Fortissimo

Yes indeed.

Profuse apologies to my loyal fanbase. Due to the first wave of assignments and also lack of happening stuff I haven't found the time nor forced myself to blog as I would have a couple of weeks ago. But now the first wave is over and I'm in the mood for blogging. And I'm free.

The first waves of attacks have been launched and as Kaiyan said there are more to come. He's been seriously ouch-ly direct on his blog, haven't you Kaiyan? But how many more I wonder? Just how long more can this last? I think the story at the end of this post will best illustrate my thoughts, and give all you people some serious food for thought. Chasing Daphne out is one thing. Whooping her ass like that is abit off-tangent, no? I know I told you about it. I regret it now. I'm not a wuss (no, really). I just made a wrong move again. Ok but don't skip the rest and go to the story just yet. I have other stuff to say.

My eczema is not getting any better. Well it does fade with constant application of cream, but somehow I always neglect it somewhere near an 80% cure and allow it to return to its original condition. Biatch. I shall finish my cream and then no choice but to see doctor again. Sian la go Skin Centre again. If I don't get much better by then, I think I will have to resort to short-term steroids (say 6 weeks?). My Christian brothers and sisters, I don't often do prayer requests in this public-announcement manner, but do pray for me that I'll be better by the time my cream runs out, or that at least I don't have to suffer the effects of steriods if I have to take it (weight gain, increased appetite... as if I not unhealthy enough).

Next thing that comes to mind is that I am currently downloading Fatal Frame 2. I have also gotten a free xBox emulator off the Net. Took abit of searching, but there you have it. I mean, I have always been scared of piracy laws, but well, this is sort of a try out to 1) test the game so I can get the original if I want, and 2) see just how fast my com is. Because xBox games require a rather high processor speed not to mention graphic cards. I think it won't work. Keeping my fingers crossed.

Graham and I had one-on-one pool on Wednesday. And he taught me placing and siding. Hmmm I already can get the ball where I want it (roughly), but much more practice for accuracy of where the cue ends up. Thanks shifu. Lol.

Going to some really famous hairstylist at Far East tomorrow. So famous we couldn't have our appointment last Saturday because she was fully booked. Anyway I hope its a one-off thing. I don't enjoy having people pay like 60 bucks for my hair every month, much less paying myself.

Mano has an Egyptian Book of the Dead with hieroglyphics, its phoenitic translation, and English translation. Once Gaylene is done with it I'll see whether I can borrow from Mano for the semester. Hehe. Gonna be a big help in my research paper.

1st October - Going to Hans's Singapore Metal Fest 2005 gig at The Substation, my first metal gig! I will be bringing earplugs. My first gig at The Third Place with Ben his bassist Anthea and her friend as well as my friend Justin wasn't exactly auditorily fun for me. Much less a metal gig. Rudra organised it, but since I can't and won't stay till 10, I doubt I'll see them play, if they even do, cos Hans told me Kannan told him that Rudra won't be playing, so... Oh well it'll be an experience.

4th Oct - Ryan's coming over to Tampines Lighthouse for something. But never mind what matters is that he returns to Tampines and finally someone from SIM comes to my house! Yayzer.

Okie story time... presenting:

The Wemmicks

The Wemmicks were small wooden people.

Each of the wooden people was carved by a woodworker named Eli. His workshop sat on a hill overlooking their village.

Every Wemmick was different. Some had big noses, others had large eyes. Some were tall and others were short. Some wore hats, others wore coats. But all were made by the same carver and all lived in the village.

And all day, every day, the Wemmicks did the same thing: They gave each other stickers.

Each Wemmick had a box of golden star stickers and a box of gray dot stickers. Up and down the streets all over the city, people could be seen sticking stars or dots on one another. The pretty ones, those with smooth wood and fine paint, always got stars. But if the wood was rough or the paint chipped, the Wemmicks gave dots.

The talented ones got stars, too. Some could lift big sticks high above their heads or jump over tall boxes. Still others knew big words or could sing very pretty songs. Everyone gave them stars.
Some Wemmicks had stars all over them! Every time they got a star it made them feel so good that they did something else and got another star.

Others, though, could do little. They got dots.

Punchinello was one of these. He tried to jump high like the others, but he always fell. And when he fell, the others would gather around and give him dots.

Sometimes when he fell, it would scar his wood, so the people would give him more dots.

He would try to explain why he fell and say something silly, and the Wemmicks would give him more dots.

After a while he had so many dots that he didn't want to go outside. He was afriad he would do something dumb such as forget his hat or step in the water, and then people would give him another dot. In fact, he had so many gray dots that some people would come up and give him one without reason.

"He deserves lots of dots," the wooden people would agree with one another. "He's not a good wooden person."

After a while Punchinello believed them. "I'm not a good wemmick," he would say.

The few times he went outside, he hung around other Wemmicks who had a lot of dots. He felt better around them.

One day he met a Wemmick who was unlike any he'd ever met. She had no dots or stars. She was just wooden. Her name was Lulia.

It wasn't that people didn't try to give her stickers; it's just that the stickers didn't stick. Some admired Lulia for having no dots, so they would run up and give her a star. But it would fall off. Some would look down on her for having no stars, so they would give her a dot. But it wouldn't stay either.

"That's the way I want to be," thought Punchinello. "I don't want anyone's marks." So he asked the stickerless Wemmick how she did it. "It's easy," Lulia replied. "every day I go see Eli."

"Eli?"

"Yes, Eli. The woodcarver. I sit in the workshop with him."

"Why?"

"Why don't you find out for yourself? Go up the hill. He's there."

And with that the Wemmick with no marks turned and skipped away.

"But he won't want to see me!" Punchinello cried out. Lulia didn't hear. So Punchinello went home. He sat near a window and watched the wooden people as they scurried around giving each other stars and dots. "It's not right," he muttered to himself. And he resolved to go see Eli.

He walked up the narrow path to the top of the hill and stepped into the big shop. His wooden eyes widened at the size of everything. The stool was as tall as he was. He had to stretch on his tiptoes to see the top of the workbench. A hammer was as long as his arm. Punchinello swallowed hard. "I'm not staying here!" and he turned to leave.

Then he heard his name.

"Punchinello?" The voice was deep and strong.

Punchinello stopped.

"Punchinello! How good to see you. Come and let me have a look at you."

Punchinello turned slowly and looked at the large bearded craftsman. "You know my name?" the little Wemmick asked.

"Of course I do. I made you."

Eli stooped down and picked him up and set him on the bench. "Hmm," the maker spoke thoughtfully as he inspected the gray circles. "Looks like you've been given some bad marks."

"I didn't mean to, Eli. I really tried hard."

"Oh, you don't have to defend yourself to me, child. I don't care what the other Wemmicks think."

"You don't?"

"No, and you shouldn't either. Who are they to give stars or dots? They're Wemmicks just like you. What they think doesn't matter, Punchinello. All that matters is what I think. And I think you are pretty special."

Punchinello laughed. "Me, special? Why? I can't walk fast. I can't jump. My paint is peeling. Why do I matter to you?"

Eli looked at Punchinello, put his hands on those small wooden shoulders, and spoke very slowly. "Because you're mine. That's why you matter to me."

Punchinello had never had anyone look at him like this...much less his maker. He didn't know what to say. "Every day I've been hoping you'd come," Eli explained.

"I came because I met someone who had no marks."

"I know. She told me about you."

"Why don't the stickers stay on her?"

"Because she has decided that what I think is more important than what they think. The stickers only stick if you let them."

"What?"

"The stickers only stick if they matter to you. The more you trust my love, the less you care about the stickers."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"You will, but it will take time. You've got a lot of marks. For now, just come to see me every day and let me remind you how much I care."

Eli lifted Punchinello off the bench and set him on the ground.

"Remember," Eli said as the Wemmick walked out the door. "You are special because I made you. And I don't make mistakes."

Punchinello didn't stop, but in his heart he thought, "I think he really means it."

And when he did, a dot fell to the ground.