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As a member of the NOC assistants we are supposed to get familiar with the VANOC vehicles and the Olympic venues. We were given a chance to do just that. The Vancouver based session was not exactly something I would call very exciting, mostly because the routes are going to be very different come games time. However, I still think it was a good experience. The people I was assigned to were not part of my team, but that was really my own fault. Apparently the people I worked with also signed up late, so we are a team of "extras," so to speak. They are pretty nice though. There is this guy who felt like an ENFj. It is just too bad that he already has a fiance. Anyway, he still makes for a good distraction for the day.
I admire people who are both willing and able to create an inclusive atmosphere, because I almost always feel like an outcast, or misfit, whenever people start grouping up. When people reach out to me I feel less stressed about the situation. That does not mean I like all forms of intrusion, though. I am not good at gauging distance between myself and other people, so I need others to set the boundaries for me. People who can preemptively orient me towards a positive direction are the people who can truly disarm me. When these people approach me, I do not feel threatened by them, and that saves me a lot of energy which I can then spend on tasks or enjoyment. So I guess I really should thank this guy, who I probably will never meet again. Wherever he is, I wish him good luck. Though considering his charm, he probably does not need it.
I admire people who are both willing and able to create an inclusive atmosphere, because I almost always feel like an outcast, or misfit, whenever people start grouping up. When people reach out to me I feel less stressed about the situation. That does not mean I like all forms of intrusion, though. I am not good at gauging distance between myself and other people, so I need others to set the boundaries for me. People who can preemptively orient me towards a positive direction are the people who can truly disarm me. When these people approach me, I do not feel threatened by them, and that saves me a lot of energy which I can then spend on tasks or enjoyment. So I guess I really should thank this guy, who I probably will never meet again. Wherever he is, I wish him good luck. Though considering his charm, he probably does not need it.
Quoting C.G. Jung
Dec. 20th, 2009 06:27 pm"Projections change the world into the replica of one's own unknown face."
Moonlight Sonata - Kyle Landry
Dec. 19th, 2009 12:37 amI used to play piano too when I was little, but for some reason I was never really interested. So now I am just as good as not having played the piano at all. However, I really like listening to the piano. I had always liked listening to the piano.
My lantern was destined to be small. When I looked at the materials, there were really so many possibilities. However, if I were to do this over, I think I will still make the same thing. How could there be another choice?
I didn't start the journey from the beginning. I just randomly walked around. The paths on the ground looked like vines stretching, with buds at the tips. It felt like I could just wander around for however long I wanted. But of course, I couldn't. There is a time limit, just like everything has a time limit. So I started reading again. In no particular order. My book of life? Blank. My light? That is in my hands, as it has always been. Shadow? I have some idea, but not quite sure. Back to the beginning. There is the first fork - one side leads to the first, most eye catching dead-end, the other leads to the stranger.
So let's focus on the stranger. There seemed to be some mythical association with this entity. Thanks to the mentor, I guess. However, I don't think that is how it works for me. Strangers are real. Real people you could call up whenever you want, but only if you have correctly identified them. The reason why I didn't get past the first fork, was because I misidentified the stranger. I had originally thought that the stranger would be my Dual. In hindsight, that conclusion was really absurd. The definition of the word "stranger" is completely contradictory to the one of the Dual. In actual fact, this stranger is my Conflict. This is why strangers are called strangers. They are meant to be strangers. That is why they never stay. That is why I did not pay them attention, when I should have. With this reasoning, everything else fall into place.
Even the most analytical minds are not without flaws, and the most passionate souls are not without reason. Sitting at opposite ends of the pole are things so foreign as to be almost unthinkable. We may never get along, but that does not mean the exchange is fruitless. The stranger sees the world in just the way that I am not, and whatever problem I cannot solve, the stranger can. Yet, quite unlike with the Dual, the problem is not drained into the void and dismissed. Conflicts call you on your ineptitude. This is beneficial. True growth is when people sees their own flaws, and fix it themselves.
I need to thank someone, even though it might be a surprise to her. We would like nothing to do with each other, but observing from afar is so far a okay. At least we can agree on that. I should not forget the phrase: "In any case, it's not a real problem for me so long as I keep my eyes on the prize."
( Afterthoughts... )
I didn't start the journey from the beginning. I just randomly walked around. The paths on the ground looked like vines stretching, with buds at the tips. It felt like I could just wander around for however long I wanted. But of course, I couldn't. There is a time limit, just like everything has a time limit. So I started reading again. In no particular order. My book of life? Blank. My light? That is in my hands, as it has always been. Shadow? I have some idea, but not quite sure. Back to the beginning. There is the first fork - one side leads to the first, most eye catching dead-end, the other leads to the stranger.
So let's focus on the stranger. There seemed to be some mythical association with this entity. Thanks to the mentor, I guess. However, I don't think that is how it works for me. Strangers are real. Real people you could call up whenever you want, but only if you have correctly identified them. The reason why I didn't get past the first fork, was because I misidentified the stranger. I had originally thought that the stranger would be my Dual. In hindsight, that conclusion was really absurd. The definition of the word "stranger" is completely contradictory to the one of the Dual. In actual fact, this stranger is my Conflict. This is why strangers are called strangers. They are meant to be strangers. That is why they never stay. That is why I did not pay them attention, when I should have. With this reasoning, everything else fall into place.
Even the most analytical minds are not without flaws, and the most passionate souls are not without reason. Sitting at opposite ends of the pole are things so foreign as to be almost unthinkable. We may never get along, but that does not mean the exchange is fruitless. The stranger sees the world in just the way that I am not, and whatever problem I cannot solve, the stranger can. Yet, quite unlike with the Dual, the problem is not drained into the void and dismissed. Conflicts call you on your ineptitude. This is beneficial. True growth is when people sees their own flaws, and fix it themselves.
I need to thank someone, even though it might be a surprise to her. We would like nothing to do with each other, but observing from afar is so far a okay. At least we can agree on that. I should not forget the phrase: "In any case, it's not a real problem for me so long as I keep my eyes on the prize."
( Afterthoughts... )
Quoting John Keats
Dec. 3rd, 2009 09:22 pm“I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart’s affections and the truth of the imagination.”
In our home there are a lot of over-sized Victorian
furniture that are really impractical. Like a round wooden table
we rarely use because a vase of arranged flower
takes up most of its surface, or the piano
that nobody ever touches anymore. Our balcony
is a garden with flowers of every color, hidden
fifteen floors above the ground. Visitors probably do not notice
the tea set of translucent burgundy, on our intricate coffee table,
beside the polished leather sofa, between the golden lamps.
They may not notice the chandelier, or the white candles
on the wall, not before they sniff through the lavender and jasmine
which, never happens because of the paintings.
Paintings on every wall capture their attention the moment
they step in: classics of roosters, rivers, streets and salons, with golden
frames so heavy that it is impossible for one person to lift
them in place. Visitors may not notice, that our lights are dimmed.
But I notice,
I notice the twin bone towers
overlooking
the round wooden table.
( Afterthoughts... )
furniture that are really impractical. Like a round wooden table
we rarely use because a vase of arranged flower
takes up most of its surface, or the piano
that nobody ever touches anymore. Our balcony
is a garden with flowers of every color, hidden
fifteen floors above the ground. Visitors probably do not notice
the tea set of translucent burgundy, on our intricate coffee table,
beside the polished leather sofa, between the golden lamps.
They may not notice the chandelier, or the white candles
on the wall, not before they sniff through the lavender and jasmine
which, never happens because of the paintings.
Paintings on every wall capture their attention the moment
they step in: classics of roosters, rivers, streets and salons, with golden
frames so heavy that it is impossible for one person to lift
them in place. Visitors may not notice, that our lights are dimmed.
But I notice,
I notice the twin bone towers
overlooking
the round wooden table.
( Afterthoughts... )
The Fragrance of Coffee is Dark
Nov. 14th, 2009 05:58 pmIt is again Wednesday night,
our meeting 4pm.
The time is just right for another
hot mug with a diadem.
As usual I sit beside you.
I like your attention.
The fragrance of this coffee is dark.
I'm lost in confusion.
I find I'm drawn to your aroma –
powerful sensation.
The color of this coffee is deep.
I fall in elation.
I sense your brown eyes on me but
never meeting my own.
My coffee swirls around and around,
I fear I'm in delusion.
And why are your words to me sparse,
diplomat well-known?
The taste of this coffee is stark.
I drink in bitter passion.
So come the dreaded 6:40,
our timed depart again.
I leave the class, my thoughts empty,
empty mug in hand.
( Afterthoughts... )
our meeting 4pm.
The time is just right for another
hot mug with a diadem.
As usual I sit beside you.
I like your attention.
The fragrance of this coffee is dark.
I'm lost in confusion.
I find I'm drawn to your aroma –
powerful sensation.
The color of this coffee is deep.
I fall in elation.
I sense your brown eyes on me but
never meeting my own.
My coffee swirls around and around,
I fear I'm in delusion.
And why are your words to me sparse,
diplomat well-known?
The taste of this coffee is stark.
I drink in bitter passion.
So come the dreaded 6:40,
our timed depart again.
I leave the class, my thoughts empty,
empty mug in hand.
( Afterthoughts... )
Out - Miriam Yeung, Edmond Leung
Nov. 7th, 2009 09:59 amI guess this is what theater is supposed to be like. An emotionally charged argument driven by hurtful words and dark humor. It does make me wonder though if emotional exchanges of this level must be between a couple. I realize that heated exchanges usually occur when the people involved have a big stake in each other. Though I would like to find out if the nature of the relationship can be different, since I would like to avoid romantic plots myself if possible.
EDIT: Turns out it is possible to have one without angsty romance: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=frYH
No Itinerary
Oct. 31st, 2009 11:59 pmI look out of the window and it is mostly dark.
Lights of orange and white dot the city at night.
Cruising through the sea, I leave not a mark.
The closer are the jewels, the brighter are their light.
Lights of orange and white dot the city at night,
ever so slow the clusters of street lights shift.
The closer are the jewels, the brighter are their light;
touching the glass window, I can feel the rift.
Ever so slow the clusters of street lights shift.
Between the stars little headlights traverse,
touching the glass window. I can feel the rift
ten thousand feet below. There is the universe
between the stars. Little headlights traverse
in the milky way. I too am just moving along.
Ten thousand feet below there is the universe,
like firework, yet that does not last this long.
In the milky way, I too am just moving along,
entranced by the brilliance of prisms
like firework. Yet that does not last this long.
With nothing but a duffel bag, I dive for the chasms
entranced, by the brilliance of prisms
cruising through the sea. I leave not a mark
with nothing but a duffel bag. I dive for the chasms.
I look out of the window and it is mostly dark.
( Afterthoughts... )
Lights of orange and white dot the city at night.
Cruising through the sea, I leave not a mark.
The closer are the jewels, the brighter are their light.
Lights of orange and white dot the city at night,
ever so slow the clusters of street lights shift.
The closer are the jewels, the brighter are their light;
touching the glass window, I can feel the rift.
Ever so slow the clusters of street lights shift.
Between the stars little headlights traverse,
touching the glass window. I can feel the rift
ten thousand feet below. There is the universe
between the stars. Little headlights traverse
in the milky way. I too am just moving along.
Ten thousand feet below there is the universe,
like firework, yet that does not last this long.
In the milky way, I too am just moving along,
entranced by the brilliance of prisms
like firework. Yet that does not last this long.
With nothing but a duffel bag, I dive for the chasms
entranced, by the brilliance of prisms
cruising through the sea. I leave not a mark
with nothing but a duffel bag. I dive for the chasms.
I look out of the window and it is mostly dark.
( Afterthoughts... )
If I can select many colors
and infuse my thoughts into paint
I would have drawn a script
If I can arrange many sounds
and imbue my feelings into voice
I would have sung a tale
If I can direct many movements
and instill my instincts into act
I would have carved a musical
But I cannot do those
so I wrote this letter instead
Otherwise there would be nothing
Late September I got a new key
which has been with me for nine odd years
It is a little rusty and not at all clean
A note beside the elevator told me
to throw the key away
I think I died a little inside reading that
This Autumn I met someone new
who I have not noticed before
The same dark eyes I can now see up close
A voice from the elevator prompted me
to use my new key
It is time for me to use the new key
What will be waiting for me
if the gate opens
I am excited and a little confused
If in there I find my paint
even if it is gray
If in there I find my voice
even if it is shrill
If in there I find my act
even if it is coarse
At least I will be able to play
( Afterthoughts... )
and infuse my thoughts into paint
I would have drawn a script
If I can arrange many sounds
and imbue my feelings into voice
I would have sung a tale
If I can direct many movements
and instill my instincts into act
I would have carved a musical
But I cannot do those
so I wrote this letter instead
Otherwise there would be nothing
Late September I got a new key
which has been with me for nine odd years
It is a little rusty and not at all clean
A note beside the elevator told me
to throw the key away
I think I died a little inside reading that
This Autumn I met someone new
who I have not noticed before
The same dark eyes I can now see up close
A voice from the elevator prompted me
to use my new key
It is time for me to use the new key
What will be waiting for me
if the gate opens
I am excited and a little confused
If in there I find my paint
even if it is gray
If in there I find my voice
even if it is shrill
If in there I find my act
even if it is coarse
At least I will be able to play
( Afterthoughts... )
Resplendent
Oct. 19th, 2009 08:19 pmBecause there were so many tourists then in Pura Tanah Lot,
Appreciating the Temple in the Sea was nigh impossible.
I thought so as I set foot in the parking lot.
Treading across the soft mud, my concerns were confirmed.
So close to nature, the tour could have been my creative lot.
Yet, I could not see anything here worthy of my signature:
Catching the salty sea wind was probably harder than winning the lot.
There was plenty of spicy food though, I smelled that on the way.
Everyone was excited about it all – they were a cheerful lot.
I cannot see how I could share their enthusiasm, though.
Noisy chat and banter, there definitely were a lot.
The sound of the waves cannot be heard at all.
I thought I should pay the sea God my humble lot.
But when I saw that line up for the ritual? Never mind.
So it makes you wonder why did I stay there.
With patience I found a new page in my album:
By dusk, the foreground has become nothing but a shadow;
The outline of trees and spires against the orange sun.
( Afterthoughts... )
Appreciating the Temple in the Sea was nigh impossible.
I thought so as I set foot in the parking lot.
Treading across the soft mud, my concerns were confirmed.
So close to nature, the tour could have been my creative lot.
Yet, I could not see anything here worthy of my signature:
Catching the salty sea wind was probably harder than winning the lot.
There was plenty of spicy food though, I smelled that on the way.
Everyone was excited about it all – they were a cheerful lot.
I cannot see how I could share their enthusiasm, though.
Noisy chat and banter, there definitely were a lot.
The sound of the waves cannot be heard at all.
I thought I should pay the sea God my humble lot.
But when I saw that line up for the ritual? Never mind.
So it makes you wonder why did I stay there.
With patience I found a new page in my album:
By dusk, the foreground has become nothing but a shadow;
The outline of trees and spires against the orange sun.
( Afterthoughts... )
I am a feather light dessert – puff – puff – puff.
Baked to perfection, the scent of cheese sauce
whipped up softly with egg whites folded in.
Watch how my chest expands, filled with mushy
delights and baby, Oh! I am dripping cream.
Pay all your attention to me. Yes, you.
No, not you, you are just the same as me.
I am the sweetest treat sitting here just
waiting for you to pick. Come on, have a spoon.
Taste this super awesome slice of my soul.
You like it. Tell me you like it, a lot.
... I'm picking up a bit of a snarky vibe from you.
I am but another cup on the table;
hurt, broken, slit open, just an ocean of tears.
Will you look at me, please with sugar on top.
Why oh WHY do you have to be such a tease?
Oh No. Oh no. My chest is deflating!
I am running out of... Where is my Romeo?
Come and get me. Come and get me. Come and get me.
Now, now, now while I am still hot, hot, hot.
( Afterthoughts... )
Baked to perfection, the scent of cheese sauce
whipped up softly with egg whites folded in.
Watch how my chest expands, filled with mushy
delights and baby, Oh! I am dripping cream.
Pay all your attention to me. Yes, you.
No, not you, you are just the same as me.
I am the sweetest treat sitting here just
waiting for you to pick. Come on, have a spoon.
Taste this super awesome slice of my soul.
You like it. Tell me you like it, a lot.
... I'm picking up a bit of a snarky vibe from you.
I am but another cup on the table;
hurt, broken, slit open, just an ocean of tears.
Will you look at me, please with sugar on top.
Why oh WHY do you have to be such a tease?
Oh No. Oh no. My chest is deflating!
I am running out of... Where is my Romeo?
Come and get me. Come and get me. Come and get me.
Now, now, now while I am still hot, hot, hot.
( Afterthoughts... )
Fort Arachnida
Oct. 2nd, 2009 03:29 amI am tough. I am strong.
Yes, I am tough I am strong,
with my entwined bastion of solitude.
Pentagon, octagon,
its shape may sway in the wind,
but once you get in, there is no escaping.
With the skills of a craftsman,
I weaved my home -
an ethereal chateau
sheltered from the elements.
A ray of light reveals
its beauty, shrouded
not by the reclusive location.
Quiver Quiver
Who is there?
Oh, my guests are here.
( Afterthoughts... )
Yes, I am tough I am strong,
with my entwined bastion of solitude.
Pentagon, octagon,
its shape may sway in the wind,
but once you get in, there is no escaping.
With the skills of a craftsman,
I weaved my home -
an ethereal chateau
sheltered from the elements.
A ray of light reveals
its beauty, shrouded
not by the reclusive location.
Quiver Quiver
Who is there?
Oh, my guests are here.
( Afterthoughts... )
So I was late, and...
Sep. 19th, 2009 06:51 pmWhen I got out of my car, and walked along the path in front of the West Mall Centre, I felt an odd sense of familiarity. I remembered that the philosophy department was located in this building, third or fourth floor. I had not set foot in the place for several years, but there was no time for me to reminisce about my days up in Burnaby Mountain. I was half an hour late for my meeting.
To be fair, these "meetings" were really just long lectures about things that I should already know, or could find out about on the internet within minutes. The idea behind these classes, I believed, was just to test our dedication towards our commitment. It was a fair test that I intended to pass. It was way too boring, but, what must be done needed to be done. The lecture hall was quite full. There was no seat available near the entrance so I sat on the stairs. I regretted this choice later though. It was way stiffer than I had anticipated.
My day lighted up quite a bit as I looked at the speaker on the podium. He was talking as I walked in, but I was too busy trying to find a seat. I had not really noticed him until I settled down. Then the more I looked at him, the more he got to me. He wore black-framed glasses. His brown hair was short. The lights in the hall was dimmed for the projector, but they gave his skin a shade of deep red. It looked as if he was under the sun, even though there was nothing but dark ceiling above him. He wore a blue shirt, and it was unbuttoned at the top. Coupled with the jeans, the ensemble gave him a smart yet casual look. He was charming, indeed.
Of course, a person's charm does not depend solely on appearance. He had high-pitched voice, but it was not weird. He had an accent, but he spoke clear enough to be understood. He was an animated speaker, moving about and gesturing all along. I still do not know whether his sheer enthusiasm or his sense of humor had me first. I do know his presence was awe-inspiring. He went over time with his speech but I thought nobody cared. It was enjoyable, even though I could not care less about the topic at the moment. I could get used to lectures like this.
He picked up his black jacket and left during the break, but not before he had a nice chat with the other guest speakers first. Who was he again? I was not there for the introduction, but I looked him up in the lecture notes: Manager, Transportation Systems NOCs/NPCs.
To be fair, these "meetings" were really just long lectures about things that I should already know, or could find out about on the internet within minutes. The idea behind these classes, I believed, was just to test our dedication towards our commitment. It was a fair test that I intended to pass. It was way too boring, but, what must be done needed to be done. The lecture hall was quite full. There was no seat available near the entrance so I sat on the stairs. I regretted this choice later though. It was way stiffer than I had anticipated.
My day lighted up quite a bit as I looked at the speaker on the podium. He was talking as I walked in, but I was too busy trying to find a seat. I had not really noticed him until I settled down. Then the more I looked at him, the more he got to me. He wore black-framed glasses. His brown hair was short. The lights in the hall was dimmed for the projector, but they gave his skin a shade of deep red. It looked as if he was under the sun, even though there was nothing but dark ceiling above him. He wore a blue shirt, and it was unbuttoned at the top. Coupled with the jeans, the ensemble gave him a smart yet casual look. He was charming, indeed.
Of course, a person's charm does not depend solely on appearance. He had high-pitched voice, but it was not weird. He had an accent, but he spoke clear enough to be understood. He was an animated speaker, moving about and gesturing all along. I still do not know whether his sheer enthusiasm or his sense of humor had me first. I do know his presence was awe-inspiring. He went over time with his speech but I thought nobody cared. It was enjoyable, even though I could not care less about the topic at the moment. I could get used to lectures like this.
He picked up his black jacket and left during the break, but not before he had a nice chat with the other guest speakers first. Who was he again? I was not there for the introduction, but I looked him up in the lecture notes: Manager, Transportation Systems NOCs/NPCs.
Beep.
It's me again.
Is it night time over there now?
I just want to remind you,
again,
to water my jasmine.
I still have business to take care of.
Please take care of them for another month.
Beep.
( Afterthoughts... )
Hankering thoughts characterize dreamy smile; tight
Embrace tops sweet prose by a mile.
Inspiration comes knocking on the cheek; take flight
Now, with the wings of the muse still sleek.
Excellence is always, the lofty goal; but my night
Light has only, ever aimed low!
( Afterthoughts... )
Embrace tops sweet prose by a mile.
Inspiration comes knocking on the cheek; take flight
Now, with the wings of the muse still sleek.
Excellence is always, the lofty goal; but my night
Light has only, ever aimed low!
( Afterthoughts... )
Ode to the Exhilarating Ride
Aug. 29th, 2009 09:50 pmArk-ark-
ark, dives to the screams
and laughter. Ark-ark-
ark, soars to the clouds
and cheer. Ark-ark-
ark, sails without winds
and water. Ark-ark-
ark, spirited is this
exhilarating ride to
the treasures of fantasy. Thus
the ark has neither rats
nor the gutless on deck. This
airborne vessel, you
must bull your way through
to book for passage. You
must be at least as tall as the red line to ride.
( Afterthoughts... )
ark, dives to the screams
and laughter. Ark-ark-
ark, soars to the clouds
and cheer. Ark-ark-
ark, sails without winds
and water. Ark-ark-
ark, spirited is this
exhilarating ride to
the treasures of fantasy. Thus
the ark has neither rats
nor the gutless on deck. This
airborne vessel, you
must bull your way through
to book for passage. You
must be at least as tall as the red line to ride.
( Afterthoughts... )
