I am in a potter quiz mood .. :)
Harry Potter Personality Quiz by Pirate Monkeys Inc.
Just when I thought I knew it myself.
I am a snape afterall.
The sorting hat says that I belong in Ravenclaw!
Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose intelligence is surest."
Ravenclaw students tend to be clever, witty, intelligent, and knowledgeable.
Notable residents include Cho Chang and Padma Patil (objects of Harry and Ron's affections), and Luna Lovegood (daughter of The Quibbler magazine's editor).
Guilty Pleasures:
~ Things we know we should not do (not too often anyway) but still do it ~
Mel asked so, I made the list.
It’s not that long.
1. Ferrero Roche.
Chocolate. Enough said.
2. Jackets.
Some people like shoes, some very expensive silverware. Me I like jackets. Whenever I set my eyes on a nice looking jacket or blazer (even trench coats) I have this tendency to walk into the shop and pay for it. I have so many of these outer wears that I sometimes wonder why I even bother buying anymore, but I do. I think I need a bigger closet.
3. Day Dreams.
Every day I daydream. I really should control it, not do it too often, because it makes me a tad bit emotional and that does not go well with my manly image. There is no particular time or place for the event to occur. I could be commuting or in the middle of a scrumptious meal and it would just hit me. I would have this daze look in my eyes and my mind will disappear into another world. I think it’s more like a sickness than a guilty pleasure. But I do like doing it so much.
4. Brassieres.
I don't wear them. Hell no. But they fascinate me. And I don't mean those lacey, see through lingerie thingy’s (though I like them too). I am talking about the day-to-day, wear to work, jog and sweat kind of bras. It’s sexy to me. Maybe it’s because of what it does. Supporting a woman's breast. I think I secretly wished that I were a bra so that I can hold a woman’s breast all day long. Its sick, I know. But you asked for guilty pleasures.
5. Sex.
Need I say more?
I really did type a lot of them, short stories I mean. Some are good and some are just plain stupid. But type them I did. It was as if I caught a virus or something. I could not stop coming up with these images in my head. So I put them on paper.
Here is an excerpt of one of those many wild fantasies I have.
This does not compute
I am a simple man. I wish for nothing more than going through the daily life with worries of only what to have for supper. Yet life has a strange way to making us do things we never really planned.
I was going to docking bay 7 like every other working day. My job, a simple job, is to unsure that weldings are done properly to all the ships in dry dock. Of course since the inventions of intelligent robots, man has stopped doing the hazardous work like welding in the middle of empty space. No, my job was just to make sure that the robots did their work right.
That obviously was redundant because the robots always does it right. Yet though we created them, we never really trust them. There is always a human supervisor there with them, observing their work. Like a god overseeing his own creation. Just in case they foul up. Of course they never did.
So today, like every other day, I sit at my terminal cycling through the images feeding from the cameras installed inside Welderbots 5 through 10. It’s a boring job, but it’s a paying job none the less.
"Daniels!!” my speaker box squeaked loudly.
Ah, Mr.Donegals, my supervisor, just on time like always. He is my god, looking at me through the cameras that are sitting right at the corner of my workstation. Constantly reminding me that I am nothing but a lowly WelderTech among his 100 man task force.
"Yes, Mr.Donegals. How are you today?"
"I not here to socialize, Daniels, so cut the small talk. I am here because you are 3 days behind schedule. Why is CargoTransport 41225 still docked? That ship should have been out the fair way 1 week ago, yet I can still see it sitting in my occupancy list."
"Sir, the bulk head took a heavy beating when it went through the meteor storm last month. It’s a miracle that it could still float itself back here with all hands accounted for. Level 4 to 9 has air breaches the size of my knuckles all over it. And not to mention the starboard engine that is totally useless unless we weld down all the punctures in the turbine. And ...”
"Mr. Daniels. Shut up."
I shut up.
"I don't care how much work you think you need to do. I want that ship out of my docks by the end of today. Don't give me excuses. Just do it."
And he cuts the feed.
Curse that man for all his arrogance. How am I supposed to make this happen? I am no miracle worker. This is going to make scare my record for sure. Unless...
It might work, it worked the last time did it not?
"WB05, Report"
"WB05 Reporting, WelderTech Daniels", the squeak box churned electronically.
"WB05, give me status report on welding job 35"
"Welding Job 35 is now currently 45% completed. It would be another 17 Standard Hours before it can be fully sealed and tapped down."
Hmm ... not too bad. But unfortunately there is 4 more weld jobs that needs to be done on the hull and 1 cross welding job at the engine. There is no way that it can finish on time.
"What are your instructions, WelderTech Daniels?"
"WB05, you are to speed up your efficiency ratios. I want Welding Job 35 - 39 fully tapped down by 1400 Standard Time. And get additional 2 bots to handle Cross Job 6 at the starboard engine, I want that engine fixed by 1700 Standard Time"
"WelderTech Daniels, that is not possible. Based on my calculations, the total estimated time of completion will require another 46 Standard Hours. Your instructions do not compute. Please repeat your instructions."
"WS05, I am now authorizing your usage of Sub Program 415 for the completion of this task. I will repeat this once more. I want Welding Job 35 - 39 finished by 1400 and Cross Job 6 to be completed by 1700. Do you copy?"
"Instructions received. Initiating Sub Program 415. Initializing data reshuffling. Constructing all possible venues to meet user defined parameters. Optimum Path Found. Commencing Work Route now"
And with that WB05 started to give new instructions to the Welderbots.
I just hope Sub Program 415 will work as well as it last time.
It was roughly 6 standard months ago that I accidentally stumbled upon this program. And I thank all the gods in the universe that I found it then, because it saved my butt.
... To be continued
I started reading science fiction when I was 6 (Foundation by Isaac Asimov). The kind of influence which great authors like Asimov have upon young minds like mine is stupendous. And he did have a lot to teach us.
It is from this book where I learn that all flights lead to Trantor (as in all roads leads to Rome), that economics is the true ruler of worlds and nothing is forever as even great empires (The Galactic Empire) fall in time.
In my minds eye I could see Trantor, the Glory of the Galaxy before its ultimate fall and became Hame. I would visit the World of a thousand islands, Terminus and read from the First Encyclopedia Galactica. Oh, what fun it was to roam the stars in my mind. Which was why my first ambition (if I ever grow up) had been to be an Astronaut.
I did not dream of space flight, because in the books, space flights was nothing more than bus rides. I do not dream of being famous, because Hari Seldon was never a man of fame. My ambition to be an astronaut was based on something much simpler. I wanted to be an Astronaut because in my naive mind, space was where dreams begin.
Thus when I was 12 years old, and I was asked to write about my ambition, I wrote this.
Why I want to be an Astronaut
It’s in the stars, where dreams begin.
Every night when I look up upon them, I see worlds where no man has been before. Neil Armstrong stepped on the moon only to begin our journey towards that which would be man's greatest journey. I want to be an astronaut because I hope to be part of that beginning.
The beginning of dreams.
While I was studying for my Music Theories, I always had a hard time remembering the names, places and compositions. I found out later that I have problems remembering anything that is not "logical" inclined. I am good with patterns, numbers and stuff, but I am a complete idiot when it comes to information that is considered hard facts, for example history and geography. I was not able to remember a single scrap of data unless I find a way to link it all together logically.
But before that little discovery, I merely considered myself to have bad memory that means I needed to pay extra attention to the things that I need to memorize. I tried a lot of stuff, from making notes to singing songs and what not. Eventually I came upon an idea that maybe if I typed it all out I would be able to force myself to "knock" it into my brain. I was nine at that time.
I went to the study room, scraped the old typewriter out from underneath the pile of other "old" contraption. It was 1985 and my dad had decided that the typewriter was no longer useful (I think he used the word obsolete), as we had a brand new XT-IBM Compatible at home, using WordStar was something that he believed to be hell a lot better than constantly making corrections to each error done while typing fast (and dad makes a lot of mistakes, as do I which I found out later). Thus the old machine was put into storage and supposes to be retired from permanent active service.
Mom of course was fascinated at the prospect that her son was even trying to use the typewriter. She was full of encouragement for me to try it out. So I did. And man did I regret ever putting my hands on the thing. Imagine a nine year old, with little fingers and typing. I tried using all my fingers but that did not work, cause the keyboard was just too large. So I ended up using just two of my index finger to do the job. It was slow. It was tedious. And it was painful. I never expected to have my fingers injured while typing, yet I did. For some unfathomable reason, my fingers will forever fall in between the cracks of two keys and when that happens, it breaks my fingers skin. If that was not enough, it will get stuck and I would need to painfully retrieve it while enduring excruciating pain. It was not the experience, which I was hoping for.
Yet I did not quit. My simple mind merely attached the pain to the fact that I did not know how to do it properly. Thus practice makes perfect. It was weeks after before I started to not get hurt as often, and I have more of less typed up to nearly 50+ pages of Musically Theories. These newly typed out notes helped me get a better understanding of what I was learning, and as it turned out gave me the added advantage that I required to pass my exams. Yet it was not because of the typing which I thought I needed, rather it was due to the reformatting of the data which I had to do in order to get the notes to come out properly for typing purposes. Strange how things sometimes work out at the end.
So in a way it did help me understand how my mind worked.
Ah, but that was only the beginning of my journey with the typewriter.
Before I ramble on with what I am to say, let me put this to you first.
It’s the crosses we bear that helps us grow into all that we can be.
I have always believed that we, as the dominant species of this rock of ours, should know that we are fellable. We should really take it into heart that we will make mistakes, we will do wrong and we are not always right. I know it does sound like I am repeating myself, but it is actually three different events that starts from different sources and has similar yet different outcomes.
Let me elaborate.
We make mistakes because we are careless. There are times when we did not think about something or forgot about a fact, and though we performed to the best of our knowledge, we still sank the ship. Mistakes happened because we can't be everywhere at every moment. Which is why we have others to help cover our backs from blundering or from preventing a big mess from happening.
We will do wrong because we have the wrong facts. What we think is true might not be. What our eyes might see might not be real. It is the way in which our world is made of. Nothing stays the same for long, and everything evolves. We our self must grow or else be left behind in the tide of change. Which is why we have teachers to guide us through the missing parts of every puzzle.
We are not always right because we live in the real world. And as reality goes, no matter how perfect we might think we are, we aren't. It is the vanity in us that makes us think otherwise. Even when we are careful and we have all the right facts, we can still be not right. Ah, you might say well if I am not right that will conclude that I am wrong. But no, that’s not true either. For we are not at wrong. We just aren't right. It’s in a gray area of everything. Where neither true nor false hold sway. A predicament that we as human beings find ourselves very often but deny feverously.
Until we can acknowledge the simple facts, that which we are small, weak and stupid, else forever struggle within our own fenced up mind. By acknowledging all these, only then will we have clarity of the world in which we live in.
I once told a friend of my thoughts in this matter and he looked at me with pity. His words still hold a place in my heart because it helps me keep things into perspective.
"As you keep more and more crosses on yourself, you will eventually feel its weight and crush whatever that is left of yourself"
"Yes, that would be true if a cross is a burden of a thousand rocks. But mine is light as air, for it is a reminder of what I was not and of what I will become."
Which is why this is my first rule was created.
I am a fool, so learn.
Farewell Mr.Doohan.
Now lets see if we can push that warp drive up another notch.
It’s been a long day and I feel like a tonne of bricks were on my shoulder. All I wanted was to have a nice quiet drive home and take a long hot bath. Yet my love of life decided that it would not be the case. Throughout the ride home, my love was chirping away like Tweety about her day. On and on she went, oblivious of the migraine that is slowly brewing behind my eyes. On any other normal day I would have been very tentative to her words but today I was just too tired to drive and be merry at the same time.
So just like Rusty, I made the fundamental mistake of politely telling her that I was tired and was not going to be able to carry both the conversation and drive. Of course she immediately went silent. I knew exactly the second I opened my mouth that I would get it shoved full of smelly old shoes. But sometimes common sense does not kick in until its all done and over.
Even thought I ended up with a noiseless drive home (which I wanted initially), I also had me an angry lover that needed her anger quench. I mentally noted to myself, to never ever get so tired that which will disable me from talking and driving at the same time.
Among my list of do's and dont's, there is this rule (I have a lot of rules as you will notice when you read more of my blogs) that I (myself) will never stay angry with a person longer than the duration that I which will be physically with. In English that would be translated as if I am mad at you now, by the time I leave your presence, I will have done one of these two things.
one. I will have forgiven you for your mistake and let bygones be bygones.
two. I will have made you understand why I am angry and agree that one of us is going to apologize there and then.
The reason for me having this rule is because I once made a mistake that I will have enough time to resolve all the conflicts that I have with a person with time to spare. How wrong I was on that assumption. And that person whom I had my conflict with was my Mother.
The day before my mom passed away, I had a fight with her. It was nothing big but it was nonetheless an argument that could have been avoided. I did not want to back down from the fight so we let it simmer and neither would admit we were wrong. I knew in my heart that Mom would back down eventually because I was at the right. That has always been the way. But not this time, because the very next day she moved on to the other side. In this whole incident, the one thing that I regreted most was instead of me telling her how much I love her, I will forever bear the cross of guilt, of never having the chance to say I was sorry, having made her angry over such trivial a matter.
I vowed to myself that I would not put anyone or myself in that situation ever again. Thus the rule was born.
So by the time my love and I reached home, I already knew what I would do. Of course my love knows about this rule of mine as well, so she was prepared for it.
As I was putting the car into park, I said to her in my gentlest tone, "I am ok with you getting angry. And I understand why you are. But I am not sorry for what I did and you will just have to accept that. What I am sorry about is that I made you angry again and I will try not to it too often. Because I know I will and so will you."
My love let’s the words hang in the air for a while, letting it seep into her slowly and finally punches me hard on my arm.
"I am still angry at you."
"I know"
"I want a foot massage"
"I love you"
"I still want a foot massage"
"I know"
The end.
I started learning to play the piano when I was seven years old. My mom thought that it was a good idea for me to have an extra skill if I ever failed to succeed in the outside world. Kind of like Harrison Ford and his carpentry before he became Han Solo. Anyway, I was seven then, what did I know about the future and backup careers. All I wanted to do was please my mom so when she asked me if I wanted to learn to be a pianist, I obediently said yes.
I had a very hard nosed teacher; she would constantly nag about my finger bending the wrong way. Or my tempo being too fast.
“It’s a moderato, Ike, not an accelerato.”
“That’s not how you do a staccato. Your fingers need to bend more.”
“I am asking you to play not pound at the piano.”
I was not what you would call a good piano student but she did enjoy teaching me because I was one of the good boys. Whenever she goes ranting about me not practicing enough or me having wasting away my good ear for music, I will just smile and give her my most apologetic face, “I am sorry teacher. I will do better next time”.
This went on for years, the constant practice and the never ending exams. I would average out roughly two hours of piano time a day. A routine that which I call life for the next ten years. Yet throughout this tenure, I could never truly encompass myself into the musical masterpieces of Beethoven, Mozart or Strauss. Their music was like some foreign language in which I could speak but could never be a part of.
By the time I was seventeen I told my mom that I would need to stop my piano lessons to concentrate on my studies, it was after all the year for my O Level’s exam. As at that time I was only one year shy of completing my diploma in piano studies, which I could later use to get a job as a piano tutor if I so want to. Mom asked me to reconsider, but I was firm on my decision that I needed to fully concentrate on my books. And I thought I would be able to pick it back up after the O levels. Yet to my mother‘s disappointment, I never did return to music studies. Though she was happy that I never game up playing altogether, somewhere inside of her, she still cling to that hope that I would go back and finished it all. Maybe I will some day.
As I mentioned before, during the tenure of my “rest” I never really stopped playing. After ten years of constant piano practice, the piano eventually became my place to run away when I needed to be alone. And with the pressure of studying constantly for my O levels, I needed to run away often.
I believe that in every school, there will always be one of those old pianos that should have been retired ages ago. But like aging gardeners, they are kept way beyond their supposed life expectancy. Such is the case of the piano in my high school music room. Other than the music class teachers, it was almost always left alone, which was good, as it served my purpose just fine. I would usually go and play in the afternoon after long hours of study in the library. I will play my old exam pieces or some tune that I heard over the radio. Simple movement upon the keys to take my mind away from the tiresome facts of chemistry and algebra.
It was during one of these visits, that a classmate of mine came along and heard me play. He was one of the cooler kids in school, one of those who enjoy performing in crowds with just his guitar. He even had this band that had their songs recorded and sold nationwide. Anyway, he came along, heard me play and we started jamming.
The strange thing about this was that it was no different from my normal practice sessions yet I felt much more alive and was feeling something that I never associated with music before. I felt like I was flying. We played and sang for a few hours and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.
It was in these few hours that I found what I had never glimpse upon in my past ten years of musical studies. Love. My love for the music. The sonate in which each key sings to me. Every musical note became alive.
I never looked at the piano the same way ever again.
Its 7:30, the apartment is quite, other than the slight tussles my love does, its all silent. I got out of bed, could not really sleep, because in another 2 hours, I will be doing the last presentation for the DARN project.
Went through my routine, like every other morning. Boil Water. Made breakfast. Gave my love a back massage to wake her up. Took my shower. Combed my hair. Prepared all the equipment for the demo.
It’s now 9:30.
As I walked towards the elevator leading me down to the condominium car park, I said a little prayer "Lord, guide me in this. Let all that is needed be there so that this chapter can be done with. Amen"
10:00.
The Project Manager for the Funding Company came. A nice guy. Tall though, haven't seen one of those for some time. We shoke hands and I hoped it was not me shivering.
I showed the equipment setup, routine show and tell. Gave him a summary of what is to be expected. Did a live demonstration with vehicles approaching our gates. The system purred fine, like a well tuned engine (a software engine anyway).
The whole thing took about 30 minutes plus some additional discussion about commercialization of the engine I just built. By the time (which was around 11:30) we were done; he was pretty impress by our simple demo and was looking forward to signing our final papers to it.
We shoke hands. And its 11:45.
Moving on
Oh I know that face
its the one you say
in not so many words
"Bye love, it was fun while it lasted."
Well just so you know
I not just a britney song
dont you "oops I am sorry"
and then your gone
Yeah while life is about moving on
yes, you don't love me
so I should be gone
Its easier said you know
the moving on
the pain gets you especialy at dawn
So I try to sing a different tune
not one I usually sing along
as I hymn my simple symphony
my life will go on
There is actualy a melody that goes with it, but my voice was never designed for singing, so I just kept some of the words and changed it into a poem.
From the comments I gathered in the last blog, I find that we have a really lively group which likes the show (Dead Poet Society) so much that they are willing to strap an Uzi on themselves and perform MDK (Murder, Death, Kill) on the director and producer of the show. Personal, I don't think their response could have been any better than that. Obviously it has struck upon a nerve in which is so primal that the reactions are often identical, if not predictable.
If you asked me whether I like DPS, my answer would be not really but I would still vouch that it’s a good show, because it is able to strike a cord in me that most other shows don’t. Yes, the rage it brings is somewhat different from the alternate feeling that we feel from other movies (like for instance Batman Begins). But it is this emotional anger that brings us so much more closer to the true tale that it is trying to say.
Tara mentioned something about double standards on double standardizing. When a woman cheats, there must be a good reason. When a man cheats, it’s in their nature. When a woman is hurt, all must come assist. When a man is hurt, well better pick yourself up mate. The list goes on and on. We live in a society that shouts for equality and fairness but in actual fact is merely asking for convenience and hassle frees.
The movies (Dead Poets Society and Mona Lisa Smiles) deals with these topics. Yes the method in which they use is different and some of the time rather unbearable, but the fundamental story wrap around the concept of these "ideals" that is placed upon the genders and the Hippocratic oaths that forces us to abide it. It deals with the people and the emotions that they go through being the "image" of what is proper and not.
I was once labeled a chauvinistic pig because I held the door open for a lady. I mean, I was brought up to be a gentleman and opening the door is merely a gesture of my respect to the other party. But her response to me was that I was belittling her very core when she could have effectively opened the door herself. Was I wrong to be polite to her? Apparently yes.
Men and woman are expected to act and react accordingly depending of time and location. It’s really an informal thing but is more or less built into our normal thinking pathway. We call it being civilized. But being civilized today is too damm hard for anyone. A man is supposed to know when to be a gentleman and when not to be. He is expected to only open doors when the lady expects him to open it and not otherwise. He is not supposed to help her out even when he knows she needs a helping hand. But worst of all, he is not to look upon them as the weaker sex when he knows deep down he is suppose to protect them from harm. And that is only the part where man has to deal with woman; there is the part where man has to deal with man.
A man is suppose to be a man but must also know when not to be a one. A man needs to be strong when needed and weak when expected to. The proper behaviors for today’s men are so fluid that it is almost impossible not to go insane. Is it any surprise why midlife crisis for man no longer starts at 45 but at 30?
Thus is why I made a decision to let go of the concept of what the world expects me to be. I am not out to please anyone and not out to belittle anyone either.
If crying makes me a sissy then I am a girl.
If being in love with poetry labels me as being too emotional then I am logically impaired.
If being chivalrous marks me as being chauvinistic then I the biggest pig there is.
Because if you have a problem with it, it’s your issue not mine.
I am happy being a sissy, emotional pig that says thank you to the air stewardess that helped put my hand luggage into the compartment on top of me.
Got up late again today, rushed through the whole morning routine and left the house with a kiss still lingering upon my lips. My transportation to work is the Light Rail Transit, or LRT for short. Its one of the new (not so new, its like 7 years old now) gizmos that the city had planned to do since the 1980's. Its basically a 4 cabin electronically contraption that helps transports drones like us to our respective factories. The station, which is situated near my place, can be loosely translated lovingly as the "Happy Garden Terminal". Now you know why I am always so cheerful.
Everyday around 0800 to 0830, commuters would rush in and out of the terminal, trying to make it to the office on time. Its a normal thing to see ladies with tight fitting skirts skipping their way to work, trying very desperately to squeeze in an extra step or two into their pace. Then there are the men (me included) who have this look in their faces that describes them either having a long night before or a long day ahead. Of course there are the old folks who have no business doing in the terminal at this hour of time, but alas they are there to take up legitimate seats for us "ailing" workers to rest.
Yet today, it’s different. It’s a Friday.
Friday, a day of which the lines blur between a weekday and a weekend. It’s like a twilight zone of time and space for the working people. One in which allows the day-to-day rush to be almost ignored. Thus the terminal is always slower and quieter during these hours. By the time I reached the platform, which was slightly over 0830, only a few souls were loitering around waiting for the train to come.
As I was waiting, I spied upon a young lady sitting on a bench not far from me. She was wearing a light pink blouse and a flowery skirt. She looked somewhere between 22 to 25, a pretty girl in any standards. With long flowy hair that ended slightly above her breast. And the smile on her face. A smile that kept my eyes on her. She was not smiling at me, or anyone for that matter. Just that slight smile on her face. A Mona Lisa kinda smile.
"What is she thinking?" I wondered. It should be a happy thought or maybe not.
Anyone saw the movie "Mona Lisa's Smile"? I did. Of course I watched it because I like Julia Roberts.
No, Julia is not the best of actresses but she has a calming effect on me whenever I see her on the screen.
The movie was rather sad and happy at the same time; I could literally feel the essence of the show when I watched it. And it was one of the few shows that made me tear up (must be me getting old, too damm sentimental).
I digress.
I really wanted to walk over and asked her what was going through her mind at that instant. Why that smile? But alas, my curiosity was no match for my courage that slowly shrinks as I grow older. I used to be able to walk up to anyone (male or female) and just talk. But now, I have lost that cool. Age does kill some parts of a man's soul sometimes.
The train came and we got into different ends of the train.
As I was wading through the 30 minutes journey to work, I kept thinking about that smile of hers, wondering what it was that made her lift her lips so slightly. Was it about life? About work? About family? About love? Was she dreaming? I just could not stop myself thinking about it. The questions marks that floated above my head must have been numerous. And all I really wanted was a simple answer to a simple question. What made her smile?
Then suddenly I knew.
There in front of me, upon the trains grayish window was a reflection of me with a silly smile on my face.
If only everyone’s love life can be so sensual.
This is my third attempt to write this particular blog, as for some reason (most probably due to interference from a higher level) blogspot refused to publish my previous two tries on this subject.
So here I am yet again, rewording the whole blog but ultimately saying the same thing.
A friend of a friend of another friend shared this with me. Guy meets girl. Dates girl for 9 years, marries girl. Girls find out (right after the ceremony) that boy is having a relationship with another girl, for the last 5 years, whom has already produced him with 2 kids. Girl gets furious, sues for divorce. Now the kick in the balls part of this story is that the guy is asking girl to stay because HE can't decide whom he loves more. That’s the reader digest version.
Based on the all known facts and evidence being presented, I would rule that the guy be sentenced as a total jerk and should be given the maximum punishment to death, which literally translate as the SOB should be castrated and then have all his limbs severed before he is thrown into a slow boiling cauldron of oil. Did I come out looking like I was angry? Well good, because I am. Yes, I hate people that cheats, but I thoroughly despise those that knowingly cheat and pretending to be an innocent victim, assuming that others will forgive them for their inability to be decent.
I have condoned thieves that admit that their thieves (Yes they steal, its their way of life) at least to some minor extent there is still a glimmer of integrity in their existence. But these jerks that “play” around are, more often than not, disguised as your everyday best buddy that which sole purpose is to screw up your sister’s life. Which I might like to add, they do it without any slat of remorse what so ever.
No, it’s not my sister (if it was, limb cutting is the least of his problems). It was one of my close friends sister that was played out by some thing that used to known as a human being and a fellow brother.
What actually compels these darn interlopers to come and steal a young girl’s heart and then trample it with dirt? If one was to think that the other is not suitable for their life style, all they need to do was to break it off and move on. But no, they don’t move on. They make camp and plan for the long haul. Using some dark magic or voodoo curse, they somehow manage to get a hold on strings that are attached to the girl’s soul and they pull it every once in a while just for the kick of it. What in gods name are these people intention? Does it make them feel more macho? More in tune to their inner male ego? Do they masturbate themselves to sleep at night, knowing that he has this power over some poor innocent girl who willingly gave them their love?
These people are not pond scum. They are way lower. They are the single cell organisms that feed on the scum that eats pond scum as a diet (blatantly stealing a line from My Best Friends Wedding).
Really, I am ashamed to be associated to the male gender because of assholes like these.
Maybe we should skin them before we throw them into the hot burning oil of damnation.
Things I tell myself
Walk out this door
knowing that you have done all
your decisions sound
no matter the outcome
don't second-guess yourself
after the fact
because it’s your best
even if you fall
Walk out of here
an extra bit smarter
because you found one more way
to suck less
Inspired by Wesley Crusher.
| You Are a Soy Latte |
 At your best, you are: free spirited, down to earth, and relaxed At your worst, you are: dogmatic and picky You drink coffee when: you need a pick me up, and green tea isn't cutting it Your caffeine addiction level: medium |
It might be the caused by the heat, thought I seriously doubt that, as I have this huge craving for a large slurpy sundae this very instance.
Melly's challenge came and I thought maybe, just some miracle in hell, I could imitate rusty's writing style. Not that he would be bothered by the process, him and his Pulitzer writing skills. Nope, Mr.Wooderson will be laughing his head off if he read this cheap imitating crap. Yet try I must, for the gauntlet has been thrown.
Random thoughts screams through my brain, did I forget to clean the kitchen this morning? My love will be spewing fires if I ever let the kitchen go dirty. Not that she uses it often, but it’s just her habit to have everything squeaky clean. It drives me up the wall sometimes when she insists that I clean everything twice, her reason being "Just to be safe". She has this idea that I am not too trust worthy when it comes to ensuring the cleanliness of the house is concerned.
Will be having a new boss coming in on the 18th. I hope his not too much of a stick in the ass. I have had my share of up tight managers, I only wish that they actually know what they want this time round. The last one wanted me to act like an idiot and work like a genius. Of course I obliged.
You know the sun is way up now and I can see the river (or a very big drain) from my work desk. When was the last time I dipped my legs in water? Too long. I should really prepare for my vacation. My love would love to sunbath under the Langkawi sun comes September. Note to myself, buy lots of sunscreen.
I have been a sci-fi junky all my life. From Asimov's foundation to the cheesy Gene Rodenbury's Andromeda. But the one show that made me laugh and cry most, is a wonderful (canceled) 13 episode series by the name of Firefly. I know there are some of you who are fans as well, so I am happy to be associated to the browncoats out there. But major reason why I like the show is because of Nathan Fillion, the good Cpt.Malcolm Reynolds. I even liked him when he was Caleb in Buffy. He just has this way about him that makes me love watching him act. Him and Mel Gibson of course. Who does not like Mel?
My friends, out of pure curiosity, went and watched "Mr. and Mrs. Smith" and was thoroughly disappointed with the storyline. Yes, they were complaining that the shows plot was weak and unbelievable. In which I gave them my Emmy winning look of total disbelief (well I dreamt I was nominated anyway). Its a beauty contest for heaven sake, it was one when they started filming and it was one when they marketed it. People should go for the show with one motive in mind, to see Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie get all Hot and Sizzling.
Maybe I should start practicing for my novella writing thingy. Maybe start writing some short stories and post them here. Can't have Rusty and Tara take all the readership with their wilder than average suburban life from the blogsphere. Well maybe they can. But I sure as hell should try and make up lost time. Of course I could start quoting Shakespeare but that would be blatantly copying rusty's writing style. Now why would I want to do that?
I hope you all had a pleasant time laughing at my queer antics. I do try very hard to be funny. But it’s just not the way I am made. I think GOD forgot my funny bone when he made me. Just depressing.
Thank you and good night.
I was with a bunch of friends last Saturday night, drinking my sanity away. The place was called Souled Out and the people there were cool. Though I expected some of the patrons to be complaining to the management on our rowdy behavior, they did not and we had a blast of a time. It’s my alumni gathering for the University that gave me my certificate to come out and make fun of computers. Yes, good old Swinburne which I lovingly call "The Burning Pig".
University life is one of those sacred times in which we like to think as part of "The Passage" to manhood. It’s where we booze. We laugh and we "purposively" get laid (that would be a story for some other time). Yet there are only 3 things that I care to remember from those times, each a lesson that will live with me throughout my entire existence.
The first, in which you all know about, is my attempt to fly without wings.
The second, which is what I am going to talk about now, is my short fling with the casino galore.
Yeap, I was a gambling junky for 4 months. 4 exciting months, in which I made about 5 thousand plus some in Aussie Dollars out of the Crown Casino in Melbourne. Ah ... what memories.
When the new Crown Casino opened in 1997. It was the talk of the town. People everywhere started visiting it because it was great place to hang out. They have fire-breathing columns outside just beside Yarra River. The building itself was quite a looker. There is a big cinema inside for those that love movies. And all imaginable gift shops which included Disney and Warner Brothers shops, where I bought a lot of expensive T-Shirts from.
I was never much of a gambler because I have only limited interest in the games itself.
What I do like most is betting on "Odds". The game is simple, 3 dice. A total sum of 18 points (6 points from each dice). If the sum of points is above 10 then the result is consider a "big" number, else it’s smaller than 9 it’s a "small" number. As I said, it’s a simple game. A predictable game. I won most of my money from there.
There is also poker of course. But poker I play for fun and not for money. There is a certain kind of lure that I can't describe when one puts a bet down during a poker game. I could hold my own there most of the time, as the people that played are usually semi-pros and knows how to handle their cards. It’s a nice place to play.
Those that know me in real life (or spent the last few months reading my blog) will know that I am not a person that makes rash decisions. I always have a plan. Or something that resembles a plan.
And my plan before I go to a casino is to prepare to lose.
I mean literally prepare to lose.
I expect to lose whatever I gamble.
I made this rule that I will never bet on something that I am not prepared to lose.
It’s a simple rule and it has served me well.
Whenever I go and play, I have only 50 Dollars of chips changed.
And that’s all the chips I will play throughout the night. Which also means that thats all the money that I will lose as well.
I will sit down and play all my chips in front of me and gamble with only the money I have on the table. Whenever I win a bet, the winning chip goes into my right pocket and I forget about it. When I lose my chips I don't replenish it. Thus my game will last as long as I have chips on the table. When I lose everything on the table, I walk out and cash in whatever chips that is inside my pocket. It’s a simple system and I usually walk out the casino somewhere around 100 bucks richer than I walked in.
It was a sweet deal.
That was until I broker my own rule.
On that faithful night of June 1997. I made the fundamental mistake of all gamblers. I thought I knew the secret of winning the house. Every gambler thinks they know this method that will guarantee a win. You can call it vanity, or insanity because it works the same. And because of that one sin, gamblers will gamble away their life. And I was knee deep in it.
It was a normal night. Like every other night that I have been playing at Crown. I went in the side door (the front door takes away my luck, its a proven fact) and continued up the aisle that leads to the "Learn to Play" area (my friends call it "Learn to Pay"). I passed an old lady in a wheel chair playing with one of the boxes. She was so old she could not even press the buttons herself, an attendee stands beside her to "help" her play. That’s how good Crown Customer Service is.
I proceeded to my usual "Odds" table and sat through 1 hour of game before I started placing my bets. That’s my secret. I spend around 1 hour sitting there, taking down numbers in which the dices produce. I am trying to see their pattern for the night. It’s like a carpet that is wielded in a certain manner for a certain period of time. Once you catch the pattern you can usually tell/predict what’s going to happen next. Kind of surreal and have worked for me since the first day I started playing. Which of course led to my eventual fall to the dark side.
Once I thought I found my flow. I started placing bets.
My first bet, 5 bucks on Big. 7, small was the result.
My second bet, 5 bucks on Big. 9, Small came.
Third bet, 5 bucks on Big. 5, Small, damn.
Fourth bet, 5 bucks on Big. 9, Small, goddamn.
Fifth bet, 5 bucks on Big. 4, Small, wtf?
Sixth bet ...
Seventh bet...
Eighth bet....
For ten consecutive time, all the dices results were less than 9, all "small" numbers. I totally freaked. There was no way that could have happened. I KNEW that the next number was going to be BIG. There was no other possible alternative. I should have walked away when I lost my 50 bucks but instead I was so cocked sure that I will win in my next bet, I took out 150 bucks and bet the next round on "Big" again.
The house took our bets and the dices ran.
4,4,4. 12 ... BIG!!! YES!!! I WON.
No. The house produced a straight (all the same numbers).
That means, everyone who did not bet on straight loses.
I lost even though I won.
My mind was shattered. I just lost 150 bucks in less than a minute. What have I done?
I walked out of the casino. It was only 11 plus. The night was still young. And I realized what I have become.
I am a gambling addict.
Pictures ran through my mind. All my plays. All my bets. All that I have done. I wept.
I picked myself up, went to a pub and drank myself to stupor. How I managed to get home, I can't remember but I did.
The next morning, I woke up with a splitting headache and a solemn vow.
I will not be addicted to gambling ever again.
And I have not since then.
It took me while, to break the habit. Every time I have the urge to play, I take 50 bucks and went shopping. Better to spend the money on something that I can use than to throw it away on the tables. I think I spent like near to 500 bucks before I stopped.
Oh, it does not mean I don't gamble anymore, I do still play my occasional poker games. But I no longer harbor the feeling that I have a sure win method.
There is one and only one truth to gambling.
Never bet with something that you are not prepared to lose.
Because eventually you will.
Its the same with life.
Don't get your panties in a twist. I am not going postal again.
Its just that I am feeling so freakishly good today, that my mood is in one its all time high.
I have no idea why, though. I am just happy. Somebody must have slip a happy pill in my coffee this morning.
Spent a good 2 hours with an ex work mate, talking about his new turn in life.
Apparently he is now going to give up his field of 10 plus years and move into a new line of work.
Copywriting.
Yes, the good old advert line of telling the consumers what they like and what they don't like.
He was expecting me to give him the whole "you are making a rash decision" thing but instead I merely told him, "If you think you can handle it, go for it". Surprisingly, most of the people around him have been lecturing him on his inability to make the right decision in his fit of anger.
Anger at what you ask? Anger at the non-substantial future returns that he will be making if he continued on with what he does. Basically, his tired of the job. He don't see no light at the end of the tunnel. Just more darkness. For ten years, he struggled on the path because he is that kind of a person. He won't give up until he has given it his best shot at it. So now ten years later, he chose to move on.
Though I did tell him that his opening a can of something that no one even wants to touch.
I think my exact words were.
"This is not just a can of worms you are putting your hand in. More like the hole which holds extracts that no one wants nor wish to remember, where in you will be swimming in from night till day, twenty four seven."
He nods and gives me that knowing smile. I swear I even saw a twinkle in his eyes.
From what I know (excerpts from friends who does work in that area), the advertising world is a very trying place to make a mark. Everyone have his or her own definition of what’s cool and what’s not. That world will either make or break a man. You have to really fight to get ahead. I hope his strong enough, as age is really not helping him along.
Yet at the end of the night, I wish him well on his new venture.
It takes a lot of guts to make that kind of change.
Something that I admire him for.
PS: Just read the story about the london bombing. So I thought I will changed the title to something less abrasive. My prayers goes to those caught in the blast zone.
She always have a way to kick my mind into something that is totally irrelevant.
For the past week or so, I have been having this Faith Hill song in my mind, "This kiss". And strangely enough, I get very giddy thinking about it. It kind of reminds me of my first kiss, and my first love.
I have heard about people talking about their first kiss so many times that I got to wondering about mine. What’s so special about it. I mean when I first kissed, it was new to me. I think I never really got the hang of it until a few more kisses later. It was awkward for me not knowing where to put the tongue.
Though I would rather remember my first real KISS. You know the kind you feel like you are physically absorbed into the kiss itself. Where the world kind of melts? It’s something that I can never get enough of. Kissing I mean. Really honest to god kissing.
It’s not just about lips in lock. It’s like exploring the person’s soul with just using your tongue. When you accidentally find that by licking at one particular area, you give her sensations that rivals an orgasm. Every time I kiss my love, I imagine in my head, pouring a part of me into her. Like an energy that flows from me into her being. And she does the same to me.
Strange, I have never thought of it that way, until now.
But kissing has always been my more favorite thing to do then having sex. Maybe because kissing is more intimate. And I get to do it again and again and again .... :)
Oh what the hell ... I will give it a go.
I have lost count of how many books I have ever read because I read them in the library when I was young (between 4 - 10) then ended up reading them in the bookstores (between 10 - ... now?).
Last book I bought
Star Trek SCE : Foundations
Bought it because I needed something to read in the office.
And I am a Scotty fan ... :) ... because of him, I wanted to be an engineer.
Last book I read
Borne Supremacy
Bought it sometime back, but only finished it recently. The book talks about things that I am interested in. Spy works and a man being smart.
Five books that means something to me (not in any order what so ever)
1. Foundations Series by Isaac Asimov
This book is important to me because it’s the first adult novel that I read. I read this when I was 6. It more or less shaped my life and got me hook on sci-fi and science in general. Of course the reason I read it was because he had the same name as me (it's Isaac ... not Asimov). When I finished this series, I started grabbing every book I can get my hands on that he had ever written. That would include his non-fictional books as well, like "The naked ape". He is truly a remarkable writer. He creates a world that I could immerse in and actually feel as if I grew wiser because of it. I have all his books on my shelf and I go through them regularly. Its one of my own little addiction that I let feed on.
His book gives me perspective. It’s like a window into the world in all its different angles. Nothing is truly right or wrong, only a matter of perception.
2. Star Wars: Omnibus by George Lucas
Can you imagine that I am still in love with the original series? Well I am. Because I love the Jedi. Well the Jedi that is portrayed in these books. Not the selfish, blind and arrogant Jedi in the Old Republic. And I love Yoda. Though his actual words have never been much, it’s the quality of it that counts.
"You think size matters with the Force?"
"Do or do not. There is no try"
And I truly believe in the way of the force. When I was younger, I swear I could feel it every single day when I woke up. I think I still do.
3. Eye of the World by Robert Jordan
Though I do like the entire series, this is the only book in which I would say that I love. It was the beginning of the adventure. The story unfolding to the boys. An eye into the world that will one day be so huge that the writer needs 10+ books to finish, if he ever does (as far as I am concern, the series ended on book 1). You will be surprise that I connect with Lan in this book. The warder that is a last king of a dead country. His unwavering faith and trust is one of the strongest thing that I love about his character. It was him that gave me the true meaning of honour which I carry within my heart.
4. The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People By Stephen Covey
This book changed me. It did. When I was lost, this was the book that gave me guidance.
I can't tell you how and why it does what it does. Many have read it but did not get what I got from it. To me, he showed me a method to learn and live, to look at things via a lens that I have never known existed. But most of all it gave me a way to find my self worth again.
In it, I found my True North. :)
5. The Stainless Steel Rat Series By Harry Harrison
There is no particular reason why I would pick this book among the many Harrison books that I own (His is the only author other than Asimov that I adore). Maybe because he reminds me of the term, be smart and be careful. With the name 'James Bolivar diGriz', plus his super cool motto, "Turn your back and walk away - And live to graft another day" how can you not love the guy? He is just way too cool to not be made into a hero. Yet strangely it’s not the smart-ass remarks, his cool demeanor that made me a fan. It was his dedication to his wife that made me love this little rascal.
So now there you have it.
Books and its impact on me.
And 4 out of 5 are actually sci-fi ... I am such a nerd.
This reminded me, I have laundry to do tonight.
Most of everything that happens around us are the things in which we have no control over. I have known that since I was wee small.
The day would rain when I wanted to play outside.
The sun will shine when I need to study for an exam.
My bathroom door will fall off when I have a dateline to meet.
Among all these chaos that seems to manifest itself in our life, I still strive to make them manageable. I have my schedules, my financial plans and my long-term dreams.
Will it ever happen?
Will all these planning bare fruit?
I really don't know. But I can't seem to imagine going through my life without having these small semblance of order.
I think I have mentioned in one of my older blogs that one should always ...
Learn from the past
Plan for the future
live at the moment
And that’s what I try do.
I try to take heed of all the mistakes that I have ever done and those, which were done by others. You will be surprise how much my enemies taught me by being they then they will ever realize. I try to reflect upon my life as often as I can. So that I don't re-enact the same kind of stupidity too often.
Plan ahead. Look forward.
Be there before you begin.
It’s the simplest motto I have for myself.
Aim It. See It. Do It.
Enough said.
But the one thing, which holds me the strongest, is the living at the moment part. It’s way harder than it seems. There are always pressing matters that need to be done. Future plans that needs preparing. Old mistakes that needs to be patched. The list goes on.
When do we ever have time to live now?
Enjoy the sunshine.
Smell the roses.
Breath.
I try to remind myself that so very often.
And do exactly that which will help me connect to now.
And then finally I let life do what it does.
Happenchance.
When it’s not enough
When words get in the way
of saying that needs to be said
when meanings don't come easily
I wish you could just reach inside
and feel the world you made
When words just aren't enough
to tell the stories
that you wove into my soul
how difficult it is now for me
because I can't find words to say
that yearning which burns inside
When words no longer say enough
and hampers the truth it holds
as it tries unsuccessfully
to imitate our heart
those unfound words that might
someday be understood
Wrote this because I read this.
I am very responsive person.
Ah, relationships again. Had my share of it, both willingly and unwillingly. How can I say that? Well there are times when people you know suddenly tell you about things that you really should not know about. Like the fact that this person you think as a friend up and decides to tell you that they love you. Not with standing its flatering to have someone love you, but someone that you really care about makes it special.
The only issue is that I would most probably like to have kept it at a level of being just friends. Good friends. But nothing more.
The reason being I am afraid of loosing them.
Relationships are complicated things.
Its not a fix science. There are not guide posts. No rule books. Its all on the fly decisions. And no two identical decision would yield the same result.
Then what about my love of life? Am I indicating that I can accept the fact that which I could loose her? Does it mean I love her less? Well there is a difference.
You see, in my point of view, a friend is someone that I care about. Someone which I could share a part of my life. Its like a balance to the other side of my scales. There are hard to replace once I loose them. It might sound selfish but most of the times, thats what friends are for.
But my love of life? She is the enigma to my very existence. The one that can upset my scales without even trying to. She makes me do stupid things when I know I should never have. Its as if cognitive comprehensions are not allowed when I am near her. She is not a friend. She is like air to me. The element that which makes me alive.
So how can I put them in the same category, when clearly they aren't.
Friends are there for me to rely on to get me through life.
My love IS my life.
And when your life tells you that they want to leave you.
You break down.
and you will do things that you might regret later.
I was once told by one of my ex that she wanted to break it off because I was too clingy. Her complaint was that I always wanted to hold her. It made her feel restricted. Of course it devasted me, but it also helped me get a better perspective in the people that I fall for.
Did I change the habit she complaint about?
Nope. Thats one of the many reasons my love of life is still with me now.
One persons garbage is anothers precious.
I was in a situation today in which involves me making a wager against a friend about an issue. The subject of the wager is not really relevant other than the fact that everyone perceived that the side in which I am betting on is a sure loss. None of them could understand why I would knowingly put a wager on something that will most definitely be the loosing side.
I simply told them "Its a bet."
The fundamental concept behind betting is to go against the odds. That’s why betting is fun. It’s not just about winning. It’s about winning when all the cards are against them.
In reality, a lot of people will only bet on the sure things. If there is a slight hint of a possibility of not ending up being ahead, they either buck out now or blame it on others on the failure to perform. If someone is going to loose, it will never ever be them.
My personal philosophy is a slight different.
Everything I do, I always assume my chances of failure are high. It keeps me alert. You can put that as me adhering to Murphy’s Law. Never assume that all is well. There is always a margin of failure. Why do you think the manufacturers of condoms say their product is 99.9% safe? There is always the 0.1%.
It’s the 0.1 that pays crisis managers the big bucks.
It might seem like a pessimistic view to life, and the fact of the matter is that I don't mind it. Being pessimist does not mean that we don't see the good side of things; it merely means I see the bad of it as well. It does not mean that I will not try anything fool hardy, it merely allows me a better method to coordinate my actions.
Did I win the bet?
Of course.
