Monday, January 28, 2013


Push me back when I push you. Argue with me. Tell me I'm wrong and tell me why. Don't descend to lowball name calling and cheap shots. Don't be silent critic. Make me question. Show me another point of view. Force me to see out of my perspective. Discuss with me and sort our thoughts out. Call me out if I'm being a bully or too forceful or silly or illogical. Rid yourself from the fear of disagreements that may cause offense.

I am not a fragile person. Unpolished I may be, but only because it is tough to know a person willing enough to stand up for their views. Some views I hold is flawed - with it, it is accompanied by a willingness to correct them. Ego may prevent me from understanding, so this I will guard against.

C'mon now. Push me back, because I can take it.

It's ridiculous how much I hunger for that again.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

To that traveler I met in Japan

"The thing about coincidence is that when you imagine the umpteen trillions of coincidences that can happen at any given moment, the fact is, that in practice, coincidences almost never do occur. Coincidences are actually so rare that when they do occur they are, in fact memorable. This suggests to me that the universe is designed to ward off coincidence whenever possible—the universe hates coincidence—I don't know why—it just seems to be true.

So when a coincidence happens, that coincidence had to work awfully hard to escape the system. There's a message there. What is it? Look. Look harder.

Mathematicians perhaps have a theorem for this, and if they do, it might, by default be a theorem for something larger than what they think it is."

Douglas Coupland

Sunday, January 20, 2013

History and names

We learn from stories of the past; how humans f-ed up and only years and centuries later we figured out what and why things happen, giving names to them (this makes me think of the Quranic story of how humankind are able to give names to things, unlike the angels). We're standing on the shoulders of giants and atop the mountains of mistakes that granted us our reality and thoughts now.

A part of me feels struck at the fact that I too, am living in what will be history and what will be analysed.

I wonder what will they say of us. And how we would contribute in the future.

Monday, January 07, 2013

"Hai, sou desu"

Random convo with the hobbit. He knows French and I know Japanese (though he knows a splatter of Japanese and I know how to say, "Voulez vous coucher avec moi" courtesy of Lady Marmalade wtf). Funny if you know some Japanese.

anata ga sugoku baka!!!!!!!!!
me:  watashi wa... sugoku kirei :P
LC:  ermmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. anata wa sugoku kirei???
me:  haiiiii. bijin desuuuu
LC:  how do i say vomit in japanese
me:  "hai sou desu."
LC:  u think i'm stupid!
me:  HAHAHHAHA im laughing my butt off here
LC:  ya u try to bluff mE!!!

Sunday, January 06, 2013


On the walk back to the car after Aaron and Peggy's wedding, we noticed that there were a lot of stars that night.

And I saw Orion for the first time.

Saturday, January 05, 2013

Familiar stranger

An old and familiar scent is a quaint experience; all within a fraction of a second, it becomes the magical carpet that knocks me off my feet, and, and quickly, very quickly, with wind whooshing past my ear and my hair holding onto its roots, it transports me high over a fog-covered landscape where its air is electric with fondness, memories and emotions. How strong they are, as my mind's eyes survey the memories below - even for those where fog has descended over and the details are none or scarce. Nevertheless, it is accosted by an immense feeling of that moment when you first smelt it. Frozen in time memories dethawed.

I'm in my mid-twenties this year and at that moment, in the building where I work... I'm suddenly 6 again, missing my working parents so I sleep on their bed. Or 9, at the thrill of moving into a newly renovated house; residue smells from the construction work still lingered. Or most of the time, it is merely the feeling of self, at different ages, that forgets the details. 

Somehow, by the absence of details, the effect felt stronger, although more fleeting. I guess because that conscious 'feeling of self' is the sole darting light in the dark, and it is fleeting because you barely have a memory to anchor it to.

We are our own, most real, reality. David Foster Wallace says it best in his speech, This is Water. I don't know why this came to mind... sometimes in my head, little brain cells race in underground passages and destroy the line between one topic and another. But I wish they'd tell me how they get there :/. Back to topic, I guess I am struck (and a little startled) at meeting and feeling who I was, say, ten years ago. 

I'm fascinated by these familiar strangers. 


Started on a book yesterday, got hooked on it, and have been waiting for the day to end to resume reading. Plus, I'd have the weekend ahead! Alas, I left it in the office as the rain lashed the outside and my fake Birkenstocks splashed in the water as I hurried to my climbing kaki's car.  But my gloom is erased because I remembered I have an ereader, and that copy could be  attained. Ahh, something to accompany me while waiting for my car to return from the mechanic tomorrow.