have them in his. Together, they forge a path more prominent than a single man could ever make.
Perhaps this seems a bit poetic (a bit). What of it though? Do we see greater value in pursuing an individual dream, or do we see greater value in pursuing a collective dream? One person is capable of good things, but many people are capable of great things. Very often, I refer to myself as a non-conformist. Slowly, ever so slowly, people acknowledge that this ideal is fading. Partly because I feel slightly jaded by the ideal, but also because I want to be involved in the lives of others.
I admit that I feel awkward in situations where I step away from my usual persona in doing something different from my routine, but I enjoy it. I enjoy it not because the activity was adventurous and exciting, but because the company I was with gives me a feeling of contentment that is equal to none. But the nature of cooperation is to lose a part of yourself to create something much much bigger.
I don't know if you expected to learn anything significant from this entry. To my mind, this was a chance to write my thoughts and express a part of me that is in the dark the majority of the time. I am a complicated person. Above that, I try hard to hide myself from others, and I will often know more about someone else than they will know about me. However, hopefully, after today, my thoughts on social interaction will not be a mystery unknown.
Till next write --
N.B. This post was completed on the 15th August 2008, and took 9 days to finish
Wednesday 16 July 2008
2008 - The Year that Beijing gave Athletes Asthma
Hello! :)
So hard to believe it's already 2008. And last than half of it remains. Still, at least it's the interesting half, given that there's the Olympics, a whole bunch of birthdays, the time for year 12's to wrestle with the two Q's, QCS and QTAC (at least in Queensland anyways), and personally, my thesis submission to look forward to. That last one is really like a sarcastic "interesting", but I thought it deserves a mention. In fact, there are a plethora of miscellaneous events worth mentioning. But I'm no historian. So let's get on with the blog.
Can you believe I actually forgot what my own blog was called? Not like the title, but the address, so I didn't really abandon it per se, I just couldn't find it. Thanks to Steph, who has linked my blog on hers. Lets me slide on that awkward moment where I ask someone what my own blog is called.
-_-"
Anyways, I found it, as you can see, and seeing as how that whole fiasco stands as a testament to my slowly fading memory, it makes sense that I blog to keep the memories in a secondary form (the internet), which is more or less as reliable as the primary (my head).
As stated in the title, the year is 2008 (gosh, I hope that's right), and besides from the Beijing Olympics, it is a momentous year for another reason. I'm not referring to World Youth Day, the Obama vs. Clinton campaign wars, global warming, the continuing conflicts in Iraq, political turmoil in Zimbabwe, China's devastating earthquakes, Queensland triumphing State of Origin our third year running, or our local superstar Heath Ledger's passing. I'm referring to the day that I shed my shell.
I don't doubt for a second that this is very much a self-centered rant of a blog entry, but once a year shouldn't be a hard sell. To begin with....
I was born in a wonderful city called Hong Kong....
....
....
....
On second thought, I might save that for my autobiography. To be perfectly honest, my life I would describe as having been both great and crap at the same time. The silver spoon isn't quite there when I open my mouth and look in the mirror, but I've never had to worry about the clothes on my back or food on the table.
I can't
I. outplay Kasparov at chess,
II. outthink Einstein at physics,
III. outwit Letterman in a discussion, or
IV. outsmart Gates at computer design, but
I can
A. write fiction that doesn't suck, despite reading very little,
B. construct all kinds of weird and wonderful things with Lego, even at the age of five, despite having fat little fingers, and killing my nails each time I had to pull the pieces apart,
C. recite the multiplication table well enough that I would never get out in a game of "around the world" (grade 3), despite knowing the torment and ridicule maths nerds inevitably face, and
D. get an OP 2 in grade 12, despite never studying for any of my high school subjects (except Maths C, which, fittingly, I got a C for :D)
I am smart, when it comes to academics. However, as I progressed through life, I realized how pointless this intelligence was. It does its job, but its job is a very narrow one. A comparable situation that comes to mind is one from The Simpsons.
Homer: Let me ask you something: does your money cheer you up when you're feeling blue?
Mr. Burns: Yes.
Homer: Okay, bad example. So let me ask you this: does your money ever hug you when you come home at night?
Mr. Burns: Why, no.
Homer: And does it say "I love you"?
Mr. Burns: No, it doesn't.
Homer: (chanting) Nobody love you, nobody loves you...
Stupid brain, doesn't even do the first thing right. Anyways, I could go into a whole spiel about my brain and the things it doesn't do right, but then I'd run into the mind-body problem, which I suppose is the psychology equivalent of the predestination brick wall we crash into every once in a while at bible study. In any case, I have spent a good deal of my time on this planet focusing on the wrong thing. Intelligence is good, but it doesn't cheer me up when I'm blue, hug me when I come home, or say "I love you".
At some point in my life, some ways into high school to my memory, I committed myself to detachment from other people. Reason? I was an overweight, unattractive, awkward, nerdy boy. In all likelihood, my friends would decrease in number, not increase. So why not skip the long painful journey in between and just cut off all social relationships from the go? Save myself some time and focus on other fruitful ventures.
Unfortunately, I am still overweight, unattractive, awkward and nerdy. And I'm still a boy. But now, I think I see things very differently. However, do I now think that my friends will increase in number as opposed to the opposite? No, I don't. In fact, I don't think about anything even remotely close to this. Predicting what the future will be like, what may or may not befall you, how your circumstances may or may not change, I say leave that to the psychics and the gypsies. Reliving my failures, tormenting myself with memories of humiliation and embarassment, I say leave that to the historians and comedians.
That is not who I am anymore.
I can attest now, that I am not a psychic or a gypsy or a historian or a comedian.
I am a psychologist.
I am a Yau.
And I
AM
JACKY
What's my name? J-A-C-K-Y
J-ust
A-ccepting,
C-oncentrating on, and
K-apturing what he
Y-earns for
Well, I have a last name too I suppose.
Y-earns
A-fter
U-nreplaceable treasures
Yes, I realize the word is irreplaceable, but Yai sounds like crap :P.
I want to store up for myself treasures that will last for eternity, past a single lifetime. But to do that, I have to do one thing:
FOCUS ON TODAY
Our lives consist of three days:
Yesterday Today Tomorrow
But why write it like this? This is how it should be written:
Yesterday Today Tomorrow
In the face of TODAY, yesterday and tomorrow are a mere whisper. They exist and have value in and of themselves, but today has the greatest value of all. I've decided not to let visions of a lonely future or memories of broken dreams from the past crush my chance at the present. You could describe me as an introvert before, as RL would put it, crawling into my shell when I felt something was nearby.
But the shell has come off. From today onwards, I hope that you would describe me as an extrovert. Not because that's what I'd like to hear, but because you honestly see that in me. If that should happen, then I will have succeeded, and I have kaptured when I yearn for. Will I be a bit more annoying? A bit more unpredictable? A bit more inappropriate at times?
I laugh out loud at present, because I hope these will all be true. Because to me, this is what it is to kapture the present. I'm rambling now, because I write blogs like lightning: I strike wherever I can and try to make as big a hole as possible.
So let me end by saying
SVEN ROCKS - BUT -
THIS - IS - NOT - A - SVEN - BLOG
SORRY XD XD XD XD
I AM JACKY~~~~~$(&#$!(&^@#%
If you don't get this, good for you. Seriously.
Till next write --
So hard to believe it's already 2008. And last than half of it remains. Still, at least it's the interesting half, given that there's the Olympics, a whole bunch of birthdays, the time for year 12's to wrestle with the two Q's, QCS and QTAC (at least in Queensland anyways), and personally, my thesis submission to look forward to. That last one is really like a sarcastic "interesting", but I thought it deserves a mention. In fact, there are a plethora of miscellaneous events worth mentioning. But I'm no historian. So let's get on with the blog.
Can you believe I actually forgot what my own blog was called? Not like the title, but the address, so I didn't really abandon it per se, I just couldn't find it. Thanks to Steph, who has linked my blog on hers. Lets me slide on that awkward moment where I ask someone what my own blog is called.
-_-"
Anyways, I found it, as you can see, and seeing as how that whole fiasco stands as a testament to my slowly fading memory, it makes sense that I blog to keep the memories in a secondary form (the internet), which is more or less as reliable as the primary (my head).
As stated in the title, the year is 2008 (gosh, I hope that's right), and besides from the Beijing Olympics, it is a momentous year for another reason. I'm not referring to World Youth Day, the Obama vs. Clinton campaign wars, global warming, the continuing conflicts in Iraq, political turmoil in Zimbabwe, China's devastating earthquakes, Queensland triumphing State of Origin our third year running, or our local superstar Heath Ledger's passing. I'm referring to the day that I shed my shell.
I don't doubt for a second that this is very much a self-centered rant of a blog entry, but once a year shouldn't be a hard sell. To begin with....
I was born in a wonderful city called Hong Kong....
....
....
....
On second thought, I might save that for my autobiography. To be perfectly honest, my life I would describe as having been both great and crap at the same time. The silver spoon isn't quite there when I open my mouth and look in the mirror, but I've never had to worry about the clothes on my back or food on the table.
I can't
I. outplay Kasparov at chess,
II. outthink Einstein at physics,
III. outwit Letterman in a discussion, or
IV. outsmart Gates at computer design, but
I can
A. write fiction that doesn't suck, despite reading very little,
B. construct all kinds of weird and wonderful things with Lego, even at the age of five, despite having fat little fingers, and killing my nails each time I had to pull the pieces apart,
C. recite the multiplication table well enough that I would never get out in a game of "around the world" (grade 3), despite knowing the torment and ridicule maths nerds inevitably face, and
D. get an OP 2 in grade 12, despite never studying for any of my high school subjects (except Maths C, which, fittingly, I got a C for :D)
I am smart, when it comes to academics. However, as I progressed through life, I realized how pointless this intelligence was. It does its job, but its job is a very narrow one. A comparable situation that comes to mind is one from The Simpsons.
Homer: Let me ask you something: does your money cheer you up when you're feeling blue?
Mr. Burns: Yes.
Homer: Okay, bad example. So let me ask you this: does your money ever hug you when you come home at night?
Mr. Burns: Why, no.
Homer: And does it say "I love you"?
Mr. Burns: No, it doesn't.
Homer: (chanting) Nobody love you, nobody loves you...
Stupid brain, doesn't even do the first thing right. Anyways, I could go into a whole spiel about my brain and the things it doesn't do right, but then I'd run into the mind-body problem, which I suppose is the psychology equivalent of the predestination brick wall we crash into every once in a while at bible study. In any case, I have spent a good deal of my time on this planet focusing on the wrong thing. Intelligence is good, but it doesn't cheer me up when I'm blue, hug me when I come home, or say "I love you".
At some point in my life, some ways into high school to my memory, I committed myself to detachment from other people. Reason? I was an overweight, unattractive, awkward, nerdy boy. In all likelihood, my friends would decrease in number, not increase. So why not skip the long painful journey in between and just cut off all social relationships from the go? Save myself some time and focus on other fruitful ventures.
Unfortunately, I am still overweight, unattractive, awkward and nerdy. And I'm still a boy. But now, I think I see things very differently. However, do I now think that my friends will increase in number as opposed to the opposite? No, I don't. In fact, I don't think about anything even remotely close to this. Predicting what the future will be like, what may or may not befall you, how your circumstances may or may not change, I say leave that to the psychics and the gypsies. Reliving my failures, tormenting myself with memories of humiliation and embarassment, I say leave that to the historians and comedians.
That is not who I am anymore.
I can attest now, that I am not a psychic or a gypsy or a historian or a comedian.
I am a psychologist.
I am a Yau.
And I
AM
JACKY
What's my name? J-A-C-K-Y
J-ust
A-ccepting,
C-oncentrating on, and
K-apturing what he
Y-earns for
Well, I have a last name too I suppose.
Y-earns
A-fter
U-nreplaceable treasures
Yes, I realize the word is irreplaceable, but Yai sounds like crap :P.
I want to store up for myself treasures that will last for eternity, past a single lifetime. But to do that, I have to do one thing:
FOCUS ON TODAY
Our lives consist of three days:
Yesterday Today Tomorrow
But why write it like this? This is how it should be written:
Yesterday Today Tomorrow
In the face of TODAY, yesterday and tomorrow are a mere whisper. They exist and have value in and of themselves, but today has the greatest value of all. I've decided not to let visions of a lonely future or memories of broken dreams from the past crush my chance at the present. You could describe me as an introvert before, as RL would put it, crawling into my shell when I felt something was nearby.
But the shell has come off. From today onwards, I hope that you would describe me as an extrovert. Not because that's what I'd like to hear, but because you honestly see that in me. If that should happen, then I will have succeeded, and I have kaptured when I yearn for. Will I be a bit more annoying? A bit more unpredictable? A bit more inappropriate at times?
I laugh out loud at present, because I hope these will all be true. Because to me, this is what it is to kapture the present. I'm rambling now, because I write blogs like lightning: I strike wherever I can and try to make as big a hole as possible.
So let me end by saying
SVEN ROCKS - BUT -
THIS - IS - NOT - A - SVEN - BLOG
SORRY XD XD XD XD
I AM JACKY~~~~~$(&#$!(&^@#%
If you don't get this, good for you. Seriously.
Till next write --
Sunday 23 December 2007
Addendum to "A Week in the World of..."
Hello! :)
I actually omitted this from my entry, possibly in a state of sleep-deprived delirium. Around this time of year, the calendar salespeople are out, palming off as many knockoffs of what is essentially the same document filled with 366 blanks representing the coming year (or 428 is they have one month leeway at both ends). But the pictures change. In other words, they try to make theirs look prettier than their competitors so they get better sales. Everyone does it, so it's okay. But the point is to make that more attractive right?
So what's the deal with this?
Scary, no?
I would not, under any circumstances, buy this calendar, unless I wanted to psychologically scar the recipient for life :P .
Well, that's all I forgot I hope. In addition to many other things I'm sure.
Till next write --
I actually omitted this from my entry, possibly in a state of sleep-deprived delirium. Around this time of year, the calendar salespeople are out, palming off as many knockoffs of what is essentially the same document filled with 366 blanks representing the coming year (or 428 is they have one month leeway at both ends). But the pictures change. In other words, they try to make theirs look prettier than their competitors so they get better sales. Everyone does it, so it's okay. But the point is to make that more attractive right?
So what's the deal with this?
Scary, no?I would not, under any circumstances, buy this calendar, unless I wanted to psychologically scar the recipient for life :P .
Well, that's all I forgot I hope. In addition to many other things I'm sure.
Till next write --
Sunday 16 December 2007
A Week in the World of...
Hello! :)
Initially, I meant to update 9 days ago. But then, with each day, I felt less and less like doing it. Actually, I'm still intermittently procrastinating as I'm typing right now. As a side-note, I've recently found Minesweeper to be mind-numbing, but in a good way. I'm playing it so often now I think I'm developing RSI on my right index finger. Also browsing through the 200 or so gigabytes of anime I currently have on my hard drive to see which I might make a start on this holiday. Anyways, onto the actual entry. Nine days. I know that's slightly longer than one week, but I kept procrastinating,
Okay, a little more procrastination later, and it's now been 16 days since I meant to update, LOL. The title should now more appropriately be "Two Weeks in the World of...", but oh well. Presenting all events as they occurred in chronological order seems a little bit pointless now, firstly because there's some days with heaps of stuff happening, some with nothing, and secondly, because I don't really remember anymore the exact time when everything happened. But I'll try to record everything as accurately as I experienced them, minus the time and date.
The VERY first thing is that on the day that I originally meant to update, my sister Wendy went for her 8th grade piano exam. For those who don't know, 8th grade is a big deal, because it's the pinnacle of piano tuition without heading into the insane depths of A-Mus, L-Mus, etc. which do literally drive one insane. Also, once you have your 8th grade cert, you can teach, if you can stand it. For the record, she passed. I didn't have doubts for a second :) .
After the exam, we went to Sunnybank to celebrate, and got solids from KFC, liquids from Gloria Jean's and Easy Way for me and Wendy, respectively. Two funny things, explainable only through photography.
This is the tiling that's underneath the counters at the KFC at Sunnybank Plaza. I'm not sure how clear it is, but I've captured the KFC logo to the left to verify it IS KFC. Anyways, notice that while the fries are correctly coloured yellow, the hamburger has been strangely shaded purple, and the drumstick is extremely hairy. The drink, while not really in KFC colours, had nothing inherently wrong with them. But I would suggest firing whoever designed those tiles for them. No one in their right minds would purchase a purple burger (I would hope).
This is the Easy Way drink that my sister ordered that day. There was nothing wrong with the drink itself, but I noticed something interesting on the side of the container. I think that the shape of the cup made it difficult for my camera to focus on the text, but take my word for it when I say that the green text spells out: "Drink slowly. Beware of choking on toppings." Personally, I would make a warning just a little bit bigger, and possibly in red too, if it really is a warning. Essentially, they've made it the same size as the Easy Way website. LOL.
Other things that happened on Friday the 7th of December. Successfully passed through three yellow lights while driving, that made my day. Parking at Garden City? What parking? I couldn't find a parking spot, so I dropped off Wendy and Nat, drove back home, parked in the garage, and took the bus outside my house instead. The bus was stopped at two yellow lights, but not me driving, so I didn't mind.
Pass this date, things start getting fuzzy. Like Saturday the 8th, one day after. For some reason, I don't remember what I did that day. Anyways, on Sunday, went to Yum Cha with family friends, including Yvonne, Heidi and Sally. Went shutter-crazy, and have plenty of photos as a result. Enjoy.
Okay, now the photos
This was the beginning of a whole chain of conversations regarding mobile phones. Incidentally, this was also the day that Heidi's phone died. Died is probably a polite way of saying it. A more appropriate term would be quit. That phone was a quitter. Good riddance. Can't wait to see her new one :) .
This is my lovely sister. Three things about this photo.
1. Yes, this is a pose apparently.
2. No, I didn't ask for it.
3. Yes, she does look normal sometimes.
This is my other sister Esther. Luckily, this photo caught her at one of her cuter moments. Tantrum mode is slightly less attractive. Unfortunately, I don't have a photo of that yet.
The "other" Yau's, Heidi (left) and Yvonne (right). For some reason, they look extremely alike in this photo, at least to me.
For some strange reason, people have this tendency and desire to self-shoot a photo, despite the presence of other able-bodied quasi-photographers who would be more than happy to take a picture without risking cutting half of someone's face out of the frame or getting a weird angle. In case you were wondering, yes, they took this photo themselves, and I pointed out the previous fact to them straight afterwards.
People also have a tendency to "pose" for a photo. It's decorative, but then, there's really no need to "decorate" a photo, after all, isn't your face pretty enough?
Un-posed (above) vs. Posed (below)
Really, what's the difference? By the way, pictured above is Sally, family friend of 14-ish years who apparently used to call me "big brother". I have no recollection of this, but it sounds kinda cool. As long as you smile, a pose adds no merit or attractiveness to a photo in my opinion. Opt for the "natural" look :) .
Oh yeah, parents were also at Yum Cha, but we teens had a table all to ourselves (although me and Vonnie aren't technically teens anymore). I had a photo of them, but they're boring in comparison to us. ;)
On a Monday, possibly the 10th, had a few on-the-road encounters that made me think. First of all, I was driving mum, Esther and myself to Sunnybank Plaza at around noon-ish for shopping, heading along Mt Gravatt-Capalaba Road. Going through the Logan Road intersection on the middle lane, the situation was reversed from normal; for once, the right lane was stationary and the middle lane was moving. I had just entered the intersection on the middle lane, when suddenly a car from the right lane veered into my lane in front of me.
Even with quick reflexes, I stopped within two feet of that car, with the ABS screeching protest at the abruptness of my braking. My life didn't quite flash before my eyes (I don't really know what that experience is like) but my heart was certainly racing after that near-crash. Not the first time something like that has happened, but the first time it's happened with passengers (especially a toddler) in the car with me.
Lesson 1: Bad drivers consider other cars and their drivers expendable. Good drivers realize that no one is expendable, and that driving is not a simulation.
Heading to Bible Study that night, I noticed two things. The first of which was a three-car accident on Logan Road, just before the Gateway onramp. Crashes are bad enough, but this one involved three cars, and at least three drivers. From what I could see, no one was badly hurt, but still, three heads are not better than one here.
Lesson 2: Prevent crashes wherever possible. If not, try not to involve other people (i.e. a one-car accident). At most, inconvenience only one other person (i.e. a two-car accident).
Later, on Mains Road, there's a section where no one travels the left lane until they have to make a turn, just in case the bus decides to stop and either delays you or forces you to merge right anyways. But new drivers can't be expected to anticipate this, I'm sure, and so, some people do the right thing and give way to them when they need the space. I did, to a driver with either an L or P plate, I don't remember which, who was stuck behind a stationary bus. Usually, the giving-way car slows, and the merging car merges without the giving-way car having to stop completely. But I think this one was a little hesitant, merged a little, than stopped mid-road, before flooring it. But this was enough to make me come to a halt too, and though I wasn't annoyed, other drivers behind me were, enough to high-five their steering wheel.
Lesson 3: Give L-plate/ P-plate drivers a little slack. You'd give it to open drivers, why not them? Some drivers intentionally withhold given way from these green drivers. I say we boo their behaviour and do our best not to imitate them. We all started as newbies.
On the topic of driving, I am, as of the 20th of December, on my open licence, which means more demerit points, a new licence (as I only got a 3 year P licence) and lower insurance premiums. Score! But... instead of updating the licence with a new look photo, I found myself with the same face, same hairstyle, same expression and... the same shirt! I don't know how it happened, but I wore the same shirt on both occasions where I had my photo taken for my licence. What are the odds? So essentially, they might as well have stuck with the old photo, LOL.
During the past two weeks, a little event called Holiday Sunday School also happened. I think the day Vivian sent the email out, I happily volunteered to supervise cooking and boat-building for the oldest group, grade 6 and 7's. Then, days before the event, she asked me again, forgetting that I had already previously already agreed to do some activities, to help out. So I happily volunteered to supervise cooking... again (boat-building was already being tackled by the intrepid Emily).
Next, I heard the budget for each activity, and my face was really this shape -> o_O
Knowing that it would be next to impossible, I told her I'd just donate the ingredients. Among other things, she was already worried about the financing, and the aim to keep everything in the black and not drop to red was at the forefront of her mind. Fiscally sound, but I wanted the kids to have a lot of fun cooking, or else they might be haunted by the memories of the inane boredom cooking at Holiday Sunday School and decide never to cook again.
The settled menu dé jour? Pizza and choc-centred muffins. Wendy also made Christmas cookies at my request in case we had time to spare to decorate with icing and stuff (i.e. act like grade 1's). I think they had fun cooking, expectedly, at their age, boys and girls are natural enemies, or at least never in alliance with one another, so two groups formed by gender, which was convenient; things were done twice as fast (I think). I didn't get photos, disappointing, but I think I made the right choice. Bringing a camera phone to the beach was risking damage. Bringing a camera phone to a kids cooking area was risking turning a handy electronic appliance into a paperweight.
Also, I thought I had forgotten it. Turns out it had just fallen out of my pocket when I was driving. I omitted the price of my three bags of groceries, but other people read the receipt, even after I scrunched it up and threw it in the bin, and Viv managed to suspiciously estimate a figure pretty close to the actual. So much for mystery. -_-"
The day ran smoothly, and the ledgers were actually black at the end of the day, and not red, which was good news for anyone planning to go to camp next year.
Also, I have now officially equaled both of the Bible Study records, firstly with leading a single chapter for four weeks (it'll be my fourth week once we resume anyways) and secondly with only going through a single verse in one week. This coincided with the return of the AYC goers, including Girl Power (whoever they are) and Rev Lui, which accounts for the hour-long discussion on something. It's not that I don't remember what we discussed, but if I told you, you'd lose the incentive to come along to Bible Study ;) . Come along when we resume if you want to "know".
Hardly spellbinding material here, but it is 2:22 in the morning. And 16 days is harder to keep a track of than I'd thought. Due to the current length of this entry, I will save stories of Michael's Christmas Party and the MYF Christmas Party for another entry. Thanks for reading!
Initially, I meant to update 9 days ago. But then, with each day, I felt less and less like doing it. Actually, I'm still intermittently procrastinating as I'm typing right now. As a side-note, I've recently found Minesweeper to be mind-numbing, but in a good way. I'm playing it so often now I think I'm developing RSI on my right index finger. Also browsing through the 200 or so gigabytes of anime I currently have on my hard drive to see which I might make a start on this holiday. Anyways, onto the actual entry. Nine days. I know that's slightly longer than one week, but I kept procrastinating,
Okay, a little more procrastination later, and it's now been 16 days since I meant to update, LOL. The title should now more appropriately be "Two Weeks in the World of...", but oh well. Presenting all events as they occurred in chronological order seems a little bit pointless now, firstly because there's some days with heaps of stuff happening, some with nothing, and secondly, because I don't really remember anymore the exact time when everything happened. But I'll try to record everything as accurately as I experienced them, minus the time and date.
The VERY first thing is that on the day that I originally meant to update, my sister Wendy went for her 8th grade piano exam. For those who don't know, 8th grade is a big deal, because it's the pinnacle of piano tuition without heading into the insane depths of A-Mus, L-Mus, etc. which do literally drive one insane. Also, once you have your 8th grade cert, you can teach, if you can stand it. For the record, she passed. I didn't have doubts for a second :) .
After the exam, we went to Sunnybank to celebrate, and got solids from KFC, liquids from Gloria Jean's and Easy Way for me and Wendy, respectively. Two funny things, explainable only through photography.
This is the tiling that's underneath the counters at the KFC at Sunnybank Plaza. I'm not sure how clear it is, but I've captured the KFC logo to the left to verify it IS KFC. Anyways, notice that while the fries are correctly coloured yellow, the hamburger has been strangely shaded purple, and the drumstick is extremely hairy. The drink, while not really in KFC colours, had nothing inherently wrong with them. But I would suggest firing whoever designed those tiles for them. No one in their right minds would purchase a purple burger (I would hope).Next thing...
This is the Easy Way drink that my sister ordered that day. There was nothing wrong with the drink itself, but I noticed something interesting on the side of the container. I think that the shape of the cup made it difficult for my camera to focus on the text, but take my word for it when I say that the green text spells out: "Drink slowly. Beware of choking on toppings." Personally, I would make a warning just a little bit bigger, and possibly in red too, if it really is a warning. Essentially, they've made it the same size as the Easy Way website. LOL.
Other things that happened on Friday the 7th of December. Successfully passed through three yellow lights while driving, that made my day. Parking at Garden City? What parking? I couldn't find a parking spot, so I dropped off Wendy and Nat, drove back home, parked in the garage, and took the bus outside my house instead. The bus was stopped at two yellow lights, but not me driving, so I didn't mind.
Pass this date, things start getting fuzzy. Like Saturday the 8th, one day after. For some reason, I don't remember what I did that day. Anyways, on Sunday, went to Yum Cha with family friends, including Yvonne, Heidi and Sally. Went shutter-crazy, and have plenty of photos as a result. Enjoy.
First to set the mood.
Okay, now the photos
This was the beginning of a whole chain of conversations regarding mobile phones. Incidentally, this was also the day that Heidi's phone died. Died is probably a polite way of saying it. A more appropriate term would be quit. That phone was a quitter. Good riddance. Can't wait to see her new one :) .
This is my lovely sister. Three things about this photo.1. Yes, this is a pose apparently.
2. No, I didn't ask for it.
3. Yes, she does look normal sometimes.
This is my other sister Esther. Luckily, this photo caught her at one of her cuter moments. Tantrum mode is slightly less attractive. Unfortunately, I don't have a photo of that yet.
The "other" Yau's, Heidi (left) and Yvonne (right). For some reason, they look extremely alike in this photo, at least to me.
For some strange reason, people have this tendency and desire to self-shoot a photo, despite the presence of other able-bodied quasi-photographers who would be more than happy to take a picture without risking cutting half of someone's face out of the frame or getting a weird angle. In case you were wondering, yes, they took this photo themselves, and I pointed out the previous fact to them straight afterwards.
People also have a tendency to "pose" for a photo. It's decorative, but then, there's really no need to "decorate" a photo, after all, isn't your face pretty enough?
Un-posed (above) vs. Posed (below)
Really, what's the difference? By the way, pictured above is Sally, family friend of 14-ish years who apparently used to call me "big brother". I have no recollection of this, but it sounds kinda cool. As long as you smile, a pose adds no merit or attractiveness to a photo in my opinion. Opt for the "natural" look :) .
Oh yeah, parents were also at Yum Cha, but we teens had a table all to ourselves (although me and Vonnie aren't technically teens anymore). I had a photo of them, but they're boring in comparison to us. ;)
On a Monday, possibly the 10th, had a few on-the-road encounters that made me think. First of all, I was driving mum, Esther and myself to Sunnybank Plaza at around noon-ish for shopping, heading along Mt Gravatt-Capalaba Road. Going through the Logan Road intersection on the middle lane, the situation was reversed from normal; for once, the right lane was stationary and the middle lane was moving. I had just entered the intersection on the middle lane, when suddenly a car from the right lane veered into my lane in front of me.
Even with quick reflexes, I stopped within two feet of that car, with the ABS screeching protest at the abruptness of my braking. My life didn't quite flash before my eyes (I don't really know what that experience is like) but my heart was certainly racing after that near-crash. Not the first time something like that has happened, but the first time it's happened with passengers (especially a toddler) in the car with me.
Lesson 1: Bad drivers consider other cars and their drivers expendable. Good drivers realize that no one is expendable, and that driving is not a simulation.
Heading to Bible Study that night, I noticed two things. The first of which was a three-car accident on Logan Road, just before the Gateway onramp. Crashes are bad enough, but this one involved three cars, and at least three drivers. From what I could see, no one was badly hurt, but still, three heads are not better than one here.
Lesson 2: Prevent crashes wherever possible. If not, try not to involve other people (i.e. a one-car accident). At most, inconvenience only one other person (i.e. a two-car accident).
Later, on Mains Road, there's a section where no one travels the left lane until they have to make a turn, just in case the bus decides to stop and either delays you or forces you to merge right anyways. But new drivers can't be expected to anticipate this, I'm sure, and so, some people do the right thing and give way to them when they need the space. I did, to a driver with either an L or P plate, I don't remember which, who was stuck behind a stationary bus. Usually, the giving-way car slows, and the merging car merges without the giving-way car having to stop completely. But I think this one was a little hesitant, merged a little, than stopped mid-road, before flooring it. But this was enough to make me come to a halt too, and though I wasn't annoyed, other drivers behind me were, enough to high-five their steering wheel.
Lesson 3: Give L-plate/ P-plate drivers a little slack. You'd give it to open drivers, why not them? Some drivers intentionally withhold given way from these green drivers. I say we boo their behaviour and do our best not to imitate them. We all started as newbies.
On the topic of driving, I am, as of the 20th of December, on my open licence, which means more demerit points, a new licence (as I only got a 3 year P licence) and lower insurance premiums. Score! But... instead of updating the licence with a new look photo, I found myself with the same face, same hairstyle, same expression and... the same shirt! I don't know how it happened, but I wore the same shirt on both occasions where I had my photo taken for my licence. What are the odds? So essentially, they might as well have stuck with the old photo, LOL.
During the past two weeks, a little event called Holiday Sunday School also happened. I think the day Vivian sent the email out, I happily volunteered to supervise cooking and boat-building for the oldest group, grade 6 and 7's. Then, days before the event, she asked me again, forgetting that I had already previously already agreed to do some activities, to help out. So I happily volunteered to supervise cooking... again (boat-building was already being tackled by the intrepid Emily).
Next, I heard the budget for each activity, and my face was really this shape -> o_O
Knowing that it would be next to impossible, I told her I'd just donate the ingredients. Among other things, she was already worried about the financing, and the aim to keep everything in the black and not drop to red was at the forefront of her mind. Fiscally sound, but I wanted the kids to have a lot of fun cooking, or else they might be haunted by the memories of the inane boredom cooking at Holiday Sunday School and decide never to cook again.
The settled menu dé jour? Pizza and choc-centred muffins. Wendy also made Christmas cookies at my request in case we had time to spare to decorate with icing and stuff (i.e. act like grade 1's). I think they had fun cooking, expectedly, at their age, boys and girls are natural enemies, or at least never in alliance with one another, so two groups formed by gender, which was convenient; things were done twice as fast (I think). I didn't get photos, disappointing, but I think I made the right choice. Bringing a camera phone to the beach was risking damage. Bringing a camera phone to a kids cooking area was risking turning a handy electronic appliance into a paperweight.
Also, I thought I had forgotten it. Turns out it had just fallen out of my pocket when I was driving. I omitted the price of my three bags of groceries, but other people read the receipt, even after I scrunched it up and threw it in the bin, and Viv managed to suspiciously estimate a figure pretty close to the actual. So much for mystery. -_-"
The day ran smoothly, and the ledgers were actually black at the end of the day, and not red, which was good news for anyone planning to go to camp next year.
Also, I have now officially equaled both of the Bible Study records, firstly with leading a single chapter for four weeks (it'll be my fourth week once we resume anyways) and secondly with only going through a single verse in one week. This coincided with the return of the AYC goers, including Girl Power (whoever they are) and Rev Lui, which accounts for the hour-long discussion on something. It's not that I don't remember what we discussed, but if I told you, you'd lose the incentive to come along to Bible Study ;) . Come along when we resume if you want to "know".
Well, either I've forgotten the rest of the interesting stuff, or that's all folks!
I bet you're feeling a little like this
Hardly spellbinding material here, but it is 2:22 in the morning. And 16 days is harder to keep a track of than I'd thought. Due to the current length of this entry, I will save stories of Michael's Christmas Party and the MYF Christmas Party for another entry. Thanks for reading!Till next write --
Friday 30 November 2007
A Series of Random Events
Hello! : )
Again, this entry has taken three days to write. Also, it encompasses the past three days of events, of which randomness seemed to be the only non-random component. So expect nothing consistent in this blog. Strap yourselves in for twists and turns.
Post-surgery
I'm alive and well. Good news and bad news. Life is boring at best and painful when it sucks. But I'm sure people are happy I'm alive and well, especially since I just underwent my first hospital surgery - wisdom teeth extraction for 4 teeth. I think the anaesthetist was a little liberal with the juice; I'm still numb around the bottom teeth and lower lip now, 10 at night. Sure hope they didn't sever a nerve. But for all I know, I'm not even sure Dr ____ took out all 4, can only see and feel the stitches of the bottom 2. Will know soon once the numbness fades.
Also? The anaesthetist is a UQ alumnus, and remembers the "Rec Room", which I assume is the equivalent to the "Red Room" at present. And he was Asian. Seeing his fees, my parents suddenly came to the conclusion that the anaesthetist specialty has a GREAT money-to-difficulty ratio. Plus my mum was surprised that anaesthetists were REAL doctors.
The cannula used to inject the anaesthetic was icky. I mean, it's a hollow needle stuck in a vein. Discomfort++. On the way home, my baby sister Esther thought my ice pack looked funny, possibly because I looked like a bunny.
Seven things:
- Cannulae are icky, hospital robes idiotic, paper underwear appreciated for public decency
- Don't panic in a hospital; nurses can read your pulse. Mine were surprised at my steady 87 despite it being my first time as a patient in a hospital
- The sedative "BLANK" is really really cool
- Don't feel it a need to dribble and speak like a moron when you're on painkillers; I didn't (apparently I'm the king of recovery, speaking with perfect fluency upon waking and not feeling drowsy at all)
- Hospital food sucks, possibly because I was garnishing it was my own blood that was still in my mouth, or because my tongue was still numb. Why flavour the jelly at all?
- Felt a bit weird at being wheeled from place to place like an invalid, but I'm sure wheelchair companies make a good profit
- Boys get blue ice packs and girls get pink ice packs; I wanted a pink one too (~disappointment~)
Home cooking
Some people are aware that I can cook, though I think they just have an instinctive scepticism towards that fact, and have to ask, "O_o, o rly?"........ (~pain~) Wednesday night was my night to cook at home. Went grocery shopping in the morning, during which time I found this.
~Shakes head~
I hope Breaka bankrupts themselves for this unnatural creation.
Anyways, dishes on the menu that night? Stir-fried vegetables with beef, and steamed mince eggs (I'm not sure of the English equivalent, sounds about right). Here are some snapshots.
What do you think? Looks can be deceiving, it actually tasted really good. Do you know how vegetables take different amounts of time to achieve a good flavour? I actually timed the carrots, cauliflower and zucchini so that they were all tasty. And the eggs are missing a chunk because my baby sister Esther had dinner before we did. And she liked it too : ).
But then, Wendy decides to trump me by making the best potato bake + honey barbecue chicken combo the next night (~cry~).
Still, I was rather proud of my creations - proud enough to take photos of them.
The Big City
I was at the city on Wednesday, made some time to get a Starbucks coffee, sit and read for a bit. Coffee was a disappointment. I don't know what America sees in that coffee chain. It was worse than instant (is that even possible?). But the size was good (590ml), ALMOST as big as my cup at home LOL.
While I was sitting, an Aboriginal lady came up and asked me to buy her McDonald's. Why McDonald's? I wouldn't know. Didn't have anymore money on me, but I gave her my box of Shapes, which I'd just opened. She ran off with it, and I was a little speechless, but seeing how dirty her hands were, I wasn't sure I would want them back anyways.
Another elderly Caucasian gentleman started talking to me after this, he had been trying to decipher that lady's almost incoherent speech too. Why did he start talking to me? I don't remember. Really, I don't even remembered what we talked about, but apparently he was a carpenter, and became a backpacker, traveled to Asia, Europe, America, and Australia. Got a good repertoire going there, but I don't like to travel, so I couldn't really relate. Also? He liked McDonald's biscuits dunked in McDonald's coffee, which is ridiculous, because their coffee sucks worse than Starbucks', which is bad enough.
Six things:
- Starbucks coffee sucks
- Homeless people DO exist in Brisbane
- Smokers should stop smoking
- Wearing sunglasses does NOT make you cool enough to death stare me
- Being Goth is not a good enough reason to death stare me either
- City people are more antisocial than suburban people
Miscellanea
- Hanaichi curry is now 30 cents more expensive (~disappointment~)
- Picked up Wendy from Sunnybank and saw a car with a wayyyy hippy exterior, told her to look right, she looked left first (~funnyment)
- Zaraffa's coffee is tasty, but their baristas are a little over-zealous. My favourite coffee is a good cappucino (currently), most are not too foamy, absolutely fine, it's difficult to make good foam. But Zaraffa's cappucino? Filled to brimming as usual, but then the barista decides to glob on another dollop of foam on top. Nice work (~sarcasm~). How am I supposed to add sugar? How am I supposed to put a lid on? Anyways, Zaraffa's coffee is tastier, Gloria Jean's coffee is cheaper
- Vivian was working at Body Shop; I didn't see her, despite being at Zaraffa's for an hour. I'm either going blind or developing glaucoma (~worryment~)
That's all for now :)
Till next write --
Again, this entry has taken three days to write. Also, it encompasses the past three days of events, of which randomness seemed to be the only non-random component. So expect nothing consistent in this blog. Strap yourselves in for twists and turns.
Post-surgery
I'm alive and well. Good news and bad news. Life is boring at best and painful when it sucks. But I'm sure people are happy I'm alive and well, especially since I just underwent my first hospital surgery - wisdom teeth extraction for 4 teeth. I think the anaesthetist was a little liberal with the juice; I'm still numb around the bottom teeth and lower lip now, 10 at night. Sure hope they didn't sever a nerve. But for all I know, I'm not even sure Dr ____ took out all 4, can only see and feel the stitches of the bottom 2. Will know soon once the numbness fades.
Also? The anaesthetist is a UQ alumnus, and remembers the "Rec Room", which I assume is the equivalent to the "Red Room" at present. And he was Asian. Seeing his fees, my parents suddenly came to the conclusion that the anaesthetist specialty has a GREAT money-to-difficulty ratio. Plus my mum was surprised that anaesthetists were REAL doctors.
The cannula used to inject the anaesthetic was icky. I mean, it's a hollow needle stuck in a vein. Discomfort++. On the way home, my baby sister Esther thought my ice pack looked funny, possibly because I looked like a bunny.
Seven things:
- Cannulae are icky, hospital robes idiotic, paper underwear appreciated for public decency
- Don't panic in a hospital; nurses can read your pulse. Mine were surprised at my steady 87 despite it being my first time as a patient in a hospital
- The sedative "BLANK" is really really cool
- Don't feel it a need to dribble and speak like a moron when you're on painkillers; I didn't (apparently I'm the king of recovery, speaking with perfect fluency upon waking and not feeling drowsy at all)
- Hospital food sucks, possibly because I was garnishing it was my own blood that was still in my mouth, or because my tongue was still numb. Why flavour the jelly at all?
- Felt a bit weird at being wheeled from place to place like an invalid, but I'm sure wheelchair companies make a good profit
- Boys get blue ice packs and girls get pink ice packs; I wanted a pink one too (~disappointment~)
Home cooking
Some people are aware that I can cook, though I think they just have an instinctive scepticism towards that fact, and have to ask, "O_o, o rly?"........ (~pain~) Wednesday night was my night to cook at home. Went grocery shopping in the morning, during which time I found this.
~Shakes head~
I hope Breaka bankrupts themselves for this unnatural creation.
Anyways, dishes on the menu that night? Stir-fried vegetables with beef, and steamed mince eggs (I'm not sure of the English equivalent, sounds about right). Here are some snapshots.
What do you think? Looks can be deceiving, it actually tasted really good. Do you know how vegetables take different amounts of time to achieve a good flavour? I actually timed the carrots, cauliflower and zucchini so that they were all tasty. And the eggs are missing a chunk because my baby sister Esther had dinner before we did. And she liked it too : ).But then, Wendy decides to trump me by making the best potato bake + honey barbecue chicken combo the next night (~cry~).
Still, I was rather proud of my creations - proud enough to take photos of them.
The Big City
I was at the city on Wednesday, made some time to get a Starbucks coffee, sit and read for a bit. Coffee was a disappointment. I don't know what America sees in that coffee chain. It was worse than instant (is that even possible?). But the size was good (590ml), ALMOST as big as my cup at home LOL.
While I was sitting, an Aboriginal lady came up and asked me to buy her McDonald's. Why McDonald's? I wouldn't know. Didn't have anymore money on me, but I gave her my box of Shapes, which I'd just opened. She ran off with it, and I was a little speechless, but seeing how dirty her hands were, I wasn't sure I would want them back anyways.
Another elderly Caucasian gentleman started talking to me after this, he had been trying to decipher that lady's almost incoherent speech too. Why did he start talking to me? I don't remember. Really, I don't even remembered what we talked about, but apparently he was a carpenter, and became a backpacker, traveled to Asia, Europe, America, and Australia. Got a good repertoire going there, but I don't like to travel, so I couldn't really relate. Also? He liked McDonald's biscuits dunked in McDonald's coffee, which is ridiculous, because their coffee sucks worse than Starbucks', which is bad enough.
Six things:
- Starbucks coffee sucks
- Homeless people DO exist in Brisbane
- Smokers should stop smoking
- Wearing sunglasses does NOT make you cool enough to death stare me
- Being Goth is not a good enough reason to death stare me either
- City people are more antisocial than suburban people
Miscellanea
- Hanaichi curry is now 30 cents more expensive (~disappointment~)
- Picked up Wendy from Sunnybank and saw a car with a wayyyy hippy exterior, told her to look right, she looked left first (~funnyment)
- Zaraffa's coffee is tasty, but their baristas are a little over-zealous. My favourite coffee is a good cappucino (currently), most are not too foamy, absolutely fine, it's difficult to make good foam. But Zaraffa's cappucino? Filled to brimming as usual, but then the barista decides to glob on another dollop of foam on top. Nice work (~sarcasm~). How am I supposed to add sugar? How am I supposed to put a lid on? Anyways, Zaraffa's coffee is tastier, Gloria Jean's coffee is cheaper
- Vivian was working at Body Shop; I didn't see her, despite being at Zaraffa's for an hour. I'm either going blind or developing glaucoma (~worryment~)
That's all for now :)
Till next write --
Tuesday 27 November 2007
A Creepy Story
Hello! :)
I have no idea why, but last night and this morning, I just felt like scaring myself with scary stories and supernatural tales. Obviously, they're not even remotely believable, but they can still creep you out.
My favourite kind of creepy story is where everything seems fine until the twist at the end. :)
Can anyone else relate?
Anyways, here's one of the ones that made the cut with me. More than half of them were actually more lame than scary, but writing is a dying art after all.
P.S. You'll have to highlight the text to read it, I don't want to unintentionally give someone nightmares or a fear of keyholes and hotels.
A man, at about the age of 30 went to a hotel and walked up to the front desk to check-in. The woman at the desk gave him his key and all, and told him that on the way to his room, there was a door with no number that was locked and no one was allowed in there. So he went to his room, and went to bed. The next night he was curious as to what was in the room, so he walked down the hall to where it was and of course tried the handle. Sure enough it was locked. So he bent down and looked through the keyhole. What he saw was a hotel bedroom and in the corner was a woman whose skin was completely white. She was leaning up against a wall and her head was facing the wall. He stared in confusion for a while then went back to his room. The next day, he went back to the room and looked through the keyhole. This time, all he saw was redness. He couldn’t make anything out, all he saw was red.
At this point he was confused and a little freaked out. He went to the front desk and asked the lady about the room. She sighed and said, "Did you look through the keyhole?" The man told her that he had and the lady said, "Well, I might as well tell you the story. A long time ago, a man murdered his wife in that room, and her ghost haunts it. But these people were not ordinary. They were white all over, except for their eyes, which are red."
Hope you guys enjoyed that. :)
Till next write --
I have no idea why, but last night and this morning, I just felt like scaring myself with scary stories and supernatural tales. Obviously, they're not even remotely believable, but they can still creep you out.
My favourite kind of creepy story is where everything seems fine until the twist at the end. :)
Can anyone else relate?
Anyways, here's one of the ones that made the cut with me. More than half of them were actually more lame than scary, but writing is a dying art after all.
P.S. You'll have to highlight the text to read it, I don't want to unintentionally give someone nightmares or a fear of keyholes and hotels.
A man, at about the age of 30 went to a hotel and walked up to the front desk to check-in. The woman at the desk gave him his key and all, and told him that on the way to his room, there was a door with no number that was locked and no one was allowed in there. So he went to his room, and went to bed. The next night he was curious as to what was in the room, so he walked down the hall to where it was and of course tried the handle. Sure enough it was locked. So he bent down and looked through the keyhole. What he saw was a hotel bedroom and in the corner was a woman whose skin was completely white. She was leaning up against a wall and her head was facing the wall. He stared in confusion for a while then went back to his room. The next day, he went back to the room and looked through the keyhole. This time, all he saw was redness. He couldn’t make anything out, all he saw was red.
At this point he was confused and a little freaked out. He went to the front desk and asked the lady about the room. She sighed and said, "Did you look through the keyhole?" The man told her that he had and the lady said, "Well, I might as well tell you the story. A long time ago, a man murdered his wife in that room, and her ghost haunts it. But these people were not ordinary. They were white all over, except for their eyes, which are red."
Hope you guys enjoyed that. :)
Till next write --
Monday 26 November 2007
What the freckle is a blog?
Hello! :)
Never thought I'd try a blog again. Never as in "it never snows in Brisbane". But I guess I showed me, hehehe...
Actually, I think it's just that we can never really predict what will happen in life. Or a more interesting take on it is that we like being contradictions to ourselves. Surprising? It shouldn't be, with so many examples of it occurring.
I like the number 6. It's my favourite number. I know a lot of people have 7 as there lucky number, and I suppose with religiosity in mind, 7 would be more appropriate, but I've always thought of myself as 1 below the average. Get it? Also, with 6 being the number of man, and me being just a person, it fits.
It actually reminds me of a lecture I had last semester in applied psychology where we were talking about typical superstitions, one of which is the aforementioned "lucky number 7". The lecturer asked people who considered 7 their lucky number to raise their hands. Then he said, "Why do you have lucky numbers?" Burn!
In psychology, we don't believe in luck in the conventional sense, though we do accept an alternative form of luck, which most of you fortunately don't have to know about. Yeah, psychology sucks the fun out of a lot more things, but I'll live with it.
Anyways, I decided to find 6 examples of these contradictions that people act upon or believe in, and I thought were either funny or interesting:
1. Winning the lottery
People obviously enter lotteries, or the business would have died out long ago. But I always like to hear people recount their stories of wins somewhere in the media, and apparently, the common first response is always something along the lines of "I won? No way! That's impossible!"
Do people know that they actually have a chance of winning? It's slim, but not zero, and that is something after all. Assuming people DO know this, then they're just acting stupid when they say that. Assuming people DON'T know this, then they really are stupid, entering a draw they think they have no chance of winning. Either way, this seems to be a common contradiction not limited just to lotteries.
2. Playing chicken with emergency vehicles
I liked the game "playing chicken" until I found out what the premise was. That is, I liked the name, I thought it was something like Harvest Moon, but it turns out it has nothing to do with growing corn and raising chickens. I suppose it's maybe just stupid and dangerous when you do it with regular cars.
But when you decide to take it to the next level by doing it with a fire engine blaring sirens heading on a crash-course path with your vehicle, that's also stupid, dangerous and contradictory. What's different is that you don't really care what the second car usually does in your off-season away from playing chicken, but the fire engine? If you wake up from your afternoon nap to realize your house is on fire, you'd hate to find out that the fire engine that works your district was the one you totaled in yesterday's chicken match. This is a contradiction I was shaking my head at just tonight. Apparently people driving cars are attracted to green traffic lights and lose the ability to find the brake pedal, and "give way to emergency vehicles" sounds like gibberish to them.
3. Low-carb beer
Beer is the devil's spawn. If one of my high school friends was writing this, he'd say "beer causes cancer", I'm sure. To him, chocolate causes cancer. You should've heard what our art teacher said to him, "XXXX, you're the strangest boy... in the nicest possible way."
Anyways, normal beer is bad enough. Alcohol makes you an idiot, turns your liver to stone, gives you this weird illness called a "hangover" and gives people a reason to arrest you or fire you. Then someone decides, "Hmm... increased beer consumption is correlated with decreased fitness. It must be drinking beer that causes them to get fat and lazy." (By now, good statisticians are ROFL) This is, after all, the rationale for low-carb beer.
But, it's not just drinking beer, but the fact that people spend five or six hours a night at a bar drinking, moving only once or twice away from their seat to go to the bathroom. Or the fact that they disengage from practically all physical activity. I'm sure beer with less carbs will do wonders for the increasingly overweight population.
Actually, with a more sarcastic view, low-carb beer actually makes a lot of sense. Seeing as how low-fat, low-sugar and low-salt foods all taste worst than their unhealthy predecessors, it's reasonable to assume that low-carb beer would taste worse than full-carb beer, which would cause people to go "Yuck!" and stop drinking beer, and start doing something else. It could work, for everyone but the beer companies. I would shout for joy if this scenario came true. BTW, I didn't realize this list of contradictions would last this long, sorry in advance.
5. Beautiful stars and dodgy starsigns
People love to check out their starsigns in the paper, in magazines and on the net. They might even follow these to the letter, doing things they wouldn't usually. But in reality, they would never actually look up into the sky to find out which bright dots compose their astrological sign. Being completely unimpressed with stars in the night sky while being mesmerised by vague generic descriptions sounds like worshiping the priests more than worshiping the deity.
Personally? I like looking at stars. I've almost forgotten what starsign I am. The opposite sounds like a major contradiction to me. (I wonder if people really think a star has a pointy shape in real life?)
6. Pennies for thoughts
People (in general) believe themselves to be creative, insightful and ingenious, sometimes. A reason why they wish to preserve some legacy of themselves after death. A nice sentiment, but that contradicts the fact that people refuse to keep a daily record of their thoughts. I heard it recently, that "diaries are a complete waste of time". There are heaps of things I've thought of, forgot to write them down, and lost them. I think I can accuse myself of this contradictory behaviour, and still manage to do it once in a while.
No diary? Can't afford one? Not a problem. Get one of those mini notepads and mini pen/pencil. I used to carry this setup around in high school, and did get laughed at a fair bit, so you've been warned.
Don't want to get laughed at? No pockets? Okay, you're a challenge, but guess what! We have a thing called blogs now! In fact, you're reading one.
Yeah, the contradiction thing was leading just to this. For once, mankind has managed to suppress a contradiction with a clever new invention, that has since been dumbed down a bit, but luckily still retains its original purpose. Everyone knows exactly what to do on a blog, write, post photos, draw squiggles, post up real/imaginary lists of friends/enemies, broadcast copyrighted music...
But not everyone knows what a blog actually is. If you do, imagine for a moment you don't. For two minutes.
Maybe "BLOG" is an acronym?
B-ig
L-ist
O-f
G-roceries
Maybe... not...
B-ombing
L-ocations
O-ver
G-ermany
Well, the World Wars ended a while ago...
Maybe it's a whole word?
BLog... B-Log... like B's Log? Actually, if you've read B's Log, you'll know it's not a B-Log, it's more of an A-Log. Very intellectual.
LOL - if you get it. Puns are among my favourite forms of comedy.
LOL - if you don't get it. I was laughing, that's all I need.
Um... yeah... I couldn't think of anything else.
Anyways, feel free to Wiki it now if you want to know what a "blog" actually stands for.
Technically, this entry took 3 days to write, if anyone's interested. Credits go to the people who helped me think of the topics, the Blogspot address and the motivation to start it.
P.S. I left out point 4 of the 6 contradictions, because this entry is waaaaay too long, hope you noticed it. Also, 4 is an unlucky number for Asians (psyche! there's no such thing as unlucky numbers!)
P.P.S. I can't believe my mom just temporarily came out of her bedroom just to tell me to go to bed. And it's only 1-ish (~bewilderment~)
Till next write --
Never thought I'd try a blog again. Never as in "it never snows in Brisbane". But I guess I showed me, hehehe...
Actually, I think it's just that we can never really predict what will happen in life. Or a more interesting take on it is that we like being contradictions to ourselves. Surprising? It shouldn't be, with so many examples of it occurring.
I like the number 6. It's my favourite number. I know a lot of people have 7 as there lucky number, and I suppose with religiosity in mind, 7 would be more appropriate, but I've always thought of myself as 1 below the average. Get it? Also, with 6 being the number of man, and me being just a person, it fits.
It actually reminds me of a lecture I had last semester in applied psychology where we were talking about typical superstitions, one of which is the aforementioned "lucky number 7". The lecturer asked people who considered 7 their lucky number to raise their hands. Then he said, "Why do you have lucky numbers?" Burn!
In psychology, we don't believe in luck in the conventional sense, though we do accept an alternative form of luck, which most of you fortunately don't have to know about. Yeah, psychology sucks the fun out of a lot more things, but I'll live with it.
Anyways, I decided to find 6 examples of these contradictions that people act upon or believe in, and I thought were either funny or interesting:
1. Winning the lottery
People obviously enter lotteries, or the business would have died out long ago. But I always like to hear people recount their stories of wins somewhere in the media, and apparently, the common first response is always something along the lines of "I won? No way! That's impossible!"
Do people know that they actually have a chance of winning? It's slim, but not zero, and that is something after all. Assuming people DO know this, then they're just acting stupid when they say that. Assuming people DON'T know this, then they really are stupid, entering a draw they think they have no chance of winning. Either way, this seems to be a common contradiction not limited just to lotteries.
2. Playing chicken with emergency vehicles
I liked the game "playing chicken" until I found out what the premise was. That is, I liked the name, I thought it was something like Harvest Moon, but it turns out it has nothing to do with growing corn and raising chickens. I suppose it's maybe just stupid and dangerous when you do it with regular cars.
But when you decide to take it to the next level by doing it with a fire engine blaring sirens heading on a crash-course path with your vehicle, that's also stupid, dangerous and contradictory. What's different is that you don't really care what the second car usually does in your off-season away from playing chicken, but the fire engine? If you wake up from your afternoon nap to realize your house is on fire, you'd hate to find out that the fire engine that works your district was the one you totaled in yesterday's chicken match. This is a contradiction I was shaking my head at just tonight. Apparently people driving cars are attracted to green traffic lights and lose the ability to find the brake pedal, and "give way to emergency vehicles" sounds like gibberish to them.
3. Low-carb beer
Beer is the devil's spawn. If one of my high school friends was writing this, he'd say "beer causes cancer", I'm sure. To him, chocolate causes cancer. You should've heard what our art teacher said to him, "XXXX, you're the strangest boy... in the nicest possible way."
Anyways, normal beer is bad enough. Alcohol makes you an idiot, turns your liver to stone, gives you this weird illness called a "hangover" and gives people a reason to arrest you or fire you. Then someone decides, "Hmm... increased beer consumption is correlated with decreased fitness. It must be drinking beer that causes them to get fat and lazy." (By now, good statisticians are ROFL) This is, after all, the rationale for low-carb beer.
But, it's not just drinking beer, but the fact that people spend five or six hours a night at a bar drinking, moving only once or twice away from their seat to go to the bathroom. Or the fact that they disengage from practically all physical activity. I'm sure beer with less carbs will do wonders for the increasingly overweight population.
Actually, with a more sarcastic view, low-carb beer actually makes a lot of sense. Seeing as how low-fat, low-sugar and low-salt foods all taste worst than their unhealthy predecessors, it's reasonable to assume that low-carb beer would taste worse than full-carb beer, which would cause people to go "Yuck!" and stop drinking beer, and start doing something else. It could work, for everyone but the beer companies. I would shout for joy if this scenario came true. BTW, I didn't realize this list of contradictions would last this long, sorry in advance.
5. Beautiful stars and dodgy starsigns
People love to check out their starsigns in the paper, in magazines and on the net. They might even follow these to the letter, doing things they wouldn't usually. But in reality, they would never actually look up into the sky to find out which bright dots compose their astrological sign. Being completely unimpressed with stars in the night sky while being mesmerised by vague generic descriptions sounds like worshiping the priests more than worshiping the deity.
Personally? I like looking at stars. I've almost forgotten what starsign I am. The opposite sounds like a major contradiction to me. (I wonder if people really think a star has a pointy shape in real life?)
6. Pennies for thoughts
People (in general) believe themselves to be creative, insightful and ingenious, sometimes. A reason why they wish to preserve some legacy of themselves after death. A nice sentiment, but that contradicts the fact that people refuse to keep a daily record of their thoughts. I heard it recently, that "diaries are a complete waste of time". There are heaps of things I've thought of, forgot to write them down, and lost them. I think I can accuse myself of this contradictory behaviour, and still manage to do it once in a while.
No diary? Can't afford one? Not a problem. Get one of those mini notepads and mini pen/pencil. I used to carry this setup around in high school, and did get laughed at a fair bit, so you've been warned.
Don't want to get laughed at? No pockets? Okay, you're a challenge, but guess what! We have a thing called blogs now! In fact, you're reading one.
Yeah, the contradiction thing was leading just to this. For once, mankind has managed to suppress a contradiction with a clever new invention, that has since been dumbed down a bit, but luckily still retains its original purpose. Everyone knows exactly what to do on a blog, write, post photos, draw squiggles, post up real/imaginary lists of friends/enemies, broadcast copyrighted music...
But not everyone knows what a blog actually is. If you do, imagine for a moment you don't. For two minutes.
Maybe "BLOG" is an acronym?
B-ig
L-ist
O-f
G-roceries
Maybe... not...
B-ombing
L-ocations
O-ver
G-ermany
Well, the World Wars ended a while ago...
Maybe it's a whole word?
BLog... B-Log... like B's Log? Actually, if you've read B's Log, you'll know it's not a B-Log, it's more of an A-Log. Very intellectual.
LOL - if you get it. Puns are among my favourite forms of comedy.
LOL - if you don't get it. I was laughing, that's all I need.
Um... yeah... I couldn't think of anything else.
Anyways, feel free to Wiki it now if you want to know what a "blog" actually stands for.
Technically, this entry took 3 days to write, if anyone's interested. Credits go to the people who helped me think of the topics, the Blogspot address and the motivation to start it.
P.S. I left out point 4 of the 6 contradictions, because this entry is waaaaay too long, hope you noticed it. Also, 4 is an unlucky number for Asians (psyche! there's no such thing as unlucky numbers!)
P.P.S. I can't believe my mom just temporarily came out of her bedroom just to tell me to go to bed. And it's only 1-ish (~bewilderment~)
Till next write --
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