New Year Calandar

Have you got yours yet? I found several at PageOne.

One was Star Wars themed, one was Avatar themed.

But one of them caught my attention more than the rest.

It was a 2012 themed calendar for 2012.

Yes, every month is a disaster.

December is London facing the eruption of a volcano. There's also one of Paris being hit by a cyclone, New York by earthquake, and Venice being flooded.

Hope for the new year.
IFIKF, IFIKS

(I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad.)

So much to say...

So sweet.

So sad.

So much hope for our film industry.

So little hope for the civil engineers.

The ones who give most to the country don't reap the rewards.

I think...

I should not have told my psychiatric nurse friend about my imaginary friend.

Empty City

The fog rolled back just enough to reveal the house

with no glass on its windows and no knobs on its doors.

They stood there for a moment, silent

staring at paint peeling off the walls.

She would not wander closer

he could not stand far away.

Transfixed on the road she stayed, swaying

as he went through the front door.

There was no roof overhead

grass was growing through the floor.

He stood there inside the open, thinking

this was the home he fought for.

I decided to not let my food poisoning stop me from celebrating Christmas to the max

With that kind of gung-ho mentality, I soon found myself lying on a sofa-bed in the storeroom of my church friend's house as the rest were having the evening party.

My stomach was rolling in the deep and I was so weak I had asked for a place to lie down, and my kindly host prepared the bed for me.

I was helped to the room where I lay down, and they turned off the lights and closed the door.

I soon realised that that wasn't such a good idea.

I was dehydrating, I was feeling faint, and I felt a tingling sensation in my fingers. I knew from previous (rather traumatic) experience that this meant I was not getting enough salts and my body might cramp up and go into shock. Happened once to my hands. Not fun.

To make matters worst, I was too weak to get up. Every muscle in my arms and legs had shut down. I needed to drink, but I could not get to any water.

My throat was parched. I hardly drank anything today- I could barely hold down the can of Hundred-Plus and didn't want to use the toilet more. No food and drink = no diarrhea, so I didn't eat and hardly drank. But no food and drink also = no energy.

I lay paralyzed on the bed, so close to help yet so far away. I heard people walking past the door, some even talking about me, but I could not call to them for water. I tried to call out, but with no energy and a dry tongue, my voice just could not be heard over the din of the party outside.

No food and drink = die.

After a while I gave up hope in being heard, but I did not give up trying. I continued calling for help, softly but surely, mustering whatever strength I could, hoping someone would come and check on me soon.

Then, like an answered prayer, the door opened. 

But no one was there. 

Or so I thought.

At the bottom of the door, sniffing its way in, was my friend's pet dog that had first welcomed me to their house by learning my scent. It had just pushed open the door and come in to save me.

"Sparkle," I called the dog by name and pleaded, "go get my mom."

As it left the room, my mom came in.

Clever dog. Saved my life.

I need to buy it a Christmas present now. What do dogs like?

Melanie: Justin, you're such good house-husband material.

                  Cherie, would you want a house-husband?

Cherie:      No.

Melanie:    Me neither.

Final Night

I cried listening to their story the way Yaoqi cried listening to Angeline K's.

"I want to own an ERP."

-Tate

Psalm 40

¹⁶ But may all who seek you 

   rejoice and be glad in you; 

may those who long for your saving help always say, 

   “The LORD is great!”

 ¹⁷ But as for me, I am poor and needy; 

   may the Lord think of me. 

You are my help and my deliverer; 

   you are my God, do not delay.

Obvious Oblivious

According to a new study, people can't tell the difference between quotes from British "lad mags" and interviews with convicted rapists.

Read about it here.

I don't think I need to add anything to this finding. It speaks enough about how disrespectfully women are portrayed by men's magazines.

"Please give me another last chance."

Ernest Hemingway, one of the greatest authors of all time, was once challenged to write a complete story in just six words. Never one to shy from a challenge, he wrote: "For sale: baby shoes, never used."

What would your complete six-word story be?

(Source)

Youth Camp 2011

Amazing things happen when I get out of God's way.

The Real Heroes

Anyone's who ever played any fighter-pilot simulator games will tell you that the toughest missions are ones that require you to protect heavy transports or bombers.

It's easy to fend for yourself when your plane moves as quickly as the enemy, but it's absolutely frustrating to have to protect the friendly heavies that travel slowly.

You are trying to get kills, you are trying to score points, but sticking to the bombers don't let you do so.


It's so easy to get caught up glory hunting that you leave your convoy unprotected while you engage enemy planes.

Yes you rack up more kills than anyone else, and become a hero on your own, but you lose track of the bigger mission.



For a fighter pilot to put the transports first is an incredible sacrifice.

Kudos to these guys.


The real heroes are the ones we don't hear about.

Hello Lisa!

My blog hits have been increasing almost daily for the entire week.

The increase in viewership however, is solely from my American audience.


Wait... how do I say "audience" in the singular?

So scary even a scary dog is scared...

Trust Tumblr to respond to this video:

I like this poem more than the rest

In fact I think I like it best.

If marrying a prince is what girls desire
Then men like me can jump in the fire.

(Refer to Roald Dahl's Cinderella below.)

Cinderella

by Roald Dahl

I guess you think you know this story.

You don't. The real one's much more gory.

The phoney one, the one you know,

Was cooked up years and years ago,

And made to sound all soft and sappy

just to keep the children happy.

Mind you, they got the first bit right,

The bit where, in the dead of night,

The Ugly Sisters, jewels and all,

Departed for the Palace Ball,

While darling little Cinderella

Was locked up in a slimy cellar,

Where rats who wanted things to eat,

Began to nibble at her feet.

She bellowed 'Help!' and 'Let me out!

The Magic Fairy heard her shout.

Appearing in a blaze of light,

She said: 'My dear, are you all right?'

'All right?' cried Cindy .'Can't you see

'I feel as rotten as can be!'

She beat her fist against the wall,

And shouted, 'Get me to the Ball!

'There is a Disco at the Palace!

'The rest have gone and I am jealous!

'I want a dress! I want a coach!

'And earrings and a diamond brooch!

'And silver slippers, two of those!

'And lovely nylon panty hose!

'Done up like that I'll guarantee

'The handsome Prince will fall for me!'

The Fairy said, 'Hang on a tick.'

She gave her wand a mighty flick

And quickly, in no time at all,

Cindy was at the Palace Ball!

It made the Ugly Sisters wince

To see her dancing with the Prince.

She held him very tight and pressed

herself against his manly chest.

The Prince himself was turned to pulp,

All he could do was gasp and gulp.

Then midnight struck. She shouted,'Heck!

I've got to run to save my neck!'

The Prince cried, 'No! Alas! Alack!'

He grabbed her dress to hold her back.

As Cindy shouted, 'Let me go!'

The dress was ripped from head to toe.

She ran out in her underwear,

And lost one slipper on the stair.

The Prince was on it like a dart,

He pressed it to his pounding heart,

'The girl this slipper fits,' he cried,

'Tomorrow morn shall be my bride!

I'll visit every house in town

'Until I've tracked the maiden down!'

Then rather carelessly, I fear,

He placed it on a crate of beer.

At once, one of the Ugly Sisters,

(The one whose face was blotched with blisters)

Sneaked up and grabbed the dainty shoe,

And quickly flushed it down the loo.

Then in its place she calmly put

The slipper from her own left foot.

Ah ha, you see, the plot grows thicker,

And Cindy's luck starts looking sicker.

Next day, the Prince went charging down

To knock on all the doors in town.

In every house, the tension grew.

Who was the owner of the shoe?

The shoe was long and very wide.

(A normal foot got lost inside.)

Also it smelled a wee bit icky.

(The owner's feet were hot and sticky.)

Thousands of eager people came

To try it on, but all in vain.

Now came the Ugly Sisters' go.

One tried it on. The Prince screamed, 'No!'

But she screamed, 'Yes! It fits! Whoopee!

'So now you've got to marry me!'

The Prince went white from ear to ear.

He muttered, 'Let me out of here.'

'Oh no you don't! You made a vow!

'There's no way you can back out now!'

'Off with her head!'The Prince roared back.

They chopped it off with one big whack.

This pleased the Prince. He smiled and said,

'She's prettier without her head.'

Then up came Sister Number Two,

Who yelled, 'Now I will try the shoe!'

'Try this instead!' the Prince yelled back.

He swung his trusty sword and smack

Her head went crashing to the ground.

It bounced a bit and rolled around.

In the kitchen, peeling spuds,

Cinderella heard the thuds

Of bouncing heads upon the floor,

And poked her own head round the door.

'What's all the racket? 'Cindy cried.

'Mind your own bizz,' the Prince replied.

Poor Cindy's heart was torn to shreds.

My Prince! she thought. He chops off heads!

How could I marry anyone

Who does that sort of thing for fun?

The Prince cried, 'Who's this dirty slut?

'Off with her nut! Off with her nut!'

Just then, all in a blaze of light,

The Magic Fairy hove in sight,

Her Magic Wand went swoosh and swish!

'Cindy! 'she cried, 'come make a wish!

'Wish anything and have no doubt

'That I will make it come about!'

Cindy answered, 'Oh kind Fairy,

'This time I shall be more wary.

'No more Princes, no more money.

'I have had my taste of honey.

I'm wishing for a decent man.

'They're hard to find. D'you think you can?'

Within a minute, Cinderella

Was married to a lovely feller,

A simple jam maker by trade,

Who sold good home-made marmalade.

Their house was filled with smiles and laughter

And they were happy ever after.

What is love?

Love is coming home after a long day, absolutely famished for sleep, but spending the next hour with a penknife and tweezer trying to remove the fallen strands of hair that have gotten trapped in my sister's chair's wheels, getting grease under my nails and getting cut by the filthy penknife. 

Object lesson

I caught this in church

And released it outside.

But it ran back into church.

True story.

I tried to debate with God today...

But my argument was invalid.

I'm writing this with teary eyes

I missed a luna eclipse.

I'm heartbroken.


Well at least I got to see the new moon tonight.

It may have been twilight, but the new moon looked like it was breaking dawn.

I walked all the way out into the wilderness to see the moon, but I didn't know there was an eclipse about to happen.

And I missed all the smses and facebook notifications telling me an eclipse was coming coz I was busy concentrating on making a card for a half Korean girl in school.

I want to cry. I really hope she likes this card.

This is the kind of life I live

Endless Roads 1 - Yellow Horizons from Juan Rayos on Vimeo.

(It's worth watching in fullscreen)

I don't mean it in the sense of me wanting to go somewhere beautiful and enjoy the most amazing sights and scenes and have an adventure of a lifetime while doing something cool.

I'm already living this life every time I go out and explore a part of Singapore I've not seen before.


I wish to share this with you coz sometimes... life is as good as how poetic you allow yourself to be.

On the LRT tonight

Was a man scolding his reflection in the glass silently but viciously,
a man singing to himself without earphones on,
and a man who wasn't sure if his friend was real or imaginary.

My imaginary friend

It was Melanie who first pointed out that she had never seen this Elsa I kept talking about, and although I convinced her that Elsa was not a unicorn, Melanie still concluded that she was my imaginary friend.

I decided to prove her wrong.

But the more I thought about it... The less I could.

Melanie and I wrote an entire story about Elsa for a project this semester. Which does not prove her existence but instead makes her more of a fictional character.

But I went out with her last week! Yet... the moment we bumped into someone else I knew, she ran off before I could introduce her.

Elsa has been helping me write the scripts for the skits at camp. But... I've always written alone.

This is crazy where this is going, I mean... I took a picture of her before!

You have got to be kidding me.

I didn't make all this up. I'm thinking back and realizing all of these things only now.

I'm freaking out.


Wait.

Let me describe Elsa.

She's always in black. Literally.

Always wearing the same thing.

Always wearing that one owl ring.

Grrr... Why could I not take the shot on her hand and not mine?

She spends her holidays in the library.

She grew up fist-fighting and wrestling boys.

She is the biggest Star Wars fan I know. The only female one.

Oh my goodness. All of the above are impossible.

She actually doesn't exist.

She's just a personification of my subconscious.


This explains why I'm the only one posting on her wall on FB.

And it explains why the ring I let her buy, even though I liked it and saw it first when we were out shopping, is now on my table even though she did not give it to me.

You may not be real Elsa, but I still think it's freaking cool to talk to you.

Just maybe not when I'm with other people.

Can you do this with other songs?

maggie and milly and molly and may

by E. E. Cummings

maggie and milly and molly and may

went down to the beach (to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang

so sweetly she couldn’t remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star

whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing

which raced sideways while blowing bubbles: and

may came home with a smooth round stone

as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)

it’s always ourselves we find in the sea

Psalm 69:6

May those who hope in you

   not be disgraced because of me,

   O Lord, the LORD Almighty;
may those who seek you
   not be put to shame because of me,
   O God of Israel.

Dear Desiree,

I've been wrapping presents. But I've had a big problem.
I don't have the slightest idea what to give you.

I want to give you something different.
Something cool... and also hot.
Something deep but also pretty.
Something Artsy... but also Sciency.
Something... like all of the above... like you.

I want to give you something that's so you but...
I keep facing the difficult questions...

What is you?
What is present?
What is past?
What is life?
What is death?

Bleargh. I want to give you something but I can't.


Wait.

I actually had something kept at the depths of my room.
Something I wanted to have a competition on FB for people to fight for.
Something old but new.
Something wet, but dry.
Something living, but dead.
Something... something.

Something forged in the depths of time.
Something I had to travel over great distances to find.
Something I braved lightning and thunder and floods for.

Something I had to fight desperately for to win.

(YinShuang will testify that what I say is true.)

Okay I know what to give you.


I wrote the second part of this post a day after the first. I only thought of the gift after I lamented at my inability to give my dear friend an appropriate gift. I hope you like it, because I've tried my utmost best and found nothing better I could possibly to give you.


Other than maybe the head of Jon on a platter.

But that's not nice.

Is it normal for guys to have extreme mood swings?

I went from depressing low to euphoric high and crashing back to low.

The cycle repeated at least 3 times tonight.

Oh, whatcha do to me? Oh, whatcha do to me?

I never really played computer action games

I just saw this video trailer for a new game.




I have no idea when gaming got so realistic; here is footage from the game itself:



People complained about the new Lara Croft being so soft and whiney, but I think she's realistic... and brave. Given such circumstances, for a young college girl who had been trapped to not hang around, give up hope and wait to be rescued - but instead desperately run and fight amidst a serious injury, is amazingly courageous.

Sigh... She reminds me of Stephanie Brown.

I miss her.

Worry less about not finding Mr. Right

Worry more about marrying Mr. Wrong.

Love this