Weird dream.
She was a close friend back in Form One.
Since our class separation in Form Two, our relationship was a merely "HELLO" if crossed paths at school corridor type of relationship.

But I dreamt of her last night.
We sat down and I told her what I've been up to.
She listened attentively.
When I asked her what she was doing,
her mouth opened but I coudn't understand the words.
It was English... but it didn't make sense.

When I woke up, I thought about my memories with her and recall upon an awful incident.
We were in her house for a Form One group project.
There were about 6 of us.
Suddenly, we heard a funny sound.
I was being smart-mouth and thought it would be funny to say,
"Hey, I didn't know you had a dog."
I didn't know it was her autistic younger brother who was wailing.
Although I was very sorry and embarrassed to have said such thing,
I was too stunt at the discovery to say "Sorry" to her.

It was an awful feeling.
That's why I can still vividly recall that incident.

I'M SORRY.

but it's too late now , isn't it?

Sometimes it's really hard to ignore the belief that certain things are PRE-Destined.

I was reading something when the lift stopped.
Being alone in the lift, naturally I thought it had stopped at MY floor .
Stepped out, only to my embarrassment that it isn't.
As I quickly turned around to catch the lift before the door closes,
someone called out my name.

I gave him the blurrest look ever.
How odd to see him there!
He felt the same too about seeing me.

--if I hadn't stepped out on the wrong floor...

Rereading this made me realise that the above post insinuates some kind of romantic coincidence. NO la!!
I just thought it's a funny tale to tell.

Do you remember February 1993 in England, when a young boy of 3 was taken from a Liverpool shopping centre by two 10-year-old boys?

Jamie Bulger walked away from his mother for only a second; Jon Venables took his hand and led him out of the mall with his friend Robert Thompson.
They took Jamie on a walk for over 2 and a half miles, along the way stopping every now and again to torture the poor little boy who was crying constantly for his mummy.
Finally they stopped at a railway track where they brutally kicked him, threw stones at him, rubbed paint in his eyes, pushed batteries up his anus and cut his fingers off with scissors. Other mutilations were inflicted but not reported in the press.

Remember, a 3year old cannot possibly defend themselves Against a 10 year old, let alone of 2 them
What these two boys did was so horrendous that Jamie's mother was forbidden to identify his body.
They then left his beaten small body on railway tracks so a train could run him over to hide the mess they had created. These two boys, even being boys, understood what they did was wrong, hence trying to make it look like an accident.

This week Lady Justice Butler-Sloss has awarded the two boys (now men ), anonymity for the rest of their lives when they leave custody with new identities. They will also leave custody early only serving just over half of their sentence.

They are being relocated to Australia to live out the rest of their lives.


They disgustingly and violently took Jamie's life away and in return they EACH get a new life!

Please.... . If you feel as strongly as we do, ( and if you haven't already signed this petition ) that this is a grave Miscarriage of justice.

- Hit the forward button and add your name at the end, and send it to everyone you can !

I received this via forwarded E-mail.
I didn't sign it.
I don't condone the crime, but I believe that everyone deserves a second chance.
They were only 10 years old.
We all make mistakes.
They have suffered the consequences.
Why push it further?
Let the person who hasn't sinned cast the first stone.

"Lama tak jumpa," - long time no see, said the Rojak/cendol hawker.

I gasped.

She remembers me?

I hardly stop by her stall.
At first , I thought it was just a friendly phrase to start conversations with customers, but she continued to query me about the things I did years ago.

She's not bluffing.

W-O-W

I was trying to ride the motorbike for the first time.
My sister gave me lessons about 8 years ago.
So, I know roughly how it runs.

My brother was explaining what I need to do, but I wasn’t really paying attention.

I very confidently, rode on it.
Toot, toot, toot… it went.

My brother ran after me,
“Wei! You know where the break is or not?”

Nope, I didn’t.

Anyway, it was such a liberating feeling.
Like driving the car for the first time.

/I'm now suffering the consequences of coffee.
My friend treated me to the Vietnamese dripping coffee.
I've always love the taste of coffee but I can't handle the effects.

ah... like all the other pleasures in life =P

LK is a very special friend.
We met in the hospital.
Both of us are fully aware that friends made in that ward never last.
That's why our friendship is very unique
Those stable wouldn't want to keep in touch because everyone wants that dark past to be erased from their life.
Those unstable, well... are unstable.

So, LK (whom I know is reading)... I treasure you very much.
Next round is on me.

Western.

I won't forget.

J was struggling to explain, “… it’s hard to describe her character. Erm, …she can be very generous and easy-going with issues that concern herself, but suddenly turns very sensitive and calculative when she deals with decisions concerning the entire group. "

J paused. It dawned on her.
“Oh, yeah. It’s called selfish.”

Nancy Gibbs, TIME Feb,18,2008

…It’s a holiday that has no idea of what it’s really celebrating…There’s nothing wrong, of course, with delighting in love and honoring friendship and stopping to tickle the people we love. But it’s also a good sign of psychosocial health if the day just saunters by and winks, and you feel no need to pay attention. The minute it feels like a duty, it has lost its purpose. “love sought is good,” Shakespeare observed, “but given unsought is better.”

I was approached by a 'volunteer'.
If what she said is true, I have donated Rm10 to the spastic center.

I share the common anxiety of whether 'charity' is really charity these days.

All I have is this to show.

I tried to retell the gist of the movie I watched two nights ago on tv two very-late nights ago.
Unexpectedly, my voice actually cracked to little hiccups, as I was trying very hard to hold back my emotions.
Now, I’m thinking… wah…such a touching movie – I better write about it.
The name is Days of Fire.
Japanese movie.
After watching The Apprentice, I was about to switch off the tv
But seeing some Chinese characters on the tv screen of a different channel, I was curious.
Turned out to be a great movie.
Two super big tears fell during the part where the super strong mother held her son in her arms when he died.

The last time a drama touched me for so long was The Majestic by Jim Carrey. The part where Jim Carrey continued to pretend to be the cinema owner’s son at latter’s deathbed.

Emo -ler?

My father is 65, and currently he is working as a cashier at a Chinese coffeeshop.
The job is rather simple but hours are long and the place is rather hot.
And at his age, with his diabetes and other illness, holding this job is a challenge.
Moreover, he has never held a permanent job since he was 45.
If you calculate, therefore I have no memories of a working father.

Since 1997, finance has been hard in our family.
So basically, his savings were almost dried up.
He was very sad for many years till he got this job.
I really saw a different side of him.

I asked, “What is the best part of this job?”
He answered, “It gave me a sense of purpose.”

It was very rare for three of us, me – sis – bro to be on the same table, doing the exact same thing. Twirling a traditional delicacy.
I decided to entertain everyone including myself with the story of my cousin’s wedding which neither my bro nor sis attended.

“It was a very delightful occasion.”I quoted every single antic of my uncles and aunties, adding our Hakka dialects, which was the core of the amusement.
My siblings laughed, because they could imagine the occasion very well too, knowing the main characters of my story.

“But then, hor… after the ceremony somebody said something really inappropriate. The bride took a bath and then the groom (Cousin S) asked his mother to cook noodles for the bride as she hasn’t eaten anything. I was reading a book, so I was just listening to the conversations half-heartedly. A woman said, “Wah, so fast the daughter-in-law wants to order the mother-in-law around.”I ended my story by saying that I can’t remember who said that. Or perhaps, I didn’t even recognize the voice as I wasn’t really paying attention. All I remember was thinking, “What an awful thing to say in front of all these relatives.”Later that night.
We were talking about this newly wed couple when Mother suddenly commented the incident again.
My sis and I exchanged looks. Both of us understood.
Mystery solved.

although CNY is a 15 day celebration, but each year by the 4th day, I feel that it's gone already.
It's really odd.
that BEFORE the celebration starts , I hate all the fuss about it, the songs blaring... etc...
but now that it's actually GONE,
very odd goodbye...

S looked at the mirror and smiled.
H asked, “what is it?”.
S = Oh, I just love that mirror and how my reflection looks in it.
H = Wow, it must be great to like your reflection.

This story brought back a childhood memory.
I remember that as a kid, I used to love playing with make-up. Putting on jewelries and make-up.
But now?
I wonder why things have changed so much.

How my perception of myself has changed so drastically.

It was the weirdest dream ever.
First I was with a Korean noodle hawker.
Then, she saw her daughter on the streets, presumably a hooker.
All sudden change of scene,I was with a different Thai girl.
She doesn't speak English but I understood her.

She took my hand and we ran.
I looked back, there were people being beaten.
Then, she fell ill.
I carried her, stopped a rickshaw, he promised me that he'd take her to the nearest clinic.
I paid him 120 baht.
Then, when we were there, that poor girl was captured and beaten.
I couldn't get to her, by then I realised that I shouldn't have trusted that rickshaw guy.

End.
So weird.
I didn't watch any Thai movies, etc...

ABOUT SCHMIDT appear as quite an ordinary movie at first.
He has just lost his wife and retired from his job.
Both of which he didn't appreciate very much anyway.

An hour into the movie, despite all his misadventures - Schmidt was still actiing all miserable and annoying.

Towards the ending, Schmidt still felt that his 66 years of existence has been hardly significant.
As he walked into his writing room, he was visibly a broken man.

His table was pilled with letters but one particular caught his attention.
It was a personal letter from a poor African country.
It was from the charity home which he had been sponsoring a child.
A caretaker had replied to his letters (sponsors were encourage to write to the child) and had written on the little boy's behalf.
She enclosed a picture drawn by the sponsored child.

Schmidt held the picture and cried.

Now, that feeling I can relate.

That's why I love correspondence so much.
-the old fashioned way.