"Hui Jun...is not afraid of hardwork, and should be able to perform well as long as he keeps up the momentum."
Ha.
Hahaha...
HahahHAHAHAhahaaa...
<35 points>, with HLs at 6, 5, 5.
I'm not sure if it hurts more that people expect me to do well, or don't know me well enough to make assumptions like that.
Well, onward I guess.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Oh...! How The Mind Doth Dance...
Two of them, a man cloaked in shadows and silver, and a lady with golden-yellow hair, streaked with red.
A small figure, slim, dressed in white. Face a literal mask of neutrality, no expression, no features...just two slits, eyes, or what passes for them. Yet how much more they see.
Both of them stare, the third in the middle like a judge, words unspoken, thoughts unbidden, emotions unsuppressed. All it, bottled out, flowing out in a river of color and song, clashing where the white man stood. A white man that was there no more.
Below, the ground shakes, and the same two, opalescent slits open. The face of the white man watches from below, as after-images of the earlier clash linger. Dark claws grappling with bright sun-beam sparkles...neither side giving...then a flare of immense light, drowning out the shadows!
The white man closes his eyes, a burst of yellow flashing across their clear, crystal-like surface. The shadows retreat, under the trees and clouds, into the libraries and books. And for a moment it seems, the sun does shine.
But a single tendril, festering beneath the rocks emerges. A crooked finger, half-wisp not yet formed, growing slowly more solid arises. Deeper it becomes, forming an arrow of mist and reason, of worries and fear. Of calm, steady acceptance of the darker side of life.
An arrow that pierces the sun.
All light disappears. The shadows stretch out, shrouding the word once more. Crystal pools, once like golden honey, now swirl with fog and depths like the deepest black. The white man closes his eyes once more.
Seeds, once sown slowly sprout in the protection of the shade. Cooled in the soft breeze, in the still air they gleam with a light of their own. The roots grow, digging into the soft ground, no longer hardened nor blinded by the glare of the sun. Leaves, half-formed in mockery of the darkness that shackles the sun, creep up from above, ready and waiting.
From the sky, a rain of stars.
Shatter! The darkness cracks. Earth splits, pain fills the world. A blaze of fireworks, joyous yet stinging, dangerous yet mesmerizing. The shackles break, the sun bursts forth, rays spilling over the land, banishing the shadows once more.
Touching the leaves with almost tender warmth, watching them unfurl, feeding their grey-green surfaces strength.
The roots, so well formed in darkness, send their stores to the factories above. Powered by the same fire that fuels the sun, the leaves unfold. Stems, fresh shoots, networks! Drinking in the sunlight, the afterglow of the fireworks, storing their power and mixing it with the minerals cultivated deep within the soil. Fire and light, Darkness and shadow. Boiling water, more potent together than the two apart. A reaction, reaching forth, chaotic energies guided towards the tip. Logic and emotion, white and black horses, pulling the chariot in the same direction...
A whisper across the wind:
Bloom, my flower, bloom.
A small figure, slim, dressed in white. Face a literal mask of neutrality, no expression, no features...just two slits, eyes, or what passes for them. Yet how much more they see.
Both of them stare, the third in the middle like a judge, words unspoken, thoughts unbidden, emotions unsuppressed. All it, bottled out, flowing out in a river of color and song, clashing where the white man stood. A white man that was there no more.
Below, the ground shakes, and the same two, opalescent slits open. The face of the white man watches from below, as after-images of the earlier clash linger. Dark claws grappling with bright sun-beam sparkles...neither side giving...then a flare of immense light, drowning out the shadows!
The white man closes his eyes, a burst of yellow flashing across their clear, crystal-like surface. The shadows retreat, under the trees and clouds, into the libraries and books. And for a moment it seems, the sun does shine.
But a single tendril, festering beneath the rocks emerges. A crooked finger, half-wisp not yet formed, growing slowly more solid arises. Deeper it becomes, forming an arrow of mist and reason, of worries and fear. Of calm, steady acceptance of the darker side of life.
An arrow that pierces the sun.
All light disappears. The shadows stretch out, shrouding the word once more. Crystal pools, once like golden honey, now swirl with fog and depths like the deepest black. The white man closes his eyes once more.
Seeds, once sown slowly sprout in the protection of the shade. Cooled in the soft breeze, in the still air they gleam with a light of their own. The roots grow, digging into the soft ground, no longer hardened nor blinded by the glare of the sun. Leaves, half-formed in mockery of the darkness that shackles the sun, creep up from above, ready and waiting.
From the sky, a rain of stars.
Shatter! The darkness cracks. Earth splits, pain fills the world. A blaze of fireworks, joyous yet stinging, dangerous yet mesmerizing. The shackles break, the sun bursts forth, rays spilling over the land, banishing the shadows once more.
Touching the leaves with almost tender warmth, watching them unfurl, feeding their grey-green surfaces strength.
The roots, so well formed in darkness, send their stores to the factories above. Powered by the same fire that fuels the sun, the leaves unfold. Stems, fresh shoots, networks! Drinking in the sunlight, the afterglow of the fireworks, storing their power and mixing it with the minerals cultivated deep within the soil. Fire and light, Darkness and shadow. Boiling water, more potent together than the two apart. A reaction, reaching forth, chaotic energies guided towards the tip. Logic and emotion, white and black horses, pulling the chariot in the same direction...
A whisper across the wind:
Bloom, my flower, bloom.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
On 90% of the Internet
From a conversation with a friend:
"...its like miners going after diamonds getting frustrated from having to drill through all those layers of granite and useless dirt to get to the few precious gems, without realizing that without those layers of rock, the diamonds would never have formed."
Did the internet really create all the horrible, disgusting, perverted and depraved content that we see online everyday?
Did the internet also create all the wonderful, inspiring, beautiful, supportive, informative and helpful things as well?
Or did it simply bring whatever was already in human society: all our flaws, our dreams, our strengths and weaknesses, and display them for the world to see?
"...its like miners going after diamonds getting frustrated from having to drill through all those layers of granite and useless dirt to get to the few precious gems, without realizing that without those layers of rock, the diamonds would never have formed."
Did the internet really create all the horrible, disgusting, perverted and depraved content that we see online everyday?
Did the internet also create all the wonderful, inspiring, beautiful, supportive, informative and helpful things as well?
Or did it simply bring whatever was already in human society: all our flaws, our dreams, our strengths and weaknesses, and display them for the world to see?
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Just a dreamer after all
The only foundations you shake are the ones in your head;
But then again, they're the only ones that matter after all.
But then again, they're the only ones that matter after all.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Microthoughts, Mini-reflections
Aid volunteers really have it tough I find.
To want to cure and help all those people, yet being unable to fully accomplish that.
To be blamed for not noticing enough, because it is they who choose to make themselves responsible, and yet must answer to those who don't.
To keep pushing, prodding, trying...meandering through life's many obstacles, following that little internal compass along a road paved with lode-stones...
Sometimes, all you can do is hope you're doing the right thing.
And that their replies of "thank you" won't become a last farewell.
To want to cure and help all those people, yet being unable to fully accomplish that.
To be blamed for not noticing enough, because it is they who choose to make themselves responsible, and yet must answer to those who don't.
To keep pushing, prodding, trying...meandering through life's many obstacles, following that little internal compass along a road paved with lode-stones...
Sometimes, all you can do is hope you're doing the right thing.
And that their replies of "thank you" won't become a last farewell.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
To Mug or not to Mug...
"There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
-Ernest Hemingway
I guess, as the exams pick up and the mugging gets heavy, this shall be my only respite.
Kinda like taking shelter from the storm by begging your ingrate daughter for shelter.
Between the storm of ideas in my mind, and the impending invasion of test papers, my mind and soul remain in conflict. Passion and need, reason it not, for in reasoning it I find my heart does ache, and my thoughts clash like thunder.
A dozen ideas I have, none of which seem to work; half a dozen textbooks I have, none of which seem to make sense.
Oh Fool! I shall go mad...
-Ernest Hemingway
I guess, as the exams pick up and the mugging gets heavy, this shall be my only respite.
Kinda like taking shelter from the storm by begging your ingrate daughter for shelter.
Between the storm of ideas in my mind, and the impending invasion of test papers, my mind and soul remain in conflict. Passion and need, reason it not, for in reasoning it I find my heart does ache, and my thoughts clash like thunder.
A dozen ideas I have, none of which seem to work; half a dozen textbooks I have, none of which seem to make sense.
Oh Fool! I shall go mad...
Sunday, June 28, 2009
An old Wave of presenters
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v_UyVmITiYQ
Awesome video, awesome tool, but that's not really the point I'm thinking about.
I'm more thinking about how the presenters here are well, obviously not presenters. They're engineers, the people who made the system, built the system, and tested from the time they designed its roots.
In business we learnt about this thing called Product Based Marketing and Consumer Based Marketing. One markets a product based on what the product has. The other does it based on what the customers have.
The latter is the route favored by more and more corporations these days, including a certain company with fruit for its logo. What makes me sad is that increasingly, people seem to favor style over substance. And that it has become the norm.
I suppose the part I liked about this presentation was that it wasn't some smiling salesman with a mask of friendly words, amusing jokes and sharp wit talking. It was just three (four?) honest engineers, presenting the fruits of their efforts over the course of two years. Somehow, it just added this extra element of...I dunno, Honesty? Tangibility? Credibility? To their speech.
There is show. There is flair. There is hype. And in the middle of it all, a little coffee-stained, greasy-hand, slightly myopic man with a paunch. Just going along his own way, building things that last.
Perhaps that was Google's intention. If that's the case then well, all I can say is that they're doing it right.
For me at least. *sigh*...
Awesome video, awesome tool, but that's not really the point I'm thinking about.
I'm more thinking about how the presenters here are well, obviously not presenters. They're engineers, the people who made the system, built the system, and tested from the time they designed its roots.
In business we learnt about this thing called Product Based Marketing and Consumer Based Marketing. One markets a product based on what the product has. The other does it based on what the customers have.
The latter is the route favored by more and more corporations these days, including a certain company with fruit for its logo. What makes me sad is that increasingly, people seem to favor style over substance. And that it has become the norm.
I suppose the part I liked about this presentation was that it wasn't some smiling salesman with a mask of friendly words, amusing jokes and sharp wit talking. It was just three (four?) honest engineers, presenting the fruits of their efforts over the course of two years. Somehow, it just added this extra element of...I dunno, Honesty? Tangibility? Credibility? To their speech.
There is show. There is flair. There is hype. And in the middle of it all, a little coffee-stained, greasy-hand, slightly myopic man with a paunch. Just going along his own way, building things that last.
Perhaps that was Google's intention. If that's the case then well, all I can say is that they're doing it right.
For me at least. *sigh*...