Now what’re in these cases? Totally suspicious…
Unknowingly, the interiors hold tools of destruction…
Assembly #1
Assembly #2
Ready for destruction…
Hahaha! Can’t destroy shitz when they’re the size of a Zippo lighter.
Just browsed through my storage and found these Chicane promotional for their “behind the sun” gig held in Boston in 1998-1999. These are priceless collectible items and I’d hide them somehwere back in my storage so by the next time I find them they will be priceless relic. (Don’t worry they’re really candies and not obscurely packaged illicit substances.)
Warning! Not suitable for under 18 drinking age reader. (Yeah right, like most underage drinkers would even bother…)
This is my cooler aid for the evening, after a long day of work. I’m usually not a big fan of alcohol. I don’t drink beer (unlike most of my high school cakes) and I was more into hard whiskey but now I’ve outgrown that. So I’m now mellowed down to a light wine cooler and those breezer bottled cocktails 
On the contrary, my dad being a man hoping to watch him son grow up not ending up a nerd in the real world, told me “Boy, don’t be afraid. I’m not angry of you drinking. In fact, I strongly encourage you to start building your alcoholic tolerance from now. You’re just about the age to start this training.” I was totally stunned when I heard that. “The catch is: you will have to restrict yourself to only one can per week… no more. After a while, you can progress slowly to get your body system get adjusted to alcohol consumption. This way, you’d be building your alcohol tolerance eventually. You will need this to establish yourself in the business world.”
Flabbergasted, I was speechless for mintues. I would NEVER expect this positive reaction from my dad. From then on, he’s the coolest dad in my eyes. Though he’s still old fashion in his lifestyle, he’s totally open up to the change of the generations. I love him for that. He’s now someone I feel more comfortable confiding to as a friend
Too much thinking over the past two days. My mind had been over-filled with random statements that I found it hard to concentrate on my thoughts. “Having lunch instead of breakfast can be a torture…” “Too much nicotine, now I’m feeling nauseous…” “UtimateEars® or Shure®?” “Want to go hang out in town but I’m too tired after work…” Thoughts were so loud I constantly hear myself like a marketplace within my skull.
It has been over a month since I stopped my nimetazepam dosage (for some obscure reasons) and I have been depending on my self-motivation for work and off-work. I have absolutely no problem during office hours but I have the tendency to seclude myself during evenings and weekends. The seclusion is not exactly strong-willed, but more preferred as opposed to strolling downtown like I used to. I concluded that this might have been a minor withdrawal symptom and I’m still fighting to overcome this. The demon in me isn’t helping much by constantly hollering ”... nothing is as interesting anymore without 5.”
All these hollering inside my head between the ears got me really irritable and I had, in some occasions, expressed subtly so to people close to me, especially my wife (poor wifey… I’m sorry). However, I’m glad most have unknowingly put up with me, reasoning for me that I’m just stressed out at work. Yes, the work stress might be a factor, but deep inside I know this has been a withdrawal effect.
Nevertheless, I have the logical side of me speaking louder for my own good.
I’m not getting any younger, and if I carry on with dependency on nimetazepam, there will be psychological effects.
I’m now married so I am now carrying responsibility not just to one but two individuals.
I am still hoping to restart some positive monetary savings.
I have a wonderful career path and should not put that to waste.
I have come to realize that life is most bliss when I can fulfill all my commitments without any difficulty.
Desire, it is said, is the root of all evil. But desire has been the prime motivating force for most actions of man through all times, be it conquest or love or revenge or even penance. To what extent can man satisfy his desires? Is there a limitation to desire? What can cure one infested with the desire disease?Devayani, the daughter of Shukracharya, the preceptor of the Daityas, was companion to the daughters of Vrishaparva, the king of the Daityas. One day, they were in the woods playing in a pool when a strong wind blew their clothes into a bundle.
Mistakenly, princess Sarmishta wore Devayani’s clothes to which the latter remarked: How can a disciple’s daughter wear the clothes of the master’s daughter?
Sarmishta, angered by these words, retorted: Are you not the daughter of a beggar to whom my father doles out liberally?
Though Devayani had not meant to hurt Sarmishta and did everything to placate her, the princess got more and more infuriated until at last she slapped Devayani and pushed her into a dry well and left with her sisters. Some time later, she was rescued by a young king, Yayati by name. Though not the practice for a Brahmana woman to marry a Kshatriya, Devayani insisted that she marry Yayati, as he had held her right hand. Shukracharya had to give her in marriage to the king.
Moreover, Devayani reasoned with her father that Sarmishta was wrong in calling him a beggar and, to make amends, made her father talk to Vrishaparva into sending Sarmishta with her as her maid. Vrishaparva, hitherto unaware of the happenings, was appalled at the thought of incurring his preceptor’s curse and made his daughter humbly follow Devayani.
In the days that followed, Yayati and Sarmishta grew close and they married secretly. Soon, however, Devayani came in knowledge of this and went weeping to Shukracharya. The sage cursed the king: You shall lose your youth and become prematurely old!
Yayati, terrified, begged of the sage to withdraw the curse. The sage, considering that Yayati was his own son-in-law, said: A curse once uttered cannot be revoked. However, you shall regain your youth if someone else takes upon himself your old age.
Thus a prematurely old Yayati ruled for sometime but his yearning for sensual pleasures had not abated. His only hope were his five young sons whom he called one by one, and asked of them if they were willing to take upon themselves the wretched old age, the reward being the crown. The first four princes declined but the fifth son, Puru by name, said: Father, it would be of great pleasure for me to make you happy!
Thus Puru turned old and ruled the kingdom while Yayati enjoyed all the pleasures of life. Not satisfied, he went to the kingdom of Kubera and indulged in the senses. After several years, Yayati realised that not all the indulgence could ever satisfy the senses any more than fire is put out by pouring ghee over it. He then returned to his kingdom and took back the old age from Puru.
Yayati ruled the kingdom wisely and Puru, whose descendents were to be the players in the great Mahabharata, was the heir to the throne.
This is a story written by an Indian writer Yamuna Harshavardhana. Yamuna, a multifaceted woman, is an engineer by profession and a writer by choice, and wields the pen with passion and power. She was born in Chennai and spent her childhood there.
What exactly is evil in such desire? Evil is a state of mind which human intelligence has associated with the negative nature of being. Man has somewhat rounded off from the history of mankind all states of destruction, natural or artificial, as products of an intangible and gave it the name ‘evil’. The notion of evil, therefore, is a creation of sensibility. Sensibility on the engagement of rationalizing reasons for tragedies, based on logical explanations and intuition. When we can’t explain why a man can develop the tendency to destroy another man, we call him evil. When a terrorist threat is poised on a social establishment, we blame it on evil. Similarly, when a terrorist looks for a reason to command destructive acts, he finds only the reason to destroy evil. War is not a new phenomenon. Civilizations have been built and destroyed over a declaration of being evil. So what gives man the authority to call another evil? Though most ethnical/social groups have the same concept of good and evil, there are many grey areas which many have believed strongly in. ‘Sensibility’ is in itself a sensitive tool and we should be careful before we define this subjective notion.
Within the communities we live in, we find our laws written to prevent criminal acts, mainly involving behaviors of an individual resulting in harm to another. Murder, manslaughter and assault are deliberate acts of harm onto others. Theft, robbery and other greed-driven crimes are schemed acts to achieve personal gains at the expense of others. Another type of criminal activities protected by most legal systems are the street vices. Prostitution, drug trafficking and gambling are some common vices that do not deliberately cause harm to any individual (less some by-product criminal activities like loan-sharking, abduction and blackmailing) but are seen as the roots of many evil intentions hence are restricted.
These are precisely the kind of legally-sensitive activities that man has, based on his sensibility, associated with the notion of ‘evil’. Vices that are not by direct intention malevolence in nature, but are mere indulgence in the sensual derivation of pleasure. Prostitution is in itself a service with the trade of the flesh. Drugs are products of human intelligence discovered to stimulate or opiate our senses. Even gambling is in itself simply a game involving eye perceptions and logical challenges. These activities are only different and are deemed evil when money are involved. Can we condone the existence of money and review the ethical value of street vices? Money is the very powerful evidence for human intelligence over other living beings and an icon of civilization. It would be hard to deny the meaning of money. Logically speaking then, these vices, sprouting from our sensual desires as a cause or result, are evil.
Biologically speaking, sensual desires are but only momentary. They involve flicks of nervous systems worked by chemical and electric pulses. We only think and feel the sensual pleasure because our brain built by our genetic codes recognizes pleasure. When our mind welcomes the pleasurable sensation experienced (usually in conjunction with the preceding fantasy or mental euphoric experiences on the spot), we desire more of. On the contrary, if a person’s senses are to be constantly subjected to such pleasure, the pleasure receptors in our nervous system will be conditioned to perceive pleasure as norm. It is like a tolerance that our body can naturally build upon such conditioning that we may not feel the same level of pleasure over time. Even worse, addiction can happen and deprivation of the sensual pleasure can become unbearable.
It’s almost 9pm now. I have most of the chore list items done (yes, most.. not all).
1. Sweep and mop the floor (alright these two I’d do… breezely) DONE
2. Wash the bedsheets/quilt (I think I should do this, they’re starting to smell after 2 weeks) DONE only the quilt. I’d need to continue another time. There is no more space for the large bedsheets to dry.
3. Dishes (not much of this to do since I’ve been washing everyday) DONE
4. Wash kitchen top (erm… I think I should clear off the grease before they get stuck there for good) This seem to be the hardest part, but done.
5. Grocery (if I want breakfast for the next few days I should, plus need to get Reg’s supply for YK to bring to Korea) I forgot to bring the shopping list for Reg so I’d get it tomorrow.
And to add to the list, I’d need to do another thing: Ironing my shirts for work.
For all these, I’ve come to realize how much Sunsun has done during the days when I was simply busy at work. Yes I do help out with dishes and cleaning the toilets over weekends, but sweeping and mopping the floors, plus cleaning the kitchen are the pain in the neck. Come back soon, dearie wife.
(She has asked me to book her ticket to return in time for our anniversary, which is in two weeks! YAY!)
Oh I forgot to mention that I bumped into Dave yesterday when I was out getting dinner. He was smiling (or smirking) when he first say me and the first words he uttered were “Where have you been ar?”. I know I have been an MIA friend to many of my mates whom I had been hanging out quite a bit before I got married last year. I have no excuse. I’m sorry but these mates are somewhat my ‘party’ mates whom I have nothing much to say to except the usual weekends ‘where’s the party’ routine. I was invited by another friend to Zouk over the weekends but I have no interest whatsoever. It just isn’t my kind of cake anymore. I’m very much comfortable staying home over saturday nights. I guess I’m just getting old…
Or the other reaon I don’t feel like partying anymore, according to my memory, is that I’m depressed. The more depressed I am, the less interest I have in exciting events. Is that contradicting?
I’m taking a day off work, with the courtesy of my immediate manager, who’s also having the day off holidaying in Hong Kong. Not exactly going to be a day to simply slouch back and laze the day away, my day is lined with a list of house chores to do. (I’d promised my wife to do during her absence…)
1. Sweep and mop the floor (alright these two I’d do… breezely)
2. Wash the bedsheets/quilt (I think I should do this, they’re starting to smell after 2 weeks)
3. Dishes (not much of this to do since I’ve been washing everyday)
4. Wash kitchen top (erm… I think I should clear off the grease before they get stuck there for good)
5. Grocery (if I want breakfast for the next few days I should, plus need to get Reg’s supply for YK to bring to Korea)
So yes, that’s the list. And what am I still here blogging? Well, I’m just feeling a lil guilty for not adding anything on my blog since last week (when was that? 18th?). The reason why I hadn’t is mainly due to my discovery of an interesting blog originating from Kuching, Malaysia by the name of SixthSeal.com. This blogger has somewhat been documenting everything in his life from few years back. Experiences of drug uses seem to be the main highlight of his blogs, since I doubt anyone else would have the guts to do it like him. Not only did he accounts the experiences for each kind of chemical used, he’d also posted pictures and videos. I must emphasize that this guy has guts, though I know some of this behavior is driven by gusts of depression and self-seclusion anxiety. He’s a classic case of a ‘bedroom junkie’. Anyone here in Singapore would have called him a madman attempting suicidal surrender to the authority by keeping these accounts while living in a small town like Kuching. I’d salute him for being true to himself. Yes, his blogs are seemingly crude in reality and that makes it entertaining to real (just like a reality TV show), but I do hope he will someday kill his addiction before the authority has to do it for him. God bless, Huai Bin.
Alright. I should really get started with my cleaning. I’d probably be back after I’m done with all, most likely in the evening.
Came across this gimmick out of the Apple iPod craze. Though I’m an iPod-user, I can’t get over the fact that there’s a religion for an overpriced piece of gadget. And now they’re going to bring these little machine alive?! Some frankenstein has given it arms and legs... and even BUTTS too! What can these little entertainers do with limps? Soon we’d find them crawling for your wallet at night. Apple shook the world with these little jukeboxes in our hand, and now they are literally taking over the world with this? What’s next? Some sick addon to the music jukebox to make it talk?! This is crazy!
How many times have we actually watch the night sky long enough to notice how one can recognize one’s homeland by the color of the sky? I wouldn’t have noticed this until I witnessed how Alex, in the movie Good Bye Lenin!, tried to paint the night sky outside his bedridden mother’s window the same socialist color she was accustomed to, but failed to realized that no matter how ill or weak, she could still notice the difference.
After the movie, I stepped out to the balcony and stared hard at the night sky. Only then did I realized that I actually miss the sky at the other end of the world. Boston night sky was clearer and was always accompanied by inviting cool gusts. What I see tonight at Bukit Timah hill is covered by the dark red clouds, with some light breezes of warm tropical air. After a little comparison, I decided that I’m still used to this sky at home. The same night sky I first noticed when I started dating and shared with my first date. The same night sky that I watched while hugging my rifle and my buddy snored next to me on the wet forest ground. The same night sky that I shared my glass of wine with some great friends while the ballet performances went on. No matter how humid the air is, as it is tonight as any other nights, or how star-less it turns out for most nights, it is still the night sky of home. This can never be replaced by any clearer sky, not even the one in Boston nor in Melbourne.
This might not be the same color as the sky that Alex saw when he watched the fireworks. It might not remind me of the same devotion that he held to keep the dream alive for his mom. It is, however, the kind of sky I can look up to when encountering unanswered doubts and remind myself that there is no greater worry than not being able to see this sky again… when I eventually have to shut my eyes. This is my sky…
