The graceful guilt-tripper

My mum sure knows how to send people on a guilt trip.

This afternoon, she guilt-tripped a waitress into giving a 10% discount for taking too long to serve our dishes. In just a few passing comments, none asking for a discount. (The wait was fine, really. But perhaps that's cause i wasn't a hungry man, or i might be grumpy too.)

Later, she guilt-tripped some repairman over the phone by airing her worries aloud, and that, no, she doesn't blame him. In a haste, the busy guy somehow managed to find time to do the servicing.

Nice work.

The whimsical miracle

You know how sometimes you act on a whim, not wholeheartedly hoping to get anything out of it, but something did happen?

It's almost a miracle when it does.

You know the feeling of staring at someone's back, hoping that he/she will turn back and say hi?

And when the conversation actually begins, it's almost like a miracle, too.

Maybe the moon's blue today. But my mood isn't.

Today's a good, good day.


ps: except for the short attention span, and the lack of discipline to stay focused in my revision.

The rhyme at the wrong time

Tick tock, clucked the clock.

Deadline's coming, someone's dying.

The bitter medicine

So, i swallowed the chunk of dark chocolate whole, in a bid to stifle the escalating gloom.

To think i'd almost believed that I'm past that tumultuous stage. Those perplexing mood swings.

On the bright side of things, i suppose i'm still a teenage. Growth spurt again, yes?

Still waiting for the effects to kick in.

Latest update: Tidewater's on the rise.
Update #2: Cured.

"Who are we writing the copy for?"

"I was always taught, 5% of people who turn to your page read the headline.
And 5% of the people who read the headline, read the copy.
If that's true, the copy is 5% of 5% of the ad.
In which case, who are we writing the copy for?"

— Dave Trott —

"Sometimes copy's necessary, sometimes it's not. But as long as it's relevant, interesting and purposeful, why question its fundamental right to be there? 

So the answer to the reproach that nobody reads copy any more is not simply to admit defeat and refuse to write any — it's to learn how to write copy that people want to read."

— Simon Sinclair —

The reading list

9 books on the reading list. With an "urgent" tag.

That's on top of reading the mounds of notes, subject guides and textbooks i have been putting off. The school stuff.

It is quite a quandary, between academic interests and professional development.

I shudder to think of the state i'll be in when the final exams impend. If last year is any indication, i foresee myself hovering dangerously on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

There's much work to do. Let's just see if i have the tenacity to see me through this. Ok, i'm sure i will make it to the end. But it probably won't be pretty.

9 books. School/exams. Oh, and that one special book to assemble. Phewww.

The story of the yo.

The boss then remarked, though not in so many words, that in his opinion, the parental legitimacy of the buyer was in grave question.

Get it?

Haha. What brilliance.

French's my idol now.

The unproven entity

There he goes. On an ambitious quest to garner enough materials for his banderole, he focuses.

As though something has clicked into place, his mind roars to life.


............   ............   ............


His mind — full of unruly thoughts he is struggling to tame, full of ideas he can hardly contain. How they are bursting to be delivered to this world.

If only the machine could be faster.

He eschews the pencil, denouncing its predisposition to go blunt. Not to forget the blatant, incessant need for its rubber friend to obliterate its blunders; it is such irksome distraction from the cognitive millrun, no thanks to his obsessive-compulsive disorder.

But what could he do when the machine becomes lethargic and starts to slow to a crawl? When his brain is churning out inspirations at a blistering rate, even faster than the computer endowed with superhuman processing power.

Should he reach for the pencil? Should he just wait for the machine to recover from its unacceptable torpor? Or —

Too late.

Now, the mental bustle starts to dwindle. He is composed again, although he can compose no more.

And yet, he is quite untested. Still the unproven entity.

The creative center

"If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot…reading is the creative center of a writer’s life…you cannot hope to sweep someone else away by the force of your writing until it has been done to you." — Stephen King

Read. Write. And then, Affect.

The note to the future you.

I know you're out there. Somewhere.

Perhaps living without a care.

But know this: Somewhere out there, someone's living with a pain he can't bear.

The count of blessings

I'm too fortunate. I forget that sometimes, take it for granted. So now that i am brimming with gratitude, i think i should note it down.

You are probably in similar conditions too. Charmed but unmindful. Or too indulged in your tribulations that you neglect to care.

I won't ask you to count your blessings. It is beyond measure. But when you do realise it, your heavy heart will be lighter than feather.

Go on, feel it.

《美妙生活》

拥有 》想念 》早开的晚霞

播放机，加上水滴。


[ 谢谢，林宥嘉。]

似曾拥有

眼泪把我的视线给模糊，试图遮掩瞬间让我心酸的那一幕。

The pain of Facebook

I take a stab every time i see your updates. But there's no helping it; I'd rather get to hear about you than go without.