Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Ray of Hope






With great effort, I opened my eyes. All was dark. Then I saw a tiny ray of light, igniting a tiny ray of hope in me. I freed myself from all the rubble and debris. "At least I'm still alive," I thought.

But what about him? I wondered, a shiver running down my spine.
Despite my best effort to think positively, I feared the worst.

Could anyone else have survived this?

I was lucky. Was he as lucky? Would I ever see him again?

I was hit with a bout of loneliness and despair. Desperate, I pushed away all the small rocks and stones around me, clearing a path towards the tiny hole representing my freedom. I dug my fingers into the dirt, scraping my hands and elbow in the process. But I ignored the pain. The physical pain I experienced was nothing compared to the pain of losing him.

I first met him five years ago. As cliche as it may seem, it was definitely love at first sight. Watching him just made my face split in a wide grin. I was happier than I had been in a long, long time. With him in my life, the loneliness I had been suffering from disappeared like rain clouds after a storm. We were inseparable ever since.

The tiny hole slowly gave way and more and more sunlight streamed through the opening I had made. But its significance was lost to me as I continued to think of him.

He had always loved "Tom and Jerry" the animation. Every time it came on the telly he'd be right there sitting next to me on the couch. He would never say much during these episodes. We would just sit in companionable silence and I would just savour the feel of the heat of his body pressed against my thigh. Anyone looking at the both of us would certainly be unable to hold back a smile.

Ironically, there was no smile on my face when I finally broke onto the surface. I was free and alive, yet I felt dead inside.

I sank to my knees and let the tears flow.

"How can I go on without you?" I sobbed into the ground.

A yelp forced me to lift my face up. And when I did, he was there. He was right there. I got to my feet, blinking in disbelief, praying this was no cruel joke that my mind was playing on me in my grief.

But when he barked three times in succession and ran on all fours towards me, my heart leapt! And I knew this was real.

As I hugged his soft furry white body to mine amidst all the wreckage around us, I somehow knew, that everything was going to be all right. :)







© LISA KWAN 2011 ; All rights reserved.




p.s: This was a "Complete the essay" question for my Language Awareness final. I wrote down as much as I could remember writing, which is about 90%. :P All except the first paragraph was written in about 40 minutes in Lobi Utama, DECTAR, 29/04/2009.
Hope you like it!
And more importantly, hope my lecturer likes it and gives me full marks!
(I need all the help I can get >.<)

Sunday, April 26, 2009

SOS!!!!

Hey people!!

It seems there was an error while I was trying to edit my blog template layout.
And it was a disaster!!!

I lost my WHOLE list of blogs - the links to all of you guys' blogs!!

And I'm devastated!!! :(

So, please, please, pretty please. If your names are not on my blogroll list below (there's only those I managed to retrieve through my chatbox), please leave a comment on the chatbox (right) linked to your respective blogs.

I'd appreciate it soo much!!!

Thank you!!

Note to self: Never ever EVER try editing your blog template AGAIN. EVER. >.<

Saturday, April 25, 2009

What Should I Have For Dinner?



The Problem:
One of the hardest decisions I have to make daily is:

What should I have for dinner?

Seriously.

The problem is not that there are too many choices that I can't decide on which one.
It's that there's seriously not that many good places to go, I mean, for one who has no personal transport, for a nice, good dinner. And the choices we do have are not really that appealing. >.<

Sometimes, I think that's one of the perks of staying at home. You don't have to worry about what's for dinner. Cos, mum will cook, or da bao or we go out to eat.


Here, I have to think about what to eat. And it's not an easy choice.
Cos you're either just too lazy to change from comfy spaghetti-strapped and shorts to respectable "decent" clothes (by UKM standard: no exposed knees, or arms or skin anywhere) and leave the room, or the quality of the food is not motivating enough for you to be excited about any one choice at all.

So, my roomie and I got up after our 15 minute nap (it was 15 minutes. We both had alarms). Then we looked at each other. "What to eat ah?"

"I was thinking just make Maggi again lor." (I know, the sad life of a university student - we survive on Maggi.)
"Huh? Sien la."
"Then, what about Pusanika cafe?"
"Erm, can la. But gotta walk there, then bathe after that lor."

Silence.

"Then, buying roti canai from our cafe le?"
"Mmm."

Silence again.

"Haiyaa. How to decide le?"
"I don't know...."




The Method:
So, Nana came up with this:



Option A:
Make own Maggi dinner




Option B:
Roti canai from college cafe




Option C:
Pusanika cafe





The RULE:

The card with the highest value
will be our choice for dinner tonight.
The value system is based on Chor Dai Di
(Big Two) rules, meaning
3 of diamonds is the smallest value
with 2 of spades the biggest.






The Result:



Option A


Option B


Option C






So, I guess you know what we had for dinner, huh? XD

I told Nana that this was the most unique method of decision-making that I have yet to study and learn about in my Decision-Making Skills class.

Hm, who knows. Maybe one day, the lecturer will mention: Chance Method by Chu (Aileena) 2009.

Of course, this method works only for certain problems. :)
But it solves the problem!!

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Award Goes To Me!!!






Given by: Amanda
Receiver: Meeeeeee!!! :)

"Oh, I'd like to thank my parents for raising me,
and my brothers, despite all their teasing,
all my friends,
who have helped me in so many different ways,
and even those who are not my friends
(I bet you must be kicking yourself
for not being my friend!),
and even the cleaner mak cik
who never fails to say hello to me in the mornings
when I see her!
Thank you, and arigatou gozaimasu!"


Award rules :
1. Insert this badge or the pic above to inform u have been awarded.
2. Make sure u take the pic n say who it is from.
3. You should tell 10 facts or hobbies about yourself.
4. You should choose 5 other bloggers (easier the ones who follow you) and mention their names in your blog
5. Don't forget to go to their blog and tell them they have been tagged !!!


So here goes:

10 facts about myself




1. I am almost five feet. *Crap. I should not be telling you guys this. >.<*
2. I like writing short stories. I like for people to read them and tell me what they think. :) 
3. I like sleeping on myside (so next time you see 'pillow lines' on one side of my face, do NOT say anything). 
4. I prefer sitting on my butt and onlining in my room in spaghettis and shorts than go shopping! (but I do enjoy the occasional outing! XD) 
5. I love the smell of Sunsilk shampoo :) 
6. I always think that my body is not very proportionate. (I have realllllyyyy short legs >.<) 
7. I get emo easily. Watching a Japanese drama series made me cry buckets!!! 
8. Almost all my pants, jeans, trousers..... need to be altered. Length-wise. 
9. I love French manicures!!! *teehee* 
10. People think I'm a goody-two-shoes but I just may surprise you!! XD 

5 fellow award receivers:

::Hoc Mun::
::Hannah::
::Jared::
::Xinli::
::May Lee::

Your turn!!!! :P

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

So Small

video


This touched me today. :)

SO SMALL
Carrie Underwood



What you got if you aint got love?
The kind that you just wanna give away
It's okay to open up
Go ahead and let the light shine through
I know it's hard on a rainy day
You wanna shut the world out
And just be left alone
Don't run out on your faith



Sometimes that mountain you've been climbing
Is just a grain of sand
What you've been out there searching for forever,
Is in your hands
When you figure out love is all that matters, after all
It sure makes everything else
Seem so small



It's so easy to get lost inside
A problem that seems so big, at the time
It's like a river that's so wide
It swallows you whole
While you're sittin round thinking about what you can't change
And worryin' about all the wrong things
Time's flying by, moving so fast
You better make it count, cause you can't get it back



Sometimes that mountain you've been climbing
Is just a grain of sand
What you've been out there searchin for forever
Is in your hands
Oh, When you figure out love is all that matters after all
It sure makes everything else
Seem so small



Sometimes that mountain you've been climbing
Is just a grain of sand
What you've been out there searchin for forever
Is in your hands
Oh, When you figure out love is all that matters after all
It sure makes everything else
Oh it sure makes everything else
Seem so small


Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Teaching Profession

I hate it. I really reaaalllllyyyy despise it. >.<  Oh. I don't mean teaching profession the profession. I meant teaching profession the subject.
Yes, I know it's pretty strange to study the subject Teaching Profession when I'm in the teaching profession.
But I do.

Paper was over and done with. TODAY. *cheers*
And boy, am I relieved. Relieved is an understatement.
I have been frustrated studying for a subject before. I have struggled with a subject so bad I wanted to give up.

But never, NEVER as it was with Teaching Profession - the subject.


First pain-in-the-butt fact:


Teaching Profession - the subject - is taught in English. Finals was in English. Text book given in MALAY. Bahasa Malaysia. Our beloved national language. 
Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against our national language. Honest. But come onnnnnn. Finals in English, text in Malay?? wth. Can't they even be consistent? Uniform? If you're gonna have the text book in Malay, then have the finals in Malay. If it has to be done in English cos we're doing English, then provide us with a freakin' ENGLISH text book!!!
They seriously, honestly expect us to spontaneously translate everything into English as we read the freakin' thing? Ish.


You know what I can't understand? We're certainly not the first batch of TESL students to come along. This means that all the previous batches of seniors have been suffering translating the text as well. Did it NEVER OCCUR to the lecturers to actually find a decent text book in ENGLISH???!! I know la, our own lecturers wrote the text book, published by our own UKM, that's why in Malay. But the text itself sounded almost 70% English anyway. Which leads to:


Second pain-in-the-butt fact:


There were soooooooooooooooo many NEW Malay words that I never knew existed in our beloved national language. But somehow, somehow, my knowledge of ENGLISH vocabulary kinda helped me. I mean, words like konsepsi and persepsi, we're all used to it by now. The initial shock at the almost 100% similarity to their respective English counterparts have already blown over. But THESE are a class of their own. I'll show you what I mean. Some words I discovered (and learned existed) in my Teaching Profession text book:

didiskusikan
(whatever happened to dibincangkan??)
menginterpretasi
signifikan
and
kesignifikanan
berkolaborasi
refleksi
konstruktif
menjustifikasikan
korelasi
provokasi
autoritarian
kondusif
opsyen
(what about pilihan?)
disruptif
kefleksibelan
differensiasi
komited
sofistikated
ekspektasi
keintelektualan
produktif
menginternalisasikan
masteri
resos
(yes, it really IS resource)
literatur (and yes, it's literature. Only missing the 'e')
eksplisit
staf
kompetensi
aisbeg
(as in iceberg!)
personel (I think they meant personal, or peribadi)
deskripsi

and my favourite:

skedul (It's schedule. I'm totally 100% serious. I have proof. OMG right???!!)




Hilarious, I know.
But jokes aside, WTH. What on earth is becoming of our national language????!!!
I rasa malu, tau?

Now, with annoying words like that popping up every few pages, how can anyone concentrate??
Especially when I'm studying English.
Ugh.
The audacity!! Beh tahan. >.<  



So imagine, just imagine, the TORTURE of studying that? Of having to read that, in a Malay that is berbelit-belit, the kind where after reading a whole page, I had no idea what the author was getting at. And then see words like that. And after that, translate EVERYTHING, terms and all, into English. To MEMORIZE.

OMG.

I'm sure you understand why I said that feeling relieved after that paper is an understatement. >.< Which is also why I am contemplating burning this particular text book to ashes just so I will not have to see it again. EVER. But with Earth Hour and Earth Day and all, I might just sell it to recycling. Earn something there. :) 



Or. As someone suggested, sell the text book to my college's cafe mak cik to use to bungkus nasi lemak. Then, maybe those eating the nasi lemak can be blessed with the knowledge of when the Education Act 1996 was approved in Parliament, or the implications of the National Education Philosophy on Teacher Education in Malaysia. *snore*

Hey, it's also giving back to the community. Plus, it's eco-friendly. XD


So, guess what I did to treat myself after that STUPID (pardon my frankness) paper?





I did French manicures!!!
muahahahahhahaaaa
Don't they look nice??? *beams*
I did them all by meself too!

Ahhhhhhhhhhh

I feel sooo much better now. :)

Sunday, April 12, 2009

The Facts



This ... is the city.
Jerusalem, Judea.
A lot of people live here. A lot of people die here. But nobody lives here, dies here, and then lives again here. Nobody.
I carry a badge. It’s my job to make sure the decent people in this town don’t get misled by a lot of religious fanatics. You know the type. Spreading rumours—rumours about people rising from the dead.
My name’s Saturday. My partner’s Bill Sunday.



Monday, April 7, 10:20 am. 
We were at headquarters, making our reports on a small-time hood named Barabbas. The captain walked up. “Okay, boys,” he barked. “We’ve got another one.”
“Resurrection rumour?” I said.
“Right,” he said. “The chief wants you to drop whatever you’re doing and look into it. He wants you to get—”
“The facts?” I said.
“Right.” He gave us the details. A rabbi had been killed the previous Friday.
“Murder, eh?” Sunday theorized.
The captain shook his head. “Execution. Criminal. Claimed to be a king. Now the body’s missing. Rumour is he’s alive again.”
“That’s a 512,” I said. “Theft and concealment of a body with intent to perpetuate a rumour about a resurrected rabbi.”
The captain nodded. “The chief wants you to go the whole nine furlongs on this one, boys. Rumours are flying, and he wants them stopped.”
“We’ll do our best, captain,” I promised.
“I know I can count on you, boys.” He paused. “That’s because you always get—”
“The facts?” I said.
“Right,” he said.



Monday, April 7, 11:03 am. 
Our first stop was the morgue.
“Good idea, Joe,” Sunday told me. “Looking for a body in the morgue, I mean. Reminds me of how I looked for a needle in a haystack when I was a kid. Got straw down my back. Itched like anything. Ever have that happen to you, Joe? You just itch and itch until you think you’re going to go—”
“Crazy?” I said.
“Right,” he said.
We stepped into the morgue. The coroner was working in the corner. He looked up.
“Hello, boys,” he greeted us. “You must be here about the Potter’s Field case.” He rolled out one of the big drawers. “Name was Iscariot. Hanged himself. What do you want with him?”
“We don’t,” I said. “We’re after a rabbi. Approximately age thirty-three. Died last Friday.”
He shook his head. “Nothing like that here, Joe. We had two thieves last Friday, but no rabbis. Sorry.”
“Guess the morgue is a dead end, Joe,” Sunday said after we left. “Where to now?”
“The tomb,” I said.
“Why, Joe?”
I looked at him. He looked at me.
“To get the facts,” I said.



Monday, April 7, 4:13 pm. 
We pulled up at a rich man’s tomb outside the city.
“These places give me the creeps, Joe,” Sunday said. “Just like funerals. My wife went to a funeral the other day. They had those little unleavened crackers with olives and mustard seeds and things on them. She hates green olives. You know the kind, Joe? They’re too—”
“Salty?” I said.
“Right,” he said. “And—”
“Halt!” said a voice behind us. “This tomb is off limits, by order of the governor!”
We turned around. There were two Roman soldiers—one tall, one short. We flashed our badges.
“Cops!” gasped the tall one.
“Remember what we practiced,” the short one whispered. Their eyes shifted back and forth. “Uh—we don’t know what happened,” the tall one whined. “We were guarding the tomb. It was all sealed and everything. Then we fell asleep.”
“Right,” the short one broke in. “There was definitely not a man in a shining robe who appeared and scared us so much that we fainted.”
“Yeah,” said the tall one. “The rabbi’s disciples came while we were asleep and stole the body.”
“Right,” the short one agreed. “We know that because—because we were asleep at the time.”
“And nobody bribed us to say that or anything,” the tall one added.
“Makes sense to me, Joe,” Sunday said.
“How do you two know this rabbi was dead in the first place?” I asked.
“Oh, he was dead all right,” the tall one answered. “I checked him myself, right after the execution.”
“So he couldn’t have come back to life,” said the short one. “We know, because we were there.”
“Sleeping,” added the tall one.
“Well, Joe,” Sunday said, “there it is. The rabbi’s disciples stole the body. Guess that wraps it up, eh?”
“Not quite,” I told him. “We’re still missing one thing.”
“What’s that, Joe?”
“Proof,” I said.




Thursday, April 10, 2:14 pm. 
We ran down a lead in Emmaus. Two suspects had been seen proceeding down the road—right after the rabbi’s body had been stolen.
“You think they took the body, Joe?” Sunday asked.
“Could be,” I said. “They’re religious fanatics. Watch your step.”
We walked up to the door. When I knocked, a teenager answered. He smiled as we flashed our badges.
“Come in,” he invited. We did.
“Were you on the road to Emmaus the other day, son?” I questioned.
“That’s right,” he told me excitedly. “That’s when we saw the—”
“Mind if we have a look around?” I asked.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Anyway, we saw the—”
“There’s no rabbi in here, Joe,” Sunday said, peering into the closet.
“We saw the rabbi,” the kid claimed. “The one who died last Friday. I was on the road with a friend, and we saw him. He’s alive!”
I looked at Sunday. He looked at me. I shook my head.
“Consumption of new wine by a minor,” I said. “That’s against the law, son.”
“But I didn’t—”
“It’s a 427, Joe,” Sunday said. “I think.”
“It’s always the same story with you kids,” I complained.
“You go out and get yourself full of new wine and end up seeing dead rabbis walking down the road. It’s a shame, a real shame.”
“But we saw him,” the kid said. “We didn’t recognize him at first. Then right before he disappeared—”
“Disappeared?” I asked.
“That’s right. He vanished into thin air.”
I looked at Sunday. He looked at me. We both shook our heads.
“You—you don’t believe me,” the kid exclaimed.
I frowned. “There’s only one thing we believe, son,” I said.
“The facts, Joe?” Sunday said.
“The facts,” I said.



Tuesday, April 15, 9:48 pm
We staked out the upper room. Word was that the rabbi’s disciples had been hiding there—probably hiding the stolen body there, too. We parked in a nearby alley and watched as a sleazy collection of fishermen, women, zealots, and tax collectors went into the place, one by one.
“As long as we’re waiting, Joe,” Sunday said, “you mind if I have a bite?” He took a bag out of his pocket. “My wife made it, Joe. Barley cakes and figs. Don’t care for figs. Too wrinkly. I like those other things, those—”
“Dates?” I queried.
“Right,” he said.
“It’s time,” I told him. “Let’s move in and wrap up the case.”
“Can I finish my barley cakes, Joe? I’ll—”
I looked at him. He looked at me.
“Right, Joe,” he said. “After we get—”
“The facts,” I said.



Tuesday, April 15, 9:59 pm
It sounded as if a party was going on in the upper room. When I knocked, a young woman opened the door. “Yes,” she asked.
“Police officers,” I announced, flashing my badge. “We have a few questions.”
“Certainly,” she responded, smiling. “What would you like to know?”
My eyes narrowed. “Just the facts, ma’am,” I said.
“Well, come right in,” she invited.
We walked in. I held up my badge.
“Party’s over folks,” I said. “You’re all under arrest for the theft and concealment of a body with intent to perpetuate a rumour about a resurrected rabbi. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to—”
“Say, Joe,” Sunday said. “How come nobody’s listening?”
I stopped. Nobody was listening. They were too busy celebrating something.
There were all those disciples, talking and laughing with a guy in the middle of the room. A guy they kept calling “rabbi.” A guy about thirty-three years old, wearing a white robe. A guy with a nasty scar in the palm of each hand, just as if he’d been—
I looked at Sunday. He looked at me.
“It’s him, Joe,” he said.
“That’s right,” I said.
“He doesn’t look dead to me, Joe.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“What do we do now, Joe?”
I sighed. “You know procedure,” I told him. “We make our report.”
“But Joe—”
“I know,” I said. “There’s just one problem.”
“What’s that, Joe?” he asked.
“The facts,” I said. “Just the facts.”



Wednesday, April 16, 10:17 am
We finished making our report to the captain.
“So, boys,” he said, looking it over. “The rabbi’s followers stole the body, eh?”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Smuggled it out of the country. Way out. Out of our jurisdiction.”
“They did?” Sunday asked. “But Joe, I thought—”
“It’s just as well,” the captain said. “The whole thing will blow over in a week or two anyway.”
I nodded. “No doubt about it, sir,” I answered.
“But how about all those sightings?” queried the captain. “What made so many people claim to have seen this man alive?”
“Yeah, Joe,” Sunday said. “How—”
“Mass hypnosis, sir,” I explained. “Swamp gas. Hysteria. It’s all in the report.”
“Oh,” said Sunday. “I guess we were—”
“Mistaken?” I asked.
“Uh, right,” he said.
“Good work, boys,” congratulated the captain. “I knew I could count on you to get—”
“The facts, sir?” I asked.
“No,” said the captain. “Something far better.”
“What’s that?” I wondered aloud.
“A reasonable explanation.
“Makes sense to me, Joe,” said Sunday.
“It would,” I said with a sigh.



Taken from Joan 'n' the Whale by John Duckworth



p.s: Happy Easter!! :)

Friday, April 10, 2009

Good Friday




This is the day
He chose to die
Enduring 12 hours of suffering,
pain, and humiliation;
to be whipped,
slapped,
beaten,
and spat on.
He was mocked
and laughed at,
by the very same people
who had welcomed Him with open arms
just days before;
who were supposedly His own people.

Betrayed by one He trusted,
not because He had not seen it coming,
but because He knew it had to happen.
Kneeling by the foothill of Gathsemany,
His pain was very real.
Would you willingly go to your death?
Knowing that it would not be painless,
but would be one of the most
torturous form of death
known to mankind?
He did.
Like any man would have,
He cried out to be released
from this self-sacrifice.
But He went through with it.
Suffered and died.
What for?
Two words.

For us.

The reason we can live, love,
enjoy, laugh, cry,
shout, scream
today
is because of what He has done.
Because He has taken our place.

Why is this Friday
a good one, many ask?
If it was a day of suffering and death,
why call it GOOD FRIDAY?

Because we,
the people He loved enough to die for,
now have life and hope.

It's a day we are reminded
of His compassion and love for
each and every single one of us,
believer or non-believer.

So let us remember His sacrifice for us,
remember what He went through for us,
and give thanks.

It's Good.
For us, that is. :)

Thursday, April 9, 2009

The Man Who Built His House Upon a Rock

I'm supposed to be studying. But I'm blogging.

What can I say? I'm weak. :(

Anyways, there's this story that I (re)read just now that I wanna share with you guys.
Forgive me, all non-Christian friends, but bear with me. I find it darn interesting! :P


"Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it."

Matthew 7: 24-27


Behold, there was a man who built his house upon a rock.
When he had finished building his house upon a rock, he laughed, saying, “Oh, how wise I am to build my house upon a rock! And how foolish is the man next door who built his house upon the sand! For it is written that when the rain descends, and the floods come, and the winds blow, and beat upon these houses, the one founded upon the rock will fall not. But great will be the fall of the house built upon the sand! Oh, ha-ha-ha!”
So laughing, the man who built his house upon a rock went into his house and locked the door. “Now I will relax and wait for the storm warnings,” he said, “for my house is founded safe upon a rock.”
He did wait. And he waited and waited.
Nothing happened.
There was no rain, no flood, no wind – not even a mild drizzle.
“Hey, wait a minute,” said the man who built his house upon a rock. “There’s supposed to be a big storm, and the house built upon the sand is supposed to fall down. Everybody knows that.”
So he watched the sky, hoping for a hurricane or at least a major hailstorm; but there was nothing.
“Well,” said the man, perplexed. “I’m sure that storm will come along any minute now. In the meantime, that man who built his house upon the sand must be pretty nervous. I’ll bet he’s having a terrible time in that flimsy little house of his!”
Chuckling smugly, he looked over at the house built upon the sand. He expected to see his neighbour pacing anxiously back and forth, worried about a storm. But the neighbour was smiling and laughing, making sand castles with friends in front of his house. They all seemed to be having a wonderful time!
“This is outrageous!” said the man who had built his house upon a rock. “Those people should be miserable, not happy. They should be begging for shelter in my house, hoping to escape the rain and the floods and the wind!”
He continued to listen to the weather reports, waiting for the storm to arrive; but still the skies remained clear.
One day, however, the man heard noises from next door. They were the noises of pounding and yelling. “Aha!” he said. “At last the storm has come, and my neighbour’s house upon the sand is falling! How great will be the fall of it!”
But when he rushed to the window, he discovered that his neighbour was turning the house upon the sand into a luxury beachfront resort. The neighbour was grinning from ear to ear, wearing an expensive suit, studying blueprints, and directing work crews. Soon a fancy car drove up, and a beautiful woman dressed in a mink coat got out and gave the neighbour a kiss.
Where is that storm?” bellowed the man who had built his house upon a rock. “The wise man builds his house upon a rock, the foolish man builds his house upon the sand, and the rains come tumbling down! Everybody knows that!
Behold, the rains did come tumbling down. But they tumbled only on the house that had been built upon a rock. Not a drop fell on the house that had been built upon the sand.
“Why me?” moaned the man who had built his house upon a rock. “My house may stand firm, but I have to patch the roof, clean the gutters, and bail out the basement. What must my neighbour do? Nothing!”
So it was in the months and years that followed. The man who built his house on the sand got richer and richer, more and more successful, happier and happier. The man who built his house upon a rock patched the roof, cleaned the gutters, and bailed out the basement.
Finally, years and years after he had built his house upon a rock, the man threw up his hands. “I give up!” he said. “I’ve waited and waited, watched the sky, patched and cleaned and bailed. A record rainfall has descended on my house, and there’s never been so much as a mist on my neighbour’s. Any fool can see that there’s not going to be any storm.” With that he packed his suitcase and went next door to the luxury beachfront resort built upon the sand. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” he said.
That night, of course, the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat upon both those houses. The one that was built upon the sand fell; and great was the fall of it.
The other one fell not; for it was founded upon a rock.
Too bad nobody was home.


Taken from Joan 'n' the Whale by John Duckworth
(I have the book - it's a compilation of thought-provoking
short stories like this one if anyone is interested in borrowing :P)

Makes you think, no? :)

Monday, April 6, 2009

Five and a Half Hours

You must be wondering what time interval that is.

haha.

Well, I watched
6 episodes (3 each) of Prison Break and One Tree Hill back-to-back in one sitting - a full five and a half hours.

I went back for the weekend. What do you expect??
How come? you ask?

Every week when I do not go back, my brother records all my favourite shows for me with our VCR (yes, we still have one. It must be worth millions now in its antiquity).
He would usually record
Gilmore Girls (Saturdays, 10.30pm 8TV), One Tree Hill (Sundays, 10.30pm 8TV), Prison Break (Mondays, 10.30pm 8TV), Ugly Betty (Tuesdays, 9.30pm 8TV) and Desperate Housewives (Tuesdays, 10.30pm 8TV) for me so I can come back during the weekend, and sit back and enjoy my faves.

Can you see why I LOVE 8TV?????!!!!! heeee
*beams*

So, since I haven't gone back for 3 weeks already, he actually ran out of tape.
Duh.
I mean, there's 5 different TV series, and 3 weeks worth of episodes. Do the math.

5 X 3 X 1 hour = 15 hours worth of tapes!!!

There was once, I came back after 3 weeks of absence as well, and I had 7 tapes waiting for me.
My brother almost sounded tearful, "
Che, I didn't have enough tape to record ______ for you!"

Awwwwwwwww. My brother is the sweetest!!!!
*hugs*

This time though. He
really did not have enough tape, so he had to tape over some.


One Tree Hill
My most favourite TV series of all time!
The guys are hot, the babes are hot.
And the scriptwriters are absolute geniuses!
They deal not only with teenage angst,
but also with life, love, family, relationships and death.
It's awesome.
Those who do not watch, are sorely missing out.
Seriously.
Watch it. You'll love it.

Prison Break
Absolutely the best!!
(still can't decide between OTH and PB)
Week after week, it's just
climax, climax and CLIMAX!
There's never a down in this series.
Always
gan jeong wan.
And all the freakin' time too!!
PLUS.
Wentworth Miller is
super-the-HOT.
Just LOOK into his eyes!!!
(above right)
Gorgeous!
*drools*

Which is why I watched only
Prison Break and One Tree Hill episodes. (He rationalized that I would prefer not to miss a single episode of PB and OTH rather than GG, UB or DH. And he's right. My brother is a genius!!)

Going back this weekend was really good. It felt really good to be home!
(Sorry to all those who seem not as fortunate to live a mere 40 minutes away from current place of study)

Came back on a Friday, instead of a Saturday (cos there was no Saturday
ko-k class. Yippeeeee!!!), and no orthodontist's appointment, so was less rushed than the last time I came back.

I had all my books with me, to start studying of course.
But since my brother had already
susah-payah recorded all those episodes for me, I can't NOT watch them right?
I would feel bad.

So, I watched the shows instead of studying.
You can't blame me for that, can you?
Yes, it was for my brother.
I mean, I was soo
dying to start studying, but after all my brother has done for me, it's only right that I finish watching ALL of them episodes too.
I can't be
selfish can I?
After all the hard work he put in to record those for me?
For my brother's sake, you know. Not mine. XD

Took naps in the afternoon. Made my famous (within the family) potato salad, and even watched
Game Plan just cos I wanted to. XP

It's nice to go home. :)

But darn, I can't study! I barely read 2 pages yesterday night of my
Teaching Profession - about Ordinan Pelajaran 1952, Penyata Razak 1956, Penyata Rahman Talib 1960 - and I was already yawning my head off. Ish.

Again, you can't blame me!

There was choir practice just before. And DECTAR was
freakin' HOT so everyone was literally sweating bullets! Not that DECTAR isn't normally warm, but yesterday night, it was EXCEPTIONALLY WARM. No kidding.

Plus, since Eugene (our beloved choir master) was off gallivanting in
Guangzhou CHINA, Shu Jun and I (his two Assistant Choir Masters) had to take over the practice for that week.

Which was tiring to say the least.
I was pretty
gan jeong the hours just before practice began. Was intimidating too. Started panicking cos Kemegahan Negaraku was too freakin hard to play!!!!

But by practice, I had a more
oh-who-cares-if-die-then-die-lah attitude, and so practice was less scary. To me, at least.
But boy, it is certainly
not easy leading.

Surprisingly, I kinda enjoyed it. We had fun.
Although, inevitably, they bullied me (you know who you are - giggling and laughing at me, and silently conducting on your own. haha.
Yeah, sooo funny.) I guess I can never escape that, can I? Sigh.

All in all, I think Shu Jun and I did a pretty good job. :)
But PLEASE, this does not mean I wanna do this more often (I'm telling
you, Eugene. Aheh).

Oh, crap. I've exceeded my allowed-online-time.

It's ALL YOUR FAULT!

Sigh. Back to
Akta Pelajaran 1961 it is, then.
Darn.