Mid-autumn festival. Just came home from the investigation branch. It seems a rather bad day for everyone. Eugene had been rushing his powerpoint presentation which met with a last minute screw up. Commander and gang were waiting at the conference room for him. Alas he resolved the problem. Next came the disappointing incident at the investigation branch. It dragged from noon til 8pm. I don't like the atmosphere inside there. It made all my guys looked stress. I felt uneasy. I spent 80% of the time waiting, 20% the time trying to accept a shocking fact. Anyway the truth was out.
Supposed to meet Guoan and co for dinner at 6pm. As I walked out of the camp, reluctantly leaving Bryan and Fabian stranded, I immediately rushed for a cab, hoping to get home asap to get changed and make it for the dinner. If I turn up, they would only be around for another one hour. Suck. I really wanted to meet them, I was feeling down, and wanted company.
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Paper-Thin
I was really surprised when I received a SMS from her last week. And so we had arranged to meet up today, since I last saw her on 16th June, exactly 3 months ago. Work is piling up back in camp and these past few days have been hectic. There are so many things I had to remember, but somehow I forgot the meeting place. So I asked her again. The reply wasn't too friendly. The same old her, I thought.
Happy hour was held after work today. The alluring chicken wings and curry fishhead bidded goodbye to the first shuttle bus. The other bus was to arrive in another half an hour. Being late was the next last thing I would want to do. 7pm was the meeting time. I reached at 7.15pm, inclusive of oversleeping for an extra stop to Bugis. She was later than I was, fortunately.
The same welcoming smile greeted me, warming me the same way months before. However, the feeling was different. The new style fits her real well, bringing out her outgoing and strongheaded characteristic. I feel kinda awkward as the conversation striked. It was rather unnatural and uneasy.
She got a burger. Still stuffed from the wings and fishhead earlier, I had gotten a ice-cream pie to dine along with her. We went straight to the point. Why had she asked me out? I was gunnned down. Do I know the reason behind the breakup? I tried to recollect the events, the emotions. I was momentarily lost for words. I felt embarrassed. And I pushed the pie away. It used to be a torment for me. Passing each night without her in the picture did not happen until recently. It was hard to recollect the emotions that time had already erased.
She was upset by the fact that I had kept to myself all the time since that day. I had not responded even after I had received her parcel. I had wrote a full 3 to 4 pages letter in reply to her parcel. I wrote it the night right after I got the parcel. Even on the way back from the post office, I was so taken over by emotions. The letter was destroyed few days later when the computer crashed. I knew I could never write another letter in the same mood. Maybe it was destined not to reach her at all. I decided to wait patiently for the one and a half month before I contact her again. For this I had never expect another misunderstanding to arise. It seemed to her she was being autocratic while I just took in every command she gave, even the breaking up. I had took her pact of one and a half month so seriously, that I had to emotionally restraint myself from contacting her at all. I promised myself to keep away. It was tough in the beginning. I missed her utterly. I actually thought she had it planned in such a way it falls on my birthday. And thus so full of hope when I asked her out on my birthday. I was disappointed to see her reply. I told myself,'probably she had wanted to come out, but as always, she must be tied down by unforeseen events. She must be busy.' Nor did I receive any word from her on my birthday. A simple SMS could have been my greatest gift than anything else. I waited the whole day, and the day after. I wondered if she had forgotten, or was it intentional. That could have been the day I would officially not called her my elder sister; the day when she had said I would receive a card bigger and more wonderful than the one she made for Edmund. I thought she would not want to meet up ever again. I told myself, it's time to forget.
Upon receiving the parcel, I decided to give the album back to her, filled up. I couldn't find enough photos to fill it all up. I wanted to return it on my bithday. Then I thought I could never had the chance. I was waiting for this meeting. I did not understand why she had so cruelly sent the stuffs back to me. Did it mean that she wanted nothing more to do with me? The album was the last thing I would want to receive. It was meant for her to keep, for me to remember. I was yet disappointed again for her refusal to take it back. All these things actually act as burdens for her. They only remind her of the negative things. What more could I do? Pehaps I could keep all the happy times and sad moments to myself. Let nothing from our relationship affect her in any way. I cherished the time I had with her. These things are important to me. I will keep them dearly.
"Was our relationship that paper-thin? Yes it is..." It had been echoing in my head. She claimed she had never know me well, she had never loved me. "Paper-thin..." For all the tears I shed, all the love I gave, all the torment I went through, I protest that paper-thin is not the word to define our relationship. Perhaps it might appear so for her. I blame it in my part for not being open to her. I simply wanted everything best for her, I am willing to keep all the hurt and disappointment unmentioned, make everything looked wonderful to her favour. It was a totally wrong concept. I was not making myself transparent, so used to keeping things to myself that I seemed more of a stranger to her. It was justified for her to define it as paper-thin.
"It takes two hands to crap."
-- Jialong --
Happy hour was held after work today. The alluring chicken wings and curry fishhead bidded goodbye to the first shuttle bus. The other bus was to arrive in another half an hour. Being late was the next last thing I would want to do. 7pm was the meeting time. I reached at 7.15pm, inclusive of oversleeping for an extra stop to Bugis. She was later than I was, fortunately.
The same welcoming smile greeted me, warming me the same way months before. However, the feeling was different. The new style fits her real well, bringing out her outgoing and strongheaded characteristic. I feel kinda awkward as the conversation striked. It was rather unnatural and uneasy.
She got a burger. Still stuffed from the wings and fishhead earlier, I had gotten a ice-cream pie to dine along with her. We went straight to the point. Why had she asked me out? I was gunnned down. Do I know the reason behind the breakup? I tried to recollect the events, the emotions. I was momentarily lost for words. I felt embarrassed. And I pushed the pie away. It used to be a torment for me. Passing each night without her in the picture did not happen until recently. It was hard to recollect the emotions that time had already erased.
She was upset by the fact that I had kept to myself all the time since that day. I had not responded even after I had received her parcel. I had wrote a full 3 to 4 pages letter in reply to her parcel. I wrote it the night right after I got the parcel. Even on the way back from the post office, I was so taken over by emotions. The letter was destroyed few days later when the computer crashed. I knew I could never write another letter in the same mood. Maybe it was destined not to reach her at all. I decided to wait patiently for the one and a half month before I contact her again. For this I had never expect another misunderstanding to arise. It seemed to her she was being autocratic while I just took in every command she gave, even the breaking up. I had took her pact of one and a half month so seriously, that I had to emotionally restraint myself from contacting her at all. I promised myself to keep away. It was tough in the beginning. I missed her utterly. I actually thought she had it planned in such a way it falls on my birthday. And thus so full of hope when I asked her out on my birthday. I was disappointed to see her reply. I told myself,'probably she had wanted to come out, but as always, she must be tied down by unforeseen events. She must be busy.' Nor did I receive any word from her on my birthday. A simple SMS could have been my greatest gift than anything else. I waited the whole day, and the day after. I wondered if she had forgotten, or was it intentional. That could have been the day I would officially not called her my elder sister; the day when she had said I would receive a card bigger and more wonderful than the one she made for Edmund. I thought she would not want to meet up ever again. I told myself, it's time to forget.
Upon receiving the parcel, I decided to give the album back to her, filled up. I couldn't find enough photos to fill it all up. I wanted to return it on my bithday. Then I thought I could never had the chance. I was waiting for this meeting. I did not understand why she had so cruelly sent the stuffs back to me. Did it mean that she wanted nothing more to do with me? The album was the last thing I would want to receive. It was meant for her to keep, for me to remember. I was yet disappointed again for her refusal to take it back. All these things actually act as burdens for her. They only remind her of the negative things. What more could I do? Pehaps I could keep all the happy times and sad moments to myself. Let nothing from our relationship affect her in any way. I cherished the time I had with her. These things are important to me. I will keep them dearly.
"Was our relationship that paper-thin? Yes it is..." It had been echoing in my head. She claimed she had never know me well, she had never loved me. "Paper-thin..." For all the tears I shed, all the love I gave, all the torment I went through, I protest that paper-thin is not the word to define our relationship. Perhaps it might appear so for her. I blame it in my part for not being open to her. I simply wanted everything best for her, I am willing to keep all the hurt and disappointment unmentioned, make everything looked wonderful to her favour. It was a totally wrong concept. I was not making myself transparent, so used to keeping things to myself that I seemed more of a stranger to her. It was justified for her to define it as paper-thin.
"It takes two hands to crap."
-- Jialong --
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
Filthy Lucre : Almighty Dollar!!
Today, I am especially highly motivated. Perhaps driven by the fact that I had treated myself to a half day off from Siberia, I went on to settle some personal stuffs. Suddenly I feel that I have the power to control my life. I arranged to meet my very first insurance agent. I arranged for an interview with ChinaBlack.I feel energised by the power of knowledge as I gradually learn about economics through current affairs. I booked the advanced theory. Even the least expected person had arranged to meet up. I feel accomplished. Life isn't that hard to maintain afterall.
Refreshed after a haircut, I reached home earlier than usual. And dad was home. Envelops and opened letters spread his bed. Not again, the legal firms. It seems that my home is acquainted to quite a handful in the legal sector. At least it is better off in comparison to 2 years back, when boarish debt collectors standing on one leg banged the door, making a scene. The legal firms like to bring along scotch tapes during their visits. That always leaves tearing marks on my door when I took the paper off. I like the way the legal people handle cases like mine. A writ of seizure of property... forced entry.... Act 123 Chapter 456 ... Blah..
I'm beginning to own more properties, at least in name. Everything inside the house except the title deed will soon be mine. The fridge, TV, sofa, computer, etc. Most bills are credited to my name: 3 handphone lines, internet, residential phone. Bro and I always feel the pain when our income goes to the bills. But it would be nothing compared to the debts that dad handles. Lately I'm getting involved in debts. I never bothered trying to find out more about them. I was amused when I saw the letter to seize my properties. "Oops, they have already been seized by another legal firm. Too late, nothing for you..." I will be auctioning for my home properties, and put them under my name. Only then will the pasting of stickers on my properties cease. And they are auctioning things like the whirlpool fridge at an atrocious bidding price of $200!! Darn. Damn no respect for the fridge.
I'm damn pissed at the fact we are paying the debt for someone else. Months of hard earned money down the drain. The ultimate debt came to a halt when 2 in the home were declared bankrupt. But the rest of the side debts still stand. Few thousands here and there really add up to quite alot man. And irritating court fines come in thousands. I thought I could save $300 last month. It all comes to a naught. HDB rings my mobile. Town Council and their flooding letters. But I was startled to hear one of the debtors we entertained is a loanshark. Headache... A mere $1500 and now we have already paid more than that, which are all interests. Sucker.
I come to develop a vengeful theory. No specific offence meant, but I sometimes despise rich people at my age. Some of them are simply spoilt brats, who never seem to understand a world without i-pods and computers and cars. And thus I often tell people around me that I'll rather be the one who lets my decendants enjoy my wealth, than be the one who enjoys inherited fortune. (Perhaps a way to assuage myself)
Money held a respectable position in my priorities in life. Humanity and friendship tops the list. Given the practicality of the society, I fear the day that money overtakes all others. Circumstances can possibly nurture the unscrupulous seed that had remained intact during its youth.
"I feel accomplished. Life isn't that hard to maintain afterall."
I now feel empty. Life hasn't really begun for me.
Refreshed after a haircut, I reached home earlier than usual. And dad was home. Envelops and opened letters spread his bed. Not again, the legal firms. It seems that my home is acquainted to quite a handful in the legal sector. At least it is better off in comparison to 2 years back, when boarish debt collectors standing on one leg banged the door, making a scene. The legal firms like to bring along scotch tapes during their visits. That always leaves tearing marks on my door when I took the paper off. I like the way the legal people handle cases like mine. A writ of seizure of property... forced entry.... Act 123 Chapter 456 ... Blah..
I'm beginning to own more properties, at least in name. Everything inside the house except the title deed will soon be mine. The fridge, TV, sofa, computer, etc. Most bills are credited to my name: 3 handphone lines, internet, residential phone. Bro and I always feel the pain when our income goes to the bills. But it would be nothing compared to the debts that dad handles. Lately I'm getting involved in debts. I never bothered trying to find out more about them. I was amused when I saw the letter to seize my properties. "Oops, they have already been seized by another legal firm. Too late, nothing for you..." I will be auctioning for my home properties, and put them under my name. Only then will the pasting of stickers on my properties cease. And they are auctioning things like the whirlpool fridge at an atrocious bidding price of $200!! Darn. Damn no respect for the fridge.
I'm damn pissed at the fact we are paying the debt for someone else. Months of hard earned money down the drain. The ultimate debt came to a halt when 2 in the home were declared bankrupt. But the rest of the side debts still stand. Few thousands here and there really add up to quite alot man. And irritating court fines come in thousands. I thought I could save $300 last month. It all comes to a naught. HDB rings my mobile. Town Council and their flooding letters. But I was startled to hear one of the debtors we entertained is a loanshark. Headache... A mere $1500 and now we have already paid more than that, which are all interests. Sucker.
I come to develop a vengeful theory. No specific offence meant, but I sometimes despise rich people at my age. Some of them are simply spoilt brats, who never seem to understand a world without i-pods and computers and cars. And thus I often tell people around me that I'll rather be the one who lets my decendants enjoy my wealth, than be the one who enjoys inherited fortune. (Perhaps a way to assuage myself)
Money held a respectable position in my priorities in life. Humanity and friendship tops the list. Given the practicality of the society, I fear the day that money overtakes all others. Circumstances can possibly nurture the unscrupulous seed that had remained intact during its youth.
"I feel accomplished. Life isn't that hard to maintain afterall."
I now feel empty. Life hasn't really begun for me.
Letter in Distress - Uncovered 2 Years Later
Dad has always been my hero. As an infant, I remembered his red Nissan. He drove me to Chong Shan Primary School in his grey Honda Civics. My friends awed as I alighted the dark grey BMW to Mayflower Secondary School. He subsequently drove a navy blue Benz which I never got much chance to sit in. I'm not acclaiming my dad to be my hero for his ability to change cars so often. From Malaysia, he came to Singapore as a amateur in woodscraft. Hard work paid off as he then started his own furnishing company by downgrading to the 2-room flat in AMK. The model of the car was corresponding to the sucess in his career. We moved to the current 2-storey apartment in Woodlands. It all came to an end, abruptly.
Misfortunes combo as the family splitted up. Betrayal. Mistrust. Perhaps a retribution, I almost convinced myself. What happened to mum almost 15 years ago, it was recurring on dad. This incident had lacerated me deeply. My 2 years in JC, especially the 2nd, was a rough period for me and my family. Many nights I had sat outside dad's room, in fear something terrible would happen. Recently, I just uncovered a letter I wrote during one of the nights, in distress.
I'm staring at the door. I dare not sleep, dun wana sleep, cant sleep. I fear they might set fire in the room, or jump out the window. This ain't the first time I'm sitting here, and it would be til morning again. Stepmum has been part of the happy family for the past 10 years. Aged only 12 years apart, we cliqued well.
One night dad came home, and told me," from now on, you must learn to take care of yourself." That same night, she bashed into my room, shouted for me, and his behind me, under cover. It was a night of emotional breakdown not only for the two of them. I had the shock of my life. It was a violent night. Everyone wasn't himself anymore. As if hibernated beasts were awakened.
Soon I got to know the insides of the story. Each of them told me a terrible fact about the other. I was disappointed at them. It's ugly, awful, heart shattering. Only I knew what had happened. Bro had no idea at all. I chided at my own naiveness. Once, she asked for my opinion. She said she was very unhappy in the family. She was utterly stressed out. Tired. And what an idiot was I to tell her, "everyone has the right to seek their own happiness. Deem which is the happy way out, and go for it... ..." What a damn bloody FOOL I was to tell her this. I did not realise marriage is bracketed by the legal bonds, finance, and commitments. Things that not a utterance of "seek your own happiness" can blanket over. In the pursuit for happiness, please take a look around. Would it bring the adversity to the others?
The following months were devastating. Death threats, suicidal thoughts, tears, anguish... They roamed the two-storey apartment unit. The house never looked so melancholy before. An incident nearly left the house charred if I had not stopped a impulsion to set a fire in the nick of time. The lighter was already lit. I can never dismiss the vivid scene of throwing away the oil-soaked clothes. I was near tears. Holding the hand with the fire, I exhorted, "why burn them? We can just throw them away!!"
Another night, I was at Gan's house overnight. The next day was a test. A call came at 3am. Fire threat, again. This time, my nerves seemed to have accustomed the shock. I pretended a worried, almost sobbing tone to calm him down. I did not want to go home after the test next morning. I did not wish to see fire engines and people crowding around my block, staring black smoke emitting the window at eighth floor. I sat in school, troubled. Til evening then did I pick up the courage to go home. When I reached the estate, I was relieved to see people jogging at the park, and kids playing soccer at the void-deck.
For the subsequent months, the sound of opening of the windows from his room never failed to speed up my heartbeat. Pressure was piling up inside me. I once broke down during GP lesson, desk overturned, chair fell, door slammed. I let it all out, bursting out suppressed tears, in the gents. That should have left the class astounded. And that had left me utterly disgraced.
2 years later... Things have definitely settled down. The saga reminded me of the 911 incident. The building collapsed. It was a tough time for the soul and mind. It wasn't easy accepting the reality. The debris snowed the area, waiting to be cleared. He had a rough time picking up himself, rebuilding the confidence he once proudly upheld. Years past as heartstricken people who never will forgive and forget. For him, things could never be the same again.
For me, things had changed over the years. Our relationship evolved into a stage whereby we don't see each other often. Birthdays and other special occasions are not celebrated. I do wonder why my friends would want to celebrate family member's birthdays. Wouldn't they feel akward? Sometimes I considered this running away, but I seek warmth in friends and look for love elsewhere. I'm happy when I see my friends and their blissful family, however, not envy. I can't help but sometimes feel that spending time with family is taking away time from me to spend with my friends. I feel quite bastard. Even though conscience stricken, I rather stick to having fun outside home. Anyway, no one is home most of the time. I know dad returns home every night only to face the walls. I felt his loneliness. I still don't make time for him though. Why is this so?
Misfortunes combo as the family splitted up. Betrayal. Mistrust. Perhaps a retribution, I almost convinced myself. What happened to mum almost 15 years ago, it was recurring on dad. This incident had lacerated me deeply. My 2 years in JC, especially the 2nd, was a rough period for me and my family. Many nights I had sat outside dad's room, in fear something terrible would happen. Recently, I just uncovered a letter I wrote during one of the nights, in distress.
I'm staring at the door. I dare not sleep, dun wana sleep, cant sleep. I fear they might set fire in the room, or jump out the window. This ain't the first time I'm sitting here, and it would be til morning again. Stepmum has been part of the happy family for the past 10 years. Aged only 12 years apart, we cliqued well.
One night dad came home, and told me," from now on, you must learn to take care of yourself." That same night, she bashed into my room, shouted for me, and his behind me, under cover. It was a night of emotional breakdown not only for the two of them. I had the shock of my life. It was a violent night. Everyone wasn't himself anymore. As if hibernated beasts were awakened.
Soon I got to know the insides of the story. Each of them told me a terrible fact about the other. I was disappointed at them. It's ugly, awful, heart shattering. Only I knew what had happened. Bro had no idea at all. I chided at my own naiveness. Once, she asked for my opinion. She said she was very unhappy in the family. She was utterly stressed out. Tired. And what an idiot was I to tell her, "everyone has the right to seek their own happiness. Deem which is the happy way out, and go for it... ..." What a damn bloody FOOL I was to tell her this. I did not realise marriage is bracketed by the legal bonds, finance, and commitments. Things that not a utterance of "seek your own happiness" can blanket over. In the pursuit for happiness, please take a look around. Would it bring the adversity to the others?
The following months were devastating. Death threats, suicidal thoughts, tears, anguish... They roamed the two-storey apartment unit. The house never looked so melancholy before. An incident nearly left the house charred if I had not stopped a impulsion to set a fire in the nick of time. The lighter was already lit. I can never dismiss the vivid scene of throwing away the oil-soaked clothes. I was near tears. Holding the hand with the fire, I exhorted, "why burn them? We can just throw them away!!"
Another night, I was at Gan's house overnight. The next day was a test. A call came at 3am. Fire threat, again. This time, my nerves seemed to have accustomed the shock. I pretended a worried, almost sobbing tone to calm him down. I did not want to go home after the test next morning. I did not wish to see fire engines and people crowding around my block, staring black smoke emitting the window at eighth floor. I sat in school, troubled. Til evening then did I pick up the courage to go home. When I reached the estate, I was relieved to see people jogging at the park, and kids playing soccer at the void-deck.
For the subsequent months, the sound of opening of the windows from his room never failed to speed up my heartbeat. Pressure was piling up inside me. I once broke down during GP lesson, desk overturned, chair fell, door slammed. I let it all out, bursting out suppressed tears, in the gents. That should have left the class astounded. And that had left me utterly disgraced.
2 years later... Things have definitely settled down. The saga reminded me of the 911 incident. The building collapsed. It was a tough time for the soul and mind. It wasn't easy accepting the reality. The debris snowed the area, waiting to be cleared. He had a rough time picking up himself, rebuilding the confidence he once proudly upheld. Years past as heartstricken people who never will forgive and forget. For him, things could never be the same again.
For me, things had changed over the years. Our relationship evolved into a stage whereby we don't see each other often. Birthdays and other special occasions are not celebrated. I do wonder why my friends would want to celebrate family member's birthdays. Wouldn't they feel akward? Sometimes I considered this running away, but I seek warmth in friends and look for love elsewhere. I'm happy when I see my friends and their blissful family, however, not envy. I can't help but sometimes feel that spending time with family is taking away time from me to spend with my friends. I feel quite bastard. Even though conscience stricken, I rather stick to having fun outside home. Anyway, no one is home most of the time. I know dad returns home every night only to face the walls. I felt his loneliness. I still don't make time for him though. Why is this so?
Monday, September 06, 2004
Brian's Essay: The Room
The following is a story that spurs a lot of thoughts. It boils down to the deepest extremity of all that could bring about joy, despair, regret, guilt. However, I only extracted a part of the story. The ending involved God. With all due respect, it was taken out because I did not want the focus to be on Christianity. Read on...
17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject as what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote."
It also was the last.
Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teays Valley High School in Pickaway County.
Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them, notes from classmates and teachers, and his homework.
Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life. But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven. It makes such an impact that people want to share it.
"You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore said.
Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted. The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room.
"I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay.
She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him."
Brian's Essay: The Room... In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings.
As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.
And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifelessroom with its small files was a crude catalogue system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match.
A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me asI began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so in tense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed."The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have given", "Jokes I Have Laughed at."
Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents."
I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived.
Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows Ihave watched, " I realizedthe files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.
When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill runthrough my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almostanimal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now.
I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file toits slot.
Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it... The title read, "People I Have Shared the GospelWith." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of fileshelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes.No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key...
17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject as what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote."
It also was the last.
Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teays Valley High School in Pickaway County.
Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them, notes from classmates and teachers, and his homework.
Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life. But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven. It makes such an impact that people want to share it.
"You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore said.
Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted. The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room.
"I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay.
She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him."
Brian's Essay: The Room... In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings.
As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.
And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifelessroom with its small files was a crude catalogue system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match.
A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me asI began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so in tense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed."The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have given", "Jokes I Have Laughed at."
Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents."
I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived.
Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows Ihave watched, " I realizedthe files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.
When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill runthrough my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almostanimal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now.
I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file toits slot.
Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it... The title read, "People I Have Shared the GospelWith." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of fileshelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes.No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key...
I HATE stickers
My house is broken into again. No one was at home. Wonder how they broke into my home. These burglars are going to reap me of a basic lifestyle. TV, HI-FI, fridge, fans, vcd player, Hi-fi, sofa, tables, washing machine... Fortunalely they decided not to take my PS2 and my computer. Debts sux.
Thursday, September 02, 2004
HsiLgne: What a beautiful language
Jialong says:itz caLLed HsiLgne
Yongren has been added to the conversation.
CleMenT says: wat a wonderful language... pls repeat all to yongren`
Jialong says: woh era uoy?
Kase says:llew knaht uoy
Guowei says: esak gnipyt v wols
Guowei says:ysuol
Kase says:tsum kniht am....
Jialong says:hay roL
Jialong says:gnikuf drah
Guowei says:he nud esu ragluv al
Kase says:kniht tnemelc dna gnoy ner hctac ob llab
Yongren has left the conversation.
Yongren has been added to the conversation.
CleMenT says: wat a wonderful language... pls repeat all to yongren`
Jialong says: woh era uoy?
Kase says:llew knaht uoy
Guowei says: esak gnipyt v wols
Guowei says:ysuol
Kase says:tsum kniht am....
Jialong says:hay roL
Jialong says:gnikuf drah
Guowei says:he nud esu ragluv al
Kase says:kniht tnemelc dna gnoy ner hctac ob llab
Yongren has left the conversation.
Siberia Saga: Living Masked
Another night over in Siberia.. I have developed a really bad habit. Despite the mosquitoes terrorising the bunk in hordes, the bed hogged onto me so dearly that even the ringing alarm went as if it was part of the morning -- chirping birds, trembling ceiling fans, soothing rays of the early sun, and my bunkmate in front of the TV. Such a lovely scene, a wonderful start to a new day... BUT wait (my heart pounded).. I peeped at the time.. 07:35am.
I rushed into the working attire and stumbled to the corridor. Everyone was getting ready to warm up. I made it down to the starting point, looking cool, trying to look like I didn't just woke up. Eyes wide opened, the creases on my arm hidden behind my back, I approached the conducting officer, "so..... how's everything, encik?" We exchanged glances, all in a split second. As his eyebrows met, I figured that he exposed my "effort to make my hair wet and neat from the 'just wake up hairstyle' "
Came the supervising officer. His turn to question me, " you are the safety officer? How's everything? Where's the water point? Comms set up? Safety rover? Medic?" The overly feigned composure probably uncovered the inner turmoil of not knowing a single shit of what is happening. I poped a smoke grenade. (Psssst...) "The water point is on its way. The rover are ready, marshallers deployed, comms settled." (Smoke-screen formed) I then pointed out the running route to him, which subjected me to a even greater deal of unsucessful attempt to enwrap my uncertainty. (The smoke was blown away... Exposed!!) He then told me off on the importance of my role..blah blah.
I've got 2 safety rovers, but none was equipped with ice and water. Both drivers had not drove the route before. No comms set. One medic for two rovers. Marshallers not issued with flag and vest. Medical Officer not around. Water point not even set up when the run flagged off. This was all that I had. Screwed up.
I sent one rover to get the ice; replaced with mobile phone as comms sets and jumped into the rover, avoiding anyone that could have questioned me regarding the flaws in my safety plans. Though full of flaws, I can assure that there was no way my plan could have compromised safety. As expected, the 11km run ended smoothly. I felt I did a good job in making everything look neat when everything is in a mess.
What I am trying to portray here is the ability to remain composed in times of screw ups. In fact, the more I had wanted to deliver a certain state of mind to people, the more I would appear to them on the contrary. My collegues always comment that I looked stressed up, when I actually intended a thoughtful mind. I tend to have this habit to consider what kind of 'self' I need to present in a particular situation, especially in front of subordinates and boss. However, I concede the fact that this is as good as putting on a pretence, a mask. I often spend time searching for my own true self. Or do I call that soul-searching?
I can't seemed to be what I wanted to be. It is always after an incident that I reprimand myself, "I should have acted this or that way." Once, when my group of officers walked past the RP, he pointed at Jerry, scowling, "eh! You! Put on your head dress! And you better stop talking on the phone! Go out then talk!" Jerry put on the beret, but carried on with his conversation as we walked out, disgusted. On the way back, I kept scolding myself for not confronting him for his insubordination. I should have contained his arrogance.
I've seen a lot of my friends who had displayed composure and decisiveness, and I really admire them for that. Someday, I will master living un-masked.
I rushed into the working attire and stumbled to the corridor. Everyone was getting ready to warm up. I made it down to the starting point, looking cool, trying to look like I didn't just woke up. Eyes wide opened, the creases on my arm hidden behind my back, I approached the conducting officer, "so..... how's everything, encik?" We exchanged glances, all in a split second. As his eyebrows met, I figured that he exposed my "effort to make my hair wet and neat from the 'just wake up hairstyle' "
Came the supervising officer. His turn to question me, " you are the safety officer? How's everything? Where's the water point? Comms set up? Safety rover? Medic?" The overly feigned composure probably uncovered the inner turmoil of not knowing a single shit of what is happening. I poped a smoke grenade. (Psssst...) "The water point is on its way. The rover are ready, marshallers deployed, comms settled." (Smoke-screen formed) I then pointed out the running route to him, which subjected me to a even greater deal of unsucessful attempt to enwrap my uncertainty. (The smoke was blown away... Exposed!!) He then told me off on the importance of my role..blah blah.
I've got 2 safety rovers, but none was equipped with ice and water. Both drivers had not drove the route before. No comms set. One medic for two rovers. Marshallers not issued with flag and vest. Medical Officer not around. Water point not even set up when the run flagged off. This was all that I had. Screwed up.
I sent one rover to get the ice; replaced with mobile phone as comms sets and jumped into the rover, avoiding anyone that could have questioned me regarding the flaws in my safety plans. Though full of flaws, I can assure that there was no way my plan could have compromised safety. As expected, the 11km run ended smoothly. I felt I did a good job in making everything look neat when everything is in a mess.
What I am trying to portray here is the ability to remain composed in times of screw ups. In fact, the more I had wanted to deliver a certain state of mind to people, the more I would appear to them on the contrary. My collegues always comment that I looked stressed up, when I actually intended a thoughtful mind. I tend to have this habit to consider what kind of 'self' I need to present in a particular situation, especially in front of subordinates and boss. However, I concede the fact that this is as good as putting on a pretence, a mask. I often spend time searching for my own true self. Or do I call that soul-searching?
I can't seemed to be what I wanted to be. It is always after an incident that I reprimand myself, "I should have acted this or that way." Once, when my group of officers walked past the RP, he pointed at Jerry, scowling, "eh! You! Put on your head dress! And you better stop talking on the phone! Go out then talk!" Jerry put on the beret, but carried on with his conversation as we walked out, disgusted. On the way back, I kept scolding myself for not confronting him for his insubordination. I should have contained his arrogance.
I've seen a lot of my friends who had displayed composure and decisiveness, and I really admire them for that. Someday, I will master living un-masked.
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
Ambivalence in a labyrinth
20. One quater of life has passed, if not more. Looking back, I asked myself, how has the 20 years been? If a rating is to be given, it would be 6 out of 10. Happy moments seem more; however a single despondency surpassed a million happy moments. Regrets saturated these 20 years. I recently read this from a magazine, "I live my life without regrets. Once I decide to do something, I dun turn back and put in my best to do it." I say it's pure bullshit. For umpteen times, I had wished time could turn back, so I that could reverse the situation. Though living with regrets is inevitable, what matters is the path ahead. The dreams ahead.
Dreams. I have a plan, an attainable plan. But it takes time and commitment. I told alot of people about this. I've got 3 kinds of responses. Tom says,'Good luck, pal'; Dick says,'it's a not easy and you need money. You better start it small'; Harry says,'I'm interested. When you are working on it, count me in.' From where I am, it's hard to find and bash a way through. But eventually, I envisage myself overlooking an empire. A man of great eminence..
Many years back, a friend inspired me with his ambitions. His analogy: being ruthless is the way to the top. One has to step on someone else, as they pile up to make stairway for you. And that's how things work. I agreed with him that time. But soon I witness him putting his words into action, victimising me at the same time. Soon I derived my own analogy: Ruthless is the way. But kinship and friendship comes above all. What had happened to my home had made me a self protective person. I vowed to make the people who brought the damage pay back double. Even if it's politically correct for him to do so, I'll make sure I make him AND his whole fucking family suffer the same thing. I had only less than 1$ in a day for 3 meals. In school, I ordered plain rice with cucumbers at 30cents for meals. At home, instant mee made most dinner. It had made me a vengeful person. It made money the most important factor in life. BUT that was a few years back...
Earlier this year, I met this lady who changed my perceptions in life. Forgive and forget. I actually found it stupid to keep thinking of getting back at the bastards. Perhaps I had something else to think of and to keep me happy, that it overwhelmed the twirling vengence in the mind. She's one individual so strong-willed in realising her dreams it awed me. Though the time was a short 4 months, she changed my attitude.
I was a outright slacker, putting in minimum effort in whatever I don't have interest in. I learnt social responsibility from her. I began to put in effort into stuffs even when it is sucky. It's all attributes to the mission to achieving my dreams, my terok command of english and the intellect to general knowlegde need to improve. For the first time in 20 years, I finished reading my very first novel, all credited to her. Since then, everything I do seems to be for a reason. Maybe I had never felt this much for anyone before, the infatuation was strong. However, it had to end. And to my astonishment, it was a great relief, as if the thorny vines had disentangled itself off the heart.
Laze has brought me to where I am standing now. No specific path ahead in the labyrinth. Ambivalence, unsure where to take off. But still I smile confidently amidst the misty paths. Cuz I'm gonna make evey second in life a moment worth living.
Dreams. I have a plan, an attainable plan. But it takes time and commitment. I told alot of people about this. I've got 3 kinds of responses. Tom says,'Good luck, pal'; Dick says,'it's a not easy and you need money. You better start it small'; Harry says,'I'm interested. When you are working on it, count me in.' From where I am, it's hard to find and bash a way through. But eventually, I envisage myself overlooking an empire. A man of great eminence..
Many years back, a friend inspired me with his ambitions. His analogy: being ruthless is the way to the top. One has to step on someone else, as they pile up to make stairway for you. And that's how things work. I agreed with him that time. But soon I witness him putting his words into action, victimising me at the same time. Soon I derived my own analogy: Ruthless is the way. But kinship and friendship comes above all. What had happened to my home had made me a self protective person. I vowed to make the people who brought the damage pay back double. Even if it's politically correct for him to do so, I'll make sure I make him AND his whole fucking family suffer the same thing. I had only less than 1$ in a day for 3 meals. In school, I ordered plain rice with cucumbers at 30cents for meals. At home, instant mee made most dinner. It had made me a vengeful person. It made money the most important factor in life. BUT that was a few years back...
Earlier this year, I met this lady who changed my perceptions in life. Forgive and forget. I actually found it stupid to keep thinking of getting back at the bastards. Perhaps I had something else to think of and to keep me happy, that it overwhelmed the twirling vengence in the mind. She's one individual so strong-willed in realising her dreams it awed me. Though the time was a short 4 months, she changed my attitude.
I was a outright slacker, putting in minimum effort in whatever I don't have interest in. I learnt social responsibility from her. I began to put in effort into stuffs even when it is sucky. It's all attributes to the mission to achieving my dreams, my terok command of english and the intellect to general knowlegde need to improve. For the first time in 20 years, I finished reading my very first novel, all credited to her. Since then, everything I do seems to be for a reason. Maybe I had never felt this much for anyone before, the infatuation was strong. However, it had to end. And to my astonishment, it was a great relief, as if the thorny vines had disentangled itself off the heart.
Laze has brought me to where I am standing now. No specific path ahead in the labyrinth. Ambivalence, unsure where to take off. But still I smile confidently amidst the misty paths. Cuz I'm gonna make evey second in life a moment worth living.
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