"Things always seem worse in the morning."
This line has been appearing in my mind for the past few weeks, the moment I roll out of bed and start assembling the number of tasks that need to be accomplished for the day. And they always seem impossible as I brush my teeth. Always.
As lunch time approaches and I reflect on a wonderfully slow morning, however, they start appearing more possible. There's a reason why there're more hours after lunch time than before, you know. Afternoons have a way of drawing all the nasty stuff to themselves, leaving you to enjoy your mornings and evenings.
Always have, always will.
When you were little, mornings were the best time to be awake.
Honey Stars in milk. Homemade tuna sandwiches with too much mayonnaise. Sunny egg tarts. Bustling morning markets. Steamed dim sum with your parents. Cartoons, cartoons, and more cartoons.
When you were little, you slept afternoons away.
Hot, scorching sun. School buses. School lunches. Household chores. Homework. Tuition. Waiting for parents to come home.
When you were little, evenings were almost as wonderful as mornings.
Football. Badminton. Running around. Climbing about. Bicycles. Kites. Slippers. School buses (not your own). Woks clanging. Setting sun. Coming home to the whiffs of dinner.
And nights, a cherry to top it all off.
Dinners. Television. Homework. More television. Computer, maybe. Sleep.
Now that you're older and wiser, are your mornings still mornings?
Indeed, things always seem worse in the morning.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Black Button
A great movie on temptation, choices and morality!
"Mr Roberts finds himself awoken inexplicably in a white room. A man sits before him at a desk and in between them stands a black button. If Mr Roberts pushes it, he will receive a briefcase filled with millions of dollars. Or he can take the key to the door and leave penniless. The catch? Pushing the button will result in the death of a human being. What would you do?"
Simply riveting from start to end. And would you believe it, it was shot on only 200 bucks in an old school stage. Wish I could make a movie like that some day. Come on, guys!
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Slumber (Part 8 of 10)
Been in the office 12 hours a day for the past 3 days (not necessarily working). It's nice to spend a slacker-ry afternoon reading on Wikipedia about everything from The Fly to Pacman to Dino Riders.
And yay! CC+J's first-ever above-the-line ad appears in The Star Classifieds today. It's for a moving company Myrelo, and will be running 30 days in 3 versions. I don't care, this time I'm taking full credit for the copy! It's portfolio-worthy work, I know. My my, how selfish. :p
But still, it's nice feeling talented once again. :)
Slumber (Part 8 of 10) - Let's just get this story over and done with! It's tasting like a bloated bowl of Maggi.
The Scatter Witch's eyes grew round. "You're mad."
Bo snorted.
"You'll kill us all." the Witch whispered.
"I won't die," Bo sneered. "I'm no longer some silly dream. I'm becoming real."
"And you," he turned to Lenny. "You pitiful mutt. You were doomed the moment I became King."
Lenny growled fiercely, trying to get up. Bo stepped over and kicked him in the sides, causing him to fall. "You're pathetic."
"How fitting, that the almighty Scatter Witch drains her powers to grant me Black. Which I eventually use to defeat the great Lenny. "
The Witch was absolutely seething. "You...you had a plan..."
"What can I say? Planning is everything."
"Someday," Lenny gritted his teeth. "Someday you'll return to Slumber, and someone else will be King. That'll be the day. I promise you."
"Pitiful talk. Pitiful, pitiful. But of course, I truly admire your heroics for Little Jenny. Look how well everything turned out. She'll be going back!"
In a fit of rage, Lenny tried to break free and tear into Bo. Alas, Black was too strong for any of that.
"Enough! You shall sing." Bo smirked hatefully and pointed at Lenny. Clearly against his will, an uncomfortable tune escaped Lenny's throat.
"Hush little baby, go to sleep
When you sleep all things are sweet
Fancy shoes and ribbons dear
Don't wake up till morning's here"
"The Dream Song," the Witch exclaimed in disbelief. "How could you have known..."
"You see," Bo stated. "More than a dream or fantasy, I was her friend. She trusted me."
It was the song her parents always sang her to sleep with. So enchanting. So haunting.
Jenny's eyelids begged to shut one more time, surrendering to the stillness enveloping her.
What will I wake up as, a part of her wondered.
You'll be safe in your bed, ready for school, Bo snuggled beside.
You'll be in another strange land, running away from snarling witches and dragons.
You'll be like what Bo said - nothing.
"Bo..." she cried.
And yay! CC+J's first-ever above-the-line ad appears in The Star Classifieds today. It's for a moving company Myrelo, and will be running 30 days in 3 versions. I don't care, this time I'm taking full credit for the copy! It's portfolio-worthy work, I know. My my, how selfish. :p
But still, it's nice feeling talented once again. :)
Slumber (Part 8 of 10) - Let's just get this story over and done with! It's tasting like a bloated bowl of Maggi.
The Scatter Witch's eyes grew round. "You're mad."
Bo snorted.
"You'll kill us all." the Witch whispered.
"I won't die," Bo sneered. "I'm no longer some silly dream. I'm becoming real."
"And you," he turned to Lenny. "You pitiful mutt. You were doomed the moment I became King."
Lenny growled fiercely, trying to get up. Bo stepped over and kicked him in the sides, causing him to fall. "You're pathetic."
"How fitting, that the almighty Scatter Witch drains her powers to grant me Black. Which I eventually use to defeat the great Lenny. "
The Witch was absolutely seething. "You...you had a plan..."
"What can I say? Planning is everything."
"Someday," Lenny gritted his teeth. "Someday you'll return to Slumber, and someone else will be King. That'll be the day. I promise you."
"Pitiful talk. Pitiful, pitiful. But of course, I truly admire your heroics for Little Jenny. Look how well everything turned out. She'll be going back!"
In a fit of rage, Lenny tried to break free and tear into Bo. Alas, Black was too strong for any of that.
"Enough! You shall sing." Bo smirked hatefully and pointed at Lenny. Clearly against his will, an uncomfortable tune escaped Lenny's throat.
"Hush little baby, go to sleep
When you sleep all things are sweet
Fancy shoes and ribbons dear
Don't wake up till morning's here"
"The Dream Song," the Witch exclaimed in disbelief. "How could you have known..."
"You see," Bo stated. "More than a dream or fantasy, I was her friend. She trusted me."
It was the song her parents always sang her to sleep with. So enchanting. So haunting.
Jenny's eyelids begged to shut one more time, surrendering to the stillness enveloping her.
What will I wake up as, a part of her wondered.
You'll be safe in your bed, ready for school, Bo snuggled beside.
You'll be in another strange land, running away from snarling witches and dragons.
You'll be like what Bo said - nothing.
"Bo..." she cried.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Chris Benoit Is Dead
Three years ago, Chris Benoit and Eddie Guererro embraced in the middle of a wrestling ring, confetti streaming down, fans rapturous in applause. They had worked their entire lives for that moment, standing tall at Wrestlemania 20 the World Heavyweight Champion and WWE Champion respectively. In that one defining moment, all was beautiful and wrestling fans could dream again.
One-and-a-half years ago, Eddie Guererro was found dead in his hotel room. Cause of death: side effects from his substance abuse years ago. Though he famously overcame his addiction and found Christianity, the demons from the past caught up. He was scheduled to win his second WWE Championship that night.
Two weeks ago, WWE Chairman Vince McMahon filmed a stunt where he was supposedly killed in a limousine bombing. How lame was it? Even my father, the naivest and most earnest of wrestling fans, could tell it was a hoax. However, WWE played it to the fullest; they ran tribute videos, engaged 'federal investigators' to appear on-screen and even held the revered ten-bell salute.
The storyline received much criticism for being distasteful, more so with the subsequent real-life passing of 'Sensational' Sherri Martel, a former female wrestler. Undeterred, WWE announced that tonight's programming would feature a 3-hour 'memorial service' for Vince McMahon.
This morning, Chris Benoit was found dead in his residence, along with his wife and 7-year-old son. Cause of death: alleged double-murder-suicide. Investigators say that over a period of three days, Benoit murdered his wife and son, then killed himself. The wrestling world is in utter, utter shock.
He was scheduled to win his second World Title last night.
The Vince McMahon memorial service will now be replaced by a Chris Benoit tribute show.
Vince McMahon is scheduled to appear, putting an end to his laughable 'alleged death'.
As for me, wrestling's fond memories have slipped so painfully far. Seeing Benoit and Guererro with their belts lifted proudly back then; it gave me faith. Simple faith that even small, smiling men could take their place among giants.
We'll always love you, Chris Benoit.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Slumber (Part 7 of 10)
Last night, I somehow ended up in a dingy cybercafe playing Starcraft with my boss till 12am. Got abso-freaking-lutely OWNED. I can't believe how sucky I've become.
Slumber (Part 7 of 10)
"You'll be going back as the dream, and I the dreamer."
"What that simply means," Bo snapped. "Is that I'll be a real person, in the real world."
"And me?"
"It's hard to tell. You could become a stuffed toy like myself. Or a favourite blankie, a good bedtime story, a nice thought. Anything that breathes life to dreams."
Jenny didn't like the sound of it.
"All we need to do is lie together on the Great Bed."
She shook her head. "No. I want to go back as myself."
He sneered. "You pretty well know there's no chance of that. You'll never find the Great Bed without me."
Suddenly, an unexpected wheeze made them jump. The Scatter Witch!
"I am the Scatter Witch," she smiled. "I watch over all dreams, all denizens of dreams and I say when they end.
"I knew sooner or later you would want everything for yourself. And you would figure that this dream is mine and mine alone. But it was brilliant, I must say, trying to get Jenny to take your place. I do believe this is the first time a dream denizen has tried to become real."
"But I knew. And I took some...let's say, precautionary measures."
"The Great Bed?" Her fingers darted apart to demonstrate ka-boom. "No longer exists in this dream."
Bo's eyes widened in anger and disbelief. "The Twins..."
"Me. Me. All me."
She cackled, like all good witches do. "You'll still end up a stuffed dragon in the morning, Bo. You're not as special as you paint yourself. Others have tried to take over Slumber. I saw through them every time."
"And you," A twiggy finger pointed at Jenny. "You shall never dream again. Your dreams give rise to Bo, and I cannot risk him returning."
"Stupid witch."
"What?"
"Stupid witch." Bo sat stone-faced. He tapped the ground twice.
Like summoned, Black emerged from the woods towing a fallen Lenny behind it. The Scatter Witch shook violently - from fear or fury, Jenny couldn't tell.
"Lenny," Bo said coolly. "Wake us all up."
Slumber (Part 7 of 10)
"You'll be going back as the dream, and I the dreamer."
"What that simply means," Bo snapped. "Is that I'll be a real person, in the real world."
"And me?"
"It's hard to tell. You could become a stuffed toy like myself. Or a favourite blankie, a good bedtime story, a nice thought. Anything that breathes life to dreams."
Jenny didn't like the sound of it.
"All we need to do is lie together on the Great Bed."
She shook her head. "No. I want to go back as myself."
He sneered. "You pretty well know there's no chance of that. You'll never find the Great Bed without me."
Suddenly, an unexpected wheeze made them jump. The Scatter Witch!
"I am the Scatter Witch," she smiled. "I watch over all dreams, all denizens of dreams and I say when they end.
"I knew sooner or later you would want everything for yourself. And you would figure that this dream is mine and mine alone. But it was brilliant, I must say, trying to get Jenny to take your place. I do believe this is the first time a dream denizen has tried to become real."
"But I knew. And I took some...let's say, precautionary measures."
"The Great Bed?" Her fingers darted apart to demonstrate ka-boom. "No longer exists in this dream."
Bo's eyes widened in anger and disbelief. "The Twins..."
"Me. Me. All me."
She cackled, like all good witches do. "You'll still end up a stuffed dragon in the morning, Bo. You're not as special as you paint yourself. Others have tried to take over Slumber. I saw through them every time."
"And you," A twiggy finger pointed at Jenny. "You shall never dream again. Your dreams give rise to Bo, and I cannot risk him returning."
"Stupid witch."
"What?"
"Stupid witch." Bo sat stone-faced. He tapped the ground twice.
Like summoned, Black emerged from the woods towing a fallen Lenny behind it. The Scatter Witch shook violently - from fear or fury, Jenny couldn't tell.
"Lenny," Bo said coolly. "Wake us all up."
Friday, June 08, 2007
Writer's Block
Ah-la-mak!
One crappy 'Random Act Of Kindness' aside, it feels like I haven't updated in a month.
*checks blog, yelps in horror*
It has been a month!
Funnily, the last time I posted - crappypostaside - it was my final week in Ideasmith. Am now into 3rd week in my new company, CC+J Adhaus. Things are sometimes good, sometimes bad...mostly getting 'familiarised'. Which is code speak for lazing around, haha.
Pst... *hangs head* I've been posting a bit for the company blog. Which partly explains the absence.
Blogdultery!
Finished Mitch Albom's 'For One More Day' in one sitting in office that day. Nice, heart-warming tale as expected, but less of a story than 'The Five People You Meet In Heaven'. And is it just me, or are his stories all sounding alike?
But anyway, the story deals with dead people being given a second chance in life. So pardon me as I excuse myself to indulge in:
I WANNA RE-WRITE GHOSTOPIA!!!
Hah.
Oh man, these preambles are killing me. I'm supposed to post Chapter 7 of Slumber, but this thing's already so long! And my eyes are starting to hurt from staring at the white screen. It's like how Ultraman beeps after 3 minutes on Earth.
*blushes at unwarranted use of Ultraman analogy*
Aiyah, another post lah.
One crappy 'Random Act Of Kindness' aside, it feels like I haven't updated in a month.
*checks blog, yelps in horror*
It has been a month!
Funnily, the last time I posted - crappypostaside - it was my final week in Ideasmith. Am now into 3rd week in my new company, CC+J Adhaus. Things are sometimes good, sometimes bad...mostly getting 'familiarised'. Which is code speak for lazing around, haha.
Pst... *hangs head* I've been posting a bit for the company blog. Which partly explains the absence.
Blogdultery!
Finished Mitch Albom's 'For One More Day' in one sitting in office that day. Nice, heart-warming tale as expected, but less of a story than 'The Five People You Meet In Heaven'. And is it just me, or are his stories all sounding alike?
But anyway, the story deals with dead people being given a second chance in life. So pardon me as I excuse myself to indulge in:
I WANNA RE-WRITE GHOSTOPIA!!!
Hah.
Oh man, these preambles are killing me. I'm supposed to post Chapter 7 of Slumber, but this thing's already so long! And my eyes are starting to hurt from staring at the white screen. It's like how Ultraman beeps after 3 minutes on Earth.
*blushes at unwarranted use of Ultraman analogy*
Aiyah, another post lah.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Random Act Of Kindness
Just got back from a Hari Kantin at Sri Petaling Community Hall. Wasn't too keen at first, but there sure is something about Hari Kantins that brings out the kid in us! Few rounds of throwing rings, and we were slapping high-fives, screaming like samseng sekolah already.
As we were leaving, I chanced upon this stall offering free milk samples. The sort you ignore in supermarkets.
Walked over. Must have been still high from redeeming gifts. Not to mention thirsty.
Chocolate milk. Mmm. Chocolatey.
Fresh milk. Slightly sweeter than what you'ld expect, but still good.
Okay, I'd had two cups. It would be rude to take any more, right?
Then the most incredulous thing happened. The chubby squinty-eyed stall girl looked at me and recited in the most rehearsed way possible - I kid you not - "Sir, veli nice to drink leh. Makes you want to buy also leh."
I almost burst out laughing. She looked so earnestly fake. Fake, but in the truest, sincerest way possible.
"Come lah sir, buy lah. Today special offer, next time sell outside won't be so cheap one."
I giggled. "How much?"
"RM12."
Cheap your head lah.
"Come lah sir...just buy one packet."
Her face wished so badly that I would say yes. Every single part of her knew that I would surely walk away, save for that little glimmer of hope against hope.
"Okay."
"Wah. Really?"
"Yeah."
Gleefully she handed me the packet of Dutch Lady 4.5.6 Kiddy Formula. "Really lucky you buy. Whole day no one come buy." She showed me her near-blank clipboard.
"You buying for your younger sister?"
"Uh...no. I'm the youngest."
"Her? Then who you buying for?"
"For fun loh."
She shot me the strangest look.
In a world of random violence, random killings, random hatred, seks rambang, Dota Allrandom and what-not, it's nice to have a Random Act Of Kindness.
*One night later, the writer realises the utter stupidity of his Random Act Of Kindness. And wait till he tells you of the time he gave his number to a beggar. Well, at least it gave him one blog post.
As we were leaving, I chanced upon this stall offering free milk samples. The sort you ignore in supermarkets.
Walked over. Must have been still high from redeeming gifts. Not to mention thirsty.
Chocolate milk. Mmm. Chocolatey.
Fresh milk. Slightly sweeter than what you'ld expect, but still good.
Okay, I'd had two cups. It would be rude to take any more, right?
Then the most incredulous thing happened. The chubby squinty-eyed stall girl looked at me and recited in the most rehearsed way possible - I kid you not - "Sir, veli nice to drink leh. Makes you want to buy also leh."
I almost burst out laughing. She looked so earnestly fake. Fake, but in the truest, sincerest way possible.
"Come lah sir, buy lah. Today special offer, next time sell outside won't be so cheap one."
I giggled. "How much?"
"RM12."
Cheap your head lah.
"Come lah sir...just buy one packet."
Her face wished so badly that I would say yes. Every single part of her knew that I would surely walk away, save for that little glimmer of hope against hope.
"Okay."
"Wah. Really?"
"Yeah."
Gleefully she handed me the packet of Dutch Lady 4.5.6 Kiddy Formula. "Really lucky you buy. Whole day no one come buy." She showed me her near-blank clipboard.
"You buying for your younger sister?"
"Uh...no. I'm the youngest."
"Her? Then who you buying for?"
"For fun loh."
She shot me the strangest look.
In a world of random violence, random killings, random hatred, seks rambang, Dota Allrandom and what-not, it's nice to have a Random Act Of Kindness.
*One night later, the writer realises the utter stupidity of his Random Act Of Kindness. And wait till he tells you of the time he gave his number to a beggar. Well, at least it gave him one blog post.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Slumber (Part 6 of 10)
Last week at Ideasmith. Dunno if I should be feeling happy or sad now.
I'm just withdrawing from everything, watching people running around barking orders.
Lost in my little world.
SLUMBER (Part 6 of 10)
Jenny kept running, her breath coming out in short, noisy pants, her jelly legs ready to give way any moment.
Still no sight of those Twins. She looked up, and oh no! The trees pointed upwards. Had they gone out of their tree-minds?
Up, up, no other way
Quick, 'fore they get away
"But how?" she hollered at the trees, feeling rather foolish.
They trembled, not a whisper.
She unbecomingly chewed her fingernails. "Lenny! Lenny! LENNY!"
Nothing. Had that creature killed him?
"He's not here."
She looked up towards the booming voice. Bo!
What now?
"Don't be afraid," he smiled. "I'm not taking you to the Scatter Witch, or anywhere."
"I-I don't believe you."
He sat beside her and folded his wings. She backed off, afraid.
"Let me tell you a story. A story you'll find most interesting."
"There once was a little girl, Jenny. Every night she hugged her stuffed dragon Bo to sleep, and he followed her to her dreams."
"Be they faraway wonderlands, frightful fantasies or silly everyday happenings, Bo always, always was there. As years went by, Bo became so attached to her dreams - he realised he knew almost everything about them."
"Soon he found out about this powerful Scatter Witch, who dwelled within the dreams of every child. She knew all the little details; the colours, the smells, the sounds. Most of all, she knew how to create new dreams."
"Every night Bo observed her work, and learnt a little more. He learnt to paint Jenny's dreams even when she was awake, each time adding bits and pieces that would help him stage a takeover. Like a Great Bed, for instance, so that there was no other way she could awake."
"Then one night - this night - Bo designed himself the King of Slumber. When Jenny dreamed...tah! She was his to keep. A deal was made with the Scatter Witch, that she help him keep Jenny asleep forever."
Suddenly his queer smile vanished.
"But now I see - the Scatter Witch doesn't need me. There is nothing I can give to buy her loyalty. And I know - when the time is right, she'll strike and send me back as a stuffed dragon."
"So I have been thinking," Bo scratched his chin in mock thought. "The only way is for us both to re-enter the real world."
But that's exactly what I want, Jenny thought.
"But, aha," Bo snapped his fingers, cueing four flying teddies to descend from the clouds, setting down the presumably Great Bed.
"This time, you'll be going back as the dream, and I the dreamer."
I'm just withdrawing from everything, watching people running around barking orders.
Lost in my little world.
SLUMBER (Part 6 of 10)
Jenny kept running, her breath coming out in short, noisy pants, her jelly legs ready to give way any moment.
Still no sight of those Twins. She looked up, and oh no! The trees pointed upwards. Had they gone out of their tree-minds?
Up, up, no other way
Quick, 'fore they get away
"But how?" she hollered at the trees, feeling rather foolish.
They trembled, not a whisper.
She unbecomingly chewed her fingernails. "Lenny! Lenny! LENNY!"
Nothing. Had that creature killed him?
"He's not here."
She looked up towards the booming voice. Bo!
What now?
"Don't be afraid," he smiled. "I'm not taking you to the Scatter Witch, or anywhere."
"I-I don't believe you."
He sat beside her and folded his wings. She backed off, afraid.
"Let me tell you a story. A story you'll find most interesting."
"There once was a little girl, Jenny. Every night she hugged her stuffed dragon Bo to sleep, and he followed her to her dreams."
"Be they faraway wonderlands, frightful fantasies or silly everyday happenings, Bo always, always was there. As years went by, Bo became so attached to her dreams - he realised he knew almost everything about them."
"Soon he found out about this powerful Scatter Witch, who dwelled within the dreams of every child. She knew all the little details; the colours, the smells, the sounds. Most of all, she knew how to create new dreams."
"Every night Bo observed her work, and learnt a little more. He learnt to paint Jenny's dreams even when she was awake, each time adding bits and pieces that would help him stage a takeover. Like a Great Bed, for instance, so that there was no other way she could awake."
"Then one night - this night - Bo designed himself the King of Slumber. When Jenny dreamed...tah! She was his to keep. A deal was made with the Scatter Witch, that she help him keep Jenny asleep forever."
Suddenly his queer smile vanished.
"But now I see - the Scatter Witch doesn't need me. There is nothing I can give to buy her loyalty. And I know - when the time is right, she'll strike and send me back as a stuffed dragon."
"So I have been thinking," Bo scratched his chin in mock thought. "The only way is for us both to re-enter the real world."
But that's exactly what I want, Jenny thought.
"But, aha," Bo snapped his fingers, cueing four flying teddies to descend from the clouds, setting down the presumably Great Bed.
"This time, you'll be going back as the dream, and I the dreamer."
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
The Perfect Sunday School Lesson
He steps into the empty classroom, eyeing about with a satisfied smile.
The seats, still unoccupied, stand quietly in a semi-circle. A remarkably clean whiteboard watches over them, the way all self-respecting whiteboards do.
His mind outlines, once again, the ice breaker that'll set off the lesson. Seems fine. The children will laugh and chatter excitedly, asking for another round, and another, then another. Unless someone breaks something.
The lesson? Leads perfectly well from the ice breaker. A thought-provoking question or two, and the children will be eating out of their teacher's hands.
He sees it now: The children will listen wide-eyed, open-eared. Their curious minds will try understand everything they can, even pop a question or two. When the bell rings, they'll shut their eyes, clasp their hands and pray dearly. Heck, maybe the Memory Verse will be more Verse than Memory.
"Ah, yes," He whispers. "It'll be the perfect Sunday School lesson."
*****
Here now, the moment of truth: The children trudge into their seats, mostly wishing they were home being serenaded by the Cartoon Hour.
Icebreaker time. Brrrrrr. The ice is mighty thick today. Try as the teacher might, the children are simply in no mood for childish games. What utter irony.
Embarassingly, the teacher ends up playing more than the children do. Can't blame him, it was the only way to eat up ten minutes.
"Can anyone tell me the purpose of the game?" he next throws his million-dollar question.
Splat. It flops so spectacularly, the Russian Olympic gymnastics team would've blushed.
"Erm...okay, why did we play the game?"
Not a hoot.
"Was anyone even paying attention?"
The children sense exasperation, though they don't actually know what the word means.
Things go downhill for the next quarter-to-hour. More times than he remembers, the teacher wishes the ground would swallow him up. Awkward silences pepper the session like a first-time cook with Ajinomoto.
Whoops! The teacher gets stuck mid-sentence again. Already the children are yawning and whispering among themselves. Slowly but surely, he is losing them.
Ring! Goes the bell. The disinterested children pray along, and jot down the Memory Verse to memorise next week. The class empties out.
Sigh, goes the teacher. I wonder what went wrong. It all seemed so perfect.
Guess I should try harder, pray harder next time. It'll be better.
*****
Beaming warmly in the way only He can, He gazes at the teacher switching off the lights.
Indeed, it was the perfect Sunday School lesson.
The seats, still unoccupied, stand quietly in a semi-circle. A remarkably clean whiteboard watches over them, the way all self-respecting whiteboards do.
His mind outlines, once again, the ice breaker that'll set off the lesson. Seems fine. The children will laugh and chatter excitedly, asking for another round, and another, then another. Unless someone breaks something.
The lesson? Leads perfectly well from the ice breaker. A thought-provoking question or two, and the children will be eating out of their teacher's hands.
He sees it now: The children will listen wide-eyed, open-eared. Their curious minds will try understand everything they can, even pop a question or two. When the bell rings, they'll shut their eyes, clasp their hands and pray dearly. Heck, maybe the Memory Verse will be more Verse than Memory.
"Ah, yes," He whispers. "It'll be the perfect Sunday School lesson."
*****
Here now, the moment of truth: The children trudge into their seats, mostly wishing they were home being serenaded by the Cartoon Hour.
Icebreaker time. Brrrrrr. The ice is mighty thick today. Try as the teacher might, the children are simply in no mood for childish games. What utter irony.
Embarassingly, the teacher ends up playing more than the children do. Can't blame him, it was the only way to eat up ten minutes.
"Can anyone tell me the purpose of the game?" he next throws his million-dollar question.
Splat. It flops so spectacularly, the Russian Olympic gymnastics team would've blushed.
"Erm...okay, why did we play the game?"
Not a hoot.
"Was anyone even paying attention?"
The children sense exasperation, though they don't actually know what the word means.
Things go downhill for the next quarter-to-hour. More times than he remembers, the teacher wishes the ground would swallow him up. Awkward silences pepper the session like a first-time cook with Ajinomoto.
Whoops! The teacher gets stuck mid-sentence again. Already the children are yawning and whispering among themselves. Slowly but surely, he is losing them.
Ring! Goes the bell. The disinterested children pray along, and jot down the Memory Verse to memorise next week. The class empties out.
Sigh, goes the teacher. I wonder what went wrong. It all seemed so perfect.
Guess I should try harder, pray harder next time. It'll be better.
*****
Beaming warmly in the way only He can, He gazes at the teacher switching off the lights.
Indeed, it was the perfect Sunday School lesson.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
The World's Shortest Stories Of Love And Death
As promised, some delightful pages from The World's Shortest Stories Of Love And Death (refer to previous post). And they're really all 55 words long. Go count!
#1 Perfect Opening Line
A dozen bodies of women with slashed throats.
Never a sign of forced entry.
Detectives were baffled.
Meanwhile, the slasher was on the prowl again.
"Piece of cake," he sneered.
Knock, knock.
"Go away!"
"Your husband's with my wife tonight! Please! We have to talk!"
Door opens abruptly.
Works like a charm, as he grabs her.
#2 The Climb
Three men started climbing 90 floors. The elevators were out until Monday, and Sam had to have the papers over the weekend. As they hiked the towering flights, the men busied themselves telling sad, painful stories. On the 90th floor, Sam's story was the most painful.
"I forgot the key," he gasped, then dropped dead.
#3 To Air Is Human
Wrapped in bloody bandages, tubes stretching from his body, the accident victim gestured frantically to the attending priest. Desperate, unable to speak, he scribbled a message. Then, with a gasp, his breathing stopped.
After administering the last rites, the priest turned to read the dying man's final words: "You're standing on my air tube."
#4 Modern Medicine
Blinding headlights, deafening crash, searing pain, absolute blackness, then the warm, welcoming, clear blue light, irresistibly beckoning. John felt gloriously happy, youthful, and free as he strolled into the enveloping radiance.
Slowly, the pain and darkness returned. John's swollen eyes agonizingly opened - bandages, tubes, casts, both legs missing, his tearful wife.
"They saved you, Honey!"
#5 In The Beginning
She was mad at him. They had almost everything in their idyllic life, but she coveted the one thing they lacked. Only his cowardice stood in the way.
She would dump him, but she couldn't yet, so she would resort to cunning and seduction. Naked and beautiful, she grabbed the fruit.
"Adam," she called softly.
And my hands-down favourite...
#6 Forever Star Crossed
"Come on, kiss me - nobody's watching."
The young couple embraced.
"We shouldn't meet like this."
"Says who?"
"Everybody. My family doesn't like you. My mom says you're not right for me."
"Yeah, mine too. But who cares?"
"I sure don't. Because I love you, James."
"And I love you too, Gary."
#1 Perfect Opening Line
A dozen bodies of women with slashed throats.
Never a sign of forced entry.
Detectives were baffled.
Meanwhile, the slasher was on the prowl again.
"Piece of cake," he sneered.
Knock, knock.
"Go away!"
"Your husband's with my wife tonight! Please! We have to talk!"
Door opens abruptly.
Works like a charm, as he grabs her.
#2 The Climb
Three men started climbing 90 floors. The elevators were out until Monday, and Sam had to have the papers over the weekend. As they hiked the towering flights, the men busied themselves telling sad, painful stories. On the 90th floor, Sam's story was the most painful.
"I forgot the key," he gasped, then dropped dead.
#3 To Air Is Human
Wrapped in bloody bandages, tubes stretching from his body, the accident victim gestured frantically to the attending priest. Desperate, unable to speak, he scribbled a message. Then, with a gasp, his breathing stopped.
After administering the last rites, the priest turned to read the dying man's final words: "You're standing on my air tube."
#4 Modern Medicine
Blinding headlights, deafening crash, searing pain, absolute blackness, then the warm, welcoming, clear blue light, irresistibly beckoning. John felt gloriously happy, youthful, and free as he strolled into the enveloping radiance.
Slowly, the pain and darkness returned. John's swollen eyes agonizingly opened - bandages, tubes, casts, both legs missing, his tearful wife.
"They saved you, Honey!"
#5 In The Beginning
She was mad at him. They had almost everything in their idyllic life, but she coveted the one thing they lacked. Only his cowardice stood in the way.
She would dump him, but she couldn't yet, so she would resort to cunning and seduction. Naked and beautiful, she grabbed the fruit.
"Adam," she called softly.
And my hands-down favourite...
#6 Forever Star Crossed
"Come on, kiss me - nobody's watching."
The young couple embraced.
"We shouldn't meet like this."
"Says who?"
"Everybody. My family doesn't like you. My mom says you're not right for me."
"Yeah, mine too. But who cares?"
"I sure don't. Because I love you, James."
"And I love you too, Gary."
Friday, April 27, 2007
Slumber (Part 5 of 10)
It's supposed to be my last day at Ideasmith today, had I not extended my stay for two weeks. At this stage, however, it feels like I'm the one benefiting, not the company. We're working on a killer project now, one I hope to make a final snatch to my portfolio before leaving.
Came across an interesting book weeks ago. It's titled 'The World's Shortest Stories Of Love And Death'. And guess how short? 50 WORDS! Yeah, every story is exactly 50 words long, yet contains some sort of plot twist. Incredible or what? At the risk of getting sued, I'll soon post some favourites for y'all to see.
And...it's storytime, kiddos.
Slumber (Part 5 of 10) (Did I mention that this story IS heading somewhere?)
"It's gone!"
"What?"
"The Bed," Lenny pointed at an odd flat-grassed patch. "It's supposed to be here."
"And it isn't?"
He rolled his eyes at her, annoyed.
"Where could it be, then?"
"Someone moved it," he pressed his nose to the ground. "And they smell suspiciously close."
It was the Twins,
Curse their dismal grins
"Lenny," Jenny tugged fearfully. "Th-the trees! They're whispering!"
"The Twins, eh? Which way did they go?"
North of the bony oaks
Whichever way the stew cooks
"Thank you," he kissed the ground, and turned to Jenny. "Follow me."
She trailed him to a bumpy path lined with elderly-looking trees. As though by magic - if it wasn't in fact that - their knobbly branches pointed the same way.
They went that way
Fine as any breezy day
Suddenly a distant rumbling shook the trees like leaves. As if they weren't quivering badly enough already, the leaves themselves shook like leaves. It was a faint, steady rumble; the sort that made you feel all queasy and calm-before-the-stormish.
Black, Black, trouble at hand
Broken dreams awaiting the sand
Boom! A wolf-like creature pushed through the oaks, howling to announce its arrival. It was a hulking beast, no smaller than Lenny, jet black all over. A blackened trail, not unlike soot, lingered from its path.
Lenny snarled. "Jenny - I'll distract Black here. You go where the trees are pointing. Keep running till you see the Twins with the Bed. Shadow them till I get to you. Leave a trail."
She nodded, and made a dash. At once Black pounced viciously at her. Lenny, however, saw it coming and charged at him mid-air.
Both wrestled to the ground, snapping at each other's throats. Black was the more powerful of the two, but Lenny was quicker and more agile with his wings. Each time Black tried to pin him down, Lenny's wings would flap violently, forcing Black to back off.
Eventually though, Lenny would tire and allow an opening to gash his chest. As usually is the case, injury led to injury - and it didn't take a Wizard of Oz to foretell the battle's outcome.
*****
"My ears decieve me!" Scatter Witch shrieked. "Surely!"
The Night Mare neighed and stomped again.
"Go away."
It burst into lucent flames and bolted out the door, almost catching Bo on the way out.
"Now what?" Bo grunted.
"Apparently," she folded her arms. "The Twins couldn't find the Bed. Someone moved it before they arrived."
"Mystifying."
She glared daggers at him. "And no one else would have the power to do that."
"I could say the same of you."
Her fists clenched white. "So be it, till proven guilty. I shall fly myself to the Trembling Woods, and seek out the Bed. You keep an eye on things."
"Be my guest."
Perfect. Just perfect.
Came across an interesting book weeks ago. It's titled 'The World's Shortest Stories Of Love And Death'. And guess how short? 50 WORDS! Yeah, every story is exactly 50 words long, yet contains some sort of plot twist. Incredible or what? At the risk of getting sued, I'll soon post some favourites for y'all to see.
And...it's storytime, kiddos.
Slumber (Part 5 of 10) (Did I mention that this story IS heading somewhere?)
"It's gone!"
"What?"
"The Bed," Lenny pointed at an odd flat-grassed patch. "It's supposed to be here."
"And it isn't?"
He rolled his eyes at her, annoyed.
"Where could it be, then?"
"Someone moved it," he pressed his nose to the ground. "And they smell suspiciously close."
It was the Twins,
Curse their dismal grins
"Lenny," Jenny tugged fearfully. "Th-the trees! They're whispering!"
"The Twins, eh? Which way did they go?"
North of the bony oaks
Whichever way the stew cooks
"Thank you," he kissed the ground, and turned to Jenny. "Follow me."
She trailed him to a bumpy path lined with elderly-looking trees. As though by magic - if it wasn't in fact that - their knobbly branches pointed the same way.
They went that way
Fine as any breezy day
Suddenly a distant rumbling shook the trees like leaves. As if they weren't quivering badly enough already, the leaves themselves shook like leaves. It was a faint, steady rumble; the sort that made you feel all queasy and calm-before-the-stormish.
Black, Black, trouble at hand
Broken dreams awaiting the sand
Boom! A wolf-like creature pushed through the oaks, howling to announce its arrival. It was a hulking beast, no smaller than Lenny, jet black all over. A blackened trail, not unlike soot, lingered from its path.
Lenny snarled. "Jenny - I'll distract Black here. You go where the trees are pointing. Keep running till you see the Twins with the Bed. Shadow them till I get to you. Leave a trail."
She nodded, and made a dash. At once Black pounced viciously at her. Lenny, however, saw it coming and charged at him mid-air.
Both wrestled to the ground, snapping at each other's throats. Black was the more powerful of the two, but Lenny was quicker and more agile with his wings. Each time Black tried to pin him down, Lenny's wings would flap violently, forcing Black to back off.
Eventually though, Lenny would tire and allow an opening to gash his chest. As usually is the case, injury led to injury - and it didn't take a Wizard of Oz to foretell the battle's outcome.
*****
"My ears decieve me!" Scatter Witch shrieked. "Surely!"
The Night Mare neighed and stomped again.
"Go away."
It burst into lucent flames and bolted out the door, almost catching Bo on the way out.
"Now what?" Bo grunted.
"Apparently," she folded her arms. "The Twins couldn't find the Bed. Someone moved it before they arrived."
"Mystifying."
She glared daggers at him. "And no one else would have the power to do that."
"I could say the same of you."
Her fists clenched white. "So be it, till proven guilty. I shall fly myself to the Trembling Woods, and seek out the Bed. You keep an eye on things."
"Be my guest."
Perfect. Just perfect.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
The Worst Writer In The World
The Worst Writer In The World
Put down his pen
He couldn't write from nine to five
Why, he couldn't even write to save his life
The Worst Writer In The World
Tore up his book
He never knew the right words to say
Why, he even forgot what he wrote yesterday
Alas, The Worst Writer In The World
Never knew what to write
Till he saw others write it
He wrote for hours and hours to no end
But always saw the same from beginning to end
His stories wasted his time, his poems wasted his rhyme
Tall tales, short stanzas, fiction, faction
Meanderings, panderings, wanderings, bickerings
Gibberish!
Rubbish!
Indeed, he said
I am The Worst Writer In The World
I quit!
And somewhere between the pages yellow
The Best Writer In The World died, poor fellow
Put down his pen
He couldn't write from nine to five
Why, he couldn't even write to save his life
The Worst Writer In The World
Tore up his book
He never knew the right words to say
Why, he even forgot what he wrote yesterday
Alas, The Worst Writer In The World
Never knew what to write
Till he saw others write it
He wrote for hours and hours to no end
But always saw the same from beginning to end
His stories wasted his time, his poems wasted his rhyme
Tall tales, short stanzas, fiction, faction
Meanderings, panderings, wanderings, bickerings
Gibberish!
Rubbish!
Indeed, he said
I am The Worst Writer In The World
I quit!
And somewhere between the pages yellow
The Best Writer In The World died, poor fellow
Slumber (Part 4 of 10)
So much has happened lately. Okay, not a lot actually, it's just one big thing that seems to have far-reaching consequences.
My company's (still Ideasmith at the moment) Creative Director passed away suddenly from a stroke last week. He was 55, had two kids of 10 and 14, and was apparently a well-respected figure in the Chinese literature community. His name was Lim Yew Chuan.
And it couldn't have come at a worse time, exactly one week after I tendered resignation. Things were mightily sombre around office last week, and at most times I felt like jerk for leaving as everyone was picking up the pieces. Was also afraid that my boss would persuade me to stay a little longer - which he did yesterday, asking for 2 more weeks. Will need to talk to Joescher (my soon-to-be boss) about that.
On the flip side, it was nice to see us grow closer - somehow, everyone's been more helpful and co-operative these days. It's a shame that as I'm leaving, the company seems to be entering a period where us young 'uns will be called upon to step up. But live life with no regrets, I say.
Oh wow...a preamble that's already half-a-post long. That's what I get for not updating in ten days.
Slumber (Part 4 of 10) (And believe me, this story IS heading somewhere)
"Across the Trembling Woods. That's the only way we can get to the Great Bed." Lenny murmured.
"But why can't I just sleep here? See, my eyes are shut already!"
"You won't be able to. The only way back is through the Bed. Now hurry, before Bo gets there first!"
Jenny held on for dear life, as Lenny spiralled downwards to a gloomy green patch. It was an overgrown mess of quivering, sorry-looking plants, stretching out to forever.
"Get down." He took care not to hurt her. "Hand on my tail. And no letting go."
One foot before the other, the two ploddingly made their way to the heart of the woods, taking care not to trip on the snaking weeds. The constantly trembling canopy very soon became dizzying, making sunlight dance in and out their eyes. You never knew when an innocuous-looking bush would just shake violently, and burst into a flight of leaves.
"Lenny," she suddenly quipped. "What if we can't get to this Bed? Will I see Mom and Dad again?"
His caramel eyes met hers. "Of course we'll get you back safely."
"It'll all just be a bad dream?"
"Yes."
She caught an uneasy glint in his eye.
*****
"Without the Great Bed, there is no way she can wake up."
Bo peered up from his notes. "Mm? And?"
"I've sent the Twins to take care of it. Black will track down Lenny and the girl."
"Good, good."
"Ahem," the Scatter Witch tried unsuccessfully to see what Bo was writing. "You still haven't told me how much of Slumber I'll get."
"You're afraid I'll trick you."
"Can't be too careful."
"How would I dare mess with the mighty Scatter Witch," he scoffed. "After all, you're the only one who has seen a thousand years of Slumber."
"And Lenny."
"But you said he was weak. Which was why you left him to seek the Night Mares."
"Whatever you're thinking," she glared piercingly at him. "Remember this: I can thrive in any dream of any child. But you, my friend, can only exist within the mind of this girl."
"If ever Jenny awakes," her pencil fingers snapped. "Poof."
"Heh. You worry too much."
Oh how you underestimate me, Witch.
My company's (still Ideasmith at the moment) Creative Director passed away suddenly from a stroke last week. He was 55, had two kids of 10 and 14, and was apparently a well-respected figure in the Chinese literature community. His name was Lim Yew Chuan.
And it couldn't have come at a worse time, exactly one week after I tendered resignation. Things were mightily sombre around office last week, and at most times I felt like jerk for leaving as everyone was picking up the pieces. Was also afraid that my boss would persuade me to stay a little longer - which he did yesterday, asking for 2 more weeks. Will need to talk to Joescher (my soon-to-be boss) about that.
On the flip side, it was nice to see us grow closer - somehow, everyone's been more helpful and co-operative these days. It's a shame that as I'm leaving, the company seems to be entering a period where us young 'uns will be called upon to step up. But live life with no regrets, I say.
Oh wow...a preamble that's already half-a-post long. That's what I get for not updating in ten days.
Slumber (Part 4 of 10) (And believe me, this story IS heading somewhere)
"Across the Trembling Woods. That's the only way we can get to the Great Bed." Lenny murmured.
"But why can't I just sleep here? See, my eyes are shut already!"
"You won't be able to. The only way back is through the Bed. Now hurry, before Bo gets there first!"
Jenny held on for dear life, as Lenny spiralled downwards to a gloomy green patch. It was an overgrown mess of quivering, sorry-looking plants, stretching out to forever.
"Get down." He took care not to hurt her. "Hand on my tail. And no letting go."
One foot before the other, the two ploddingly made their way to the heart of the woods, taking care not to trip on the snaking weeds. The constantly trembling canopy very soon became dizzying, making sunlight dance in and out their eyes. You never knew when an innocuous-looking bush would just shake violently, and burst into a flight of leaves.
"Lenny," she suddenly quipped. "What if we can't get to this Bed? Will I see Mom and Dad again?"
His caramel eyes met hers. "Of course we'll get you back safely."
"It'll all just be a bad dream?"
"Yes."
She caught an uneasy glint in his eye.
*****
"Without the Great Bed, there is no way she can wake up."
Bo peered up from his notes. "Mm? And?"
"I've sent the Twins to take care of it. Black will track down Lenny and the girl."
"Good, good."
"Ahem," the Scatter Witch tried unsuccessfully to see what Bo was writing. "You still haven't told me how much of Slumber I'll get."
"You're afraid I'll trick you."
"Can't be too careful."
"How would I dare mess with the mighty Scatter Witch," he scoffed. "After all, you're the only one who has seen a thousand years of Slumber."
"And Lenny."
"But you said he was weak. Which was why you left him to seek the Night Mares."
"Whatever you're thinking," she glared piercingly at him. "Remember this: I can thrive in any dream of any child. But you, my friend, can only exist within the mind of this girl."
"If ever Jenny awakes," her pencil fingers snapped. "Poof."
"Heh. You worry too much."
Oh how you underestimate me, Witch.
Monday, April 09, 2007
Slumber (Part 3 of 10)
It's April! And not a single meaningful story post yet for the year.
So what's new? I finally resigned last week, will be starting a new job in Sri Hartamas next month. Gonna miss lunchtime shopping in Mid Valley, but you take some and give some...
And before I forget...something I wanted to include in my Wikipedia post, but somehow overlooked. Make it a point to check out this admirably ridiculous site: www.uncyclopedia.com
Jenny looked up, startled. What new uncomfortable twist was this?
A glassy pair of doggy eyes stared back at her. In the strangest, most inexplicable way, she was being taken away in the jaws of a big flying dog.
"Hullo there!" the dog gruffed. "Sorry I had to introduce myself like this. Name's Lenny."
"I-I'm Jenny."
"That I know. I'm taking you now to the Great Bed."
"Great Bed?"
"Jenny," Lenny descended and dropped her gently onto a cloud. "Every night you go to sleep and start dreaming, this Land of Slumber comes alive. We all have our little adventures. Sometimes you join us. Sometimes you sit by watching."
"When you eventually wake up, everything disappears. Nobody remembers what happened the night before. Nobody but three people - you, me, and the Scatter Witch. Everyone else fades to the back of your mind."
"But you're not really a person." Jenny giggled.
Lenny frowned. "A little seriousness. Please."
"Sorry."
"So here's the problem. I don't know how, but tonight Bo has somehow gained dream awareness. He knows that this is a dream, and you're the one keeping it going. His existence depends on you staying asleep."
*****
"I have a little...idea." Bo snorted a wisp of smoke at the Scatter Witch's face, annoying her to bits. "You might be able to help me. Help us."
"What in your dreams do you want?"
"Just think. Wouldn't it be amazing if we could make the Land of Slumber...last more than one night?"
Her pale eyes grew wide. "You're not supposed to say that. None of you dreamlings ever should."
"Well...I did."
"B-but...how? It's not possible!"
"We'll deal with the nitty-gritties later. Now are you interested or not?"
Her eyes became slits. "Tell me more."
So what's new? I finally resigned last week, will be starting a new job in Sri Hartamas next month. Gonna miss lunchtime shopping in Mid Valley, but you take some and give some...
And before I forget...something I wanted to include in my Wikipedia post, but somehow overlooked. Make it a point to check out this admirably ridiculous site: www.uncyclopedia.com
Jenny looked up, startled. What new uncomfortable twist was this?
A glassy pair of doggy eyes stared back at her. In the strangest, most inexplicable way, she was being taken away in the jaws of a big flying dog.
"Hullo there!" the dog gruffed. "Sorry I had to introduce myself like this. Name's Lenny."
"I-I'm Jenny."
"That I know. I'm taking you now to the Great Bed."
"Great Bed?"
"Jenny," Lenny descended and dropped her gently onto a cloud. "Every night you go to sleep and start dreaming, this Land of Slumber comes alive. We all have our little adventures. Sometimes you join us. Sometimes you sit by watching."
"When you eventually wake up, everything disappears. Nobody remembers what happened the night before. Nobody but three people - you, me, and the Scatter Witch. Everyone else fades to the back of your mind."
"But you're not really a person." Jenny giggled.
Lenny frowned. "A little seriousness. Please."
"Sorry."
"So here's the problem. I don't know how, but tonight Bo has somehow gained dream awareness. He knows that this is a dream, and you're the one keeping it going. His existence depends on you staying asleep."
*****
"I have a little...idea." Bo snorted a wisp of smoke at the Scatter Witch's face, annoying her to bits. "You might be able to help me. Help us."
"What in your dreams do you want?"
"Just think. Wouldn't it be amazing if we could make the Land of Slumber...last more than one night?"
Her pale eyes grew wide. "You're not supposed to say that. None of you dreamlings ever should."
"Well...I did."
"B-but...how? It's not possible!"
"We'll deal with the nitty-gritties later. Now are you interested or not?"
Her eyes became slits. "Tell me more."
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Sleeping In Class
Have you ever fallen asleep in class?
I used to do that a lot. Not in class during school, but afternoon tuition at the world-famous Pusat Tuisyen Kasturi.
It always starts with waiting for the Cityliner bus to head downtown. For some reason, I never board the bus that comes right after school. Rather, I take the almost-2pm one. Must be the lesser crowd. Or lunch. Or both.
The bus rumbles comfortably. All is cosy and hunky-dory. My textbook-padded school bag's just soooo warm. And before you know it...
BOK! BOK!
My head bashes repeatedly against the window, as a result of nodding off. Not the blue-black sort, but still enough to warrant an ouch. Strange thing is, I always can HEAR and FEEL it...but there's no pain. Every time it happens, I merely pop awake drowsily and think, "Hmm...that's supposed to be painful, right?". And resolve not to go back to sleep and make a fool of myself. For twenty seconds.
Eventually the bus takes me there, and up the dreary steps of Pusat Tuisyen Kasturi - God bless the place - I go. The creme de la creme of Secondary School Students assemble. Hot hunks, gorgeous gals, nerdy nerds, taikos, taikajehs...eat your heart out, KFC Variety Bucket!
All ritey, I say to myself. Today I'm gonna get one step closer to becoming a straight-A student and ensuring a better future for the Mok lineage.
"Okei, hari ni kita akan melilhat nota dari slaid."
Dum. Dum. Dum. Off go the lights.
Hummm...aircon's just right today. What a perfect environment to learn about Sistem Feudal: Kedaulatan Sultan-Sultan Melaka.
Ah, yes...long live Sultan Alauddin Riayat Syah.
You know it once you start dozing off. Heavy eyelids, half your usual IQ and attention span, the usual suspects. "Not again..." you wonder.
Every once a while *something* jolts you awake. For a while. It could be a glance from the teacher. An extra loud intonation in her voice. Or sometimes it comes from yourself.
Each time that momentary jolt comes, you think, "Okay, okay...did I almost fall asleep? I'm so gonna stay awake for the rest of the class.".
Yeah, right.
Statistically speaking (yes, I am very experienced in this), the first two jolts are usually false alarms. The coast turns clear soon enough, and off you go again. There's more of a struggle this time around, at least. "Break time's coming soon, break time's coming soon..." Alas, most times you end up losing without even realising it.
Then Bada-Boom! It happens. *Something* will happen to snap you completely out of sleepy-ness. Again, it could come from yourself. Or an embarassing incident involving the person sitting next to you. Or worse, the teacher takes the trouble herself.
Once the wake-me-up moment occurs, you know. It feels so real, so definitive that whatever ideas of sleeping during breaktime become laughable. You feel ashamed, almost unbelieving that you were dumb enough to sleep in class.
The other day, I fell asleep in the Class of Life. God threw a chalk at me.
"Anyone mind lending me their notes to copy?"
I used to do that a lot. Not in class during school, but afternoon tuition at the world-famous Pusat Tuisyen Kasturi.
It always starts with waiting for the Cityliner bus to head downtown. For some reason, I never board the bus that comes right after school. Rather, I take the almost-2pm one. Must be the lesser crowd. Or lunch. Or both.
The bus rumbles comfortably. All is cosy and hunky-dory. My textbook-padded school bag's just soooo warm. And before you know it...
BOK! BOK!
My head bashes repeatedly against the window, as a result of nodding off. Not the blue-black sort, but still enough to warrant an ouch. Strange thing is, I always can HEAR and FEEL it...but there's no pain. Every time it happens, I merely pop awake drowsily and think, "Hmm...that's supposed to be painful, right?". And resolve not to go back to sleep and make a fool of myself. For twenty seconds.
Eventually the bus takes me there, and up the dreary steps of Pusat Tuisyen Kasturi - God bless the place - I go. The creme de la creme of Secondary School Students assemble. Hot hunks, gorgeous gals, nerdy nerds, taikos, taikajehs...eat your heart out, KFC Variety Bucket!
All ritey, I say to myself. Today I'm gonna get one step closer to becoming a straight-A student and ensuring a better future for the Mok lineage.
"Okei, hari ni kita akan melilhat nota dari slaid."
Dum. Dum. Dum. Off go the lights.
Hummm...aircon's just right today. What a perfect environment to learn about Sistem Feudal: Kedaulatan Sultan-Sultan Melaka.
Ah, yes...long live Sultan Alauddin Riayat Syah.
You know it once you start dozing off. Heavy eyelids, half your usual IQ and attention span, the usual suspects. "Not again..." you wonder.
Every once a while *something* jolts you awake. For a while. It could be a glance from the teacher. An extra loud intonation in her voice. Or sometimes it comes from yourself.
Each time that momentary jolt comes, you think, "Okay, okay...did I almost fall asleep? I'm so gonna stay awake for the rest of the class.".
Yeah, right.
Statistically speaking (yes, I am very experienced in this), the first two jolts are usually false alarms. The coast turns clear soon enough, and off you go again. There's more of a struggle this time around, at least. "Break time's coming soon, break time's coming soon..." Alas, most times you end up losing without even realising it.
Then Bada-Boom! It happens. *Something* will happen to snap you completely out of sleepy-ness. Again, it could come from yourself. Or an embarassing incident involving the person sitting next to you. Or worse, the teacher takes the trouble herself.
Once the wake-me-up moment occurs, you know. It feels so real, so definitive that whatever ideas of sleeping during breaktime become laughable. You feel ashamed, almost unbelieving that you were dumb enough to sleep in class.
The other day, I fell asleep in the Class of Life. God threw a chalk at me.
"Anyone mind lending me their notes to copy?"
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Oh Wiki You're So Fine...Hey Wiki!
Wah, 1 month never update blog already oh!
You abandon your blog already ah?
No apologies guys...it's not that I've been busy, but things haven't been very conducive for blogging lately. Between pesky issues like helping organise Gospel Camp, mulling over a job change (I can't believe I'm still at Ideasmith and being paid less than ALL my college peers), my sweeeet newly-purchased Masked Rider Black DVD set, falling in love and other pesky matters, I haven't had much chance to polish up thoughts.
(My my, a nosey bunch indeed, aren't we. Why don't you ask about Masked Rider Black instead.)
Neways, today's post concerns an item I picked up 2 weeks ago. Here ya go:
Webaroo, a provider of offline Web technology, is making available Wikipedia...Unplugged, a downloadable, searchable "Web pack" which contains the entire contents of the online encyclopedia's more than 1 million articles of collective knowledge. The pack, which is around 6GB in size, can be downloaded to a memory card for carrying on a smart phone, for example. The content automatically updates in the background when one connects a loaded device to the Internet.
"Uh huh?" you go. "Like...uh huh?"
DON'T YOU GET IT, YOU MORONS?
When Wikipedia was first launched some years back, it was just a 'cool website with lots of info'. Then slowly, as people realised how impossibly accurate, up-to-date and extensive the info was...they bowed at its feet in awe. Forget the wise man on the mountain, Wikipedia was the definitive source of truth.
"Dude...no, I'm telling you the population density of Hungary is 282/square mile!"
"Wait...did the Spanish Inquisition start in 1478 or 1487?"
"Now there is ABSOLUTELY NO WAY the President of Libya could be Omar al-Bashir."
Now thanks to Wikipedia, the truth ain't out there. It's staring you in the face. A mere click (and some typing) condemns you to the indignity of being a poser know-it-all or The Hallowed Glory Of Being Well-Read.
But now...a portable Wikipedia?! The utter horrors! The dangers it could pose in the wrong hands!
Picture this:
*At a dinner party*
Know-it-all: Hello! Enjoyed your dinner?
Know-not-all: Certainly did.
KIA: So...what do you do in your free time?
KNA: Well, I...read a lot.
KIA: Great! I read a fair bit myself. Any good books recently?
KNA: Uhhh...sure. There's this one by, uhhh...John...
KIA: Grisham?
KNA: Yeah yeah...that's the guy.
KIA: The Innocent Man?
KNA: Innocent of what?
KIA: Haha! Quite the joker, aren't you. His latest book, I mean.
KNA: Ahahaha! Of course I knew that. Just pulling your leg.
KIA: So you read it?
KNA: Of course! (clutches stomach suddenly) Whoops, excuse me for a moment.
(Five minutes and a Portable Wikipedia later)
KNA: Hey, I'm back! Anyway, The Innocent Man: Murder and Injustice in a Small Town is the first nonfiction written by John Grisham which was released by Doubleday Publishing on October 10, 2006. The book details the story of former minor league baseball aspirant Ronald 'Ron' Keith Williamson of Ada, Pontotoc County, Oklahoma, where he was raised in the strict Pentecostal household of his parents, Roy Williamson and Juanita (Caldwell) Williamson, along with his sisters, Annette (Williamson) Hudson, now from Tulsa, Oklahoma, and Renée (Williamson) Simmons, now from Allen, Texas.
KIA: Whoa, whoa...easy there, man. It's a casual party.
KNA: Shaddap, moron!
Spoiler warning: Plot and/or ending details follow.
The story begins with Ron Williamson, who has returned to his hometown after failed attempts at playing for various minor league baseball teams, including the Oakland A's and the Ft. Lauderdale Yankees. This failure leads to a bout of depression, which results in a drinking problem...
(At this point, a small crowd gathers and starts worshiping at the feet of Know-Not-All)
I'm afraid, people. Really, really afraid. Now everyone can be a genius on any subject in five minutes. Those poor grey-haired men in libraries and labs. Anything they spring on me, I only need to excuse myself for five minutes, and...voila! A lifetime of research put to shame.
Remember that chubby auntie selling plastic hairbands in the market? She prolly knows more fengtau songs and alternative indie bands than you.
Or that Indian man on his motorbike, selling fresh milk in a tin container? He's *this* close to being an expert on sequenced prokaryotic genomes.
Or how about your neighbour's fat kid who watches Naruto (on TV3!) all day long? He could fill you in on what makes the opposite sex tick. Scientifically.
And maybe on a strange, strange day in the future, we could find ourselves with Wikipedia implants. And when everyone knows everything about everything, geniuses rule with the fools!
Give me Friendster any day.
You abandon your blog already ah?
No apologies guys...it's not that I've been busy, but things haven't been very conducive for blogging lately. Between pesky issues like helping organise Gospel Camp, mulling over a job change (I can't believe I'm still at Ideasmith and being paid less than ALL my college peers), my sweeeet newly-purchased Masked Rider Black DVD set, falling in love and other pesky matters, I haven't had much chance to polish up thoughts.
(My my, a nosey bunch indeed, aren't we. Why don't you ask about Masked Rider Black instead.)
Neways, today's post concerns an item I picked up 2 weeks ago. Here ya go:
Webaroo, a provider of offline Web technology, is making available Wikipedia...Unplugged, a downloadable, searchable "Web pack" which contains the entire contents of the online encyclopedia's more than 1 million articles of collective knowledge. The pack, which is around 6GB in size, can be downloaded to a memory card for carrying on a smart phone, for example. The content automatically updates in the background when one connects a loaded device to the Internet.
"Uh huh?" you go. "Like...uh huh?"
DON'T YOU GET IT, YOU MORONS?
When Wikipedia was first launched some years back, it was just a 'cool website with lots of info'. Then slowly, as people realised how impossibly accurate, up-to-date and extensive the info was...they bowed at its feet in awe. Forget the wise man on the mountain, Wikipedia was the definitive source of truth.
"Dude...no, I'm telling you the population density of Hungary is 282/square mile!"
"Wait...did the Spanish Inquisition start in 1478 or 1487?"
"Now there is ABSOLUTELY NO WAY the President of Libya could be Omar al-Bashir."
Now thanks to Wikipedia, the truth ain't out there. It's staring you in the face. A mere click (and some typing) condemns you to the indignity of being a poser know-it-all or The Hallowed Glory Of Being Well-Read.
But now...a portable Wikipedia?! The utter horrors! The dangers it could pose in the wrong hands!
Picture this:
*At a dinner party*
Know-it-all: Hello! Enjoyed your dinner?
Know-not-all: Certainly did.
KIA: So...what do you do in your free time?
KNA: Well, I...read a lot.
KIA: Great! I read a fair bit myself. Any good books recently?
KNA: Uhhh...sure. There's this one by, uhhh...John...
KIA: Grisham?
KNA: Yeah yeah...that's the guy.
KIA: The Innocent Man?
KNA: Innocent of what?
KIA: Haha! Quite the joker, aren't you. His latest book, I mean.
KNA: Ahahaha! Of course I knew that. Just pulling your leg.
KIA: So you read it?
KNA: Of course! (clutches stomach suddenly) Whoops, excuse me for a moment.
(Five minutes and a Portable Wikipedia later)
KNA: Hey, I'm back! Anyway, The Innocent Man: Murder and Injustice in a Small Town is the first nonfiction written by John Grisham which was released by Doubleday Publishing on October 10, 2006. The book details the story of former minor league baseball aspirant Ronald 'Ron' Keith Williamson of Ada, Pontotoc County, Oklahoma, where he was raised in the strict Pentecostal household of his parents, Roy Williamson and Juanita (Caldwell) Williamson, along with his sisters, Annette (Williamson) Hudson, now from Tulsa, Oklahoma, and Renée (Williamson) Simmons, now from Allen, Texas.
KIA: Whoa, whoa...easy there, man. It's a casual party.
KNA: Shaddap, moron!
Spoiler warning: Plot and/or ending details follow.
The story begins with Ron Williamson, who has returned to his hometown after failed attempts at playing for various minor league baseball teams, including the Oakland A's and the Ft. Lauderdale Yankees. This failure leads to a bout of depression, which results in a drinking problem...
(At this point, a small crowd gathers and starts worshiping at the feet of Know-Not-All)
I'm afraid, people. Really, really afraid. Now everyone can be a genius on any subject in five minutes. Those poor grey-haired men in libraries and labs. Anything they spring on me, I only need to excuse myself for five minutes, and...voila! A lifetime of research put to shame.
Remember that chubby auntie selling plastic hairbands in the market? She prolly knows more fengtau songs and alternative indie bands than you.
Or that Indian man on his motorbike, selling fresh milk in a tin container? He's *this* close to being an expert on sequenced prokaryotic genomes.
Or how about your neighbour's fat kid who watches Naruto (on TV3!) all day long? He could fill you in on what makes the opposite sex tick. Scientifically.
And maybe on a strange, strange day in the future, we could find ourselves with Wikipedia implants. And when everyone knows everything about everything, geniuses rule with the fools!
Give me Friendster any day.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
The Tag Is Back
Pardon the cheesy title, folks.
I just ain't feeling myself today. You never do, especially after having ridiculous tags being forced upon your admirably out-of-the-ordinary blog. You know, like that time the geekish nerd-dork made you dance with him at the school prom. Or that time your dad insisted you wear his oversized swimming trunks to Poolside Nite.
Sigh...pucker up I will, anyhow. The things I do for goodwill to men, people. And it isn't even that season.
WOW, LOOK! THIS TAG'S GOT A WHOLE FREAKIN' PARAGRAPH OF RULES. IT MUST BE SO DIFFERENT FROM ORDINARY TAGS. MY MOUTH IS WATERING WITH WATER TO COMPLETE IT.
Each player of this game starts off by giving 6 weird things about themselves. People who get tagged need to write in a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state the rules clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. After you do that, leave them each a comment letting them know you tagged them and to read your blog.
Here we go!
1. I'm not reeeeally the biggest fan in the world of blog tags. Maybe on a good day, maybe, maybe. Just not on most days.
2. I'm probably one of the best Pacman players in the world. Yeah, like seriously. For someone with slow reflexes in pretty much everything, it never fails to amaze me.
*Or get girls screaming in excitement, wink wink*
3. My guilty little pleasure: watching wrestling. I believe I've written a freakin' thesis on the subject before here, so no explanations required. Still waiting for a chance to put those wrestling moves to good use, though. Like nabbing a snatch thief, or shutting up pesky bosses. Ha ha.
*HAR?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN WRESTLING IS FAKE? NooOoOOoooOO! MY LIFE IS...RUINED!! RUINNNNNED!!!*
4. I can never, for the life of me, participate in conversations about a) handphones, b) computers, c) cars. Which is basically 90% of what self-respecting guys blabber about. So how do I go about my manly existence? Strategically-placed nods and saying "Oh, that's the one everyone's talking about, isn't it?" works most times. 'Cos if they're talking about it, chances are it's the one everyone's talking about.
5. At home, I speak to my brother and sister in English, to my mom in English and a smattering of Cantonese, and to my dad in Mandarin. Meanwhile, everyone else speaks in Mandarin to each other, except for my mom who speaks in Cantonese to my dad. And oh, my mom calls my dad "Ei". Which is short for "Hey". Can't believe this nonsense has been going on at the same dinner table for 20+ years, without anyone realising the utter absurdity of it.
6. And, oh, oh...OH! This one's so good I gotta keep it for last.
Hold on to your seat, I'm warning ya.
Take a deep breath...
Steady, steady...
Here it comes...
Okay, one more deep breath...
There you go...
I'm not sure how to put it in words, but...
I CAN LIFT MEDIUM-SIZED OBJECTS WITH THE FLAP BETWEEN MY LOWER LIP AND MY CHIN!!
YOU WOULD NEVER, NEVER, EVER, EVER UNDERSTAND THE SHEER AMAZINGICITYNESS OF IT!!!
Far out.
And we're done.
6 people I want to torture with this tag...
Eh...
Ah...
Uh...
I'm sorry. My religious beliefs do not permit me to repay evil with evil. Therefore, my Good Deed For The Day shall be putting an end to this tag. Remember kiddos...TOGETHER WE CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE!
*Meanwhile, in a faraway room, another dumb blogger forwarded this tag to his 6 friends. His 6 friends passed it on to 36 friends, and yadda yadda yadda.*
I just ain't feeling myself today. You never do, especially after having ridiculous tags being forced upon your admirably out-of-the-ordinary blog. You know, like that time the geekish nerd-dork made you dance with him at the school prom. Or that time your dad insisted you wear his oversized swimming trunks to Poolside Nite.
Sigh...pucker up I will, anyhow. The things I do for goodwill to men, people. And it isn't even that season.
WOW, LOOK! THIS TAG'S GOT A WHOLE FREAKIN' PARAGRAPH OF RULES. IT MUST BE SO DIFFERENT FROM ORDINARY TAGS. MY MOUTH IS WATERING WITH WATER TO COMPLETE IT.
Each player of this game starts off by giving 6 weird things about themselves. People who get tagged need to write in a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state the rules clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. After you do that, leave them each a comment letting them know you tagged them and to read your blog.
Here we go!
1. I'm not reeeeally the biggest fan in the world of blog tags. Maybe on a good day, maybe, maybe. Just not on most days.
2. I'm probably one of the best Pacman players in the world. Yeah, like seriously. For someone with slow reflexes in pretty much everything, it never fails to amaze me.
*Or get girls screaming in excitement, wink wink*
3. My guilty little pleasure: watching wrestling. I believe I've written a freakin' thesis on the subject before here, so no explanations required. Still waiting for a chance to put those wrestling moves to good use, though. Like nabbing a snatch thief, or shutting up pesky bosses. Ha ha.
*HAR?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN WRESTLING IS FAKE? NooOoOOoooOO! MY LIFE IS...RUINED!! RUINNNNNED!!!*
4. I can never, for the life of me, participate in conversations about a) handphones, b) computers, c) cars. Which is basically 90% of what self-respecting guys blabber about. So how do I go about my manly existence? Strategically-placed nods and saying "Oh, that's the one everyone's talking about, isn't it?" works most times. 'Cos if they're talking about it, chances are it's the one everyone's talking about.
5. At home, I speak to my brother and sister in English, to my mom in English and a smattering of Cantonese, and to my dad in Mandarin. Meanwhile, everyone else speaks in Mandarin to each other, except for my mom who speaks in Cantonese to my dad. And oh, my mom calls my dad "Ei". Which is short for "Hey". Can't believe this nonsense has been going on at the same dinner table for 20+ years, without anyone realising the utter absurdity of it.
6. And, oh, oh...OH! This one's so good I gotta keep it for last.
Hold on to your seat, I'm warning ya.
Take a deep breath...
Steady, steady...
Here it comes...
Okay, one more deep breath...
There you go...
I'm not sure how to put it in words, but...
I CAN LIFT MEDIUM-SIZED OBJECTS WITH THE FLAP BETWEEN MY LOWER LIP AND MY CHIN!!
YOU WOULD NEVER, NEVER, EVER, EVER UNDERSTAND THE SHEER AMAZINGICITYNESS OF IT!!!
Far out.
And we're done.
6 people I want to torture with this tag...
Eh...
Ah...
Uh...
I'm sorry. My religious beliefs do not permit me to repay evil with evil. Therefore, my Good Deed For The Day shall be putting an end to this tag. Remember kiddos...TOGETHER WE CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE!
*Meanwhile, in a faraway room, another dumb blogger forwarded this tag to his 6 friends. His 6 friends passed it on to 36 friends, and yadda yadda yadda.*
Monday, February 12, 2007
Slumber (Part 2 of 10)
Yay! Received my bonus and some long-overdue freelance payment, so don't blame me for feeling rich as full cream milk. Why, I could end up a mini-millionaire after Chinese New Year!
I kid you not, this must be close to the tenth time I'm working on this entry. Just can't stay focused for longer than 2 minutes these days! Say hel-lo to attention deficit.
I want to update religiously, really I do. It's so frustrating to have stuff on my mind and not being able to translate that into a killer post. And the story! As I've always suspected, you need to keep writing, writing, writing once the idea hits. Which is exactly what I've NOT been doing. Bleargh. Let's try get this baby going, all the same.
Jenny stared at Bo, mostly dumbfounded. Was this even her stuffed dragon?
"Teddies!" Bo bellowed. "Take her away!"
Two button-eyed teddies swooped down and lifted her.
"Take her to the Scatter Witch. She'll know what to do."
"Wait!" Jenny yelled. "This is just a dream, right?"
Bo's lips curled upwards. "Of course. I wouldn't be twelve feet tall and talking in real life, would I?"
So it was a dream. How curious. "What do you want to do with me, then?"
"I told you. I'm going to keep you awake forever. 'Cause once you fall asleep in the Land of Slumber, you wake up in the real world. And when you do...I disappear."
"B...but, I'll dream of you again tomorrow night! I always do!"
"There's no way you can be sure of that."
"I will! I promise!"
"Bah," Bo coughed up a puff of smoke. "Enough talk. I don't want this night to ever end. I have a land to rule over."
He motioned for the teddies to take her away. Screaming, kicking, Jenny suddenly felt very, very worried that this was no ordinary dream.
*****
The teddies had been carrying her close to a half hour now. She was growing sick of the sight of purple clouds.
How long more is this going to take, she wondered for the umpteenth time. The teddies didn't say anything when she asked.
Finally, they descended -rather roughly - on a clearing of soft grass. A barely-noticable sign read "THE SCATTER WITCH NEVER RESTS."
The teddies nudged her towards a sorry-looking hut. The Scatter Witch's place, no doubt about it.
"There you are, my dearie," A decidedly witchy voice fluttered from inside. "Come in, come in."
Two sharp teddy jabs didn't allow her anywhere else to go.
So up the steps she strode. When suddenly, swiftly - in half the time it takes a teddy to blink - a pair of powerful jaws snatched her into the air.
I kid you not, this must be close to the tenth time I'm working on this entry. Just can't stay focused for longer than 2 minutes these days! Say hel-lo to attention deficit.
I want to update religiously, really I do. It's so frustrating to have stuff on my mind and not being able to translate that into a killer post. And the story! As I've always suspected, you need to keep writing, writing, writing once the idea hits. Which is exactly what I've NOT been doing. Bleargh. Let's try get this baby going, all the same.
Jenny stared at Bo, mostly dumbfounded. Was this even her stuffed dragon?
"Teddies!" Bo bellowed. "Take her away!"
Two button-eyed teddies swooped down and lifted her.
"Take her to the Scatter Witch. She'll know what to do."
"Wait!" Jenny yelled. "This is just a dream, right?"
Bo's lips curled upwards. "Of course. I wouldn't be twelve feet tall and talking in real life, would I?"
So it was a dream. How curious. "What do you want to do with me, then?"
"I told you. I'm going to keep you awake forever. 'Cause once you fall asleep in the Land of Slumber, you wake up in the real world. And when you do...I disappear."
"B...but, I'll dream of you again tomorrow night! I always do!"
"There's no way you can be sure of that."
"I will! I promise!"
"Bah," Bo coughed up a puff of smoke. "Enough talk. I don't want this night to ever end. I have a land to rule over."
He motioned for the teddies to take her away. Screaming, kicking, Jenny suddenly felt very, very worried that this was no ordinary dream.
*****
The teddies had been carrying her close to a half hour now. She was growing sick of the sight of purple clouds.
How long more is this going to take, she wondered for the umpteenth time. The teddies didn't say anything when she asked.
Finally, they descended -rather roughly - on a clearing of soft grass. A barely-noticable sign read "THE SCATTER WITCH NEVER RESTS."
The teddies nudged her towards a sorry-looking hut. The Scatter Witch's place, no doubt about it.
"There you are, my dearie," A decidedly witchy voice fluttered from inside. "Come in, come in."
Two sharp teddy jabs didn't allow her anywhere else to go.
So up the steps she strode. When suddenly, swiftly - in half the time it takes a teddy to blink - a pair of powerful jaws snatched her into the air.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Shall We Dance?
The flicker in his eye
As she walked past by
The sweet cherries of her hair
Her heart was fast
His name came last
Music waltzing through the air
Then, like every knowing fool
They put on their best shoes
And asked "Shall we dance?"
And dance they did
Under the sky starry-lit
Misty raindrops of a romance
Hand in hand
They danced
They danced
The moon never set
As she walked past by
The sweet cherries of her hair
Her heart was fast
His name came last
Music waltzing through the air
Then, like every knowing fool
They put on their best shoes
And asked "Shall we dance?"
And dance they did
Under the sky starry-lit
Misty raindrops of a romance
Hand in hand
They danced
They danced
The moon never set
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Slumber (Part 1 of 10)
45 days of having a grand total of ZERO likeable story ideas, and out of nowhere this gem came to me. It was another forgettable Thursday afternoon at work, and to fulfill my job description of staring at the computer screen busily, I was reading a Wikipedia article on deus ex machina. It was a link of a link of some sort, I think.
Interesting! This deus ex machina thingy is an improbable-slash-illogical plot device, used to conveniently wrap up sticky situations in stories. Example: waking up and finding out that everything was a dream, angels appearing out of nowhere to save good guys, baddie's guns running out of bullets etc. An instance of it appearing in my stories: Remember the Light From Afar in the first Blogspot? No? Never mind, then.
You prolly won't see what this has to do with my new story, but it'll be real clear in a bit. For now, lick your lips before I do it myself, and tuck in for some Slumber.
"And they rode into the castle, where they lived happily ever after. The end."
Little Jenny smiled, then pouted. "Read me another one, Daddy. Please."
"No, dear. It's already past your bedtime. We'll continue tomorrow."
"Promise?"
"Promise." Their pinkies sealed the deal.
"Good night. Sweet dreams."
Sinking comfily into the sheets, Little Jenny snuggled close to Bo, her stuffed Yellow Dragon.
"Hush little baby, go to sleep
When you sleep all things are sweet
Fancy shoes and ribbons dear
Don't wake up till morning's here"
It was the song her parents used to sing her to sleep with. Of course now she was eight, they only wished her good night. But secretly - just between her and Bo - she still hummed it to herself every night.
"Good night, Bo." He nodded back, she was sure.
And so to sleep she went.
There simply was no way Little Jenny could've guessed the incredible adventure in store for her.
*****
Purple. Pink. Orange. Pink. Yellow. Pink.
She mmmed dreamily and turned over. Such a beautiful dream.
Blue. Pink. Grey. Pink. Green. Pink. I want to be up there in those fluffy clouds!
And whatdoyouknow, swoosh! Smack she appeared on top a cushiony cloud. Forget everything you ever learnt in school, it felt just like plopping into an enormous tub of cotton. Candy.
"Whee! This is fun!" Bounce, bounce, bounce, she went. "Isn't it, Bo?"
"Bo? Where are you?" Strange, her hands were empty. He always appeared in her dreams.
"Come out now Bo!" Was he down there?
"Bo..."
Suddenly a yellow streak soared up, zig-zagging through the cluster of clouds and everything painted on the sky. It spun wildly - often teasing to go out of control - like an over-honeyed bumblebee, disappeared for a moment's view, before knocking her off her feet.
"Bo!" All yellowed, patched up and missing one spike. And that smell only she found sweet.
But twelve feet tall?
"Little Jenny," the monstrous Bo roared. "You have entered the Land of Slumber, where tonight I rule. And you...shall never awake."
Interesting! This deus ex machina thingy is an improbable-slash-illogical plot device, used to conveniently wrap up sticky situations in stories. Example: waking up and finding out that everything was a dream, angels appearing out of nowhere to save good guys, baddie's guns running out of bullets etc. An instance of it appearing in my stories: Remember the Light From Afar in the first Blogspot? No? Never mind, then.
You prolly won't see what this has to do with my new story, but it'll be real clear in a bit. For now, lick your lips before I do it myself, and tuck in for some Slumber.
"And they rode into the castle, where they lived happily ever after. The end."
Little Jenny smiled, then pouted. "Read me another one, Daddy. Please."
"No, dear. It's already past your bedtime. We'll continue tomorrow."
"Promise?"
"Promise." Their pinkies sealed the deal.
"Good night. Sweet dreams."
Sinking comfily into the sheets, Little Jenny snuggled close to Bo, her stuffed Yellow Dragon.
"Hush little baby, go to sleep
When you sleep all things are sweet
Fancy shoes and ribbons dear
Don't wake up till morning's here"
It was the song her parents used to sing her to sleep with. Of course now she was eight, they only wished her good night. But secretly - just between her and Bo - she still hummed it to herself every night.
"Good night, Bo." He nodded back, she was sure.
And so to sleep she went.
There simply was no way Little Jenny could've guessed the incredible adventure in store for her.
*****
Purple. Pink. Orange. Pink. Yellow. Pink.
She mmmed dreamily and turned over. Such a beautiful dream.
Blue. Pink. Grey. Pink. Green. Pink. I want to be up there in those fluffy clouds!
And whatdoyouknow, swoosh! Smack she appeared on top a cushiony cloud. Forget everything you ever learnt in school, it felt just like plopping into an enormous tub of cotton. Candy.
"Whee! This is fun!" Bounce, bounce, bounce, she went. "Isn't it, Bo?"
"Bo? Where are you?" Strange, her hands were empty. He always appeared in her dreams.
"Come out now Bo!" Was he down there?
"Bo..."
Suddenly a yellow streak soared up, zig-zagging through the cluster of clouds and everything painted on the sky. It spun wildly - often teasing to go out of control - like an over-honeyed bumblebee, disappeared for a moment's view, before knocking her off her feet.
"Bo!" All yellowed, patched up and missing one spike. And that smell only she found sweet.
But twelve feet tall?
"Little Jenny," the monstrous Bo roared. "You have entered the Land of Slumber, where tonight I rule. And you...shall never awake."
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