Who is it? Is it me? Or is it them?
I need to find out this weekend. Off to hide in Wales. I give up.
Uncle T
28 Nov 2008
27 Nov 2008
you lie above. 5:53 pm
you lie above, crying
and the rain
drowns me.
you lie above, screaming
and the thunder
deafens me.
you lie above, bitching
and the acid rain
stings me.
i cannot just pull out my umbrella, can i? can i?
you lie above, crying
and your tears
drown me.
and the rain
drowns me.
you lie above, screaming
and the thunder
deafens me.
you lie above, bitching
and the acid rain
stings me.
i cannot just pull out my umbrella, can i? can i?
you lie above, crying
and your tears
drown me.
Uncle T
Painting my happy-hued morning. 5:19 pm
Good morning.
I strangely look out my window and it seems the world was coloured yellow; the sun's rays are exceptionally yellow today, making the view from my Hurst window seem like a leaf out of an old yellowed book. Yet, its rather pretty.
Old indeed, because the past 3 weeks have not been the prettiest. Each day since that fateful Tuesday has had the potential for the issue to erupt in my face, and it faithfully has. So I've had enough. Unlike other circumstances, I cannot eliminate the issue on my own, so I have to deal with it; the uncontrollable is greater than the controllable. I just never expected my term to be like that.
©2006-2008 ~jb00bs
Coming back from Brooklyn, I brought back hope, ambition and the fighting spirit for a good term, a good year. Now, after events of That Tuesday, it may possibly be laying the way for a trying year. It would not be an issue at all if its issues regarding work; because no matter how big the problem is in that regard, you can attempt to solve it. But when it involves people, that's when it goes downhill from there.
I guess we pay a price for our past decisions, seems fair. But when I realise that the price I pay is bound to the actions of another, that the length and extent of my payment depends on another, that's where I suspect the cosmic fairness. But I cannot do anything about it.
Some problems are private ones, meant to be resolved by the involved parties. But good-intentioned help voluntarily comes one's way, which in general is appreciated. Yet once the help starts assuming that they play an integral and key role in a problem that they have limited knowledge of, and making conclusions and suggestions thereafter, I'm tempted to draw an analogy to how America walks into Iraq chivalrously thinking good intentions equips them with the power to "save Iraq". So it is good-intentioned help. But what this means now is that a once possible 2-dimensional private problem has now expanded to become a multi-person multi-dimensional problem. That means, to me, more headache.
All I wish for now, is to get my happy-hued mornings back. And turning in at night without the devils of self-pity, anger, regret running amock in my fatigued brain, weary heart.
Yet, through this trials, as like always, it washes clean the surface dirt and reveals the truest and purest form of many friendships, old and new. Through this difficult time, I've come to see better the sincerity and nature of the relationships around me. So I thank all those around me who have in some way helped. But I don't think these people read this page (save for that one i-hate-purple person. thank you). And Christmas arrived early by way of JiaWei's very very thoughtful (and expensive!) present. Thank you.
I guess that's the way it is no? There are many things beyond our control, and we realise that ever so acutely when shit happens. But I guess there is still things within my means. Well, perhaps I'll start colouring my window panes with happy-hues if I want my happy-hued mornings back.
Amen.
©2008 *m0thyyku
Uncle T
I strangely look out my window and it seems the world was coloured yellow; the sun's rays are exceptionally yellow today, making the view from my Hurst window seem like a leaf out of an old yellowed book. Yet, its rather pretty.
Old indeed, because the past 3 weeks have not been the prettiest. Each day since that fateful Tuesday has had the potential for the issue to erupt in my face, and it faithfully has. So I've had enough. Unlike other circumstances, I cannot eliminate the issue on my own, so I have to deal with it; the uncontrollable is greater than the controllable. I just never expected my term to be like that.
©2006-2008 ~jb00bsComing back from Brooklyn, I brought back hope, ambition and the fighting spirit for a good term, a good year. Now, after events of That Tuesday, it may possibly be laying the way for a trying year. It would not be an issue at all if its issues regarding work; because no matter how big the problem is in that regard, you can attempt to solve it. But when it involves people, that's when it goes downhill from there.
what i would give to return to my favourite coffee place in park slope, brooklyn, new york.
I guess we pay a price for our past decisions, seems fair. But when I realise that the price I pay is bound to the actions of another, that the length and extent of my payment depends on another, that's where I suspect the cosmic fairness. But I cannot do anything about it.
Some problems are private ones, meant to be resolved by the involved parties. But good-intentioned help voluntarily comes one's way, which in general is appreciated. Yet once the help starts assuming that they play an integral and key role in a problem that they have limited knowledge of, and making conclusions and suggestions thereafter, I'm tempted to draw an analogy to how America walks into Iraq chivalrously thinking good intentions equips them with the power to "save Iraq". So it is good-intentioned help. But what this means now is that a once possible 2-dimensional private problem has now expanded to become a multi-person multi-dimensional problem. That means, to me, more headache.
All I wish for now, is to get my happy-hued mornings back. And turning in at night without the devils of self-pity, anger, regret running amock in my fatigued brain, weary heart.
Yet, through this trials, as like always, it washes clean the surface dirt and reveals the truest and purest form of many friendships, old and new. Through this difficult time, I've come to see better the sincerity and nature of the relationships around me. So I thank all those around me who have in some way helped. But I don't think these people read this page (save for that one i-hate-purple person. thank you). And Christmas arrived early by way of JiaWei's very very thoughtful (and expensive!) present. Thank you.
I guess that's the way it is no? There are many things beyond our control, and we realise that ever so acutely when shit happens. But I guess there is still things within my means. Well, perhaps I'll start colouring my window panes with happy-hues if I want my happy-hued mornings back.
Amen.
©2008 *m0thyykuUncle T
26 Nov 2008
this can only happen in capitalism 6:08 pm
Remember how they told us capitalism is good? Free international markets and trade is good? Openness and the invisible hand that orchestrates global businesses blah blah blah...
Now you remember Woolworths? I do! Its the store my UK friends and I rush to for cheap bargains of furniture here in the UK, a store we expect to see in city centres across this country. With 840 stores across the UK, it was only natural.
But today, Woolworths is looking to sell its stores. All 840 at a discount of £1; and to think I used to be looking for £1 bargains in the store for a single item. Ok, I'm putting this out of context; you'll have to take on some of its £385m debt as well.
And yes, open and free markets, the stock market, the pride and joy of capitalism. Woolworths, a listed company on the stock market here, has the value of the company determined by value of each of its share on the stock market. And this share price is determined by the free interaction of demand and supply on this stock market. And this interaction has allowed Woolsworth equity value free-fall 90% in the last year. 90%!
Well, this can only happen in capitalism. Well, I'm not suggesting any alternative system being better; I'm merely stating the current state of affairs possible under the banner of this system we venerate.
Click here for the relevant article.
Uncle T
Now you remember Woolworths? I do! Its the store my UK friends and I rush to for cheap bargains of furniture here in the UK, a store we expect to see in city centres across this country. With 840 stores across the UK, it was only natural.
But today, Woolworths is looking to sell its stores. All 840 at a discount of £1; and to think I used to be looking for £1 bargains in the store for a single item. Ok, I'm putting this out of context; you'll have to take on some of its £385m debt as well.
And yes, open and free markets, the stock market, the pride and joy of capitalism. Woolworths, a listed company on the stock market here, has the value of the company determined by value of each of its share on the stock market. And this share price is determined by the free interaction of demand and supply on this stock market. And this interaction has allowed Woolsworth equity value free-fall 90% in the last year. 90%!
Well, this can only happen in capitalism. Well, I'm not suggesting any alternative system being better; I'm merely stating the current state of affairs possible under the banner of this system we venerate.
Click here for the relevant article.
Uncle T
25 Nov 2008
Once upon a a school... 9:50 pm
Just for 25min, watch this video. Over dinner perhaps. And see if it inspires you, now or in the future.
It makes me believe that some of us ordinary people can actually make a difference. Perhaps we can do this in Singapore, or something like that. Who knows?
To my dear friends who are teachers and educators, I pray this inspires :)
Uncle T
It makes me believe that some of us ordinary people can actually make a difference. Perhaps we can do this in Singapore, or something like that. Who knows?
To my dear friends who are teachers and educators, I pray this inspires :)
Uncle T
awaking as a struggling artist 6:52 pm
I awake with a hangover of a wicked concoction from the night before; bitter anger, biting cynicism and flu medication. It was as if nothing transpired since downing that shot, and a moment later I get up from a bed with a nasty headache.
I awake as a struggling artist. My writing pad is out, awaiting for the words to come out. Essay writing is both an art and science, is it not? It requires both your scientific knowledge of the subject-matter, but also requires the temperament and inspiration of the writer. Like a struggling artist, I sit in my loft, staring at the blank easel before me, with a hangover, and nothing comes.
photo from www.deviantart.com
I bite into my stale croissant and cheese, washing it down with soury milk. I grimace. But that is is the role of the struggling artist, to be put in his place, to be shackled by his simple desire for perfection, and taste the awfulness of what life has to offer in the process.
All this is getting too abstract. Keep it simple.
But each time I try to paint, my brushes break, the water spills, the paper tears. Has that not happened to you before? Each time you try to get back on your feet, the same person comes to knock you over. Perhaps not on purpose, but they sure do. And soon, you might not try getting up anymore, but just sit on the ground and laugh a long cynical laugh. Has that happened to you?
I'm starting to think I'm going to just pick myself up and laugh a long cynical laugh. I am an accidental friend. So?
Uncle T
I awake as a struggling artist. My writing pad is out, awaiting for the words to come out. Essay writing is both an art and science, is it not? It requires both your scientific knowledge of the subject-matter, but also requires the temperament and inspiration of the writer. Like a struggling artist, I sit in my loft, staring at the blank easel before me, with a hangover, and nothing comes.
photo from www.deviantart.comAll this is getting too abstract. Keep it simple.
But each time I try to paint, my brushes break, the water spills, the paper tears. Has that not happened to you before? Each time you try to get back on your feet, the same person comes to knock you over. Perhaps not on purpose, but they sure do. And soon, you might not try getting up anymore, but just sit on the ground and laugh a long cynical laugh. Has that happened to you?
I'm starting to think I'm going to just pick myself up and laugh a long cynical laugh. I am an accidental friend. So?
Uncle T