![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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.
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... )
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... )
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... )
The walls are not complete and full of holes. The foundation is especially weak when there are big operations going on. If a storm knocks down one of the pillars, it will have to be rebuilt. It is an arduous process. However, each failure points to a structural weakness in the design, so when a pillar is restored, it is at least somewhat stronger than before.
The job of the architect is to make sure that there are enough pillars at any one time to support the structural integrity of the tower. You never know when the weather may turn bad, so redundancy is necessary. Of course, that does not mean one could just keep erecting pillars everywhere. There are constrains in resources as well. The best way to keep the maximum number of pillars up while keeping sustainability in mind is to refine the rebuilding process, so that destroyed pillars can be restored as quickly as possible.
Sometimes, a pillar may be destroyed so utterly that repair seems counter productive. In cases like this, discretion is required. The pillars together form the whole of the tower. Each pillar plays a part in molding the final shape. Therefore, do not be too hasty to judge. Look at the wreckage from different sides, and salvage as much as possible. Also, mark the spot, regardless of whether the pillar is to be replaced. The knowledge will help prevent future pillars from falling the same way.
The job of the architect is to make sure that there are enough pillars at any one time to support the structural integrity of the tower. You never know when the weather may turn bad, so redundancy is necessary. Of course, that does not mean one could just keep erecting pillars everywhere. There are constrains in resources as well. The best way to keep the maximum number of pillars up while keeping sustainability in mind is to refine the rebuilding process, so that destroyed pillars can be restored as quickly as possible.
Sometimes, a pillar may be destroyed so utterly that repair seems counter productive. In cases like this, discretion is required. The pillars together form the whole of the tower. Each pillar plays a part in molding the final shape. Therefore, do not be too hasty to judge. Look at the wreckage from different sides, and salvage as much as possible. Also, mark the spot, regardless of whether the pillar is to be replaced. The knowledge will help prevent future pillars from falling the same way.
