<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118</id><updated>2011-10-12T22:20:28.821+08:00</updated><title type='text'>spoken frankly, made accountable</title><subtitle type='html'>though words alone sometimes fail to express</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>25</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-5836086436922303314</id><published>2009-02-05T23:55:00.030+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T15:24:57.095+08:00</updated><title type='text'>In The Major &amp; Minor Key of B. ittersweet</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;A few of my friends seem to be putting song lyrics on their current blog post.&lt;br /&gt;And I realize I've never done it before.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I happened to link through to Carey's blog quite recently, and she chose this Chinese song via IMEEM to play in her blog background. Since I'm &lt;u&gt;so&lt;/u&gt; 'dope' about Chinese, I didn't actually understand the words I was hearing ... and yet I instantly &lt;em&gt;felt&lt;/em&gt; the song, as though it wanted to tell me something. I felt it, cuz I know these songs are more or less the same -- and yet I somehow started 'responding' listening to this one without being able to interpret what the singer was singing about. So, &lt;em&gt;carpe diem&lt;/em&gt;, it was apparent I had to find out what the song was revealing in me. It's one of those moments God seemed to whisper: "This one, you'll understand."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Turns out it's from the OST of the Korean movie "My Sassy Girl" (mmm ... melodrama, no wonder), originally sung in Korean (1st version) and Chinese (2nd version) by Korean singer, Shin Seung Hun, quite a few years back. And what I was hearing was a &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;3rd&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; revamped-lyric Chinese version from Taiwanese singer, Fàn Yì Chén (范逸臣). Since I had to figure it out, I grabbed the guitar, worked the chords, found the Chinese words, added Hànyŭ Pīnyīn, and translated to English. Was very taken by it, as you can see. I actually had the movie somewhere in my house for &lt;em&gt;years&lt;/em&gt; some more, just that I've never watched it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The Chinese vernacular naturally works best for the song. Love the emotional imagery it conjures.&lt;br /&gt;Tried my best to retain the sentiments in translating to English.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This song (范逸臣's Chinese version) goes out to those who are feeling a little down &amp;amp; out, maybe cuz some circumstances didn't add up for you in this regard. I believe you’ll catch every line. Want you to take hope no matter what. Want you to think the best of what you can’t figure out in the other person. Cuz there's so much more to them that you don't see anyway. I know it's &lt;em&gt;really really&lt;/em&gt; painful when things turn out differently from how it appeared on the surface, and you can't explain why you actually feel &lt;i&gt;this&lt;/i&gt; sad. Emotions you try to deny as illogical, unnecessary, inexplicable, almost silly ... echoes in counterpoint to that lingering sense of loss and pain that won't quickly leave. God wants you to know it's gonna be alright. He does. I want you to know that someone knows.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;Well, I guess that'll do. It's all I felt I should say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;So why not some media links now? :) And I'll not forget to acknowledge Carey for unwittingly 'intro-ing' me to this very sweet perspective. I’m sure the movie will be just as heart-warming if you do check it out. :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;You just never know, yeah?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;These mysterious songs we hear, in this mysterious blogosphere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;范逸臣 - I Believe (mp3) &lt;/strong&gt;(3rd Version):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;embed pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" src="http://www.odeo.com/flash/audio_player_standard_gray.swf" width="300" height="52" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" allowscriptaccess="always" wmode="transparent" flashvars="valid_sample_rate=true&amp;amp;external_url=http://www.upok.net/triskaidekaphobe/Audio%20Files/Fan%20Yi%20Chen%20-%20I%20Believe.mp2"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;(drag the slider to fast-forward / or to jump to any part of the song)&lt;br /&gt;(scroll down to read the &lt;u&gt;song lyrics&lt;/u&gt; below...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;范逸臣 - I Believe&lt;/strong&gt; (范逸臣's version of the Music Video):&lt;/span&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/TCd3S23qCXc&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/TCd3S23qCXc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Original Chinese version (Music Video):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;- has different Chinese lyrics, sung by Korean singer, Shin Seung Hun -&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find this one &lt;u&gt;much nicer in terms of the movie scenes chosen&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(however the lyrics of this original Chinese version don't connect as much):&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/BjHtfDljoq4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/BjHtfDljoq4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Click on the PDF link below for the Chords+Lyrics+hanyu pinyin+english translation:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.upok.net/triskaidekaphobe/Lyrics/Fan%20Yi%20Chen%20-%20I%20Believe.pdf" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;http://www.upok.net/triskaidekaphobe/Lyrics/Fan%20Yi%20Chen%20-%20I%20Believe.pdf&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;I Believe – 范逸臣&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;I believe 当我在你家门口，下雨了 你看了也会难过。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;I believe if I stood outside your door in the rain,&lt;br /&gt;your heart would feel for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I believe 你不说话的时候，也是一种 ... 其实你在回应我。&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;I believe even though you don’t reveal much,&lt;br /&gt;it’s just your way of communicating with me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;虽然不曾说，相信你正在懂。就算牵的不是我的手，我不真的难过。&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"&gt;Even though you’ve never said it, I believe you understand.&lt;br /&gt;So even if we’re not together, I'll be content with that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;不知道在高兴什么，你的笑容有时候也宁可当作你在为我加油。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Don’t know why I feel so happy around you,&lt;br /&gt;when just a smile from you seems to fill me with encouragement.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;不知道在妄想什么，只告诉自己，“I believe 你总会看到我，&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"&gt;Don’t know what I think so wishfully about,&lt;br /&gt;nor why I tell myself, “I believe you can see that I care,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;在某个时候，想让你陪伴的是我。”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;and maybe sometimes you do think about letting me into your heart.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I believe 没有回应的时候，只不过正好你在电话中。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;I believe when you don’t pick up the phone,&lt;br /&gt;it’s only because you happen to be on the line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I believe 语音信箱的沉默，也是一种 ... 其实你在倾听我。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;I believe when I leave a message, you’ll still quietly listen to what I say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;虽然不曾说，相信你正在懂。就算牵的不是我的手，我真的不难过。&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though you’ve never said it, I believe you understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;So even if we’re not together, I'll be content with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;不知道在高兴什么，你的笑容有时候也宁可当作你在为我加油。&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Don’t know why I feel so happy around you,&lt;br /&gt;when just a smile from you seems to fill me with encouragement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;不知道在妄想什么，只告诉自己，“I believe 你总会看到我，&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Don’t know what I think so wishfully about,&lt;br /&gt;nor why I tell myself, “I believe you can see that I care,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;在一切之后，留在你身边的是我。”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;and regardless, I’ll be around for you.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;那延续太久的一时冲动，在你身后的独角戏，聚光灯没亮过，&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;I know if I foolishly continue this way much longer,&lt;br /&gt;it will just become a monologue of wishful thinking,&lt;br /&gt;where I’m the only actor on an unlit stage,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;怀疑是自己编造的内容，你从不真的认得我。&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;and I'll wonder if I fabricated the story up in my mind,&lt;br /&gt;when the truth is you’ve never really understood me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;不知道在高兴什么，你的笑容有时候也宁可当作你在为我加油。&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Don’t know why I feel so happy around you,&lt;br /&gt;when just a smile from you seems to fill me with encouragement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;不知道在妄想什么，只告诉自己，“I believe 一定会有结果，&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Don’t know what I think so wishfully about,&lt;br /&gt;nor why I tell myself, “I believe it'll all be meaningful in the end,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;在很久以后，留在你身边的是我 ...... 会陪着你的人 ... 是我。”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;and regardless, I’ll be around for you ...... simply here for you.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-5836086436922303314?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/5836086436922303314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=5836086436922303314&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/5836086436922303314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/5836086436922303314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2009/02/major-minor-key-of-bittersweet.html' title='In The Major &amp; Minor Key of B. ittersweet'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-2732199888584066015</id><published>2009-01-31T17:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T23:24:26.935+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Guitar Picks For The Soul</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;Here’s a long overdue story from Christmas, cuz Miss Minqi might make mince o’ me until I post it! Eh, I kept my promise ... finally. :) Haha. In any case, I thought it'll make an interesting "Chicken Soup For The Soul" kinda anecdote of remembrance:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Christmas Eve, I bought some special "coloured guitar picks" (made from metal) from a guitar shop in Peninsula for some people I’d been thinking of quite a lot recently, with the idea of engraving their names onto each. I wanted them to have these personalized Christmas gifts &lt;em&gt;just because&lt;/em&gt;. Little did I know, not merely the gifts per se, but the process of gift-giving would yield a far deeper meaning this Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2009-01-31/GuitarPicks.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2009-01-31/GuitarPicks.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Red&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt; for 'Looney' (Deb),&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Blue&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt; for Kevin,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Black&lt;/strong&gt; for 'Minster' (Jiamin) … cuz she’s black,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#c0c0c0;"&gt;White&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt; for Danielle … cuz she’s white.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I bought the picks, I took a trip down to Queensway Shopping Center, where I knew some engraving shops were. There was a 40+/50+ year old uncle running this little shop called "Unique Gift Shop". I know it sounds like some Precious Thoughts type of shop, but engraving is really his business. Pens, metal plates, trophies - if it was metal, he could probably do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He asked what the picks were for, so I said I was engraving them for my guitar students as presents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Oh, where u teach? Yamaha ah?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;"Nah, I teach in church."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Oh, lidat … so how much you charge?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;"Oh, mmm ... I don't charge for the lessons."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;"Hah? You give for free, then still buy things and engrave?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Didn’t wanna sound too preachy since I wasn't really sure of his personal beliefs or ideals, so I simply said,&lt;br/&gt; &lt;strong&gt;“got enough to survive … so sometimes, when got something to contribute, just do for free lor."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He shrugged it off with acceptance, then proceeded to engrave each name onto each respective coloured pick as directed, clamping and unclamping, jigging, amd setting the measurements right. Then he ran the etching needle several times onto each pick to ensure they were properly engraved. The whole process took him about 30+ minutes as I stood there watching and engaging him in random conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And from the chatting, it turns out that of all places, this guy actually stays a few hundred metres from church – at Bishan Street 12 – in the block right beside sweet ole 'Minster'! Mere coincidence or pre-ordained? lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he finally finished, he handed the last engraved pick to me, and I opened my wallet to pay him. But immediately he raised his hand, and said, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Merry Christmas. I oso do for free."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was blown away. And no matter how much I tried to pay him, he simply refused to take my money!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Got enough to survive"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, he said cheekily, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"take it as my Christmas gift lah."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told him I swore to tell the story to my guitar students so that they would be inspired by it, and hoped they would learn to bless others with whatever talents or passions they had too someday. This man, who could engrave, undoubtedly understood the meaning of blessing others with his know-how. And the service work and time spent isn’t cheap! To me, that was a really nice gesture from a stranger. Remarkable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think he's a Christian, but I’d like to think God touched him somehow to do something like that for me and others I care about. It's that peculiar 'pay-it-forward' expression that does indeed show up in the gentler side of humans sometimes. Giving those guitar picks mean so much more now, cuz I realize it's more than just my heart in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s a special love coming from above, and passed on through a few open hearts to a few more others. And you never can tell who else they’ll pass it on to, can you? That’s what I like about it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s such a complete Christmas Gift when love comes full circle. &lt;3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-2732199888584066015?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/2732199888584066015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=2732199888584066015&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/2732199888584066015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/2732199888584066015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2009/01/guitar-picks-for-soul.html' title='Guitar Picks For The Soul'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2009-01-31/th_GuitarPicks.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-133505453567495398</id><published>2008-03-28T09:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T23:23:20.550+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Practical Anger, In Theory</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Everyone say “Jolly”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a cut-and-paste of a new MS-Word report I've been tweaking for the past 2 hours -- part of a dossier for life improvement purposes, after a particularly bad day. After having thrown (... but not up). :) Though I wish I had instead. Sickness may be pitiful. But Anger is always regrettable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I threw something today. One thing. What did I throw? Well, it was an "unthrowable". (For a definition, scroll further below). And so I need to create new rules to protect against &lt;em&gt;throwing violations&lt;/em&gt;. A compendium guidebook for &lt;em&gt;Righteous Arm Activity&lt;/em&gt; -- My supplemental code of faith and conduct, after the Bible.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;For as the good book always says, the only safe thing to throw ... is your weight around. And a hissy fit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Well, no it didn't quite say that. But it sure would have sold more copies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;However, you may throw things around if you are in a temple, and there are merchants selling wares, like doves and livestock. But you must also be perfect.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;ANYWAY. Here's to accountability (... and to a female church friend who once smashed a cupboard door and a mirror in anger, as did her sister some years later. Tsk tsk tsk ... orhh ... a combined 14 years of bad luck). :O If you die-die &lt;em&gt;must&lt;/em&gt; be angry, at least do it by throwing a black cat &lt;em&gt;out&lt;/em&gt; of your path. Amateurs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2008-03-27/AngerManagementPoster.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Anger Management" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2008-03-27/AngerManagementPoster.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Definition:&lt;/strong&gt; An “&lt;u&gt;unthrowable&lt;/u&gt;” is something you should not throw when you are angry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What qualifies as an “&lt;u&gt;unthrowable&lt;/u&gt;”?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rules:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1)&lt;/strong&gt; If it is semi-hard / hard / has any reasonable degree of hardness, it is an “unthrowable” (eg. made of metal, plastic, wood, or ceramic / glass, etc)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2)&lt;/strong&gt; If it has a soft outer body, BUT contains something hard inside, it is an “unthrowable” (eg. A soft cover CD case with CDs inside)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Examples of “unthrowables” that one is likely to find in the vicinity of an angry self:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;1) &lt;/strong&gt;Cup (paper cup is okay … plastic PARTY cup is okay … but NOT a normal plastic cup, like the Green Army Mug. And not a glass cup either)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2) &lt;/strong&gt;Cutlery (I know a friend from church who throws knives in anger! At human beings. Yes, and it's a female again! And not the same one as above. What's with these women nowadays? I MUST see that live ... from a distance, of course)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3) &lt;/strong&gt;Utensils&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4) &lt;/strong&gt;Clocks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5) &lt;/strong&gt;Plastic Water Bottles / Plastic Bottles (eg. those for pills)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6) &lt;/strong&gt;Batteries&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7) &lt;/strong&gt;Anything with Metal / Metallic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8) &lt;/strong&gt;Watch&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;9) &lt;/strong&gt;Camera&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10) &lt;/strong&gt;Shoes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;11) &lt;/strong&gt;CD / DVD (cuz it’s still hard)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;12)&lt;/strong&gt; Bar of Soap (it’s hard, isn’t it?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;13)&lt;/strong&gt; Basketball or any kind of sports ball (it’s also hard! In a court, fine, but not indoors)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;14)&lt;/strong&gt; etc, etc&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These all have a strict “no throw” policy. No exceptions. Not even when alone in an empty room with no one around but yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not realistic? Here is a way out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Examples of “throwables”:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1)&lt;/strong&gt; Pillow / Soft Cushions (no springs, etc)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2)&lt;/strong&gt; EMPTY Plastic Bag&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3)&lt;/strong&gt; Cotton / Cotton Wool / Cotton Buds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4)&lt;/strong&gt; Balloon (inflated or non-inflated. But inflated is better. With helium is even better)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5)&lt;/strong&gt; Toilet Paper Roll&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;6)&lt;/strong&gt; Soft Toy (with no hard parts, except maybe the plastic bead eyes only)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7)&lt;/strong&gt; Bolster / Blanket&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;8)&lt;/strong&gt; Clothes (no belts! Cuz they may have metal or hard plastic) / Cloth / Towel (yes, when you’re angry, throw in the towel)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;9)&lt;/strong&gt; Tissue Paper Pack&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10)&lt;/strong&gt; Slice of Cake (JUST the cake, remove cardboard backing, if any. And please clean up after use)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;11)&lt;/strong&gt; Tou-Fu (clean up also)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;12)&lt;/strong&gt; Water (but not water in a Bottle / Metal Can, cuz Rule #2 applies)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;13)&lt;/strong&gt; Paper (preferably 80 GSM thickness and below, printer-standard. Avoid the professional types you buy at Art Friend or what-not)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;14)&lt;/strong&gt; Ear Plugs / Eye Patches&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;15)&lt;/strong&gt; “Stress Ball” (but this is pushing it - a stress ball is semi-hard. But what's the point of buying a stress ball if you can't throw it? So, okay. But subject to parole review from time to time)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Additional Rules that apply even to “throwables”:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- NO throwing at a person or a household pet. No exceptions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;- Anything that involves even the slightest form of property damage is a no-no.&lt;br /&gt;- No breaking, or defacing of anything (eg. secondary impact / causing a bottle to topple), even if they are worthless things that have no owner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Which means, you can only throw “throwables” on the open floor or against a spacious wall, not against shelves or tables, which may have other things on them (Problem is, these are pretty stringent conditional rules, as it turns out. Realistically, this form of throwing might not sufficiently serve as therapeutic enough. In other words, the Level Of Regret that comes from pansy throwing methods may not be sufficient to appease anger, which may yet escalate).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;The Daryllian “Optimization Theory of Regret-Outcome Consequence &amp;amp; Anger Peak Value”&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Important Terms:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;1) &lt;strong&gt;Level Of Regret&lt;/strong&gt;: The level after which regret supercedes your anger (normally leads to less angry behavior thereafter)&lt;br /&gt;2) &lt;strong&gt;Peak Value of Anger&lt;/strong&gt; (in any given instance) – different instances have different peak values: As above, occurs at the point where Level Of Regret supercedes level of anger. Note well the inverse relationship of Regret and Anger, AFTER point of realization. Anger has finally reached maximum output at this point, and should be on the decline, even though it has not retraced back to parity.&lt;br /&gt;3) &lt;strong&gt;Physical Outcome&lt;/strong&gt;: Can be positive or negative. It means “the consequences of your anger”, and relates to “physical consequences”. (Emotional consequences are a bit more complex an issue, and shall not be captured by this theory alone)&lt;br /&gt;4) &lt;strong&gt;Splash Effect&lt;/strong&gt;: The greater the damage, the more one’s anger is appeased. It has partly to do with Level Of Regret, but more importantly, seeing effects of carnage is a sedative balm to an angry spirit. The idea of “splashing” here is that by venting anger against a water body (eg. a lake or stream or loong-kang), you create a false impression of a lot of damage done, when in reality there is none. &lt;u&gt;Large splashes and large ripples and outward displacement of water creates shockwave effects not unlike those of an atomic bomb, if you care to map these shockwaves out in 3D using a computer simulation&lt;/u&gt;. Thus, you “think” you have caused mega destruction, but it is actually highly pansy and gutless – but since you don’t perceive these work of your hands that way (pansy and gutless), you yet maintain an immensely superior view about your celestial power to destroy. This is the best “temper tantrum” environment, because physical outcome is truly at relatively safe levels, yet it is psychologically optimized to be the most satisfying. (Plus, you will not suffer from passive-aggressive anger / fool yourself into thinking you had anger under control just because you made no body movements during the encounter / mid-life heart problems from a lifetime of unrealistic anger containment, etc)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Theory Discussion:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For any one instance, Anger has a peak value in you. You must hit that peak value to reach the stage of regret that would save you from doing even worser things. The idea is to reach the stage of regret at a “physical outcome” level that is still safe. The faster this occurs, the better. Logically, the idea of burning all the dollar notes in one’s wallet using a stove fire whilst in the middle of an argument or quarrel is perhaps a rather “safe physical outcome” method (but is unlikely a “safe financial outcome” method). Yet it is worth noting that it would help one reach regret levels faster than a prolonged argument ever can, or even faster than throwing things (unless the throwing of the objects accidentally maims or kills the person of your discontent, in which case, Level Of Regret attained would trigger the Peak Value Of Anger almost quite immediately – faster than the burning of money, even).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Exception #1&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;: If you are in a large open field and you’re for some reason pissed off, and there is no one in your general direction, you may throw things like small tree branches (but please try to avoid rocks/stones). Do NOT throw at an arc (since it may be hard to estimate where it lands – which may be on someone’s head, especially if they pop out suddenly from nowhere. Also factor in wind drift. See golf manuals for judgment ideas). Instead, the object MUST hit the ground in a direct-line trajectory (which effectively means it cannot be thrown to a distance … although it is permissible that it could inevitably skid a distance).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Exception #2&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;: If not lawfully illegal to do so, you may throw stones into a water body like a stream, etc. The splash effect has the “impression” of doing lots of damage, when in fact there is none. (See explanation above).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But ... IF you are &lt;strong&gt;not&lt;/strong&gt; angry, and are in fact just playing the fool and having a good time in a large open field with friends, then OF COURSE you may throw EVEN stones at a distance where no one is standing, since any freak accident that may arise comes from idiocy rather than anger. Even if negative physical outcome is similar, the unintended consequences of idiocy are often understandable, whereas the unintended consequences of anger are NOT easily acceptable. Therefore, when throwing objects, choose to do so only when you are behaving like an idiot, and not when you are in anger (although, one could be an angry idiot – but in which case, you should still apply the above-mentioned “anger” rules to it).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let it be written: Rule goes into effect Thursday, March 27, 2008, 5:38 PM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let it be done.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-133505453567495398?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/133505453567495398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=133505453567495398&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/133505453567495398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/133505453567495398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2008/03/practical-anger-in-theory.html' title='Practical Anger, In Theory'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2008-03-27/th_AngerManagementPoster.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-4375977414906994103</id><published>2007-12-26T15:59:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T23:21:44.402+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The True Santa Gave Us PlayStation</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;On Christmas Day, Sebby the lucky youngest man-child member of the Yap family received a PSP for Christmas from us all. It was night time on Christmas Day when this young Yap, with great anticipation, peeled away the secretive wrapping around his present to uncover the surprise inside. And so we concluded year 2007 a better family thanks to Sony. 'Tis the spirit of Christmas. You see, our Father in heaven can work many wonders through PlayStation. Guess He could be a gamer after all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-12-25/APlayStationChristmas.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="A PlayStation Christmas" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-12-25/APlayStationChristmas.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-4375977414906994103?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/4375977414906994103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=4375977414906994103&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/4375977414906994103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/4375977414906994103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2008/03/true-santa-believes-in-power-of.html' title='The True Santa Gave Us PlayStation'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-12-25/th_APlayStationChristmas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-2004664576026320419</id><published>2007-08-30T14:33:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T10:19:50.253+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Day My Brother Married A Finlander</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;I finally mustered the energy and time to post this entry. :-) I must be the ultimate backlogged blogger of all time. Well, I'll catch up sooner or later. Clarissa hath long desired a post on the Finland wedding trip. Oh, she'll get Finland alright.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;The first thing all of you should know is that citizens of Finland are called Finlanders. Like, who doesn't know that? And likewise, Norwegians hail from the country of Norwege ... until the Vikings came of course, then it became known as Norwegia, as we currently call it. Are we on the same page so far? Good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Cuz I was only kiddin'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Singaporeans on the left. Finns on the right. Final Score: Singapore-Finland, 0-1.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-08-29/DanielsMarjasWedding1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-08-29/DanielsMarjasWedding1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Finland is one of those quiet little kick-back-and-relax places where people ought to spend their retirement. Now (... and this is the true part), my brother says people there knock off at about 4:30pm every day. And employees can get Summer leave of up to one month OVER AND ABOVE their annual leave. Are you listening to this? And they still found the time to set up Nokia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Talk about knowing how to chill ... Marja's uncle has a quaint 3-storey cottage for a home, built at the edge of the bay, with a sauna house at the waterfront.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; And best of all, thi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;s c&lt;/span&gt;ool dude owns a speedboat. So at sunset, after the BBQ at his place, he asked "Anyone wanna go for a boat ride?". And OF COURSE we all said aye.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-08-29/DanielsMarjasWedding2.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-08-29/DanielsMarjasWedding2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Let me introduce you to a neat ole Finnish wedding tradition --- the bride gets stolen from the groom at some point, and the groom has to go and save her. Four masked men barged into Daniel's and Marja's wedding reception uninvited and abducted the bride, put her in a rowboat at the lakeside, and paddled her away to a lonely island in the middle of the lake. My brother had to go rescue her, armed with a watergun (which my Dad handed to him at the jetty's edge). I am moderately pleased to report that he sprayed her assailants to death&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-08-29/DanielsMarjasWedding3.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-08-29/DanielsMarjasWedding3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I've been thinking about how people in relationships actually see their relationship. There seems to be at least two prevailing reasons why a person believes he/she makes a good match for the other. When under the spell of love, we humans have got all these views on what works in a relationship. Sometimes people tell me "Oooh, we're SO similar. We were made for each other, cuz we &lt;em&gt;reflect&lt;/em&gt; each other so perfectly". While others tell me "Oooh, we're SO different. We were made for each other, cuz we &lt;em&gt;complement&lt;/em&gt; each other so perfectly".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;What the heck? I want to whack them already lah. :) *piak piak*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-2004664576026320419?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/2004664576026320419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=2004664576026320419&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/2004664576026320419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/2004664576026320419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2007/08/day-my-brother-married-finlander.html' title='The Day My Brother Married A Finlander'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-08-29/th_DanielsMarjasWedding1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-1627840002669982522</id><published>2007-07-05T04:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-14T02:43:34.596+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Holiday Trippers 007</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;What is an itinerary without pictures? Nothing, I tell you. Nothing. I now complete what I have started.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;A bird in the air is worth two in the hand. Watch this seagull. (It's REAL! -- cuz some people asked, haha). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/SanFrancisco.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/SanFrancisco.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/LosAngeles.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/LosAngeles.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Stanford.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Stanford.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;As for the &lt;strong&gt;Grand Canyon&lt;/strong&gt; ... to stand humbly on that precarious cliff edge and marvel at the sight of these gorgeous gorges -- this is quite simply the work of God's hands.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/GrandCanyon.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/GrandCanyon.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/LasVegas1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/LasVegas1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Look kids, I got an amazing 50% return-on-investment at Las Vegas.&lt;/strong&gt; Tell me ... which bank or stock portfolio can even give you a fraction of that? Am I not Warren Buffett reincarnate? I, the professional, bet a high stakes wager of $1.00 on a BlackJack machine, beat it flat, won my $0.25, replayed, beat it flat again, won another $0.25, and then immediately cashed in on my winnings for a grand total of $1.50 back! They say to quit while you're ahead, for it is impossible to beat the house in the long-run. So that's what &lt;em&gt;I'm&lt;/em&gt; doing. Me, High Roller DJ Yappa am a Masta Poka Playa!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/LasVegas2.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/LasVegas2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"National Parks"&lt;/strong&gt; in the U.S.A. are really mega-huge nature reserves. &lt;strong&gt;Yellowstone&lt;/strong&gt; itself is actually more than 12 times the size of Singapore. The landscape is &lt;strong&gt;drop-dead gorgeous&lt;/strong&gt;. Mmm ... I have to come here again someday, when I'm married, if I'm married. I'd die just to see the same mountainous sights, and do the same breath-taking activities as I did here in the day. But it's gonna be different ones at night. ;-D (ooh, naughty &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;naughty&lt;/span&gt; Daryl, spank)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/GrandTetonYellowstone.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/GrandTetonYellowstone.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;California's unbelievable coastline&lt;/strong&gt; from the &lt;strong&gt;Big Sur&lt;/strong&gt; to &lt;strong&gt;Monterey Bay&lt;/strong&gt;. Even B.B. King can't play these blues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/TheCalifornianCoast.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/TheCalifornianCoast.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So who says family holidays can't be romantic? :-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-1627840002669982522?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/1627840002669982522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=1627840002669982522&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/1627840002669982522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/1627840002669982522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2007/07/holiday-trippers.html' title='Holiday Trippers 007'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-2988775906106841620</id><published>2007-06-09T02:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-13T06:28:13.733+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Secret Travel Agent 007</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am now a world-class travel agent.&lt;/strong&gt; True, yes. And I will be yours too for a mere token fee. Just planned a family tour ... AND it's gonna be &lt;strong&gt;swell&lt;/strong&gt;. Arranged for rental cars, planes, hotels, motels, attractions, shows - the works. When the family comes next week to visit, boy are they in for a whirlwind of a tour!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The hardest part of planning is probably the coordination. Decisions on timing issues - &lt;em&gt;which places to go, in which order to go, how to go, when to go, making sure those things fit together&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So &lt;em&gt;now&lt;/em&gt; I know why people take those holiday package tours that lack any choice at all&lt;/strong&gt; (sometimes it's like a prison!). Cuz planning a fully customized trip is rather draining -- and I guess we're sometimes lazy that way. That's mainly because with &lt;em&gt;A WIDE VARIETY OF CHOICES&lt;/em&gt;, your life just gets complicated. "What shall I pick? Who? When? How?" &lt;strong&gt;Ever had to choose between many nice alternatives before? It's tough isn't it?&lt;/strong&gt; Sure, we &lt;u&gt;all&lt;/u&gt; &lt;em&gt;say&lt;/em&gt; we want choice. But sometimes there's just too much to process, and we start wishing we had only &lt;em&gt;one&lt;/em&gt; alternative. At least we can later say we didn't end up making a poor &lt;em&gt;choice&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But let this secret agent declare -- the only poor choice ... is &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; to make one at all!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Okay then ... here's the 007's incomparable itinerary planned for the incoming family:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Los Angeles &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Hollywood, Disneyland, Universal Studios, Sunset Boulevard, Bel Air, Santa Monica)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Stanford University&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;(B.A. degree graduation ceremony on Father's Day! What better gift?)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;San Francisco &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Alcatraz, Golden Gate Bridge, Fisherman's Wharf, Union Square, Chinatown)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Grand Canyon&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hoover Dam&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Las Vegas &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Cirque du Soleil - Mystère, The Bellagio Buffet, Hotel Casinos)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Grand Teton National Park&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Yellowstone National Park&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;(Old Faithful, etc)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Monterey Bay &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Big Sur, Pebble Beach, Carmel By The Sea)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Ambitious? You bet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'd also like to believe the schedule is absolutely flexible within locations! Hohoho. ;-P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Click on the table below&lt;/u&gt; to permit &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;zooming/enlarging&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; in a separate window! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-06-08/Itinerary-FamilyTrip2007.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-06-08/Itinerary-FamilyTrip2007.jpg" width="600" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Want even more intricate details? Want to steal the blueprint of this battle plan to implement for your own? Feel free to download the zip file from:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.upok.net/triskaidekaphobe/FamilyTripItinerary2007/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;http://www.upok.net/triskaidekaphobe/FamilyTripItinerary2007/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this glorious wonder can be had for way less than 20k (SGD)! Pricey, no? Okay, well yes. BUT ... the later you start planning, the more it's gonna cost ya!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So, as the good travel agent (moi) always says, either ya start yer bookin' ... else ya start yer &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Cookin'...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;... and so this is my latest update on food -- &lt;strong&gt;we made crêpes with ice-cream in the CroMem Kitchen the other day for supper&lt;/strong&gt; -- organized by the incomparable 6'7" Alan Asbeck! And may I say I flipped 'em crêpes like I'd done it for years. Way up high, multiple loops, right back onto the pan, facing up on its other side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;So kids, please ... don't try this at home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-06-08/Crepes1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-06-08/Crepes1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;------------------------------ &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Left to Right: &lt;em&gt;Paul, Peixian, Clare, Alan, Daryl&lt;/em&gt; ------------------------------&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's our easy-access pictorial guide to crêpe-making:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-06-08/Crepes2.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-06-08/Crepes2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Add-on:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heh, there've been some kind words on the crêpe-making. But I'm really just a first-timer (I think most of us were!), and it's easy anyway! Y'all should try it out! So here's how it &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; went for us, behind-the-scenes ...&lt;br/&gt;I wasn't even sure I had the thickness right. But it worked out somehow. haha :&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed width="520" height="470" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" src="http://vid168.photobucket.com/player.swf?file=http://vid168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-06-08/CrepesInstructionalVideo.flv"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-2988775906106841620?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/2988775906106841620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=2988775906106841620&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/2988775906106841620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/2988775906106841620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2007/06/secret-travel-agent-007.html' title='Secret Travel Agent 007'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-06-08/th_Itinerary-FamilyTrip2007.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-7510624831442303486</id><published>2007-05-21T20:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-11T13:06:10.757+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Swords &amp; Babies</title><content type='html'>&lt;embed width="500" height="452" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" src="http://vid168.photobucket.com/player.swf?file=http://vid168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-05-21/SantaCruzSwordfight.flv"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;We, the superior Darwinian specimens of Chi Alpha, engaged in some deadly sword-fighting at Santa Cruz Beach on Saturday.&lt;/strong&gt; Some people died. But that's okay. For we weed out the weak &amp; the wasted. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;With the colossal Pacific Ocean as my canvas, I soar through the air in a Sports Illustrated pin-up poster, mere split-seconds before I split the skull of that poor hapless soul below. What was his name again? (If only).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-05-21/SantaCruzBeach.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-05-21/SantaCruzBeach.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And then, lo and behold -- a baby!&lt;/strong&gt; Between the crevices of our deathly destruction seeps a trickle of hope.&lt;/span&gt; :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;That's Glen's babe, Xander. Sometimes when I look into those eyes, I wonder: &lt;strong&gt;"What &lt;em&gt;does&lt;/em&gt; the world look like from that perspective?"&lt;/strong&gt; I'd like to recall it, if I could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;That's the thing about babies. Isn't it? Watch this clip:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1vfSk-6tIvo"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1vfSk-6tIvo" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;It's my favorite, even though this "famous one" has more views:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5P6UU6m3cqk" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#3333ff;"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5P6UU6m3cqk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Are you smiling? You bet. &lt;strong&gt;A baby's laugh is a smile-making machine.&lt;/strong&gt; But it's a smile that comes from a very fundamental source within us that even I can't begin to describe. There are things in this world that make us &lt;em&gt;happy&lt;/em&gt;. But if you've ever wondered where we might find the difference between &lt;u&gt;happiness&lt;/u&gt; and &lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;joy&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt; -- this is it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;There's &lt;em&gt;so&lt;/em&gt; much &lt;strong&gt;purity&lt;/strong&gt; in a baby's laugh. I don't really experience this form of elemental joy watching adults laugh, or even watching my friends laugh. It's a slightly different sensation. And I'm &lt;strong&gt;not&lt;/strong&gt; referring to how &lt;em&gt;cuuuuute&lt;/em&gt; a baby is when he/she laughs either (God bless you girls out there. Now shush). I'm referring to something far more mysterious. It points me to a spiritual source within me &amp; without. It points me to a Maker. In and of itself, scientific rationality was not meant to encapsulate nor replicate that emotion. It's a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt; sensation that comes from deep within my &lt;em&gt;soul&lt;/em&gt; -- it's warm &amp;amp; innate. It's innocent beyond words, reminding me that I actually do still have innocent places in my heart left. They are places I deny exist -- places that I was convinced were buried deep under the soil of 'life's experiences' &amp;amp; veneered by the gradual cynicism that appends to growing up, knowing the short-change, and 'being realistic'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;But when such innocent realization finds its way to the guarded marrow, &lt;strong&gt;joy in its purest form&lt;/strong&gt; involuntarily flows out through the cracks of my heart in a brief deluge. That joy was always left untainted. I just didn't know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;A baby had to teach me where to find it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-7510624831442303486?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/7510624831442303486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=7510624831442303486&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/7510624831442303486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/7510624831442303486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2007/05/swords-babies.html' title='Swords &amp; Babies'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-05-21/th_SantaCruzBeach.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-772637998141301221</id><published>2007-05-14T10:53:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-18T17:12:21.757+08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Before" &amp; "After" Ads</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Recently, I was pondering about the &lt;em&gt;“Before”&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;“After”&lt;/em&gt; photos in Slimming &amp; Baldness Hair-Weaving ads.&lt;/strong&gt; I wanted to know if they were really true or not. Since I needed a haircut anyway, I decided to conduct an experiment with enough &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/External_validity" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;external validity&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; to &lt;em&gt;forever&lt;/em&gt; dispel our confusion over these commercial claims.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My research findings? The ads are &lt;strong&gt;all&lt;/strong&gt; true. No gimmicks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact, I will prove it to you with my easy-to-follow summary below. After all, &lt;u&gt;the simplest explanation is usually the best one&lt;/u&gt; – &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Occam's_Razor" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Occam’s Razor&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; – remember? That’s what the barber used for &lt;i&gt;my&lt;/i&gt; haircut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Observe diligently now as I present empirical evidence of my &lt;em&gt;“Before”&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;“After”&lt;/em&gt; experience:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-05-13/Haircut.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-05-13/Haircut.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To make my claim stronger, I should point out that I have kept most non-biological variables constant. &lt;u&gt;No trick photography&lt;/u&gt; was used. &lt;u&gt;No Photoshop manipulation&lt;/u&gt; either (&lt;em&gt;eg&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iYhCn0jf46U" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;the Dove ad&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;). There was &lt;u&gt;no use of cosmetics&lt;/u&gt;. &lt;em&gt;Au naturel&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;u&gt;No hair gel&lt;/u&gt; was applied. If hair is standing up in the &lt;em&gt;“Before”&lt;/em&gt; or &lt;em&gt;“After”&lt;/em&gt; photos, it is standing by itself without manufactured aids. There was also &lt;u&gt;no use of my hands to rearrange my face&lt;/u&gt;. That’s cheating. Which researcher doesn’t know that? Powerful facial muscles may have been engaged, but by definition, they are part of my biology. Therefore, no critique should be seen as compelling enough to diminish these arguments. If anything, they are but feeble attempts to score on technicalities. Yes, you lawyers especially.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Exhibit A&lt;/u&gt; is pre-haircut. No tricks. My hair defies Newton naturally after a night's slumber. And I was ugly too. &lt;strong&gt;Quasimodo-ugly.&lt;/strong&gt; No room for argument here. Please review the raw essence of &lt;u&gt;Exhibit A&lt;/u&gt; again before you cast aspersions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Exhibit B&lt;/u&gt; was captured &lt;em&gt;“After”&lt;/em&gt; returning from the Barber Shop. The scissors in the picture is just harmless &lt;em&gt;product placement&lt;/em&gt;. A trifle, really. &lt;u&gt;No digital or cosmetic manipulation&lt;/u&gt; was employed either. Completely &lt;em&gt;as is&lt;/em&gt;. And clearly, an empirically superior specimen to &lt;u&gt;Exhibit A&lt;/u&gt;. This applies to all observers, regardless of culture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, there may have been some &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Confounding_variable" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;confounding variables&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &amp;amp; mild deficiencies in the research design and methodology, but let’s keep this report simple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therefore, &lt;strong&gt;haircuts improve your face&lt;/strong&gt;. In following, there is no reason to believe that Slimming &amp;amp; Baldness Hair-Weaving &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;ads&lt;/span&gt; are overly exaggerated either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Marketing Lesson: Juxtaposition works.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;It is hard to face your problem, when your problem is your face.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-772637998141301221?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/772637998141301221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=772637998141301221&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/772637998141301221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/772637998141301221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2007/05/before-after-ads.html' title='&quot;Before&quot; &amp; &quot;After&quot; Ads'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-05-13/th_Haircut.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-5573887310203855599</id><published>2007-05-05T21:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-16T17:22:04.753+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chulalongkorn's Challenge</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I guess I've been busy. Not with school work, though. C'mon, that's old stuff now. ;-) I never thought I'd say this, but when you've got a few more months to go, your perspective on school work and exams gets redefined -- it doesn't feel so all-consuming anymore. Like, I can already imagine it as "once part of my life". Instead, I've been trying to record this song for a while now, and I'm glad I did. I'll post it up soon enough when I'm ready to share it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;I've been taking this course recently that teaches me how to cook, and/or just to come and &lt;em&gt;eat&lt;/em&gt; Asian food.&lt;/u&gt; Yes, seriously. Like Dim Sum, Korean Beef Stew, Kimchi, Sushi, etc. It's one of those fun courses that U.S. universities tend to have somewhere on their buffet of classes (my cousin once did a Wine Tasting course in Cornell. Totally rad!) For the past few weeks I've been watching demonstrations, or eating stuff. I can't say I really know how to cook everything I saw. But last week I made &lt;u&gt;Sushi&lt;/u&gt;, and it's really quite simple -- if you have the ingredients provided. Obviously I didn't wrap it as professionally. &lt;strong&gt;Actually, my Sushi ended up looking like Popiah.&lt;/strong&gt; This week I made &lt;u&gt;"Three-Cup Chicken"&lt;/u&gt; -- the name comes from the fact that you add one cup of Sesame Oil, one cup of Rice Wine, and one cup of Soy Sauce, amongst other things (like Chilli Padi, Basil Leaves, Onion Leaves, Garlic, Ginger, Brown Sugar, etc).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Here is the very dish I got to cook. I'd say it tasted like decent ordinary home-cooked food. I have braved the wok, and become my mother:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-05-05/Three-CupChicken.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-05-05/Three-CupChicken.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Again, if you know the ingredients and the steps, it's not that hard. I always reckoned baking was easier to do, cuz you had more control in the pre-production phase, which is why I only ever tried baking (with the exception of making Cheese Onion Garlic Bread, of course). But looks like cooking is so much faster to achieve. Given that all the ingredients are in front of you, it takes just 10 minutes to make Three-Cup Chicken! :-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Home Economics must have been quite an interesting course compared to other subjects in Singapore, come to think of it. &lt;u&gt;Girls are lucky.&lt;/u&gt; I would have gladly given up O-Level History to do Home Econs. And to this day, the most memorable thought in all my History education is probably &lt;strong&gt;"King Chulalongkorn had 77 children"&lt;/strong&gt;. Man. That dude is &lt;em&gt;fertile&lt;/em&gt;. You would think he'd have stopped at around maybe 10, realizing "geez ... that's already plenty". But no, he went on and on uncontrollably. Could he even remember some of their names? The consequences must have been very taxing on ole Chula. Everyday, he would be walking around his palace, bumping into strangers greeting him "Dad". And he would have to awkwardly reply: "Heyyy, I know you ... you're ... you're my son or something, right? ... I know your name, wait ... yeah, I've seen you before, I think ... Well, anyway ... I know your mum at least, she was .... she was ...... oh damn, what's her name?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, I can't claim I have a passion for cooking per se. Certainly, for most days, I'd rather be cooked for, than be cooking for. Amen? But hey, some degree of domestication is good -- for two reasons. Firstly, in a positive sense, you want to be able to do these things for someone sometimes. It's a nice surprise. And secondly (in a more negative sense), maybe just as a secret "You know, I could if I had to" Trump Card. I mean, you wouldn't want your wife to threaten you over something like that. In times of &lt;u&gt;marital famine&lt;/u&gt;, will you survive?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Men of the world, you must be food-proof.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-5573887310203855599?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/5573887310203855599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=5573887310203855599&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/5573887310203855599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/5573887310203855599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2007/05/chulalongkorns-challenge.html' title='Chulalongkorn&apos;s Challenge'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-05-05/th_Three-CupChicken.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-5553967206394263008</id><published>2007-04-19T17:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-19T13:46:49.672+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Elvis Gets Married / "The Extra Mile"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;Wow. &lt;strong&gt;I *just* found some absolutely, insanely brilliant photos of my &lt;em&gt;elder brother&lt;/em&gt; on Facebook!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;And they are a true gem ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-19/DanielElvis1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-19/DanielElvis1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-19/DanielElvis2.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-19/DanielElvis2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;That's Daniel. And he's getting married this August -- to a Finnish girl called Marja. I declare that these photos represent the true mark of the high calling of a married man. Rock on, brother! I aspire. You inspire. The wedding's in Finland. And I'm the Best Man. Naturally so, for I am exactly that. :-) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Heyyy... waaait a minute ... &lt;u&gt;if &lt;strong&gt;I'M&lt;/strong&gt; the best man, why is &lt;em&gt;she&lt;/em&gt; marrying &lt;em&gt;him&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/u&gt;? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I'm not quite sure exactly what I have to do, but I guess I just have to stand around in a suit and look pretty. Everyone my age is getting married. In fact, another couple (&lt;a href="http://weddings.theknot.com/pwp/view/co_main.aspx?coupleid=3277999476862458&amp;guestpassword=&amp;amp;MsdVisit=1" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Timmy &amp; Cindy&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;-- check &lt;strong&gt;this&lt;/strong&gt; out. SO sweet! ....) asked me to emcee their wedding in July. On 07/07/07, to be exact. I'm gonna have to figure out how go about that too. And here's their &lt;a href="http://timcindy.multiply.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;official wedding blog&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I'm really happy for all these couples who found love.&lt;/strong&gt; Somewhere, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;somehow. They have something truly special. They've found places to go I wouldn't know. Like Joel &lt;u&gt;G&lt;/u&gt;oh, Lisa &lt;u&gt;O&lt;/u&gt;oi, Sean &lt;u&gt;W&lt;/u&gt;at ... but why stop at W? C'mon... you can recite the alphabet fully. What's the next letter? A little more, people. Yoohoo? *nudge, nudge*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Oh, wait. That slot's been taken up by my brother. Damn you, brother! *shakes fist vigorously*&lt;/span&gt; :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;The years roll on by gracefully. And I'm getting younger every year -- Hooray! A couple of my friends celebrated my birthday on Sunday (thank you, guys/gals, a lot), as well as Andrew's, whose birthday was 2 days earlier than mine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-19/Birthday2007.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-19/Birthday2007.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;This is Andrew from Hong Kong -- in his freshman year (1st). And the uncanny thing is that he's born in 1988 -- my younger brother's age! It's kinda weird when I think about it, but yeah. I'm totally cool with that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;My search for a summer job is finally settled. Praise God! Praise God for networks! ;-) Haha. I think I'm totally into the &lt;strong&gt;transitional phase of my life&lt;/strong&gt;. I'm feelin' it. Student-to-Professional. How do I know this? Simple -- Because I don't really feel like slacking this vacation (... and I &lt;em&gt;usually&lt;/em&gt; wish I could just slack). For years, my general &lt;em&gt;student life&lt;/em&gt; philosophy was &lt;strong&gt;"Why work during the holidays whilst you are &lt;em&gt;still&lt;/em&gt; a student? Enjoy the holidays, Daryl. After all, you have your WHOLE life to work, once you officially start"&lt;/strong&gt;. And it made a lot of sense to me -- (and I still think students shouldn't work during their holidays unless they &lt;em&gt;have&lt;/em&gt; to). Cuz there's really a lot of life to live for during school holidays -- just find your activities and dive into your passions. But for me, this upcoming holiday season, being my last ... I suddenly feel like I need to work! I feel like I would have had underachieved in some way or another if I sat at home all day and studied (or slacked). And that's why I know I'm different now -- I'm starting to mutate into ... a laborer! *horror* (of horrors)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;I was kinda worried about not getting a summer job, because quite ashamedly, I hadn't submitted my personal Resumé or my Cover Letter to any company yet (that is, up until this Monday) -- and it was late. Oh so late. As late as everybody at Choa Chu Kang cemetery. Every &lt;em&gt;body&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;strong&gt;The Late Mr. Yap Kuang Wern, Daryl.&lt;/strong&gt; But it wasn't exactly about laziness. The procrastination was partly due to the incessant editing &amp; polishing &amp;amp; touching up of my Resumé and Cover Letter. I kept wondering how I could add &lt;em&gt;this&lt;/em&gt;, take out &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt;, realign &lt;em&gt;those&lt;/em&gt; lines, reword &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; phrase, get multiple opinions from people ...... basically, doing &lt;em&gt;everything&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;anything&lt;/em&gt; possible that I thought made it look better, perfect, &lt;em&gt;par excellence&lt;/em&gt;. And as a result, I never ended up satisfied with how it looked. That's what my most wise and worthy Dad would eloquently call "&lt;u&gt;The Paralysis of Analysis&lt;/u&gt;". And it is what I would jestingly phrase: "Beyond analysis, into ANAL-ysis". &lt;strong&gt;BIG time ANAL-yzing.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;And this is how a rounded concept of it might be represented pictorially:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-19/ElephantsButt.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-19/ElephantsButt.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;--------------------------------------- Just Being Anal --------------------------------------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;The summer internship will be at Standard Chartered -- and &lt;em&gt;that's&lt;/em&gt; a blessing to me. Cuz after having worked previously at a very small company before, I realized that those type of places weren't quite my cup of tea. So this time I dreamed of some place big instead. Some place scary. Some place massive, and that would appear challenging (as a general notion). And I hope it is. I hope I have to dive in. Take the leap of faith and confidence. I hope I don't pour coffee (actually, I never made coffee before in my life, so that &lt;em&gt;would&lt;/em&gt; be a challenge. Haha. Cuz I don't really drink it. Keeps my teeth white, you see? *sparkle* ... *ting*). I'm looking forward to the work. I'm pumped. I'm re-motivated once more. I want to go that extra mile ... again. Hmm ... that sounds &lt;strong&gt;so&lt;/strong&gt; familiar. That sounds a mixed tinge of the recent bittersweet. Wait... I have to go find that quote. Okay, topic change:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;"cause you're ..go-the-extra-mile kinda person"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;And the funny thing is ... it's that &lt;em&gt;extra mile&lt;/em&gt; that makes it all the more painful when, at crunch time between you two, when it's trial by fire, when push comes to shove, it turns out that they might not actually appreciate your &lt;em&gt;extra mileage&lt;/em&gt; enough to work things out until a breakthrough occurs. They sell a little short. So did they really mean those words? People say things all the time. Maybe it was the polite thing to say to me at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But I'll believe they did only what they could muster.&lt;/strong&gt; I'll believe they meant what they said, but that they just weren't cognitively or emotionally equipped to accept my perspective when it was most needed. I'll decide that there's goodness in there that just can't be unravelled. And quite unexpectedly, it helps me see them still &lt;em&gt;every bit as beautiful&lt;/em&gt; as before they walked away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;All of a sudden, I realize these things actually happen everywhere.&lt;/strong&gt; People start sharing with me their own experiences. The story is essentially the same -- it's a friendship gone awry, involving girl and guy. (Hey, that rhymes!). :-) It's about the status between friends taking its first step into unknown territory. And it's about two parties with entirely different perspectives and approaches to handling it ... like, &lt;u&gt;as a hypothetical scenario&lt;/u&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"You've been behaving weirdly ever since."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;"No, I'm not. You're reading too much." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Yes, you are acting avoidantly ... so let's rectify it."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;"I can't do it your way, sorry. I just don't wanna deal with it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"What do you mean? Then just let things collapse? I think y&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ou misunderstand my intent."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;"I don't. It's just that this is the only way I know how."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"What about all the friendship guarantees? The promises?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"It's a different context. It doesn't apply here. And you're misinterpreting me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"But I feel I'm seeing it as it is. You're being extreme. It doesn't have to be like this."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;"This way is better."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"No, it's not. It's destructive."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"But it will be less destructive."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"You don't know that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I already choose to believe I do."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's obviously a lot more complex than &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt;, but I think that pretty much nails the essential features of this sort of predicament. &lt;strong&gt;One party believes they can still remain good friends if they try. The other party doesn't believe it's possible -- they want, essentially, a pretty major cut-off -- they don't have faith in either you nor themselves to succeed -- and you're just not &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; important to them either.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, sooner or later, one party has gotta give in. &lt;strong&gt;My feeling is that ... the one more concerned about reconciliation is bound to lose.&lt;/strong&gt; The one less concerned about reconciliation can afford to be a little more inward-looking -- they would inevitably end up doing what would make it easier for their ownselves. They can afford to be just a little bit more ungenerous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if you're the one who finally decides to give in to the other person's method of doing things, the tricky part is how to do it without being resentful for having given in -- it's always a martyr's complex. I know that only too well. &lt;strong&gt;Cuz if &lt;u&gt;both&lt;/u&gt; don't give in ... it can only get worse. If the other person is simply incapable of accepting your way, then it is almost like "your destiny" to have to give in first (to accept it their style).&lt;/strong&gt; And that actually accentuates your own hurt -- the fact that they are able to think/mope far less (compared to you) about the severance cuz of their mindset. It's like there's no&lt;em&gt; balanced distribution of sadness&lt;/em&gt; between the both of you -- you sense &lt;em&gt;more&lt;/em&gt;, by virtue of giving up your style. And I'm sorry about that. I really am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone understand what I mean, in your own life experiences with others? ... (my Christian friends, particularly, since we're virtually obligated to a reconciliatory approach). Share with me your own unique experiences and sentiments next time. I'd love to hear it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am fully aware of having to prepare myself for hard emotional times ahead once I accept the decisions of someone else over mine. God can seem far at those times -- cuz it just don't seem fair enough. But He never fails to slip an Ace in my backpocket secretly. I won't realize it's there until the time is right -- and then He'll pull it out. &lt;strong&gt;Until then, I reflect most of the time, mourn some of the time, but am given strength &lt;em&gt;all&lt;/em&gt; the time.&lt;/strong&gt; With each hurt to endure, I swear that God pushes me through. So, God give me strength to run the extra mile ... again and again. Cuz it's all His prepared pathways. He makes it worth running. And if you sought His wisdom, then know this: no matter whether you ended up hurt, &lt;strong&gt;people were &lt;em&gt;still&lt;/em&gt; worth running for&lt;/strong&gt;. That's why you ran with and &lt;em&gt;for&lt;/em&gt; them. &lt;u&gt;You knew it at the start. So remember it at the end.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I don't know what kinds of hurt you people have at the moment, but I'll be willing to bet most people will relate to the very same things I'm alluding to, at some point in their lives or another. You could be the "less reconciliatory" type. Or the "more reconciliatory" type. Either way, you're bound to have some doubts -- about your decision, and/or about your conduct.&lt;/strong&gt; When you do, drop me a line. I'll bite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So when your journey with a friend meets with a crisis that makes it seem like it wasn't worth running, remember ... it's just that &lt;em&gt;sometimes&lt;/em&gt;, it &lt;em&gt;could&lt;/em&gt; be that you've reached the end of that &lt;em&gt;extra mile&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt; If God thinks you ran well, then your "bad" situation wasn't really a roadblock. It was actually the finish line of that leg of the race. You completed that leg. There was no prize, because in the marathon of your life, the trophy's supposed to be at the end, not at the stages. You might really sincerely desire to work things out with them -- but not everyone is that dedicated. &lt;u&gt;And &lt;strong&gt;if&lt;/strong&gt; that happens to be the case, then can you &lt;em&gt;let go&lt;/em&gt; of that person, if they need you to let them be?&lt;/u&gt; &lt;strong&gt;You'll have one more extra mile to run for their sake -- but this time, they won't be running with you -- and that's hard to swallow without blaming them.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Yet sometimes, that's the most meaningful "extra mile" to run, cuz you're re-learning the concept of "the extra mile"&lt;/strong&gt; -- you will soon realize it's the longest mile you ever ran for them -- you're learning to do it unconditionally now -- without reciprocations for your goodwill. Can you be thankful for having known them when you do it? You each might have &lt;em&gt;different&lt;/em&gt; new places to run from here on, meant for different abilities, different levels, different stages of growth. Can you be gracious? Do you need to forgive? Or perhaps open-minded about their reaction, no matter how irrational it seems to you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cuz we don't all take the same trail &lt;em&gt;all&lt;/em&gt; the time. And so, you thank the Lord for that person, you take a deep breath, and you run again in confidence on your next mile. Most times, you're really on another calling for good. But sometimes, that person meets you again somehow, somewhere --&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; for these unpredictable paths we tread &lt;em&gt;can&lt;/em&gt; intertwine in mysterious ways, as though our life's journeys play a duet in counterpoint, its ambiguous fragility carefully spun with silky reconcilation upon reconciliation.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;And believe me, whichever your portion might be, if you faithfully keep your pace through it all, &lt;u&gt;you'll finish that marathon&lt;/u&gt;. &lt;strong&gt;And so will&lt;/strong&gt; that beautiful person. I can't ask for more. I can't. :-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;[The above entry is especially dedicated in loving memory of 2 guys I know facing this now, but who don't read here, as far as I'm aware. Good luck, y'all.]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; :-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-5553967206394263008?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/5553967206394263008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=5553967206394263008&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/5553967206394263008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/5553967206394263008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2007/04/elvis-gets-married-and-goes-extra-mile.html' title='Elvis Gets Married / &quot;The Extra Mile&quot;'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-19/th_DanielElvis1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-6530479646108821061</id><published>2007-04-09T12:52:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-19T13:47:23.748+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Behold! The Clothes Have Arisen!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Ah, the troubles of public washing facilities. Here, I stumble upon a curious personal experience. A tale of 4 washing machines, 4 dryers, and 2 men ... at 3 am in the morning. Let's rewind a little ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I had a brand new pair of nice Lee jeans (same &lt;a href="http://www.asos.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;ASOS.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; spree) that I was washing for the first time (I washed it in a separate machine from the rest of my laundry, since it was new). It was set for 38 mins - the length of the wash cycle. So imagine my surprise when I came down for my clothes about an hour later, and saw that the wash cycle for the machine with the jeans in it still had 33 minutes to go. Obviously, my cycle had completed, and perhaps someone else was washing his own clothes in the machine now. But where were my jeans? It's normal protocol to take them out if you're the next user.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Clothes thieves are rampant on campus -- cuz it's easy to steal unsupervised clothes that are being washed. There are several ways to do this --- but perhaps the best way to describe it is via the categories of "direct theft" &amp;amp; "indirect theft". Direct theft is simply snitching clothes outright -- but if the thief unluckily gets caught red-handed, he really has no good alibi. Instead, indirect theft is a safer option, because it involves using deft sleight-of-hand to "conveniently mix" someone else's much-coveted nice shirt/pants/etc in your pile while they are not around, so you can at least claim 'accidental ignorance' in the unlikely event that you're ever caught ("ooops ... I didn't realize. This jeans is yours? By golly, what a silly mistake" ... that sorta excuse). In the first place, the advantage here is that few people can remember the exact number of clothes in their bundle -- so the probability that they will forget a specific piece of clothing is high. By the time they realize what is missing -- it is too late. Their well-loved garment would be somewhere on eBay, selling for a neat profit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;At first, I simply thought all this "mixing" was a slight mistake on this stranger's part, not theft. Cuz we all make mistakes sometimes. Perhaps in the highly unlikely (but not impossible) event of him being unable to see a perfectly dandy pair of jeans in a washing machine that &lt;em&gt;even&lt;/em&gt; indicated the load still inside, he might have thrown his clothes in over it -- and so that would mean my jeans were probably inside that liquid coffin, cartwheeling reluctantly with a stranger's clothes. Oh well. No worries. I would simply be patient and come back in another 33 minutes time after his cycle completes, and extract my jeans from his pile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I came back on the dot, extracted my jeans from his wash, and put it in the dryer. Off I went to consume a cheesecake for a couple of minutes, then I came back to the laundry room, half hoping I would spot this mystical "mixer" guy of mine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And there he was -- in the flesh!&lt;/strong&gt; Mystery man of the moment. He was tall and slightly scruffy. Unshaven. I had honestly never seen him before in my hall. In fact, I wasn't even sure if he was a student. He looked a tad older. Where was he from, if not? Now, he was just about to take his clothes out of the washer, until he saw me. He had them in two bundles (in two different machines) -- of which one of the bundles was the one 'mixed-in' with my jeans (that is, before I extracted it). He moved the clothes from his first bundle to the dryer. Yet as long as I was in the room, he was hesistant to take out his second bundle to put into the dryer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;That got me a little suspicious. Well, if he was innocent and oblivious to the fact that my jeans were in there, why isn't he taking it out? Shouldn't he feel like he was doing something normal? Could it be that he thought I might forget about a single pair of jeans, since I had lots of other clothes to wash? Could it be that he didn't want me to see my jeans in that bundle?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I don't think he realized yet that I had &lt;em&gt;already&lt;/em&gt; taken my jeans out. It was already in one of the dryers, tumbling away joyfully in freedom -- redeemed from a stranger's watery grave, saved by its true owner from a lifetime's tragedy on the wrong hips -- Hips of sin that did not pay for the price of those jeans.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I was curious to see what this guy would do next, so I took my own sweet time foolin' around with some of my clothes, pretending to be busy arranging them. I faced slightly away from him, appearing oblivious to all else ... but all the while, observing him with my peripheral vision.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;In my discreet surveillance, I caught him peering towards that singular machine, and even touching the door of it, considering briefly, retreating back. But he still would not take his second bundle out!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;And yes, I would not stop arranging my clothes either. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;It became clear to me that I was not the only one in the room on 'peripheral-vision surveillance-mode'. The question is ... did he know I was secretly onto him?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Eventually, he decided to leave the laundry room -- his second bundle still inside the washing machine. How queer. I had a hunch that he was perhaps waiting for me to leave before coming back to the laundry room. Where could he be? I left the laundry room and entered the toilet just slightly down the corridor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;When I opened the toilet door, it immediately smashed right into his face -- he was hiding behind the toilet door! Oh my goodness. Why, good sir? I could only gather he was staking-out behind there, listening against the toilet door for the sound of the laundry room door to open and close, and my footsteps to saunter off (which would indicate to him that I had left).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;He gave me one of those embarrassed looks when I caught him hiding -- and headed straight out the toilet door. In my mind, I thought: "T&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;his is a most strange fellow". He's almost intriguing enough to put on a comic strip. Honestly, I would have liked to have given him the benefit of the doubt (and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;certainly I did at the start). But his non-verbal behavior was too telling. Thus his guilt, too compelling. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;What would drive a fully grown man to hide behind a toilet door at 3 am in the morning? I had to give extra brownie points for that. Was the boogey-man coming, or was it just me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I decided not to spend too long in the toilet -- my guess was that he went back to the laundry room. And that's exactly where&lt;/span&gt; I found him. He stopped short from taking his clothes out of the washing machine when he saw me enter, and gave another embarrassed look. What a peculiar character. No innocent person (who should be acting normally) behaves like that. The nation's kleptomaniacs, filchers, and thieving pilferers need to start a union -- perhaps to lobby Congress for formalized acting classes. To appear a little more smooth and oblivious-looking when pussyfooting around. Even crime is an art.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I decided he had endured enough scares for the day. So I picked up a bunch of my other clothes and left the laundry room. It would serve no real purpose confronting him. I should just let it go, and let him be. After all, I have my jeans back. Within the next few seconds after I leave, he will soon roll away the door to that watery grave, but find the coveted brand new jeans missing from amidst his pile. A miracle! This Easter, even the denim cloth will disappear.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;God doth add a tinge of humor to the season.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-08/LeeJeans.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-08/LeeJeans.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-6530479646108821061?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/6530479646108821061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=6530479646108821061&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/6530479646108821061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/6530479646108821061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2007/04/behold-easter-clothes-have-arisen.html' title='Behold! The Clothes Have Arisen!'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-08/th_LeeJeans.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-541545034707599821</id><published>2007-04-01T17:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-19T14:02:55.770+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Monterey &amp; An Exclusive Techno Offer!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;It was a day trip down to &lt;strong&gt;Monterey Bay&lt;/strong&gt; on Wednesday with CS, Jeslyn &amp; Jonathan. We rented a car, and drove away. It's about 2 hours south of Stanford. Lovely coastline... oooh. You have to pay US$9 for a 17-mile drive along the famed Pebble Beach, which is kinda silly. But it's totally worth it. Ah, the beautiful West Coast ... that's California. And yes, the West Coast in America is really the &lt;em&gt;West Coast&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;strong&gt;In Singapore, the West Coast and East Coast is really the South Coast.&lt;/strong&gt; Hmmm ... it doesn't quite hit you till ya think hard about it, huh? :-) Maybe it's to create the impression that Singapore has more beaches than it really does. What a ploy to deceive! Why, those bureaucrats ......&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000000;"&gt;I'm attempting to eat live jellyfish at the Monterey Bay Aquarium ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-01/MontereyBay1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-01/MontereyBay1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-01/MontereyBay2.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-01/MontereyBay2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-01/MontereyBay3.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-01/MontereyBay3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-01/MontereyBay4.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-01/MontereyBay4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000000;"&gt;The good folk at Monterey Bay are &lt;em&gt;very&lt;/em&gt; into protecting sea otters. As you can see, they've taken their enthusiasm a tad too far.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;On a more insane note (as we shall soon see), Kwanie and I were discussing home studio recording techniques and stuff yesterday. For some reason, he sent me a recording of Elsie singing a rendition of "The Lord's Prayer" (oh ... she &lt;em&gt;does&lt;/em&gt; have a sweet voice, wouldn't you know?), as well as an old audio recording of a worship session from &lt;strong&gt;YF Camp 2004&lt;/strong&gt;. That's the camp at Serangoon Gardens South School (SGSS). Yes, the one that had a 45-min DVD video dedicated to its memory. What a great camp! Oh, if any of you would like the DVD, lemme know! :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's share a photo for old times' sake:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-01/ZYFCamp2004.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-01/ZYFCamp2004.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;During one of the worship sessions in that camp, Timmy Ng led the YF Campers in a very foreign-languaged, tribal-styled, bongo-driven song called "We Are Marching In The Light Of God"&lt;/strong&gt; (when translated to English). I'm guessing some of you might remember it. Really catchy tune. Well anyway, we had our audio gear set up there in the room at the time, and Kwanie recorded it down onto the computer. :-) Let me just embed it later on down below so that you eager beavers can check out the song. Oh yes, all of you ... you &lt;em&gt;know&lt;/em&gt; you want to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;After listening to it, I suddenly had the craziest idea wash over me. Everything in my demure and genteel upbringing repeatedly coaxed me over and over, from a quiet whisper to a piercing scream: &lt;strong&gt;"Techno ... Trance ... Dance ... Prance on France ... Catch a louse, Mickey Mouse, DJ Darlie in da house!"&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Okay, that's just a joke. Haha. But I was truly overwhelmed by a non-rosy, non-soppy, non-wussy kind of inspiration. Sometimes I feel Classical, sometimes I feel R&amp;amp;B, sometimes I feel Instrumental, sometimes I'm Solo Guitar, sometimes I'm all Pop, sometimes I'm a bit of a Rocker. But today ... oh today .... Today, I'm definitely Techno.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;*Gasp!*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Like a musical zombie raised from my centuries-old grave, I had little choice but to heed the call -- slave to the mystical beat within me.&lt;/strong&gt; Using the evil synths, undead microphones, vampire vocoders, infernal keyboard, monster cables, phantom power, and darklord virtual effects rack from my lair, I loaded up my fearsome netherworld MIDI gear and audio editor. My festering skeletal fingers tapped button upon button, hammered key upon key, dialed knob upon knob ... and thus I spent the next few unearthly hours concocting together several dubious ideas in a suspicious magical music pot, whipping up a free funride for all you who didn't have as great a Christmas last year as you might have hoped for (which includes me). &lt;strong&gt;The important and necessary question I had to keep asking myself was "What would Ah Beng do?"&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;And here is the result ......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;The Original&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;2004 YF Camp Singers - We Are Marching In The Light Of God&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;embed pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" src="http://www.odeo.com/flash/audio_player_standard_gray.swf" width="300" height="52" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" allowscriptaccess="always" wmode="transparent" flashvars="valid_sample_rate=true&amp;external_url=http://www.upok.net/triskaidekaphobe/Audio%20Files/1%20-%20Original%20-%20Zion%20YF%20Camp%202004%20Singers%20-%20We%20Are%20Marching%20In%20The%20Light%20Of%20God%20(live).mp3"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(drag the slider to fast-forward / or to jump to any part of the song)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;The All New '07 Release&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;DJ Yappa 2007 Remix - We Are Marching In The Light Of God&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" src="http://www.odeo.com/flash/audio_player_standard_gray.swf" width="300" height="52" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" allowscriptaccess="always" wmode="transparent" flashvars="valid_sample_rate=true&amp;amp;external_url=http://www.upok.net/triskaidekaphobe/Audio%20Files/2%20-%20Remix%20-%20Zion%20YF%20Camp%202004%20Singers%20(feat.%20DJ%20Yappa)%20-%20We%20Are%20Marching%20In%20The%20Light%20Of%20God%20(DJ%20Yappa%20Zion%20Techno%20Remix).mp3"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;To download the files in &lt;u&gt;mp3 format&lt;/u&gt; into your computer, go to:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.upok.net/triskaidekaphobe/Audio%20Files/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#3333ff;"&gt;http://www.upok.net/triskaidekaphobe/Audio%20Files/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;If you are willing to listen to the original, followed by my remix to compare, you may be delighted to know I have recently decided to offer my techno services to all genders, races, and ages.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;For a modest fee of only S$999.99 and 1 baht, (payable by cheque to "Daryl Yap"), I will offer to do for anyone personally-tailored versions of "One Voice, It Only Takes A Spark, Paul &amp;amp; Barnabas Preached The Gospel, and so on". Specially for Elders and Pastors, no matter what your denominational preference, at only S$199.99 extra and 1 rupiah, I am willing to do any hymn you desire, at any tempo you desire (but subject to minimum of 144 beats per second). Hurry, whilst the season lasts! Valid till 15 April 2007. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Don't be the only one to miss out on this exclusive April Fools' offer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-541545034707599821?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/541545034707599821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=541545034707599821&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/541545034707599821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/541545034707599821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2007/04/monterey-exclusive-techno-offer.html' title='Monterey &amp; An Exclusive Techno Offer!'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-04-01/th_MontereyBay1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-8709992542041404278</id><published>2007-03-24T17:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-19T14:03:53.649+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Never Offer An Anti-Cellulite Patch To A Woman</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;A funny thing happened today. :-) I had this box of &lt;strong&gt;L'oréal&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;u&gt;anti-cellulite&lt;/u&gt; patches for a while, which came &lt;em&gt;free&lt;/em&gt; with a shipment of clothes I ordered from an online store (yes, from &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.asos.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#3333ff;"&gt;ASOS.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;). Why they thought I was female is baffling to me, since I bought all men's clothes. Maybe it was because I bought that&lt;/span&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-02/SkinnyPinkTie.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#f986f8;"&gt;pink tie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;, leading them to imagine that I have female tendencies. Which ... okay ... I do sometimes, emotionally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naturally, being the wonderful human being that I was, I thought it a waste to throw such a spanking new box of goodies away when a perfectly healthy female friend could be happily using it. So after considering the dangers in offering it to any given female friend, I decided to go ahead and ask dear ole &lt;a href="http://moonshinehollow.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Clarissa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;if she wanted it ... and pre-empt any problems by giving her some assurances beforehand --- that I clearly did &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; think she was fat. I just thought it a waste to let such a product go unused. Haha!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt; :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as I found out, such a disclaimer does not change things one bit. :-P ... lol. The moment you offer anti-cellulite patches, you're dead. Gone. Done. Over. Byebye. :-) Simple rule of thumb, really. Charity, honesty, a spirit of sharing, a spirit of caring, not wasting products ... it matters not. For God hath not made a virtue in this world powerful enough to redeem you from such a course of action. :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, Clarissa is not the most difficult of women. Haha!!&lt;br /&gt;She's not angry, though she teased me about my foolishness. :-) Thank you, Clarissa. Very kind of you to forgive my manly misdemeanor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;Haha. So I learnt once again that thorough explanation to girls in no way assures deeper understanding nor acceptance of intent. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;I stand helpless in this male body of mine. If I were a girl offering it ... ah, now &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; would be a completely different story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Women. Sigh, they have taught me &lt;em&gt;so&lt;/em&gt; many important lessons about irrationality. In fact, I think I love them for it, despite how painful it can be to endure sometimes. :-) Oh, you have &lt;em&gt;no&lt;/em&gt; idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And for all you clueless young boys out there, remember from Guru Daryl's lessons in life ... &lt;strong&gt;don't offer women anti-cellulite patches&lt;/strong&gt;. It is a no no. Repeat after me: "no no".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good. :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;To the benefit of us guys:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a matter of curiousity, I decided to ask (over MSN) one of our dear pastors in Zion Church (whose identity will be kept in partial mystery ... haha) with whom I chit-chat from time to time (for both serious &amp;amp; nonsensical stuff in life). I did this to assess if &lt;u&gt;other men&lt;/u&gt; of my cultural upbringing might have done the same thing. For the purposes of your tutorial in "female education", let's just substitute his name as &lt;strong&gt;Uncle "Love"&lt;/strong&gt;. Here's the verdict ...... :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Daryl:&lt;/strong&gt; Can I ask you a question?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Uncle "Love":&lt;/strong&gt; sure&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Daryl:&lt;/strong&gt; Let's say you have a free box of anti-cellulite patches for women (it came free with a shipment of clothes I bought from this online store)... and you really have no use whatsoever for them. So you think "Aha.... maybe my female friends might find a use for it" .... Would you offer it to a girl with the idea that she might wanna use it or whatever? Or would you throw that box away cuz that is &lt;u&gt;really&lt;/u&gt; what's &lt;strong&gt;best&lt;/strong&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Uncle "Love":&lt;/strong&gt; what are they for? please enlighten?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Daryl:&lt;/strong&gt; Huh? You don't know what "cellulite" is? It's like... fat globules, or some fatty thing that women hate. I'm guessing anti-cellulite patches help to lessen/remove such fats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Uncle "Love":&lt;/strong&gt; oh... this is a personal choice, no right or wrong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Daryl:&lt;/strong&gt; No ... I don't mean it in a "is it morally right?". I have no issue with that. I'm talking about ...... is it "politically correct" to offer a woman ... ANY woman anti-cellulite patches (&lt;em&gt;eg&lt;/em&gt;. your grandma, your mother, your sister, your g/f, your friend who is a girl)? Will they appreciate your kind gesture, no matter how good your intention is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Uncle "Love":&lt;/strong&gt; what is wrong with offering them? unless you know something I dont know. Different woman respond differently. Some being too sensitive will think that you think they are fat. Others will think "why not slim down further?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Daryl:&lt;/strong&gt; Thank you. Based on the way you have responded, and a recent experience of mine, I have no idea how you have managed to stay married for so long. :-D&lt;br /&gt;You have either ... married a man ... OR ... your wife secretly hates you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to think I saved this box for so many weeks (and caught sight of it &lt;u&gt;everyday&lt;/u&gt; at the foot of my cupboard!) cuz I thought some female friend of mine might find a use for it. Haha. Come to think of it, I was really silly. :-P Daryl! What were you thinking?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-03-24/Anti-CellulitePatches.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-03-24/Anti-CellulitePatches.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Time for the trashcan, oh ye despised L'oréal. :-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-8709992542041404278?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/8709992542041404278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=8709992542041404278&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/8709992542041404278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/8709992542041404278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2007/03/never-offer-anti-cellulite-patch-to.html' title='Never Offer An Anti-Cellulite Patch To A Woman'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-03-24/th_Anti-CellulitePatches.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-1961920035666190021</id><published>2007-03-15T15:03:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-19T14:05:44.893+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Beware The Ides Of March!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;After waiting ages for a CD via the mail, it finally came (after more than 1½ months!). It was the Tommy Emmanuel "Endless Road" album. I already had it, but wanted another one. Don't ask me why. Well, okay, cuz it was a slightly different packaging? :-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;But man, it looked like it had been damaged in the shipping process. Cuz the CD case had a small crack running along it. And if you map that same position, there was that same crack running along the CD itself. But since the CD &lt;em&gt;looked&lt;/em&gt; structurally intact to me overall, I thought to myself, "hmm... I wonder if it'll still play".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Whoopeedoo. How smart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;So I put it into my CD-ROM drive.... and it started spinning. It spins at a very high speed -- of course, we don't notice that until something &lt;em&gt;fantastic&lt;/em&gt; happens. All of a sudden, there was a HUGE pop. The front panel of the CD-ROM drive literally flew out (along with a lot of smaller debris once known as Tommy Emmanuel's "Endless Road" CD). YES... flew. Several feet out. A mini 'non-fiery' explosion. Like grenade shrapnel without the accompanying heat. The CD had split into several major &amp; tiny segments -- some of which are still stuck in the deep recesses of the drive. The drive, needless to say, is a goner -- I had to extract its tray with a plier. This, boys &amp;amp; girls, is why CDs are &lt;em&gt;dangerous&lt;/em&gt;. Especially those with small, harmless-looking cracks in them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;They lie! Remember, it's not worth your life to take them lightly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-03-15/CD-ROMDrive.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-03-15/CD-ROMDrive.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Aye, it's the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.infoplease.com/spot/ides1.html" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#3333ff;"&gt;Ides of March&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;, that's why. I mean, Julius Caesar was assassinated this very day, for crying out loud. I should just take my losses and thank God no one's stabbed me yet. :-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-1961920035666190021?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/1961920035666190021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=1961920035666190021&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/1961920035666190021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/1961920035666190021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2007/03/beware-ides-of-march_15.html' title='Beware The Ides Of March!'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-03-15/th_CD-ROMDrive.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-3965094009640405103</id><published>2007-03-09T14:13:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-19T14:06:25.367+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Upside Down, Bouncin' Off The Ceiling</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;I think I just had the best lesson &lt;em&gt;ever&lt;/em&gt;! By the time the class was over, I was bubbling with new knowledge, and walked out of that classroom with a huge smile on face. Cuz it had been totally worth my time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I was a tad deviant in class today, spending those 2½ hours &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; concentrating as hard as I normally might (oops). Instead I was sneakily surfing guitar websites on my laptop. *rubs hands together gleefully* :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But mind you, I was learning, and learning, and learning. Maybe this is what they call interdisciplinary education. I was told to read widely and make an effort to learn stuff beyond the assigned class material. :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In that brief period, I learnt about tonewoods used on guitars, the details that go into the construction of a fine hand-made guitar -- bindings, purflings, fillets, how wood is quartersawn for guitar-making, and all the wonderful things that I always wanted to explore, but never did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you, Mr. Sheppard! Yes, Gerald Sheppard is a luthier (a guitar-maker). And his work is &lt;em&gt;so&lt;/em&gt; excellent, as was his informative website I spent oodles of time at. I suddenly feel obliged to link him here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.sheppardguitars.com/new_page_12.htm" target="_window"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#3333ff;"&gt;http://www.sheppardguitars.com/new_page_12.htm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My, aren't his guitars simply GORGEOUS?&lt;/strong&gt; Click around his Galleries. Just look at those backwoods! Man...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just received a lengthy rant from a helpful anonymous stranger telling me &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; to rant. Ironic. :-D&lt;br /&gt;It proceeded to deconstruct my psyche &amp; intent, educated me on a blog's ideal purposes, subtly implored me not to delude myself, and especially &lt;i&gt;not&lt;/i&gt; to write essays of lamentation. heh. Cute. Tough love, he disclaimed.&lt;br /&gt;I might have posted another 'essay' about it ... until I remembered he didn't like that, and was a bit skeptical of my feelings, thoughts &amp;amp; approach to begin with. My lamentations regarding his opinions whittled down to a brief paragraph &amp; the gentle reciprocal verdict: Rejected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-03-08/Dr.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-03-08/Dr.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tough love received and returned. :-) But thanks for trying. I did read it, after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Sunday, with the imminent danger of two term papers hanging in the air (they're completed now!), I decided to spend some time with friends from Chi Alpha Christian fellowship and go trampolining, which sounded like a promising use of time. There's this indoor fun-house sorta place that is chock full with trampolines. It was thoroughly fun just bouncing around without a reason or a brain, I must admit. I wonder if there's an age after which you just can't accept yourself doing stuff like that anymore. But obviously, I'm not there yet. :-) I'll play golf, later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-03-08/TheTrampolineTroupe.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-03-08/TheTrampolineTroupe.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were 3 sections -- a free-for-all multitude-of-trampolines area; a trampoline/foam-pit combo area; and ... my favorite section... Dodgeball on Trampolines! Hmmm.... suddenly, I feel an urge to purchase a set of Dodgeballs on eBay. Help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too bad I'm too much of a coward to do backflips. But Aaron was doing beautiful but psychotic stunts, as the incriminating evidence below might suggest. I tried to scale a wall too ... but it was pathetic, ungraceful, and ridiculed by a kid nearby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed width="430" height="389" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" src="http://s168.photobucket.com/player.swf?file=http://vid168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-03-08/Trampoline1.flv"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed width="430" height="389" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" src="http://s168.photobucket.com/player.swf?file=http://vid168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-03-08/Trampoline2.flv"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-3965094009640405103?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/3965094009640405103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=3965094009640405103&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/3965094009640405103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/3965094009640405103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2007/03/upside-down-bouncin-off-ceiling.html' title='Upside Down, Bouncin&apos; Off The Ceiling'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-03-08/th_Dr.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-2267455398774421132</id><published>2007-03-03T17:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-03-19T12:51:00.662+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love Mad Talent</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;There is some mad talent here. And I mean &lt;strong&gt;mad&lt;/strong&gt;. I thought I'd go to the Frosh Talent Show (&lt;em&gt;ie&lt;/em&gt;. starring only freshmen -- 1st year students at Stanford) cuz one of my friends was performing. She's &lt;a href="http://www.purevolume.com/christinaho" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;Christina Ho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, and she's got a really gorgeous voice. Silky, emotive, and anointed. Listening to it makes me wish I had HER voice ... haha, weird as that sounds. I'm not quite sure why, but every time I &lt;em&gt;hear a great voice&lt;/em&gt;, I get a really strange sensation -- and I become very conscious of my breathing. Maybe because I don't breathe normally when that happens, and I've got to tell myself to inhale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's just something so stunning about the human voice to me. I mean, we don't have a concept of how 'fabulous' a certain dog's bark is, or how desirable a horse's neigh is, right? We simply will &lt;em&gt;never&lt;/em&gt; respond to that type of sound in a "Wow! That is SO SO amazingly beautiful" sort of way. We're never struck by it for its beauty. Yet why are we bewitched by some &lt;strong&gt;human voices&lt;/strong&gt; then? That can be so enamoring to us. We were meant to feel for it in a way that we'd never apply to almost any other living thing. The closest I can think of is a bird. But even a "melodious chirp", though sweet, is usually flat -- it doesn't quite have the expressiveness &amp;amp; emotiveness that a great human singer is capable of. I can't imagine a bird's song moving me to tears ... but the human voice has, and will constantly, move me to tears time and again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Singing ... well, that's a very &lt;em&gt;pure&lt;/em&gt; sort of talent. But then at this same show... there was MAD talent. Stanford freshmen with unusual gifts. Enter Ryan Woessner, unicyclist extraordinaire. He did his stuff to the beat of music. I never knew there were so many ways to show off performance stunts on a unicycle! Insane. Must be seen to be believed. And one of the more 'traditional' tricks he did was to perform skipping-rope jumps using his unicycle. Come to think of it, why do human subculture communities think up stuff like that? Awesome. We mainstream guitarists are outdone. That's it! ... I'm gonna go buy me a skipping rope and make my guitar do duet jumps with me, whilst hula hooping at the same time to the beat of "Barbie Girl", for good measure. And oh, we'll hop over to the gym in unison too and lift free weights, after. Ryan holds the men's world record for the most number unicycle skipping rope jumps per minute --- 206.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I should point out that I'm a big fan of so-called 'useless' talent, mainly cuz I &lt;strong&gt;don't&lt;/strong&gt; think it's useless at all! It's superb for entertainment &lt;strong&gt;when&lt;/strong&gt; performed before an audience. It's rare. And it's amazing. I love it. If every talent was academic, or musical ... boy, that would be one heck of a boring world, wouldn't it? In watching the show today, I was reminded of the variety of skill sets, and the extent of talent in people around me, and it feels just awesome when they perform for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was another student, Frank Fan, who could solve a Rubik's Cube blindfolded. He was first given a randomly jumbled up Rubik's Cube by the emcee of the event. He looked at it to memorize its position, then later put on a blindfold, and solved it! Oh my gosh. That's scary. That's like having both a photographic memory AND keen knowledge of the algorithms needed to solve the Rubik's Cube. He could not get a SINGLE step wrong, or memorize the color positions on the randomly mixed-up cube wrongly, or he wouldn't be able to solve it blindfolded. Needless to say, in light of such a "mind-related" talent ... the Stanford students went wild when he did his thing. Frank is absolutely genius in its own right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of which, I was talking to Boon Sim on Thursday over dinner at the dining hall, and found out that he once memorized 'pi' to 200 decimal places ... FOR FUN!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, boys and girls, that's 3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693993751058209749445923078164062862089986280&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;3482&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;5342117067982148086513282306647093844609550582231725359408128481117450284102701938&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;52110555&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;964462294895493038196&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why, Boon Sim? WHY?? As baffling as that revelation was, I personally think it's fantastic. The point of memorizing 'pi' to 200 decimal places is so far beyond the point of being daft, that I end up being entirely intrigued by it. If you want to cross the threshold of good sense, at least be ridiculous about it. &lt;strong&gt;As the good Daryl Yap always says: "Why aim only to be &lt;em&gt;inane&lt;/em&gt;, when you can aim to be &lt;u&gt;insane&lt;/u&gt;?"&lt;/strong&gt; ... Thank you, Boon Sim, for applying this rule. :-) And you'd be happy to know that for the most part, these are normal, healthy students without psychological issues (or so I think). And they do know how to have fun like anyone else. If they weren't showcasing these really really unique skills of theirs, they would come across just like you and I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's our diversity and amazingly unique talents as humans ... this is what reminds me how wonderfully creative our Creator is in conjuring up the entire scope of human quirkiness. It shows me what an awesome sense of humor He has too! &lt;strong&gt;Yes, I *love* mad talent&lt;/strong&gt;. And if any of you out there has mad talent I don't yet know about, I would kill to see it. Trust me, I know it will be worth my time. :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since we're on the note of &lt;strong&gt;talents&lt;/strong&gt;, here's ventriloquist Shari Lewis for you, and her ever-loveable Lamb Chops. I could never get over how solid this performance was when I first saw it several months ago. I even bought a book entitled "&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Become-Ventriloquist-Your-Hand-Ventriloquism/dp/0486410862" target="_window"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;How To Become A Ventriloquist&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;" after watching it, for kicks. But unfortunately, it didn't turn me into a ventriloquist. Ha. This clip was before her TV show, when she was probably performing more at big venues ... and my oh my, she was a real fine, drop-dead gorgeous young lady back then. Although I put her video up as an embedded clip, you won't be able to watch the clip as an embedded video, so click on this direct link here: &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6QZc6GpU2dU" target="_window"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6QZc6GpU2dU&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; ... and s&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;ee what HER amazing talents are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;--------------------------- "The Minute Waltz" ---------------------------&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/6QZc6GpU2dU"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/6QZc6GpU2dU" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-2267455398774421132?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/2267455398774421132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=2267455398774421132&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/2267455398774421132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/2267455398774421132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2007/03/i-love-mad-talent.html' title='I Love Mad Talent'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-8699446340754579893</id><published>2007-02-26T15:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-19T14:07:49.983+08:00</updated><title type='text'>More Than Words, 比字多</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;It is SO satisfying when you get to collaborate with other musicians on a song everyone enjoys. I took part in a very very small-time 'talentime performance' for the heck of it. Yet I found myself feeling so light and blissful after the whole thing (maybe cuz we got free prizes out of it) that I instantly knew I was gonna blog about the experience:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So ... today, there was a 9-course CNY celebration dinner for Singaporeans in the Bay Area, complete with Lion Dance and all. I signed up for it thinking it was going to be some tiny dinner function of about 60-80 people or so. But there were about 400 or so people at this event alone (and it's obvious that this is clearly the minority - the rest simply didn't happen to sign up for the dinner). Imagine how many Singaporeans there must be around the San Francisco/Silicon Valley/San Jose area. Goodness. Most of those at the dinner were working, or had uprooted their families to come here. I was surprised our community was actually THAT large around these parts . I guess I had always perceived the Singaporean group here as mainly students from "Stanford" and "Berkeley". Come to think of it, that's a pretty understandable &lt;em&gt;but&lt;/em&gt; silly assumption. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-25/Daryl-Pointing-At-Camera.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-25/Daryl-Pointing-At-Camera.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;That's me attempting a "dangerous" aura, in yet another ASOS outfit (clearance sale, haha). A way cool purple shirt with cuffs ... along with that skinny pink tie that Amanda Goh selected. Finally, ye lucky children get to see what it looks like on me. Who's your daddy now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;During the dinner, they had an amateur catwalk fashion show. And a little talentime segment -- also amateurs, all. Which probably explains why I suddenly found myself involved in it. haha. When Clarissa first suggested my taking part in it, I was reluctant cuz a part of me doesn't really like "the process leading up to" having to perform. And yet, a minimum amount of pressure is what helps me improve as a musician. Nonetheless, I was in a somewhat depressive state at the time (late January) and tried to deflect the suggestion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;I recommended to her this Singaporean guy I knew from a rock-style A Cappella group here at Stanford -- Bryan (who btw, is a really excellent singer). Somehow, the suggestion came full circle -- Bryan emailed me about whether I'd like to play the guitar on "More Than Words". I'm not sure whether it was suggested to him by Clarissa or mere coincidence that he should feel an urge to take part in the talentime and then email me about whether I was interested. I didn't even know he knew I played the guitar. But regardless, once he said "More Than Words", I was hooked. I was sold. It was more than words. I was already pretty familiar with the song, and I thought it'd be a fun act. haha! In fact, I quickly found myself really really wanting to do that acoustic shredding part at the end of the song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I like to play the guitar more than sing. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE to sing. I have enjoyed performing guitar with vocals before, and still would. But I don't really like my own voice very much, to be frank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sicheng came onboard soon enough - and I felt like our trio bonded instantly. Even though we rehearsed just twice for the performance, I think we really really enjoyed working together. They got their harmonizing down pat way fast. Sicheng is also in an A Cappella group here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh my... the power of Bryan's lead vocals, along with Sicheng awesome harmonization, really made the song come alive for us. I provided instrumentation on the guitar (her name is Charis -- you can see her in my Blogger profile photo), and we had a blast :-) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;It was a privilege to play with you two. Thanks guys! And thank God for His gift of music!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it turned out that our item "More Than Words" won 1st prize! Sounds like a big deal? NOT! Haha. It's nothing to shout about! It's not like it's some legit talent show, and the participants were so few anyway. It's more like a fun thing for all of us, I guess. We didn't even know there were prizes until much later - long after deciding to give a performance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I loved to play the guitar, I thought I may as well throw in a solo performance on the guitar too as an additional item (the only instrumental performance in the talentime) - "Angelina" by Tommy Emmanuel -- and that got the so-called "3rd placing". I had just learnt that song recently, so I thought the opportunity was perfect to publicly fool around with a bit of my latest repertoire. haha. Fun, fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-25/Playing-Charis.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-25/Playing-Charis.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;The organizers unabashedly dubbed it the "Silicon Valley Talent Show" (as engraved on the trophies). hahaha ... I can imagine if we had to go up against a REAL San Fran Bay Area pro musician, we would just be a fart in the wind. Like, seriously. Those guys are &lt;em&gt;ownage&lt;/em&gt;. But I'd like to think we would go out as a smelly fart in a blaze of glory, at least. That would be a scent to remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;Actually, I had no idea they would be giving out trophies. The 1st place trophy was nice and heavy. But as you can see in the 3rd place trophy (the smaller one, duh) ... the "music staff" decoration is inverted! It can actually be removed, flipped around 180 degrees, and locked back into place. Maybe they were trying to say something about my music-making ... lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, as long as we're on the topic of music, I decided to employ a 2nd inversion, and flip the music staff right back where it &lt;em&gt;should&lt;/em&gt; be:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-25/Trophies.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-25/Trophies.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sicheng and I let Bryan (the center guy) keep the 1st place trophy. He clearly would have treasured having it the most, so it only seemed appropriate. There were also US$100 worth of plane travel vouchers -- for domestic U.S. flights -- and some sort of designer bag to split between us. Impossible. haha. We ended up just randomly dividing the spoils around. lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the additional 3rd place prize, I got a US$50 plane travel voucher .... as well as the same bag. It looked like an ordinary bag to me. I can't tell these things, really. But the ever resourceful Sicheng did some research on it, and it turned out to be a really expensive one: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fleurville.com/products/dj_bag.html" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#3333ff;"&gt;http://www.fleurville.com/products/dj_bag.html&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;US$118?? My gosh, you organizers should have given me cash!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mine's the plain Khaki one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here's what's interesting ... it was "designed with Dads in mind", according to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fleurville.com/products/dj_bag.html" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#3333ff;"&gt;that webpage&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;. It is supposed to be a bag for ALL purposes ... to the extent that they would think up something as ridiculous as it having a function for diaper changing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, did some Fleurville employee raise his hands in a product-concept meeting one day and say, "Hey boss, I think we would really fill a market need if only we would make a truly all-rounder bag that can change diapers as well".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why Billy, that's exactly what customers need these days! You're promoted."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-25/Dad.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-25/Dad.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And indeed I found a black foldable pad within the bag, which you're supposed to put your baby on, and then do up their diapers. What the heck? No kidding!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what? I think I'll just keep this bag tucked away in a nice safe corner, until I become a Dad myself. Then I'll whip it out again with awe-filled wonderment, to defend against the biochemical warfare waged by my baby son or daughter on that day. And behold, in that very hour, I shall proclaim, "Thank you, Fleurville, thank you. You were right all along". &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-8699446340754579893?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/8699446340754579893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=8699446340754579893&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/8699446340754579893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/8699446340754579893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2007/02/more-than-words.html' title='More Than Words, 比字多'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-25/th_Daryl-Pointing-At-Camera.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-3414842554537526647</id><published>2007-02-19T21:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-19T14:09:21.986+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chinese New Year Is The Best Invention Ever</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Ah yes, CNY celebrations &lt;em&gt;by&lt;/em&gt; Singaporeans &lt;em&gt;for&lt;/em&gt; Singaporeans. Just when I thought I would miss out on all the fanfare being here in the western world ... lo and behold, we celebrate in defiance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And back home in Singapore, I know my parents are collecting Ang Baos on my behalf. Geez, I don't even have to greet anyone, and the money still keeps rolling in. The Chinese make it too easy on me. I'm so glad for myths, legends, traditions, and the people who perpetuate them. Put a bit of Bak Kwa here and there, buy Chinese goodies, and suddenly you're in the mood. Never did you have to do &lt;em&gt;so little&lt;/em&gt; to generate so much revenue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, I was just thinking about all these practices like giving out Ang Baos. I mean, what a great concept! Who came up with it, for crying out loud? Knight him, I say. Give him an honorary doctorate, Google stock options, and huge tracts of land. Award him the Nobel Peace Prize post-humously. Cuz the man deserves it. He's right up there with the best of the scientist inventors. Here is a true-blue cultural inventor. What would we do without these pioneers? And some natural science purists think social science is a joke? I'm all for social science, and the 'fuzziness' that comes with it. There's probably nothing more heart-warming &amp;amp; "core-of-the-human essence" to me than our various cultures, societies, and the inexplicabaloso-ridiculouso celebratory attitude we hype them up with. Why do we do it? We just do! Awesome. And if they are dishing out free cash as part of the highlights of the season, why question its validity? This year, free money for me, no visitation needed. Hmm ... Talk about free-riding, I'm developing the wrong values here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Whatever.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who was the Chinese fella who thought it all up? What was he thinking? No, wait! ... what were the people who LISTENED to him thinking? Like, did he spread a rumor or give a public speech on the great and urgent need for married people to put money in little red packets and give them to singles? Those married people must have been stroking their beards, going "Hey, ya know what? He's totally right! Why didn't we realize this earlier? We &lt;em&gt;should&lt;/em&gt; give our cash away. It IS for luck."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is why China will be a world power soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the Eve, a bunch of us Singaporeans went to a chinese restaurant called Ming's Chinese Cuisine not too far from Stanford. Had Peking Duck and the usual chinese dishes. Okay, so here in the U.S., after the end of every meal at almost any Chinese restaurant, they give each person a Fortune Cookie. You crack it open and voila ... there's your life prediction for you. The irony is that it's a very Chinese-in-America thing to do. Certainly, it's not a Singaporean thing. I wonder if it is even done in China at all. Haha ... But hey, it's fun. I SO choose to believe the predictions. And I've had really interesting fortunes too. Check out this one I got at the dinner:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-19/FortuneCookie1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-19/FortuneCookie1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uncannily, it's a spot-on prediction! Weird. Cuz I will in fact be performing on the guitar in front of a crowd next week at yet &lt;i&gt;another&lt;/i&gt; Chinese New Year dinner celebration! (Goodness, we just keep eating, don't we?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, those numbers are supposed to be my "lucky numbers". Great for Toto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's one I got the day before the Eve, when I went to Jing Jing Restaurant alone to eat Guo Tie. Sounds so mysterious. Oooh, I'm excited. I'm just gonna believe it. That's what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-19/FortuneCookie2.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-19/FortuneCookie2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, at the end of the dinner I decided to pose with the very moody lion outside, using my ugliest face possible (no wait, actually, I &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; have uglier facial tricks, which I shall unleash upon mankind at a later date ... like maybe the Armageddon). Lisa took the shot, and quite frankly ... I've never heard her laugh so hard before! haha. Is the famous statute replica supposed to represent the evil mythical monster 'Nian' that the villagers fought and killed, and thus started celebrating CNY? I'll just take it that it is, and that's why he looks so depressed. You think &lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt; got problems? 'Nian' got &lt;em&gt;owned&lt;/em&gt; by a bunch of peasants with pitchforks. And every year, the Chinese just keep telling it to his face that they totally trashed him like a smelly garbage bag a long time ago in Beijing, or wherever the heck he was. And if it weren't enough, they proceed to jump under his skin these days, and force him to dance erratically to the sound of loud gongs, make him shake and stick his butt out violently and randomly like a Paris Hilton, jerk his other bodily parts around like he's got the Parkinson's, and then for no apparent reason at all, compel him to make tedious climbs to considerable heights, only to jump towards leafy green vegetables. Multiple times too! It's gotta hurt the ego, you must admit. Poor 'Nian'. *pat pat*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-19/CNYDinnerMe.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-19/CNYDinnerMe.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, we had a little Tang Yuan gathering. It was pretty decent, I think. :-) And I just realized there that one of my friends, whom I didn't think would be musical, actually has an innate muscial talent. :-) Nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Musical ability. That's something I appreciate in people very much. I would blog about music in a very romantic way now, except that it's way early in the morning already ... and there's probably a better time for that. Haha. Right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-3414842554537526647?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/3414842554537526647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=3414842554537526647&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/3414842554537526647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/3414842554537526647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2007/02/chinese-new-year-is-best-invention-ever.html' title='Chinese New Year Is The Best Invention Ever'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-19/th_FortuneCookie1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-8163173664209327668</id><published>2007-02-11T20:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-19T14:10:20.075+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tommy Emmanuel Concert</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;The indisputable highlight of this week has got to be watching the great &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.tommyemmanuel.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#3333ff;"&gt;Tommy Emmanuel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt; in concert!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;First a few words about the New Convert to Tommy Emmanuelism:&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to bring &lt;strong&gt;Aaron Polhamus&lt;/strong&gt;, a classical guitarist friend of mine, along - to acquaint him with the ways of Fingerstyle Guitar. Here's a fun fact about Aaron ... before he came to Stanford, he decided to spend two months out in the cold Alaskan waters working on a commercial fishing boat. Yeah, that's right, he decided to be a hardcore fisherman for a while. What an interesting character! And oh, when a bunch of us from the Chi Alpha Christian Fellowship went to Konocti Harbor in January for a retreat (where the weather is around freezing point), he did crazy stuff with a few other guys ... like jumping with only his underwear into the lake at near zero degree temperatures at the stroke of midnight! Apparently, they swam about 60 metres out, and stayed in the freezing water for almost 2 mins. Haha, it's a wonder they didn't start cramping up and drowning. Wow, now that I've typed it out, it sounds almost fun! Suddenly, I wish I had joined them ... but I was too chicken, I guess. Well, I did join them for ice-breakers. Yes, literally. We found this outdoor spa where the top layer of water had frozen overnight. So we broke off the pieces from the top of it and started karate-ing them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some videos of that:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed width="430" height="389" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" src="http://s168.photobucket.com/player.swf?file=http://vid168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-11/MOV02246.flv"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed width="430" height="389" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" src="http://s168.photobucket.com/player.swf?file=http://vid168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-11/MOV02248.flv"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed width="430" height="389" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" src="http://s168.photobucket.com/player.swf?file=http://vid168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-11/MOV02251.flv"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm particularly pleased with my Bruce Lee front-down kick. Poetic, poetic. Haha ... I really need to get out and do more crazy things like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, back to the concert! We drove down from Stanford to San Francisco City, which was about an hour away, to the beautiful &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.palaceoffinearts.org/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#3333ff;"&gt;Palace Of Fine Arts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt; where the concert was held. It was rainy weather. We were 10 minutes early AND illegally-parked, cuz there really wasn't any parking space left in the compound. The ultra-light raindrops sprayed across our squinted eyes as we bolted across the huge carpark to the concert hall. Thank goodness I was with Aaron, and not some girl who might have just forced me to wait in the car with her until the rain stopped. haha! I mean, it's Tommy Emmanuel we're here to watch! The show MUST go on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were already tons of people gathered in the hall, waiting religiously for the consummate master himself. There's always that sense of anticipation in the air before a concert. I always liked that feeling. It's part of the money's worth. haha. And I had front row seats which were gotten for only US$19 after Student Discount. Could you ask for more? :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The opening act was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.jakeshimabukuro.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#3333ff;"&gt;Jake Shimabukuro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt; - the Ukulele Virtuoso from Hawaii. Some of you might know him ... he's the white-shirted guy on YouTube playing the Beatles song &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O9mEKMz2Pvo" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#3333ff;"&gt;"While My Guitar Gently Weeps"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt; on his Ukulele. Totally amazing. Tommy, the more established veteran, was trying to give Jake a kickstart in his solo career. Hence, the opening act. I wish I could strum it like Jake can. That guy has an impeccable sense of rhythm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And obviously, Tommy was in his usual top form again. He's not just a guitar-player, mind you. He's an entertainer. He's funny ... and he really is the whole package of what a performer should be. He'd make you feel connected to him -- NOT "I'm the performer, and you've come to watch me". More like "You and I, we've come to participate in this fun thing together. Let's hang out!". He completely knocks down that invisible wall that exists between &lt;em&gt;World-Class Performer&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;mere audience member&lt;/em&gt;. He really makes you feel totally at ease with his stature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I practically video-ed his whole performance! So if any of you nuts out there want my videos, I'd totally share them with you. (One caveat: They are kinda shaky and all, and were not well-taken. I didn't monitor the flip-out digicam screen, since videography wasn't technically allowed in the theatre. I kept the LCD screen closed to remain inconspicuous, and simply made a guess-timate, and pointed the camera towards Tommy).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the performance, Aaron and I rushed out for autographs. Aaron told me he's now a fan -- and who wouldn't be after watching TE perform, really? I don't know why, but everytime I meet Tommy face-to-face, I start getting shy. I always wanted to take a "fun shot" with him, but I never find the guts to ask for it (even though I know TE will be totally game for it). Hence, the "boring, usual pose" ... like I had just graduated from college or something. I may as well have worn a ceremonial gown to the concert. haha... Oh well. Maybe next time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-11/TommyEmmanuelConcert.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-11/TommyEmmanuelConcert.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaron said something really interesting on the way back. He said when he watched Tommy, it was like the glory was going to God (TE is a Christian). Tommy seems to channel attention away from himself (even though all eyes are certainly on him), and it becomes clear that he's playing for a greater purpose. There's Tommy, his guitar ... and something "more". Something magical. And I must say it's true. You marvel at more than just him. You start to wonder in awe, "oh my god, where is all his talent coming from?" ... and yes, it IS from God, literally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This virtuoso really makes you appreciate the Giver of these talents. And that's a unique thing. It transcends himself, and touches you at your core when he performs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing Aaron said was equally intriguing: I was talking about how musicians who play the same instrument sometimes are tempted to 'verbally knock-down' each other, especially when they feel "threatened" about these other good players as being better than they. We human beings are not very gracious when our 'turf' is shared. And it's different for everyone - we get jealous all the time when someone comes along who exposes our insecurity about our respective crafts/responsibilities (eg. studies, musical abilities, sports, etc ... to name a few). Aaron said if you can't appreciate how talented some people can be in certain aspects, or if you get jealous when a friend comes along who is better than you at something you're supposed to be good at yourself ... then how will you ever learn to thank God for being the provider of these things? How will you ever truly be able to give Him the glory for what you see in people? You'd be missing the point about gifts and talents. And really, if we have the right attitude, then every beautiful talent you see in any given person should remind you of God, and that He gives people these amazing talents / variety of talents. And I think God &lt;strong&gt;wants&lt;/strong&gt; us to marvel at the people who possess them (I don't think He wants us to merely robotically say "God's glory, God's glory, God's glory", as if it were some sin to give any credit to people at all. I'm pretty sure He wants us to think they are cool too) -- for only when we are impressed by they who are &lt;em&gt;created&lt;/em&gt;, do we have a chance to think of the Creator. There is always a &lt;em&gt;channel&lt;/em&gt; of blessing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De Wen (who has the gift of encouragement) put it best: "Sometimes, God wants to glorify His servants". And it makes total sense. Cuz we have &lt;strong&gt;so&lt;/strong&gt; many 'heroes' in the Bible too. Men that God wanted to write about ... men that He wanted generations of people thousands of years later to read about -- Abraham, Joseph, Jacob, Moses, Noah, Paul, etc. Yes, they had flaws. But yes, God glorified them before other men for good reasons. And He does too for each of us, at various times in our life (since the Bible's pretty much complete by now. Who asked you not to be born earlier? haha). Anyway ... I reckon it would be foolish to engage in false humility during the times He wants to turn the spotlight on us. So, y'all ... thank God for the gifts you've been given, and don't be too "fakely" reserved about them. You might end up hiding His glory instead, and then &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; will be what's "taking away glory from Him". :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-8163173664209327668?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/8163173664209327668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=8163173664209327668&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/8163173664209327668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/8163173664209327668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2007/02/tommy-emmanuel-concert.html' title='Tommy Emmanuel Concert'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-11/th_TommyEmmanuelConcert.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-7983582035564856245</id><published>2007-02-09T16:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-02-09T21:45:46.841+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Yes, Da Blog Lives!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Okay, I've decided to keep this blog going ... for at least a season. The past 2+ weeks have been a trial run of sorts, and things have been in the "let's see if I &lt;em&gt;feel it&lt;/em&gt;" stage. However, I was just sharing with my Bible Study group just now about blogging - that I actually felt blogging might just have a &lt;em&gt;slight&lt;/em&gt; purpose at this point in my life. It would be healthy to express certain things out (especially things that initially frustrate me). Cuz when I face problems &amp;amp; trials ... at times, it would be deluding myself if I said I didn't actually know what the appropriate &lt;em&gt;Christian&lt;/em&gt; response to it should be. It's "spiritually intuitive". And even if it's not ... it's "personal-beliefs intuitive". It makes sense to be made accountable to &lt;em&gt;fundamental&lt;/em&gt; beliefs. Otherwise, it's &lt;em&gt;even&lt;/em&gt; harder to stick to them ... (it already is &lt;em&gt;way&lt;/em&gt; hard even with accountability!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, if someone offends me ... I need to forgive. Or ... if I'm cynical about life in general, I need to remember that I have already claimed God's promise that He works things out for the good of all believers (including me), ultimately. Or ... if I at first dislike someone for what they've somehow done / done-to-me ... then it is an opportunity to respond to them how I imagine Christ would have wanted me to, redefine things that need to be redefined, and then minimize any ego-centric expectations about what &lt;em&gt;they&lt;/em&gt; should be doing. Amidst healthy expectations (which are certainly necessary), there are bound to be some unhealthy expectations too, I guess. And then after doing these, I leave the rest to God, in a clear conscience that I tried my best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not that I don't feel upset about bad experiences (sometimes, super bad). I do. I think I feel any of the same emotions that any given human being would, if they went through it. Maybe more intensely even, given my 'relational nature'. And perhaps that is exactly why I need some degree of accountability from time to time. I am capable of unhealthy anger, of feeling intense bitterness, of being utterly cynical, of wallowing in the self-pity of feeling betrayed, of failing to see the good in people ... the whole works. Should I mention that I have a very creative mind? The bad thing about that is that I am &lt;em&gt;also&lt;/em&gt; capable of conjuring absolutely evil "&lt;em&gt;feature film&lt;/em&gt;"-length storylines in my mind as to the mangled fate of the vulgarians who cross my path. Yes, I'm sure many of you do too (maybe in &lt;em&gt;short film&lt;/em&gt; form). We should trade mental screenplays one day. We could playwright and direct the next &lt;em&gt;Exorcist &lt;/em&gt;... turn our wickedness into a million bucks in profit, then give it graciously to the needy :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;And so, there &lt;em&gt;are&lt;/em&gt; some tabs to be kept in my life. (And of course, there are secrets to be kept too ... haha).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway ... the problem with keeping "what I &lt;strong&gt;know&lt;/strong&gt; I &lt;em&gt;should&lt;/em&gt; be doing, or how I &lt;em&gt;should&lt;/em&gt; be responding" only to myself ... is that I'm prone to change my mind later on. And no one will be there to implicitly remind me of it when it happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when friends read or hear what I claim I have &lt;em&gt;realized&lt;/em&gt;, it imputes upon me a healthy pressure to live up to what I have already decided, in a positive manner. And each time I feel like changing my mind (and God knows how often I want to change my mind for &lt;em&gt;fundamental&lt;/em&gt; values!), &lt;strong&gt;I would &lt;em&gt;always know that I remember what I always knew&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be the first to admit that I'm bound to contradict myself at times. Then again, I'm not. But really, I might. Can I just be &lt;em&gt;subtle&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; tell you about my deliberate use of satire here? You can be consistent &lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt; contradictory, &lt;em&gt;if&lt;/em&gt; you are consistently contradictory.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to business...&lt;br /&gt;If there's one thing I've learnt ... the decision to learn how to forgive people may start at one point in time ... but the &lt;em&gt;process&lt;/em&gt; of forgiveness is something you need to constantly &lt;em&gt;renew&lt;/em&gt;. It's really a journey, not an "Off" button. It's so easy to slip back into negativity again, especially when a problem that reminds you of a &lt;em&gt;past bad experience&lt;/em&gt; hits you at your own personal weak spot, and attempts to exhume the graveyard of your buried sorrows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, well ... not all is bleak and dreary, my friends! :-) There is much to be passionate for too! Like for me ... it's the obvious scientific biological needs like good FOOD and GUITARS. I'm blessed. Not in every area of my life. But I'm blessed in many ways. And I guess I really want to identify more positive daily experiences in my life, and give thanks for them. Or &lt;em&gt;at least&lt;/em&gt; acknowledge them. So that will be another purpose of this blog - hopefully, the more dominant one, if possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And of course, I reserve the right to random nonsense&lt;/strong&gt;, as per my character. Yes, I am a purveyor of the preposterous. A slave to the silly. &lt;em&gt;The&lt;/em&gt; Icarus of idiocy. Do not argue with me on that, or I shall &lt;em&gt;imagine&lt;/em&gt; you for my next evil film! &gt;:-E&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for how long this blog goes on for -- well ... all blogz must eventually die! Don't ya know? :-) But I think I've pretty much decided it will go on for at least a few months, if not for about a year or so. I doubt I can post too often though. Maybe just 1 or 2 posts a week. Less, if I have exams. More, only if I'm in a groovy mood. haha...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, for some random nonsense (a prank, no less. But a solid one):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/eB7zFddVkEQ"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/eB7zFddVkEQ" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-7983582035564856245?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/7983582035564856245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=7983582035564856245&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/7983582035564856245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/7983582035564856245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2007/02/yes-da-blog-lives.html' title='Yes, Da Blog Lives!'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-5515398185838275484</id><published>2007-02-03T10:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-19T14:11:50.958+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Eat, Therefore I Am</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Alright. I'm officially greedy. Yes, it's true. And I accept all the criticism you wish to lavish upon my distinguished existence. :-) &lt;strong&gt;Cuz I have consumed an entire 10-inch pizza ALL by myself. No less.&lt;/strong&gt; And it wasn't no wimpy thin crust. Nor was it some feeble classic crust neither. It was DEEP DISH. And it had enough ingredients on it to put the sweats on Jamie Oliver. So, pat me on the back, congratulate me, and call me fat. For today, I am a man. Finally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some photos in an easy-to-understand "3-step-progression". :-) I ordered my daring feast in the ever-versatile &lt;strong&gt;half-N'-half style&lt;/strong&gt; - one type of pizza on one side, and another type on the other. The bottom half in the photo was a specialty concoction they called "The Untouchables", proudly featuring BBQ Sauce, Chicken, Smoked Gouda, Red Onions &amp; Cilantro. The top half featured the stupendously succulent "The Fridge", which bragged Pepperoni, Canadian Bacon, Italian Sausage, Green Peppers, Mushrooms, Black Olives &amp;amp; Onions. I even had the nerve to add extra Pineapple toppings &amp; extra Italian Sausages! Haha. I don't know what's my problem, but it sure ain't restraint! It's funny the restaurant is called &lt;strong&gt;Pizza Chicago&lt;/strong&gt;, since it was born right here in California. I think it's cuz Chicago is well known for Deep Dish type pizzas. Whatever. I had it delivered to my dorm, &lt;em&gt;pronto&lt;/em&gt;. Pizza Chicago's really just about the best pizza you can get around these parts, in my unhumble opinion. Look at it! Mamma mia! It's positively well-endowed, and is &lt;em&gt;even tastier&lt;/em&gt; than it looks! My tastebuds scream its praise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-02/PizzaChicagoNew.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-02/PizzaChicagoNew.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So ... earlier today, prior to my infamous pizza-gorging escapades, Amanda was shopping online alone over in the UK, when I bumped into her on MSN. And so she invited me to accompany her in a little shopping experience at &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.ASOS.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:blue;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ASOS.com&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt; ... I didn't have to wait around for her, which was cool enough. :-) She graced the Women's section, while I browsed the Men's. Initially, I wasn't planning on buying anything, but well ... I remembered I promised to get myself some dress shirts earlier this year. I don't know why, but I figured since I'll be starting work in about a year's time, I badly needed to transform my wardrobe from my notorious and highly-ridiculed Garfield &amp;amp; Pooky Bedtime Tees, to something a little more presentable in the workplace. &lt;strong&gt;ASOS.com&lt;/strong&gt; was having an unbelievable clearance sale. Dress shirts that sold for £30 were going for a jaw-dropping £3!! So I started indiscriminately adding anything that looked remotely like it would cover my nakedness to the website's shopping cart, and before I knew it, I had racked up a whopping £118 worth of textile goods! I had chosen about 12 different pants and shirts, &lt;em&gt;including&lt;/em&gt; a &lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-02/SkinnyPinkTie.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:blue;"&gt;weird skinny &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#f986f8;"&gt;pink&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:blue;"&gt; tie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, which Amanda thought would look absolutely smashing on a guy. What the heck?! So, I decided to take the metrosexual plunge. :-) Esther.F, who was bumming on the Net, suggested the wondrous idea of searching for discount codes online (I didn't know she was such a savvy online shopper. Thanks, girl!), and I found this forum where some kind anti-capitalist soul uncovered and posted a secret ASOS.com code that gave a further 20% off purchases. Very awesome, I say! Afraid that the discount code might not last too long (as seemed to be the case), I quickly asked Amanda for her approval on my random clothing choices, and thus my sinful deal with ASOS was done - the snazzy garments will be delivered from the UK to the US over the next few days. :-) Crazy shopping, I tell you. Actually, I've never really shopped for dress shirts before in my life. Seriously. Maybe once? And at a physical shop too ... with a friend who knew I was pretty much fashion-clueless, and wanted to dress me up with her truly esoteric tastes. I meekly and blindly obeyed, and the trip ended in a blindingly bright neon-orange shirt, and a wafer-thin "bird-shit-green"-striped long-sleeve. My father hated the latter, as I recall. I think maybe I'm really in a transitional phase of my life right now - one that's probably gonna last about 1 or 2 years long. Looks like an overhaul of my lifestyle is imminent. But let's be mature about this -- all I'm really hoping it results in is &lt;em&gt;more&lt;/em&gt; acoustic guitars. A trifle, really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-5515398185838275484?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/5515398185838275484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=5515398185838275484&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/5515398185838275484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/5515398185838275484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2007/02/i-eat-therefore-i-am.html' title='I Eat, Therefore I Am'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-02-02/th_PizzaChicagoNew.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-5150864622100342194</id><published>2007-01-30T12:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-19T14:12:22.342+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Where Secular &amp; Spiritual Wisdom Meet</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Seems that God always gives me interesting experiences to remember well. Some of them quite painful, and some of them are ... well, freak phenomenons of worldly genius. And today was one of them "genius days". Introducing ... Mr. Yonah Berwaldt! (You can already guess his personality from that photo).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-01-29/Yonah.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-01-29/Yonah.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;This man (boy, actually), mind you, was like ... a walking self-help book. No, he was a &lt;strong&gt;walking inspirational book&lt;/strong&gt; - from out of him was an entire ocean's worth of "you-are-king-of-the-universe, don't-be-a-damn-wuss, you-are-a-man-don't-act-like-a-monkey"-type quotes, the likes of which I'd never heard before! You might think he's nothing but a B-Grade movie, but I can tell you that no matter what your opinion of him, or how BS-ish you think his power of positive thinking is, he was at the top of his game in terms of &lt;em&gt;effectiveness&lt;/em&gt;. Results, results, results. That's him. His counselling prowess is &lt;em&gt;bar none&lt;/em&gt;. This man should be knighted. At least I would, if I were the Queen. Haha...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So ... Yonah is this raring-to-go Junior (3rd Year) student at Stanford. He studies, he works, and he's dedicated to helping people. Well, I study, I don't really work (except sell some stuff on eBay from time to time), and I'm dedicated to helping people too wherever I can (except that I was presently going through a bit of a dry season for obvious reasons). So, I could see a bit of myself in him in terms of his heart for people. But he's way, way intense in terms of his positive outlook in life. And that was a quality I sorely needed at this point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This evening, he came gallivanting through the dining hall's randomly laid out tables, carrying his dinner tray in hand, and plonked himself down beside me (as he often does with strangers) whilst I was eating dinner, and tried to initiate conversation. I had only met him once before, very briefly a long time ago (when he &lt;em&gt;also&lt;/em&gt; plonked himself down beside me) - he didn't even recognize me now. Quite frankly, you could say I don't even know the man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why, but when he asked me what's up with my life, I figured this guy wouldn't know what the heck I'm talking about ... so maybe I'll just tell him the truth - I'll tell him what's REALLY going on. And I proceeded to share with him my story about a close friend I kinda lost recently. And after I was done, he told me that the EXACT same thing happened to him about 1 year ago - and his never recovered (so far). Yikes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had a close female friend, things were gonna turn into more than friends, and they stopped it in time for whatever reason of his/theirs. But she wanted a cut off, and he was like "no, no, wait ... we can work this s&amp;*# out. Let's talk about it. There's no need for a cut off, why can't we still be close friends?" And basically, he said "I f*$^ed up, cuz I tried to talk to her". Then he looked me in the eye and said, "You. Listen up and learn."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And although the issue of a close female friend was only partly related, he nonetheless gave me a sound lecture about his theory on the psychology of women, why girls end up choosing the bad boy they don't even really want, why they can't see the heartbreak in store for them, or why they knowingly are willing to get hurt, used, and eventually dumped by them, why they pass over and trample over guys like us, and why we eventually decide it's not worth being nice anyway cuz the world of women just about don't appreciate anything else but a player. Then I wondered to myself ... maybe &lt;strong&gt;he's&lt;/strong&gt; a player. But if so, why is he teaching me his tricks then? haha... I thought they were supposed to be sacred text or something. He then explained the rationale of good-guys-turned-bad-boys: They simply redefine their actions as 'for the greater good'. If you don't, you're gonna lose everytime. Haha... well, although my various life experiences have certainly been pretty much as he said, I had some reservations on that point. But for what it's worth, I can't say it wasn't an enticing proposition. lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, he then switched gears, and started on his self-help groove, saying, "Don't think about it no more. You've gotta channel your positive energy into something else. Right now, this thing is sapping your life outta you". Basically, he was telling me I did the best I could, and I have to leave it at that without regrets. I need to walk away with a clear conscience. "It's time to put your energies into other things", he said. Then he told me to read a book entitled "Think And Grow Rich" by Napoleon Hill, which was available as a free e-Book online. As sketchy as that sounds, quite frankly, I'm just gonna give it a shot cuz if it's gonna be a "happy, happy book", then it's precisely worth reading, not necessarily for the content, but for the potential positive emotion it could give you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was like a guru of worldly wisdom and motivational speech. He'll make you happy &lt;em&gt;just&lt;/em&gt; by listening to him talk. I swear you've gotta BOTH read the Bible, AND hang around with people like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he was some creative genius, he would come up with new quotes at random, and then say "Shit. That was a good quote I made", then he'd whip out his notepad and write them down as they came to him. At one point, &lt;strong&gt;he was trying to convince me that when we guys do our best for them, be ultra-ultra-nice to them, give them our time, try to communicate with them, and then even lay things out on the table for reconciliation when things take a bad turn, even when it isn't always our fault ... that the girls who don't want to reconcile probably weren't worth being friends in the first place.&lt;/strong&gt; He told me that I shouldn't keep treasuring, or be so vested in a friendship &lt;strong&gt;if the other party was unwilling to be as equally vested in it.&lt;/strong&gt; He said there are many other females out there who'd be totally willing to make friends with me (how true ... haha ... not overstating things here). Only that, I was too much of a ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;strong&gt;.... nice guy&lt;/strong&gt;. And girls walk all over nice guys cuz they give in too much. And when you do, you're a wuss."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He continued, "Let's put it this way, your mum didn't marry your Dad cuz he was a wuss".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he cocked his head to my direction, stared at me with killer eyes of sincerity, pointed his index finger to my face with all the authority of Zeus, and coming out with a BRAND NEW quote &lt;strong&gt;on the spot&lt;/strong&gt;, he yelled to my manhood the most outrageous 'wake-up-your-idea' quote of the evening:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Move along! &lt;strong&gt;Frankly, you meet about a hundred girls a month in some shape or form, and some of them have a &lt;em&gt;shapely form&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hahaha ... omg. Given my predicament, I just thought that this suddenly-inspired quote of his was totally hilarious. We cracked up laughing and I said "Damn, you should write a book!", then he reached for a high-five with me. Actually, I was serious when I said he should write a book, cuz these positive-thinking trashy-quotes stuff actually works as far as how your mind reacts to it - both in humor, and in the strange sense that you know it has at least &lt;em&gt;some&lt;/em&gt; truth to it. Self-help books are all about redefining your present reality. &lt;strong&gt;ANY positive-intended reality, even if not completely accurate, is better than the pessimistic mindset that you aren't worth it.&lt;/strong&gt; For all you who are hurting (and necessarily pessimistic), take a page from the over-optimistic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Yonah and I kept laughing. Satan was probably standing beside me twitching his evil moustache throughout our conversation, with a Voodoo Doll in hand, hatching a nefarious plot to lapse me back into the dedication of emotion I gave to my recent experience. But ... &lt;strong&gt;I think our behavior that evening totally freaked the devil out of Satan himself. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, well, that was fun. And I guess I should end with a more Christian perspective, since I am at the end of the day, a Christian. For sure, I'm not quite perfect or anything ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I know that I:&lt;br /&gt;1) Tried my best&lt;br /&gt;2) Was as caring and nice a friend as I could &lt;em&gt;personally&lt;/em&gt; ever be to her, given all the things I've done for her, shared with her, and sacrificed for her&lt;br /&gt;3) Offered my reconciliation when things went wrong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;4) Eventually gave her the space she wants (&lt;em&gt;read&lt;/em&gt;: cannot allow myself to contact her first no matter how hard it feels, because she prefers a cut off for now) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;5) Spent a lot a lot a lot of time, heartache and effort ... thinking and hurting over the issue, for the sake of &lt;strong&gt;putting her in the right perspective in my life (which lets me know how sincere I really was about our friendship)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) Forgave her for some things / Didn't blame her for the rest&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;7) Accepted her for who she is / how she reacted&lt;br /&gt;8) Love her still, and always will&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;9) Left my door open, always, for her to reconcile with me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... and so ... I can really, really say ... I'm at peace with God. And with myself. I should be. Or I'm just blaming myself &lt;em&gt;again&lt;/em&gt; for nothing. Now all I can do is wait for her and hope she comes around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So ... I came up with a quote too, to wrap things up ... a Christian-ish one. It's ultimately meant to represent love for the other person above yourself, always. Though not always in the "I'll end up doing all these things for you" kinda way, cuz sometimes the other person just rejects your intended goodness. I guess ... it's appropriate as a bit of a balance to Yonah's type of quotes (and his, by the way, I think are important to believe and incorporate sometimes. Cuz people really do take advantage of you from time to time, intentionally or not ... and you've gotta stop blaming yourself).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;And so, it's dedicated to both Esther.Y, and another friend of mine who is going through a rough patch now, dealing with being dumped (sorry, it's true) just a few months ago, and who keeps trying to search for the &lt;em&gt;hows&lt;/em&gt; and the &lt;em&gt;whys&lt;/em&gt;. You know who you are. And you know we love you, girl ... so I hope this encourages you. It's something I thought up over the weekend when thinking about my own good friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"We don't need to know the reasons, cuz the reasons are just for ourselves. Sometimes we just need to grant others what they need. Cuz what they need is for them - and they're worth it."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my friend who chose to cut off for the time being, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;u&gt;is&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; worth it to me. Still is. And always is. No matter what.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;And for now, I'm off to meet other girls of shapely form. ;-)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-5150864622100342194?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/5150864622100342194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=5150864622100342194&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/5150864622100342194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/5150864622100342194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2007/01/where-secular-spiritual-wisdom-meet.html' title='Where Secular &amp; Spiritual Wisdom Meet'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/2007-01-29/th_Yonah.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-3527998916887114881</id><published>2007-01-27T05:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-21T15:14:09.823+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Somehow, I Still Lost A Close Friend</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Clarissa called late last night to ask me what's wrong cuz I couldn't focus at the committee meeting earlier. It's funny that I sound like I'm speaking to people when no one actually has my blog address now. But even if you imagine listeners who aren't really there, it's still a form of release. Maybe someday, someone will be willing to hear me out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You must have had full assurance I would pick up a call at 1:30am. And though I didn't share anything with you at the time, thanks. :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I will now. Cuz I didn't know how to say it over the phone. So that's why I write:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thing is I had a &lt;strong&gt;real real good friend I love and care for so very much&lt;/strong&gt;. NOT girlfriend, mind you. But a &lt;i&gt;very&lt;/i&gt; dear friend. And for reasons I'll state later, she &lt;u&gt;withdrew&lt;/u&gt; cuz she could not resolve our mutual difficulties the same way I would have. And it hurt me deeply, cuz I really cared &lt;strong&gt;so much&lt;/strong&gt; for her, yet it seemed as though she couldn't bear to be my good friend anymore, or accept my way of doing things after our problem arose (and I'll explain the problem later below in my story). We ended up hurting each other in different ways. I got hurt by her sudden withdrawal that lacked adequate explanations - it was as if she didn't care anymore ... and for many other complications that followed. I hurt her cuz she couldn't handle the various complex issues I tried to bring up (including why she withdrew as though there were no alternative ways of approaching it). And in scolding her for being so insensitive to me, I developed inaccurate impressions about her that I surely had to redefine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But the more I think about it and pray for her (and I do &lt;u&gt;every single day&lt;/u&gt;), the more I realize I can forgive her for:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;a) &lt;u&gt;interpreting some of my actions/intentions negatively&lt;/u&gt;, or for interpreting them inaccurately&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;b) &lt;u&gt;for sometimes failing to see how much I cared.&lt;/u&gt; It was my goodness / good intent and way of doing things, that made me try to resolve it through talking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;c) &lt;u&gt;for perhaps believing I became worse&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; and...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;d) &lt;u&gt;for unwittingly causing some inaccurate opinions of me to exist cuz of the way some people saw things through her eyes&lt;/u&gt;. I never had a chance to truly clarify with them personally. They thus saw a solution through her view more so than mine, and probably found it difficult to appreciate the full extent of my own perspective / sincere intentions / love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; was very upset about all these things. After all, we were so close. How did it become like this? It was almost too tragic to accept.&lt;/strong&gt; I'm not perfect, nor do I have perfect solutions. But &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;I nonetheless wanted us to work hard towards remaining good friends ... but she felt it was not possible at all. &lt;u&gt;I guess to her, she felt she was being strong in doing what she did (ie. withdrawing &amp; finding support in someone else). But to me, I felt withdrawing &amp;amp; going to another close friend was about being weak and unable to cope with challenging situations &lt;strong&gt;between us&lt;/strong&gt;. It was like I was simply left alone instead while she sought solace elsewhere cuz she didn't want to deal with me. To me, strength was in dealing with the issues &lt;strong&gt;together&lt;/strong&gt;, for as long as it needed to take, until a mutual resolution was reached.&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; was precisely the problem - a problem of different ways to seeing the same solution.&lt;/strong&gt; She was doing what she knew best. And I was doing what I knew best. &lt;strong&gt;After realizing that, I decided very painfully to give in to her style instead (ie. let her withdraw / get close to others.&lt;/strong&gt; And I subsequently promised her that I wouldn't try to talk to her again, unless she was ever ready to give in to my style too, which would help us on the pathway to becoming good friends again). &lt;strong&gt;I left my door &lt;em&gt;always&lt;/em&gt; open for her with regard to that. And however long that takes, I will just be patient and wait.&lt;/strong&gt; And even if she never ever wants us to become good friends again ... deep inside, I know that I will still meet her in heaven. And in any case, on that day, she and I can have a good laugh about our past on earth, and thank God we're both reunited in Him in perfection. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Once I learned to forgive her for the deep hurt caused by her withdrawing approach, &lt;strong&gt;I realized my love for her did not change in any way.&lt;/strong&gt; :-) Except that I must now show it through silence. &lt;u&gt;The great love of silence.&lt;/u&gt; How ironic that phrase is, it would seem - but if you ever have the time and energy to read my story below carefully in detail (heh ... sorry. I'm the writer sort), you will really appreciate what I mean by that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I thank the Lord for her, no matter what. She was and &lt;u&gt;always will be&lt;/u&gt; an important part of my life. I don't regret ever being her good friend. And I never will regret it. I guess that's true acceptance of who she is. It's not about what I wished she &lt;em&gt;could&lt;/em&gt; be. And that's a genuine love for her - all in Christ. No less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And so the story goes .... from my perspective and experience of it ....&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;We were friends from church, and over the past 2 years, we got closer and closer. There was so much slow, steady, and natural chemistry. I tell ya, it's rare for me at least. And I treasured it so so much. It was all good, and it was a really really sincere friendship. No ulterior motives. We didn't rush closeness for conceited reasons of any sort. It just came as it came, as friends. I recognized that God had put this sincere love in my heart for her, and I was determined to serve her through that provision as a friend. She's just a young teen. I didn't expect anything from her at all. Didn't even think about it back then. Not romance or her body or whatever crazy nonsense. It was a pure progression to me. Just like you would with a really good friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I talked to her online, she wrote me letters, I wrote her letters. I'd chat with her on MSN. I'd call her up sometimes. I'd try to help on essay research if I could. I'd make it a point to remember her birthday as I do with some people. And I'd make it a point to wake up / be awake at certain weird times (like 5am in California!) so that I could catch her during her limited Internet time at night in Singapore. I shared about my life, she shared about hers. It was unique cuz I'd go out of my way. So good. So so so good. It was comfortable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Then sometime in December when I went back to Singapore, it kinda reached its max. friendship point.&lt;/strong&gt; Anything more, and it was gonna turn into some kind of romance. We felt the mutual vibe of its changing, but couldn't explain why we felt those imminent sensations -- we were, after all, clearly incompatible in terms of age, maturity, and we both knew we wanted to keep our close friendship without such complications arising. When I felt the vibe from her, I told her "Look, I sense &lt;em&gt;something&lt;/em&gt;, and I think there's gonna be a problem". And she knew it too - cuz I'm sure she could sense this vibe between us too. But she's just a teen - the right thing to do was to ensure we did what we could to prevent further problems. We had gotten to this point in our friendship with total sincerity and obliviousness of the future. But now there's a breaking point. How were we gonna deal with it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Well, we knew what we had to do.&lt;/strong&gt; It was clear as conscience would have it for us -- which was &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; to venture into the romance realm. It was the wise thing to do. From the get-go, we decided "No" &lt;u&gt;together&lt;/u&gt;, and wanted to stick with it. Now, it wasn't too difficult to tell that was the right answer - which made me really happy, cuz it at least revealed to me that she's a sensible girl. I mean, I'm older - so I should know. But she's much younger, and yet it was clear to her - and I just felt "this is so great. She's damn sensible about these things for her age. I'm really proud of her. This potential problem in our friendship is gonna resolve well".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;But that's when the problems started.&lt;/b&gt; Her style was towards "Withdrawal / Cut Off / Avoidance". Whereas my style was to "talk to deal with the issue to a proper resolution together". She saw strength in avoidance. I saw strength in dealing maturely with things by talking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HER approach:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;high&gt;Very Close Friends ----&gt; Problem Arose ----&gt; Withdraw / Cut Off &lt;withdraw&gt;&lt;withdraw&gt;&lt;withdraw&gt;-----&gt; "&lt;em&gt;Maybe&lt;/em&gt; someday we'll be good friends again, if ever"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My approach:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;high&gt;Very Close Friends ----&gt; Problem Arose ----&gt; &lt;we&gt;Talk, Share and Discuss to Resolve our Problem, not avoid it ...... Bring it down to a comfortable level together &gt; ----&gt; "&lt;em&gt;Still&lt;/em&gt; remain good friends"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But problem is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;I can't handle Withdrawing / Cutting off ... and the absolute uncertainty of whether we'll end up good friends again.&lt;/u&gt; I need to know I tried to work it out and succeed, not ran away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, &lt;u&gt;she can't handle talking, sharing or resolving that way. Maybe she didn't know how to try, nor believe it were possible.&lt;/u&gt; And I wasn't against easing off at all, but I was against the drastic drop in friendship. To her, the only solution was to withdraw like that. At the time, I couldn't understand it. I thought, "If you say you care for me that much too, what is this supposed to mean?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was like reducing from a close friendship to a .... whatever-the-pathetic-heck-friendship it was gonna be. It was too unfair. We didn't ask for this crap, you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But when I tried talking, it hurt her. She couldn't handle it. She kept saying it's resolving nowhere, that I kept repeating my points, that I kept talking and&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;talking. But I felt I kept talking only to ensure my point gets across &lt;em&gt;because&lt;/em&gt; she kept avoiding and avoiding - as though nothing was going through.&lt;/strong&gt; I guess there was a kind of two-sided misinterpretation that made things worse between us. To my mind, it felt like nothing was going through because she still behaved in a highly withdrawed manner, when I wanted something far less drastic. It was, after all, supposed to be a great friendship. I couldn't live with that kind of loss. And I felt that if she would only be more mature about it, it would work. But she could not believe we could handle it that way. Plus, I shared with her also because it's the way I release myself. But she wouldn't have it neither. My hope in this approach only lasted about 3 weeks before I grew estranged and upset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cuz maybe it was true. Maybe I simply could not expect her to be mature about it this way, or see it this way. Nor handle it this way. What was I thinking? Maybe I would really have to do what seemed impossible to me - a cut off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So 3 weeks after the problem started, I knew, I've gotta give in now. I &lt;em&gt;have to&lt;/em&gt; cut off. It would kill her if I didn't. But in cutting off, it would kill me.&lt;/strong&gt; Cuz I'm not built that way. It runs against the grain of my natural personality. I knew I would be miserable, and I wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it. Like now. And not just this ... I ended up writing pages and pages and thousands and thousands of words elsewhere about my feelings on this issue - how I must see it in the right way, how sad I felt, how to love her still, and how to do things that were precisely against my personality - in a private journal never ever to be seen by anyone. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;But unlike me, she doesn't think as deeply, nor as much. Thank God, in a way, cuz it would save her a lot of time. She'd be able to handle it better by withdrawing cuz she's more comfortable that way. She can become happy again real real fast with new close friends. And that's great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But when she's fine, and yet I am not be able to talk/share with her AT ALL that I'm &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; really feeling fine ... god, there's just no way to describe how heart-wrenching it feels inside. Cuz it's like you're not just cut off, you &lt;em&gt;also&lt;/em&gt; feel like she don't regard you any more in a close way?&lt;/strong&gt; And although that's not entirely true, when things come to this juncture, you unavoidably question: "What did that whole friendship mean to her, really?" It's as though she'd rather forget the connection, than deal with it together with me. It hurt so bad... &lt;strong&gt;but&lt;/strong&gt; I needed to redefine my thinking about her. I knew must. A part of me knew she was not doing it on purpose to hurt me... so I had to convince myself in another way. But I hadn't succeeded yet...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Unfortunately, my final conversation with her ended in a mess - for me, it was meant to be our final closing sharing moments and assurances.&lt;/strong&gt; But I think maybe she thought "here he comes again as usual, dammit won't he stop?". Hence, she was almost unwilling to share anything - I asked her why she's acting so avoidant, why we lost that connection for no good reason. She got frustrated with me for asking, and I got really frustrated with her cuz I felt no assurances whatsoever, and that I couldn't even assure her properly one last time that I meant well, and thus interpreted her avoidant actions as "not caring anymore", whereas she interpreted my connective actions as pushing her, and we both caused each other great hurt on that call. She withdraws, it hurts me. I press, it hurts her. It was so unfair. And who's to blame? Could things really be unfair in a way that was beyond either of us?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slowly, I realized that it was &lt;strong&gt;not&lt;/strong&gt; her fault. Maybe her mind just wasn't ready to do it differently, that's all. Cuz even for me, it was so hard to do it differently (ie. to do it her way). And my heart is so heavy now, but I've gotta accept it without anger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend of mine who doesn't know about this issue, said ... Talking only helps when:&lt;br /&gt;1) Both parties want to talk&lt;br /&gt;2) Both parties want to solve the problem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Avoidance can't really solve the problem cuz it just means it's not addressed. It'll always be there, lying in wait. I figured avoidance is how people develop "issues" over time. &lt;strong&gt;But&lt;/strong&gt;, maybe if one party realizes that the other person &lt;em&gt;wants&lt;/em&gt; to cut off for whatever reasons, and tries to accept ... &lt;i&gt;at least&lt;/i&gt; the problem will not be &lt;b&gt;worsened&lt;/b&gt; more than it already is. That thought gave a bit of insight on how I might accept another way, no matter how hard for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unless both people agree on the same style of resolution, there can only be friction, and it can only get worse. And if I didn't want things to get worse, I would have to give up my style of resolution and adopt hers totally, and give up mine totally. But completely shutting down my need to talk with her was &lt;b&gt;so&lt;/b&gt; difficult for me. So so difficult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, I'm older. And if I love her dearly as a friend, then I knew I &lt;b&gt;have&lt;/b&gt; to be the one to give in, no matter what the pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I knew I would have to deal with the inevitable bitterness of "why is this done to me?", and realize instead ... "she only did the best she could". This is who she is for now. And if I love her as a friend, then she's worth it. She's always worth it. &lt;strong&gt;The pain of losing her is worth the privilege of knowing her.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It's utterly, ironically, insanely sad. And yet ... if you ask me if I had to go through the whole process of friendship again (whilst we were close friends), I wouldn't do a &lt;em&gt;single&lt;/em&gt; thing different. My time, my love, my effort, was truly given to something beautiful - her.&lt;/strong&gt; If God says she was worth it. Then I believe so too. And I'd be willing to face it all again, cuz that friendship meant so much to me. No doubt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that wasn't only what was difficult to manage...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It didn't quite end there.&lt;/strong&gt; Cuz she also deals with her feelings by talking / sharing with other people. But because she couldn't quite understand and accept the full spectrum of my view, and my realization and final acceptance of her approach without blaming her (it took a while), she was only able to share with some others mostly her view only - and some got more confused, or misunderstood important things.&lt;strong&gt; I wonder if she realizes I made a decision as difficult as hers, if not harder. Not really her fault, cuz she &lt;em&gt;does&lt;/em&gt; need to believe she's the strong one.&lt;/strong&gt; And I want her to pull through too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;And I guess she needs support from others. Maybe I became somewhat of a perpetrator in their eyes after hearing from her side only, cuz through that lens it sounds like she's the main victim and I'm some kind of uncaring insensitive person. But they've never asked me the depth of perspective I give to this issue. They don't know how hard I pray and wrestle with aching thoughts about this to accept her style totally, and give up mine totally. It was a huge sacrifice for me. The story isn't about her struggle. It's about mine too. Only in a one-dimensional world is there one storyline.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;There was this other teenage guy from church who wasn't too keen to listen to my perspective after hearing hers cuz he thought he couldn't handle me being so &lt;em&gt;emotionally filled&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;strong&gt;But that was &lt;em&gt;precisely&lt;/em&gt; why I needed him right there and then.&lt;/strong&gt; I didn't need the conversation to be axed. I'd already chosen to subsequently axe myself from contact with her in a way that I was trying to accept, which is why I was so pained now. I felt I made choices and sacrifices as good as anything I could have ever made. I was on the ledge, and he was the one there at the time. I didn't need "you have always been a mentor to me and everything is messed up now"... "I think you're carrying this too far" ... "you're greatly stumbling me" ... "you hurt her already, please don't hurt me too"... "you shouldn't have started it in the first place". Those things were said to me the moment he heard from her about our last phone call. Those words, with its negative implications on my conduct and intentions, and victimized implications about her, cut me like a knife. I asked myself: How deeply can his mind possibly go into knowing what really started all this first? -- it's not about trying to talk to her, and it's not about making a phone call, you know? Did he really understand the complexity of the situation at hand? Does he really have my side of the perspective as well? Could he so quickly come to those statements as though I was some Smeegel-turned-Gollum, some mentor-turned-mess?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;All of a sudden, I realized how much misconception, and the unwitting taking-of-sides this whole issue might potentially snowball into.&lt;/strong&gt; He seemed pretty one-sided at that point in time - clearly, he was given to her sympathies and her perspective far more than to mine - even though he earnestly &lt;em&gt;thought&lt;/em&gt; that he wasn't biased. I guess it's possible he changed his mind later on ... and that would be nice, but back then, his slightly confused interpretations and opinions about the issue probably served only to sustain her beliefs rather than help her redefine them. But then, I wonder if I should blame him. He was trying to be a nice guy to her, after all. &lt;strong&gt;But a part of me wished she would know better than to tell him things he couldn't fully handle or understand himself (&lt;em&gt;especially&lt;/em&gt; right from the &lt;em&gt;very&lt;/em&gt; start), to save him from giving others warped and insufficient impressions about the various aspects of the issue cuz it was way more complicated than even he himself could comprehend ... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;yet I knew it was necessary for her to get her emotions out of her system by talking to people.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A difference in personality &amp;amp; approaches is what started this deeper problem&lt;/strong&gt;. And the &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;difference&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; is the problem. Not her personality. And not mine. When he said that I "carried it too far", maybe he didn't realize that it works either way -- You can hurt someone deeply by taking it too far in withdrawing from them as a form of response, in the same way you can hurt someone by hoping to earnestly deal with the problem through talking. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe she thought I didn't want her to share private things about this issue with him or others, because it's about worrying for my 'respect and social status' ... that I would fear losing it or something, &lt;u&gt;but that was a wrong attribution&lt;/u&gt;. What is to fear about respect, when my rationale wasn't about that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It was precisely about them being &lt;em&gt;too young&lt;/em&gt; to interpret and appreciate certain more complex aspects about the issue easily, especially when there were more context from her part, and little context from my part. Hence, it would only severely complicate things.&lt;/strong&gt; And it has to a certain extent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But I wasn't completely justified in my expectations either. Cuz I guess I do realize, after all, that she &lt;em&gt;has&lt;/em&gt; to share to get it out of her system. It's more than whether they understand or not. She probably needs and wants him/them to be more supportive of her than of me at this juncture.&lt;/strong&gt; And maybe I'm supposed to 'take it all like a man / older person' too, whatever that means. Imagine if he were on my side instead, and refused to listen to her instead ... it clearly wouldn't be something she wanted. There has to be some bias in that way. And I guess I must understand that now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll have to accept that these things are not always fair. What is for &lt;em&gt;her good&lt;/em&gt; at least, even if not for mine ... &lt;em&gt;is something to thank God for&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;It's painful to know someone important to you has detached from you and that you're not in a position to rectify it, and that she has chosen instead to grow closer to someone else instead of working out your problem with you with the consideration and sheer effort you'd hope from a good friend. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;Any once closer friend would feel a loss at such a &lt;em&gt;sudden&lt;/em&gt; shift, I guess.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;But ... at the same time, &lt;/span&gt;you want her to be happy. A morbid part of you (morbid to your own detriment) kinda wants her to move on quickly in a closer friendship with someone else so that she'll be happy, even if the reasons why you have to experience the hurt of it aren't completely valid to you. Yet one thing is firm in your mind - you must not blame her.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;I thought I made the right choices - not to take any advantage of her by firming a 'No' with her, then I tried my best to eventually follow her approach in dealing with it and not mine, even though I had so much difficulty in overcoming the tendency of my own approach. Yet, it was just kinda sad all the way. And well, it would have been a good feeling to bo-chup just &lt;em&gt;like that&lt;/em&gt;, but I guess I couldn't. And I know I didn't want to either ... cuz she's more important to me than moving along &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's strange, but it's like a funeral protocol to me, sometimes ... even for friendships - &lt;strong&gt;especially closer friendships&lt;/strong&gt;. There's supposed to be a mutual grace period against a build-up of closeness with others, or at least a withdrawal from them. It's some sort of norm. Sort of to "ease each other in" into acceptance in a way. But I know they won't blame themselves ... and, I don't wanna blame them either. I won't. I have to understand what I can't understand eventually. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;Plus, he doesn't have feelings for me, as much as he has feelings for her. I might have to accept these realities too, and understand where he's coming from. And her... &lt;strong&gt;I just wished she knew how to feel enough for me as a friend, in such a way as to move her to rebuild her friendship with me with so much earnesty that it would make the sacrifice and hurt all worthwhile.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I know I WON'T blame her even if she doesn't want to. Never shall. I just ... won't. I hope my irrational stubborn decision to think this way doesn't make me end up going psychotic or something. And she's so important to me, even though things aren't the same between us anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't think I would have to lose her as a good friend so suddenly. But perhaps she can't redefine things with my approach just yet. She &lt;em&gt;had&lt;/em&gt; to treat me that way. In her mind, it was a sooner or later thing that we must part ways or some extreme thing like that. But in my mind, surely I would not likewise have thought or treated her as though I believed that ideology as the way to view things between friends ... but then, I'm only 50% of the mutual willpower of my own approach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Last thing I did, was to ask her ... &lt;/strong&gt;when she's ever ready to deal with talking to me about it one day and become good friends again, that my door is open right from the very start. Even now. &lt;strong&gt;Whenever she's ready. Months, years, anything.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if she, for some reason, is never ready in this lifetime ... I &lt;em&gt;will&lt;/em&gt; embrace her again on the other side of eternity. And that will always be one of my hopes that I carry with me in this life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But I'll trust that God has something less drastic in store.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;u&gt;And the irony now is that I love her through this provision -- of agreeing to a &lt;strong&gt;cut off&lt;/strong&gt; now..... which is in total contrast to having loved her through a close friendship&lt;/u&gt;, which seemed so much more logical, right? I don't get God sometimes. And yet, I know it's what she really really needs now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; about sympathy for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It's about hope, and about love in Christ. And I still love, cuz I know God does. It's all in the heart now. Praying. Waiting. For once, silence speaks louder than actions. Ironic.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;I once mentioned to her (a long time ago, when we'd never imagine today), that I really really liked the song "How To Save A Life" cuz it had so many different interpretations for the hurting. How bittersweet it is that the words hit me so hard now. Switch the gender, and there it is. And all the missing reasons just don't seem to justify the tears ......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"How To Save A Life"&lt;/strong&gt; -- The Fray (modified lyrics)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Step one, you say "we need to talk"&lt;br /&gt;She walks, you say "sit down it's just a talk"&lt;br /&gt;She smiles politely back at you&lt;br /&gt;You stare politely right on through&lt;br /&gt;Some sort of window to your right&lt;br /&gt;As she goes left and you stay right between the lines of fear and blame&lt;br /&gt;And you begin to wonder why you came&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere along in the bitterness&lt;br /&gt;And I would have stayed up with you all night&lt;br /&gt;Had I known how to save a life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let her know that you know best&lt;br /&gt;Cause after all you do know best&lt;br /&gt;Try to slip past her defense without granting innocence&lt;br /&gt;Lay down a list of what is wrong&lt;br /&gt;The things you've told her all along&lt;br /&gt;And pray to God she hears you&lt;br /&gt;And pray to God she hears you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere along in the bitterness&lt;br /&gt;And I would have stayed up with you all night&lt;br /&gt;Had I known how to save a life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I begin to raise my voice&lt;br /&gt;She lowers hers and grants me one last choice&lt;br /&gt;Drive until you lose the road, or break with the ones you've followed&lt;br /&gt;She will do one of two things: She will admit to everything&lt;br /&gt;Or she'll say you're just not the same&lt;br /&gt;And you'll begin to wonder why you came&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere along in the bitterness&lt;br /&gt;And I would have stayed up with you all night&lt;br /&gt;Had I known how to save a life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;If only I had I known how. Yet, God knows how.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I'm not angry. And I love just as I always did. In acceptance. And in a beautiful quietness, no less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/BKxnJ5iyC-w"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/BKxnJ5iyC-w" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-3527998916887114881?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/3527998916887114881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=3527998916887114881&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/3527998916887114881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/3527998916887114881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2007/01/somehow-i-still-lost-close-friend.html' title='Somehow, I Still Lost A Close Friend'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8723558851435521118.post-1582547994878153725</id><published>2007-01-26T05:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-21T15:14:30.218+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Heart Of The Matter</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;So recently, my soul discovered the art of writing my way to a release. And I don't know why, but &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.xanga.com/undermyblueumbrella" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:blue;"&gt;Esther.Y's 20 Jan post&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt; was exactly what I needed to read - very strangely well-timed for me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;You don't know her. But in 2005, he left her *just like that*. Sometimes it's hard to explain what those 5 years meant. And way back in 2004, &lt;em&gt;my ex&lt;/em&gt; left me too - and of the &lt;em&gt;most&lt;/em&gt; painful means possible. Guess in a way, I've always seen Esther's experience a little like my own. And hence that connection. But she's a far better person than I am. Cuz what a beautiful character inside. She taught me so much about forgiveness. And well, it's not that I didn't try to. I just didn't yet know someone that strong who could teach me how to redefine my negative realities into sincere gratefulness. Cuz I'm an emo-type. And I can't handle emotional pain as easily as most. It takes a long time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;But God had a plan, I guess. And maybe the best I can say is that nowadays, my heart reaches for the broken-hearted at a moment's notice. And suddenly, all I want to do is comfort them. Cuz if God loves them, then I want to - I'm sorry He had to break me first, but I trust He didn't put me through all that crap for nothing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;I'm guessing that ... unless you've once given all you could in commitment and hopefulness, yet still be given the middle finger of romance ... then there are some sentiments of those who are hurting that you might never, ever fully comprehend. And perhaps if you've really given all you can to someone, then in Christ ... you haven't really failed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"I'm sorry, I didn't love you" - the words after 2 years 2 months. And no matter how hard you try, sometimes your best just isn't enough. What could I possibly make of that? The more committed, the harder to accept the worst of end results. It's a risk you take. But love don't play the game of sincerity. I know I'm not Jesus Christ. But I must forgive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I learnt that's how bitterness fades. If God forgave you, just like He did me - I can't do any less. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;And now, I face another reason to understand all over again. Another time, &lt;em&gt;another person&lt;/em&gt;. But this time, it is not for chase, nor for romance. Just for the resolution of a close friendship against greater complications, not a courtship. Which is even more baffling, cuz then why would it have to be so harsh? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;My promise to her:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;I &lt;em&gt;don't&lt;/em&gt; for a single moment think you've become worse than before just because it hurts when you withdraw. Cuz I suddenly realize you wouldn't have done it if your personality could avoid it. You have to do it your style cuz it's you. And I want to understand &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; you've cut off; not push you for &lt;em&gt;why&lt;/em&gt; you've cut off anymore. I'd accept that style without anger or prejudice. And I think God has the best intentions, and as soon as I understand more from God, I will thank Him here again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;I'm still and always totally grateful for you, for that warm season of friendship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#333333;"&gt;And all at once, I remember you have greatly blessed me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8723558851435521118-1582547994878153725?l=triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/feeds/1582547994878153725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8723558851435521118&amp;postID=1582547994878153725&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/1582547994878153725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8723558851435521118/posts/default/1582547994878153725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://triskaidekaphobe.blogspot.com/2007/01/this-should-start.html' title='The Heart Of The Matter'/><author><name>"Charis"</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08568567984082231624</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u170/Triskaidekaphobe/Blogger%20Profile%20Photo/CharisGuitarNew.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
