Of English. And Chinese. And Being Upper Class. Disclaimer: This is a very personal rant, and many of the opinions here are really very personal and emotionally written. Most of them may not be politically correct, and I didn't bother to check the authenticity of the claims. And its a very long post.

At 2 am I have a sudden realization of why the Brits think they're so much better than the rest of the world. They have English, the language that's THE Lingua Franca, THE language of economics and money, and of course the Pound Sterling is very very huge in value... and they have ... you know what? Hordes of followers who supposedly are anti-English and yet sing such high praises of 'ENGLISH 'O Ye ENGLISH you are the most beautiful language in the world', to the Extent that other languages are just, merely Second class.

I'm not slamming shit from the soles of my boots onto a Language which I work every day with.

It's just amazing, I think, how a single race like the Chinese seems to be divided into two, the ones who come from an 'English educated background' and the ones who went to 'Chinese school'. I'm talking about Malaysia, mind you. Of course. Oh well.

I had a very 'enlightening' argument with a friend who doesn't read nor speak Chinese, and I'm still very enlightened. It started innocent enough, this little chat, talking about changing our tones when we speak in different circles, and my friend said that he changed to a lower level when he spoke to his friends from the Chinese schools.

I was atrociously astounded. You know? Terasa. Eh, Minishorts is from a Chinese school, yah? So does this mean when you talk to me you 'Talk down', so to speak?

We went on and on and on... until I believe I lost my train of thought, especially as my friend was nitpicking on the pernickety details and he just floated on and on and on just to win the little 'argument' so to speak... (oh well, you know how guys are, they're SUCH winners)...

Usually I let such things go...

But when you touch something that's very close to my heart... something which I have been caught in between for almost 20 years of my life on earth, and you start talking and forcing me to accept your opinions as is... I get VERY agitated.

It took me a whole lot of effort not to just stand up and walk away.

I could go on about how I was stuck in Primary school not knowing a single word in Chinese, not knowing how to write my own name also, and trying to run away from school. I could begin with the years when I was with my Chinese school friends, and they had these term for kids like me who spoke better English than most people, 'Speaking', they would say. In Chinese, hushed tones, they would say I was a show off... just because I spoke better than them.

In high school, those speaking English ... we were huddled together at the back of class, singing songs from classic musicals, and knowing that people thought we were show offs.

Trust me, the term, 'show off' never ever occured to us in the group. Until of course, the year we branched away from just the school circle, the years that we met people from the 'Elitist' schools.

That's when I learnt the phrase, 'Ah Beng and Ah Lian.'

You know what's it like to be a 'stuck-between'? We become chameleons. We move around so easy, that putting on and taking off masks become second nature. And it's not easy to 'fit in' when you're a stuck-between. With the English educated people, you call ppl Ah Lian and start laughing about it. You endure jibes when people start saying that Subang Jaya is more high-class than Puchong Jaya (and then start thinking that hey, I stay in Jalan Klang Lama, now isn't that such a low-class area?), and then you agree, 'Yeah, I talk down to people from the local universities. After all, UPM isn't nearly as good as UM, and Oxford is of course the BEST place in the world.'

With the Chinese school kids, we mix with the English educated people's 'Ah Lians' and bang your heads to Jay Chou's rap renditions and scream crazy over Ah Lian channels like TVB and dream of meeting those singers. We actually LIKE Twins and S.H.E. because they're cute, but you can't speak English too naturally. You'd be a show off. You can't even like clothes from Esprit sometimes, they're such expensive stuff. Oh oh, I forgot about the richer Chinese educated, (or English educated, I forgot). Buying branded clothes became a must. The bigger the label, the better.

I was caught up in it once. So caught up that once my Dad went overseas and I asked him to get me a Guess T-shirt (when we were kids, Guess was pretty BIG okay?), and I told him,'Make sure the logo is huge.' But Once. Once only. That's it.

I'm grown up.

I've just had enough of being a stuck-between I guess. If you ask me. To hell with English/Chinese educated kids. I think Chinese who don't know Chinese ought to try to learn Chinese, or please, at least be proud of your heritage. And the Chinese educated Chinese who don't speak good English, stop labelling people who speak proper English as show offs.

It's quite sickening how that what's supposed to be a unifying language can disunify a people.

I really feel like walking away everytime you talk about local uni/overseas uni, semi-gov/full-gov/private school, Chinese/English educated ... you know the list goes on. I think you already know I'm the perfect example of a cross-breed, I've got a bit of everything in me. I feel attacked both ways, and it's not nice to be attacked. And today, I really, really felt like walking away.

I'm just disappointed that many people are still very green. Oh dear.   ¶ 02:02

  Of Blockbusters and Corny Lines SL and me went on a self-declared holiday today. We watched two shows back-to-back: The Day After Tomorrow and Shrek 2, with a half an hour break in between. The first movie actually scared me... well, after all the worst part of the movie was knowing that global warming IS a very real problem that we're all facing, and what happened to the characters in the show could very well happen to us!

Notice the storms we're having these days? I'm sure they're worse than they ever were, and every year the winter (in places where they have winter) seems to be worse than the last. Or the heatwaves seems to be worse than the previous... oh well, maybe I'm exagerrating... but the movie is kinda scary... although there were many corny lines lah. Stuff like the US president saying, 'We were wrong, I was wrong.'

Now that's just one thing I don't get about blockbusters. That thing about CORNY lines. There's this scene in the show where Tamyln Tomita tells Dennis Quaid that she can help him with something, and Quaid just goes, 'Walk with me.'

I was like... 'Oh no... there it comes... the corny lines...'

Corny lines are just ... so maize-y you know? They make everything sooooooo predictable, like those rows and rows of yellow stubs down the cob, corny lines just make a good movie BAD. Oh yeah, if you thought the CGI in the show was good, well, yeah it was good, except the opening scene... I thought it was so blatantly CGI... but it probably its difficult to make an Antartic scene look impressive with all that white.

Anyway, The Day After Tomorrow could have been a good movie... it sure had very noble intentions (I'm already more environmental conscious already), BUT unfortunately... the corny lines.... oh the corny lines...

Well, Shrek 2 WAS good, and I'm not going to repeat what the others have said... but my favourite parody was the Mission Impossible one, though the trip that Shrek and Fiona took on that little onion coach that really resembled travelling scenes from LOTR were really hilarious.

And yeah. At least Shrek 2 didn't have corny lines... or where the lines were meant to be corny, they sounded GOOD. That's only because the movie did make a parody of the corny lines from other movies, I guess.
  ¶ 23:45

  Seeking Potentials Its funny how at this point of time some people are looking more attractive than others ... on the market. Going to fairs and conferences has allowed me to meet A LOT OF nice guys, and hmmmm... yeah, well... it's quite a pity I'm no longer 'a commodity on the market' (SL's probably going to kill me for typing this in).

Maybe when you're nearing your mid-twenties and having just entered the society as an individual owned by herself, people look at you in a different light? In school, I was never a hottie, most of my friends were guys, yes, but that's only because I was 'one of the guys'. Did I tell you about my good friend whom every guy wanted to date? Almost every other month she would receive a bouquet of flowers from an admirer! This was from Form 1?we were only thirteen, ya?

I only got my first serious admirer nearing the end of form five. Well, at least I had ONE admirer that I knew of during the whole of my secondary education.

But back to now... to be bringing up small talk in the little circle of colleagues and rivals in the publishing world, to have innuendoes slipping in here and there, with casual invites to dinners and movies.

Or is everyone already in their mid twenties to mid thirties, moving around the world WITHOUT a significant other, seeking 'potentials' everywhere?

Maybe I am already with Mr Right. Or maybe Mr Right will come tomorrow. Or maybe there will be several Mr Rights. Whatever happens... well, I belong to myself, ultimately. Obviously that's how things are supposed to be.   ¶ 13:36

  Well, Hello

This photo has nothing to do whatsoever with the rest of the post. But when I was in Malacca and Leonard took me to eat their Satay Celup, I shocked the guys out of their wits by dunking in 15 sticks of shelled cockles and then eating them all at one go. No, the high cholestrol doesn't bother me, at least, not yet.

Anyway...

Right now blogspot users get to post photos and have them hosted for free!!! Except for the domain name, and the advertisement-free privilege, this whole 'I own a domain thing' isn't really that cool after all!!!

Nope, I wasn't paid to do an ad for blogger.

Okay, so I didn't use hello, that new service from picasa that's supposed to 'work seamlessly with blogger'. But that's only because it messed up my so-called very neatly filed up folders in the server.

But I used the client to chat with a friend and share photos, and trust me on this one. It's really excellent. And every time you do a conventional smiley face, a huge face will fall from the top of your menu bar. Cool!



Well, since I am not a techie, my little review is from a very layperson's point of view. I really liked the blogger templates, but this photoblogging function is really nifty.   ¶ 22:38

  Growing Up... When I was just a girl, I hated being young. Like many other kids I would trot up and down the living room in my mother's high heels, and when chances came that she wasn't looking, I would be painting my face silly and destroying Mum's lipsticks and blusher cakes.

When I was 13, I would go around telling people I was 16... and for many, many years I was 16. Birthdays for 13-year-olds don't sound nearly as cool as 'sweet sixteens', and every year I was counting the months till the day I would become 16 year old and finally... the 'happy sweet sixteen' would become genuine.

So now I'm almost 25, have my own car, have a job and earning my own cash. Being grown up never felt so terribly wrong. Last night I went to my form five class reunion, and well, everyone's really an adult now. It's awfully strange to see old friends from school (some whom I've know since I was 6) all grown up, dressed up in adult clothes, behaving like very experienced women, soaking up the scent of broken cigarettes and puffing and drinking whiskey-coke while playing hand games with the guys.

It just didn't feel right.

Suddenly I feel so old.   ¶ 14:14

  You Thought She Forgot But you know what?

She didn't.

She still enjoys sitting at the bar, watching a skilled bartender shake out six shots of Illusion. She still enjoys sipping them up at one go, enjoys looking around the crowded, smoky scene, scrutinizing nice people. Nice men.

She still likes it when men walk up to her, buy her a drink.

Except, they don't do that anymore.

Somehow, when a woman gets married, people know about it, even people who don't know her personally. Maybe it's the look that envelopes the wife, that gives her that 'untouchable' mark, or that ring. But even when she takes it off, they still won't come.

Except the very, very brave.

'So are you very, very brave?'

'Maybe.'

She smiles. He smiles.

'A drink?'

'Yes please. Illusion.'

'That's really six.'

'I know.'

'Him?'

'On business. You know. The stress. It's killing me.'

He laughs.'

'Don't we all know that.'

And then, she knew he knew. He thought she had forgotten, but really, there's nothing worth forgetting.  ¶ 19:10

  Back To Basics It's back to basics this time, I've taken out the Guestbook link as well.

That just wasn't me. Someone asked me why I'm still on Blogger even though I'm hosted on my own server. I tried some of the new features, but you see, my blog isn't made to be reader-friendly. It's supposed to be thought-friendly, and there's a vast difference between the two. After all, everything here is pretty personal, and if you'd really think about it, the site's really dedicated to one person only, that's me. Of course, whether fortunate (or unfortunate, depending on how you'd see it) minishorts.net has become pretty public. Yet tear away all the fancy decorations, and what's left is really a whole load of jargon, not ever, really comprehensible by the layperson, perhaps 60% understood and emphathized by friends who know me personally... the remaining, is really, quite, clearly, inexplanable.

So all those functions. Buh-bye. No point, really.

Well, you could also say that I got lazy. But hey, at least I tried.   ¶ 00:44

  There Isn't Ever A Theme Here Obviously you would have known that a long time ago. The focus goes with the waves, up, down, up, down. At times it gets volatile, the motion gets rather rough, and you're left wondering. Well, most of the times.

On the other side of the screen, life goes on as usual. In reality, it's quite normal, she still wakes up at 6 every day, heads off to work and reaches the office by 7.15. Jokes with colleagues, tidies up her desk, checks her e-mail. Lunchtime, and its off to the restaurants, there's a good relationship between the friends-at-work, but it doesn't mean she isn't relieved when the clock strikes 5 and she knows there's no need to work overtime tonight. She heads home, does some chores here and there, takes an hour long nap. At night, there's there call from the boyfriend, and then it's off to bed.

Fingers go on pecking at the board, the words transcribe the innermost urgencies that crave to be expressed first. Which is why they all get confused, and misled. Not delusional, not schizophrenic, for goodness's sake! Quite normal, absurdly normal, really. But none of you would have that, I bet.

There's no cooked up hocus pocus here, though. I can bet my bottom dollar that everything present is the truth, or part of the truth... but does that really matter?

It's all personal, deep, deep, deep. And if you don't understand a thing, it doesn't bother her at all. Not meant for you to understand, at all. That's why, there isn't ever a theme. Not here. Not ever.


  ¶ 15:48

  Being Sensible I sometimes hate being sensible. I've never been more sensible than now, these days of my life as I slowly but surely approach my mid-twenties. When I was younger, I was hardly sensible, I would be rational, yes, but just in thoughts. Most of the things I did was hardly sensible... stuff like opting for a course that everyone said was not going to be good... you know? Back in those days where everyone smart enough to get straights As ought to become a doctor, take up a pure-science course and all that... well I ditched that... and opted for Arts.

So look where that choice has taken me now.

Work on Saturday nights. On Sunday mornings. Dragging my sleepy body out of bed at 8 am on Sunday to check my e-mail for incoming tests written by teachers who work overtime on Saturday nights (under my command, of course). It's sensible to wake up early on Sunday mornings, because the sooner I get the work done, the sooner I get to go to bed. SO that I can wake up earlier the next day, so that I can perform better at work.

OK, OK, so most of my posts here are nothing but work, these days.

The point is, having a stable career at a stable company is being sensible. And I'm beginning to dread this life. Jeesh, I'm too young to be sensible... but then again... The money. Oh yes, the money.

Remember when you were kids and all you needed to do when you were out of stash was to reach out your palm, ask for it with a solid and justified reason? And pout if Daddy or Mummy said, 'No, not today?'

I understand Daddy and Mummy now. See if it takes me such hard work just to get my monthly salary, I just DON'T WANT TO SEE THAT MONEY going away to a silly kid who'll spend it on Twisties and Pringles.

You know what? I don't think I want kids anymore.   ¶ 16:37

  I Miss... The smiles, how we used to sit beside each other and tease the other for blushing or so. He's cute, she's cute, and then they smile at each other, and the rest of the world fades into oblivion.

But nature is a cruel victor, it always takes it course. It sweeps upon you violently, and the pressures of life just afix themselves quite comfortably onto your life, eating into the most stable of relationships.

And things just break, break, break, crumble.

But I miss the smiles, the brushing of our fingers against each other. Your breath down my collar when we kiss, the soft warmth of your lips when they touch mine. I miss the carefreeness, and the happiness that comes with knowing you belong.

I trust everyone misses all that too... but sometimes, sometimes, all these just fade away. And it takes patience to seek them again.

Well, I'm not worried. I have the patience. You, don't frown, I think you have that strength in you too, more apparent than mine.   ¶ 02:03

  It Snapped My silver chain has a very flimsy hook. This morning, the hook decided to give way, so the whole chain fell to the floor. I fixed it up and then put it on again. It stayed on my neck until a necessary moment when I was feeling very frustrated, and then it dropped of again. So, I fixed it up once more and placed it around my neck. And that still didn't cease my frustration.

Maybe I'm getting more demanding but it doesn't help when the frustration just goes higher and higher each day. I have clenched fists and seething anger, and my teeth are chattering against each other.

The heatwave doesn't help.

She wished she met him tonight, instead someone else told her it was ladies night and wonder if he cared. Oh he was flirting all right, that someone else, and then he had to bring up him. She smiled, she thinks it's funny. And then she waited. But of course she's not worried because it's been done before, so typical of him.

Like that, like that.

Stupid chain. Grrrrrrrrrrr......   ¶ 22:39

  Hmmmm... See! I've done the unthinkable.

I've wanted a new template for such a long time, and the new blogger readies are just in time. Oh dear... this is sooooooo un-me, but with all the work and my 'life'... I just can't seem to find the time to sit down and do a design at all.

Maybe sometime at the end of the month or in June.

Oh well. Don't flatter me because it's a ready-template. Flatter me only when I make my own.   ¶ 23:14

  I'm Back I've never driven for more than one hour at one go, so the trip to Malacca was terribly exhausting. Going wasn't at all that bad, since Helen was there to accompany me. Well, I know I dozed off at 9.30 pm that night, whilst my two colleagues were venting their anger at the co for making our lives a miserable hell. As much as the topic was interesting, I suppose the drive to an alien place left me quite worn out.

Today was worse: I wanted to get back earlier in order to check some mails that my authors had urgently posted, so I left earlier. Almost dozed off on the highway... see driving alone really is taxing. I got home, totally exhausted despite waking up at 8.30 am this morning, and took a three-hour nap. I don't think sleeping tonight is going to be a problem at all. Am still feeling quite snoozy and... well...

Actually I don't quite like the idea of going back to work tomorrow at all. Going on this trip has led me to new insights: I've learnt A LOT of things. And, I know that the work that's going to welcome me at the office tomorrow will be completely overwhelming, even for a self-professed workaholic like me.

But anyway, met up with people from the M'sian educational publishing industry (the Cambridge Uni Press sales guys were hot cute!) and also the who's who in ELT (that's English Language Training). Pearson's a terribly frightening company, Thomson Heinle's got terribly cheap workbooks and the British Council has an amazing range of give-aways. Guys who are involved in ELT in the international arena aren't wimps at all, in fact some of them can be quite hunky... urm... well...

Anyway, I'm back.   ¶ 18:46

  Going Soon Honest. Going soon.

Just that... I'm so tired. You know? The late nights and all... and what I trust to be duties... sometimes it gets really taxing on me, and my physical health just can't take the long hours.... and shorter hours... I never seem to be able to compensate on what I'm losing out on... and it's making me drown.

And my patience is honestly going, going, going. I don't know when it will be gone, but this I can vouch, that patience will prolly be gone by the time you realise its missing.

I just hope I don't hurt myself in the middle of waiting.

Oh well.

See you.   ¶ 00:33

  You Think, You Think And then the jolt comes, he sighs, she sighs, they both sigh.

It's over.

He rolls off her, turns away. She feels a tear trickle down her cheek. And she closes her eyes. His breath is heavy, deep... she knows he's fallen asleep, everytime, he falls asleep.

She closes her eyes, and tries hard to will herself to sleep.

'So what do you want? What do you hope?'

All gone, everything's amiss, nothing is right.

Except.

She doesn't know what's going on anymore... it's just duties, duties and more duties.

Minishorts will be away for the week on business. Thanks for the love and kisses. Muaks.   ¶ 18:14

  What would you do? If you found your boyfriend's porn, on the bottom-most shelf of his cupboard, while he is sitting just beside you talking about what had happened during the rest of the day?

Anyway I thought the whole episode was crazeeeely hilarious especially when SL started to blush really badly and started closing and opening his eyes.... as in shutting them really tight everytime I pushed the pages of naked women doing naughty things to themselves with huge foot-long sausages, and trying very hard to run away...

Plus the fact that a few minutes later, his sister walked into the room, saw me flipping the pages, took the magazine from my hand, and started to comment on the contents of the book.

Totally weirded!!!   ¶ 00:23

  You're Almost There She hears the grille roll. The lazy brush of his footsteps, his loud breathing at the front door. She trembles as the stirring continues, the sound of popping bubbles arising from the boiling of his favourite soup. She waits.

And waits.

She hears the door of their bedroom closing. She hears the shower facet being turned on, the house isn't that big after all. She hears the water gush out. And she hears him singing, singing in the shower.

The sound is horrible.

She closes her eyes.

She remembers. In the first month, the excitement of sharing a room legally for the first time. She remembers how she used to eagerly await his return, how she used to make sure she left the office earlier so that she could arrive home earlier than he would, so that she could make him his favourite dishes. She remembers how, when she heard the grille roll, she would be standing at the stove, stirring a pot of soup, and how he would walk to the kitchen. She would pretend to not know he had arrived home, and his arms would encircle her waist, his lips would stamp their mark upon her neck, and she would gasp, turn around, playfully beat him on the chest.

And they would emerge breathless.

She closes her eyes. If she tries hard enough, what she remembers and imagines could almost be real.

Almost.   ¶ 15:57

  One More Day We're almost there. Finishing up the lot. And then it's back to normal, for about 5 days, after which the rush will return again.

Funny how you hate anticipating, yet can't wait for all of it to be over soon.

My boyfriend bought me a nice silver and white gold pendant yesterday. Now I've got a problem. I'm used to wearing my jade pendant, it an heirloom from my Godma. It hangs from a gold chain, and my Mum bought matching earrings to go with it. From the lucky draw I won a gold bracelet, but you've seen it already. See, right now, my accessories don't match. You're always taught to wear just one type of metal.

On Monday I'm taking the day off, a break from all this havoc, before I return to chaos on Tuesday. Maybe I'll be able to snag myself a nice pair of matching earrings, and then convince Mum to get me another bracelet.

Oh yes, I'm very spoilt.   ¶ 20:23

  You've Been There Before She opens her door to an empty house.

The settee looks the same, the television is turned off. On a display table, photographs of him and her smile back at her.

Her heavy footsteps bring her to her favourite couch, she drops her briefcase, and slumps onto the cushions. Her eyes shut, she wills herself to rest, to dream, to imagine. And then they snap wide open.

'Dinner. He'll be back soon.'

Reluctantly, she makes her way to the kitchen, to the stove, fills a pot with water, lights the stove, throws carrots, onions, potatoes into the water.

'I know you feel it too.'

She remembers the words, she smiles to herself.

'I can be attractive too.'

She remembers the words, a long time ago.

'You're very attractive, you know that?'

She smiles again, she remembers the moment.

'You'll never have to work another day.'

And now... she's working in the day, she's working in the night. She's working for the money, the money goes to the food, sometimes she buys nice things, but she never finds the time to wear them, because there's always other things to spend the money on, for now, for tomorrow. And then a few days later, she's got to rest, other times she's got to iron the clothes. Yesterday she had to sweep, wash, mop.

He said she'll never work again. But now?

She's so tired, she's so, so tired.

'I know you can't feel it, damn it. You don't know a thing.'

She remembers him peeking at her across the room, and she smiles. She feels guilty, at the same time she feels evil. After a while, the guilt subsides. She likes the evil thoughts, she thinks they are good. After a while, she has decided.   ¶ 18:39

  You Get Confused Sometimes, under the glare of the computer screen, she could feel his eyes on her. She hears the buzz of her telephone and picks it up, as she does so she could sense him putting the phone down.

She reads the message, she's expected this all along, and yet she's still surprised. Those words, allowed yet forbidden, fun, yet, not really sure. She refuses to think, and yet she still feels the eyes upon her.

She looks up, she senses that he has buried his head frantically.

'I know you feel it too.'

And then she grimaces as she sweeps away the feeling that she knows she is not supposed to feel. She looks at her screen again, and the lines on the document seem but a blur. They cease to exist, except for the quick drumming pace of her heart that seems out of control.

It's loathsome.

She feels bad, evil. Because she feels good about the words she's just seen, she feels happy that she sensed the right thing, but she feels evil because ...

She's confused.   ¶ 01:15

  You've Felt It Before I know it. She knows it. We've both been through it before. The exhilaration of the senses, that incontrollable want to kiss him flat on the lips, except before they both acknowledge it, that want seems almost intolerable.

And then acknowledgement comes, oh she knows she was looking for it, yes it finally comes... he tells her he loves her too, and then they both laugh shakily over the lines that they've shared for so long, 'We've both wasted so much time, why didn't you tell me earlier.'

When it gets in reach, steadily that excitement starts to pale. Like a drying tap, it diminishes; optimistically they call it 'comfort', realistically, we both know it happens, sooner or later. She needs perseverence to maintain feelings, and feelings don't stay in touch. She gets affected when other people smile at her, she feels almost naughty when she looks at someone else, discriminated as she and him become 'old news' and then she watches acquaintances hooking up and becoming the 'lastest news' and she feels that sincere burst of happiness for them tinged with that tiniest dash of jealousy.

She knows because she's felt it before, and she's dying just to feel it again.

And then she feels it returning as she looks at someone else and she suddenly has that urge returning to her, 'I want to kiss you flat.'

But she remembers she's not allowed to, not supposed to, because she's in love with him already, and that love is honestly sincere.   ¶ 18:21

  Four Days to Go Presentations are akin to 'Learn How to Fry Crab' live shows. You walk right up to the sales people, with onions, garlics, oil, chillies, *crabs* and start to fry, fry, fry and fry. Goreng sessions!!! And like what they all say about experience, the more you practise the frying, the better you become at crapping. And the 'crab' also would taste better and more believable.

Model Compositions that you find in examination guidebooks are oft written by little kids who think that they write extremely well, no thanks to their teachers who sing high praises of them. What these students fail to remember is the fact that like everything else, even compositions and writing skills lie in the eye of the beholder. What you believe is good, may not be good at all. I've spent half the day reading a book filled with model compositions that are not worthy models at all. But then again, who am I to question high and mighty authors who slap in essays written by the irritating teacher's pet who at the end of the day *urgh* do end up being 'better than the rest of us'?

How do I decide? Easy. If I think you're good, you're good. If I think you're bad, you're bad. Anyway, don't fret. That's how the rest of the world works anyway. It was never about how you think about yourself, regardless of what those self-help books say. At the end of the day, important decisions that determine the outcomes of your dreams are never made by you.

Oh yes, it's all about luck. Such as mine. Where got people come to work on Labour Day one. Grrrrr.....

Okay stopping the complaints and back to work. As for you, you, you and the rest of the M'sia: Happy Holidays and be good!!!  ¶ 16:52