Everyday passed with such an uncompromising routine. I can feel my senses becoming dull and numbed. The lack of mental activities these days makes me wonder if the head sitting between my shoulders is still functioning. This statement is oxymoron. Obviously, I would need a head to be able to wonder in the first place. However, the physical presence of a head does little to assure me of if the synapses inside are still well connected. I can picture myself standing in the middle of a street as the rest of the wold fastforward around me - just like in the movies. I need a break in the routine.
I'm going versailles next sunday.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Friday, September 28, 2007
a moment
"so often i keep myself focus on the road ahead that it is only after i arrive at the end of the road when i realised that i had missed out on most of the beautiful sceneries and the beautiful people along my way. sadly, i cannot turn back time to revisit those things that i have missed; but i can slow down my pace to enjoy my road ahead."
- anonomyous(ly obvious)
- anonomyous(ly obvious)
Thursday, September 27, 2007
photos
Some of my better shots. Constuctive comments are welcomed. I realised I need to be more ceative in coming up with titles for my photos. But my brain so bogged down Java and Logics that I can only come up with cheesy titles. I decided against cheesy titles so i settled for simple titles. Nothing can goes wrong with Simplicity. I guess i will leave the title brainstorming till next time unless anyone of you want to suggest anything.
awakening.
reflections.
awakening.
reflections.
silhouette at last light.
mount flora
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
moon
Yesterday night was mid autumn festival. Did you guys go and look at the moon? I did. I remembered what I said about the moon at aa's place. haha.
happy mid autumn.
happy mid autumn.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
charles was here
Chére Amandaa,
Just want to say hi to you through a different channel. I risked exposing my real identity by doing a cameo on junyong's blog. I beseeched you to keep my identity to urself.
bisous,
charles
Just want to say hi to you through a different channel. I risked exposing my real identity by doing a cameo on junyong's blog. I beseeched you to keep my identity to urself.
bisous,
charles
Sunday, September 23, 2007
kitty
single click on the kitty on the top left hand corner of my blog. haha this is so fun! too bad there's no piggy.. =(
cheap thrills. first step towards a zen lifestyle.
cheap thrills. first step towards a zen lifestyle.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
room
The 2 colour deco did appeal to my minimalist side. The simplicity would suit fine as a reminder of the Zen lifestyle that I am suppose to adopt living on top of a plateau. Furnished with a chair, a fridge, a bed and a study table, the rooms attempts to provide me with a false sense of belonging. My neat room, my confinement cell, for the next 10mths.
my room.
Sunrise from my room. Beautiful isn't it; but unfortunately my window is perpendicular to it. Grr the morning glare.
my room.
Sunrise from my room. Beautiful isn't it; but unfortunately my window is perpendicular to it. Grr the morning glare.
Friday, September 21, 2007
engineer
To those dentist, doctors, artists, scientists and businessmen who want to know what an engineer is learning. Here's an insight of what I am currently learning. I'll sum it up neatly for you in an equation.
a + a = a
Clearly, this line won't sink in well with your primary school maths teacher, but it is totally logical (pun intended). still clueless? (here's a hint : 1 + 1 =10).
Go figure.
a + a = a
Clearly, this line won't sink in well with your primary school maths teacher, but it is totally logical (pun intended). still clueless? (here's a hint : 1 + 1 =10).
Go figure.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
change
He has returned and he was slightly afraid.
The place was dark. The setting sun filtered by the foliage shone through the broken window panes at an angle casting a red mist at the end of the corridor. Brownian motion was in play as light reflected off the surface of dust particles. He padded silently along the dark corridor; brushing his fingers softly against the wall. He could feel the flakes of dried paints; without even looking at them he knew that they were red in colour. He had painted the wall himself before had he made the decision to leave. He was sprucing up the house with a new coat of paint for his fiancé when the letter came. He had been anticipating it.
Clutching it dearly and slightly crumpling its edges, he excitedly tore opened the envelope. He was successful in his overseas posting application! He could see doors of opportunities opened to him as he scrutinized his one way ticket out of this place where people have to slough for their whole life just to make ends meet. He had to make a decision. That night, he packed his stuffs and left the place which would have been his home; leaving behind his past and the things that he cherished.
He left. He was afraid when he left.
Now the place is deserted. The knocking of his polished leather shoes against the cold concrete which echoed down the emptiness was the only disturbance to the chilling stillness of the place. His tailored suit was a stark contrast to the dilapidated corridor. He doesn’t belong here anymore.
Staring into space between the window and himself, the scene before him began to change. The cold silent void was suddenly replaced by a warm lively atmosphere. He could see children running around and jostling along the corridors. He could hear the rackets stirred by the kids; a dysfunction orchestra of small pattering feet, childish laughter and a couple’s conversation. He could see the man playing with his kids, acting their age while struggling to have a conversation with his wife above the din. Clad in a simple polo tee drenched in sweat and worn out jeans, the man had something he did not have. The man was happy. When the man turned to look at him straight in the eyes, his heart skipped a beat.
He was looking a happier version of himself.
He lowered his eyes diverting them away from the stare of the man. He shook himself out the daze and when he looked up from the floor, the corridor was quiet again. Was that what he would have been if he had chosen to stay? Why is he not as happy as the man when he was the one with more money? Where is his fiancé now? How is she doing? Is he regretting his decision to leave? Would he be happier if he had stayed to lead a simple life? He wasn’t sure. He has no basis for comparison.
His face softened for a second. Like clockwork, he snapped his heels and turned to face the exit. The warmth in his eyes was gone - forever. He had put on his mask again. The mask which he had never taken off since the moment he made the decision to leave. He stepped out of the old building to be greeted by an army of heavy machinery.
“Ok boys. Nobody’s inside the building. You guys can bring down this place. This building should not be standing in the way of money by sunrise.” His voice trailed and was soon drowned by the noise of the turning gears and hydraulic pumps. With that sentence, he buried his past with the ruins of the building.
He was afraid when he left. He was afraid that he would become a different person that his old self would not be able to recognize. He was right to be afraid.
The place was dark. The setting sun filtered by the foliage shone through the broken window panes at an angle casting a red mist at the end of the corridor. Brownian motion was in play as light reflected off the surface of dust particles. He padded silently along the dark corridor; brushing his fingers softly against the wall. He could feel the flakes of dried paints; without even looking at them he knew that they were red in colour. He had painted the wall himself before had he made the decision to leave. He was sprucing up the house with a new coat of paint for his fiancé when the letter came. He had been anticipating it.
Clutching it dearly and slightly crumpling its edges, he excitedly tore opened the envelope. He was successful in his overseas posting application! He could see doors of opportunities opened to him as he scrutinized his one way ticket out of this place where people have to slough for their whole life just to make ends meet. He had to make a decision. That night, he packed his stuffs and left the place which would have been his home; leaving behind his past and the things that he cherished.
He left. He was afraid when he left.
Now the place is deserted. The knocking of his polished leather shoes against the cold concrete which echoed down the emptiness was the only disturbance to the chilling stillness of the place. His tailored suit was a stark contrast to the dilapidated corridor. He doesn’t belong here anymore.
Staring into space between the window and himself, the scene before him began to change. The cold silent void was suddenly replaced by a warm lively atmosphere. He could see children running around and jostling along the corridors. He could hear the rackets stirred by the kids; a dysfunction orchestra of small pattering feet, childish laughter and a couple’s conversation. He could see the man playing with his kids, acting their age while struggling to have a conversation with his wife above the din. Clad in a simple polo tee drenched in sweat and worn out jeans, the man had something he did not have. The man was happy. When the man turned to look at him straight in the eyes, his heart skipped a beat.
He was looking a happier version of himself.
He lowered his eyes diverting them away from the stare of the man. He shook himself out the daze and when he looked up from the floor, the corridor was quiet again. Was that what he would have been if he had chosen to stay? Why is he not as happy as the man when he was the one with more money? Where is his fiancé now? How is she doing? Is he regretting his decision to leave? Would he be happier if he had stayed to lead a simple life? He wasn’t sure. He has no basis for comparison.
His face softened for a second. Like clockwork, he snapped his heels and turned to face the exit. The warmth in his eyes was gone - forever. He had put on his mask again. The mask which he had never taken off since the moment he made the decision to leave. He stepped out of the old building to be greeted by an army of heavy machinery.
“Ok boys. Nobody’s inside the building. You guys can bring down this place. This building should not be standing in the way of money by sunrise.” His voice trailed and was soon drowned by the noise of the turning gears and hydraulic pumps. With that sentence, he buried his past with the ruins of the building.
He was afraid when he left. He was afraid that he would become a different person that his old self would not be able to recognize. He was right to be afraid.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
belated birthday
The girls suggested making a cake for gerardo, our mexican housemate, since his birthday was just round the corner. When i was first told about it, i started thinking about Black Forest cake, Häagen-Dazs ice cream cake and etc.. etc.. I was brought back to reality when they added,"We were hoping that you would know how to do it. cos we have never bake a cake before."
...
How i wish i can tell them that baking a cake is actually "a piece of cake" to me. sigh.
Alright. So we borrowed a recipe from our host, prepared all the ingedients. Most importantly, we brought along an Oxford Fench-English Dictionary; without which we would never have been able to successfully decipher the codes on the secret recipe.
just to prove a point that the secret recipe is coded.
sometimes i question the loyalty of man's best friend here. I told him to guard my cake whilst it is in the oven. My best friend here eyed the cake like a thief. growl... 
warm.
The birthday boy.
...
How i wish i can tell them that baking a cake is actually "a piece of cake" to me. sigh.
Alright. So we borrowed a recipe from our host, prepared all the ingedients. Most importantly, we brought along an Oxford Fench-English Dictionary; without which we would never have been able to successfully decipher the codes on the secret recipe.
just to prove a point that the secret recipe is coded.
sometimes i question the loyalty of man's best friend here. I told him to guard my cake whilst it is in the oven. My best friend here eyed the cake like a thief. growl... 
warm. The birthday boy.The crew.
I remember telling hj that the piece of cake she made for us “吃在觜里，甜在心里”. Even though the cake was only so-so, but kudos to the effort.
I had meant every word; even the 'so-so' part.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
choices
"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."
-Robert Frost
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."
-Robert Frost
I found this on a friend's blog and am truely able to sympathise with the author. I really hopes tt by taking the path less travelled, he is able to find his own fairytale ending. A wish i made for him. A wish i made for myself too.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
glimpse
If any of you want to know, life here is not a bed of roses. Here's a glimpse into my life.
I am forced to put my remarkable culinary skills to test every night. I not stupid but I can't understand their lectures. The nearest supermarket is 40min bus ride away. There is no bus sevice on Sundays. I speak french in my dreams. Like as if that is not bad enough...
My parents speak french in my dreams too.
I am forced to put my remarkable culinary skills to test every night. I not stupid but I can't understand their lectures. The nearest supermarket is 40min bus ride away. There is no bus sevice on Sundays. I speak french in my dreams. Like as if that is not bad enough...
My parents speak french in my dreams too.
Monday, September 10, 2007
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