My Last Entry

In the first of May

It came like an appalling wind, no one was expecting it, including myself.....


There is for a certain reason why Xiaxue is one of the best bloggers in Singapore. And to me she is indeed the best blogger, because she inspires me.........to stop blogging.


I've screwed up my life - Xiaxue


The link above was an entry written by Xiaxue 3 years ago in 2004. During then Xiaxue talked about her secondary school life. Of how she started very well, but ended lousily towards her upper secondary. And how one led to another.....

I told myself, during sec 3, that I will not follow the usual normal scholar's route for several reasons:

1) I will be learning useless things such as F maths which will not gain me any money in future. These useless information will be taking up extra brain space and not coming to any use at all. In contrast, Polytechnics provide useful skills and knowledge.

2) I will do so well in Poly that I will go into University just the same.

3) I no longer need to wear flat shoes so I will not be so ashamed of my height.

4) I will be armed with both a dip and a degree when I go out to work in future, which is better than just a degree.


Most unfortunately, I think the decision to go into SP was the worst mistake I made in my life.

In Poly no one cares if you do well or not, so we were left to survive on our own. I was lazy, undriven, and not motivated. My priorities went to other unimportant stuff, such as BLOGGING (but at least good things came out of it, thank god)! My results were only as good as the average student, and I cannot go into University with a scholarship as I thought I could have. - Xiaxue

Two things Xiaxue and I do share in common, she does well in English Literature and she dreamt to become a lawyer. In the SPM examination, I got 6As, 2 Bs and 3Cs. For the 3Cs, it was Physics, Biology and Chemistry. And a B4 in Additional Maths. I was more than surprise to receive a result like that. In Malaysia, when a Chinese gets such results, you can't really survive. What more to say getting your preferred subjects in your chosen Local Universities. I was a failure, but in the name of Jesus, I see not what I was but what I could be.


Blogging is really fun, but again, to be a good blogger, and to make people read your blog, to bookmark it and come again and again. It takes more than just a casual blogger. And it takes much more time, thoughts and energy too.

If I had studied hard then and went into JC, I might be taking a Law degree now. No one can say I am stupid except fellow Law students, but that's ok. The people at insipid forums are not even in the league to discuss my intellect. My starting pay will be $2,500, and I'll possibly set up a partnership with EK called Wong & Cheng partnership.

As Wong kindly informed me, my name would have sounded like this:

Cheng Yan Yan Wendy, NUS LLBS (Hons)

BUT ALAS! What was I thinking? What do I have now? -Xiaxue

People asked me since I got my As in subjects that is more related to Arts, why don't I just continue form 6 in the Arts stream and forfeit the Science. The reason is simple, I never believe in giving up. I won 2 trophies in public speaking by telling people one thing - never give up, pursue your dreams. Even though sometimes they may seem too far you fail to see the possibilities in fulfilling it. I do not brag, but I am a charismatic speaker when I speak of things I firmly believe in. I do it like I own the stage, the room, the audience, the world and all that's in it. I believe people do not lose out because they are lousy, people lose out because they choose to give up.


Yet there is something I need to know, I have to learn that in pursuing one's dream, you do not only have to talk the talk, but also walk the walk. For talk is cheap, but there has to be steps taken and works driven to achieve. God cannot multiply the works of your hands to a hundred fold if what you put in from the very beginning is zero. 100 x 0 = 0


I can easily spend time doing pointless things 2 years from now, but not now, not in such a time like this for me.

I shall end this bitter blog entry with a gentle reminder to myself that I should listen to my mother's advice in future. "Du shu hao," she used to tell me. "Girl, you got the talent to study, then make use of it, don't keep playing."

To all the young kids reading this, make sure you go into JC if you can.

Meanwhile, it is time for me to prove my worth. I shall be driven and motivated from now on. Procrasination? That word will not exist in my dictionary.

By tonight, I will set up a media center for my blog, and by next month, I promise some new exciting features.

If everything goes by plan, I will be driving a SLK in three years, unless I decide on a nicer car. You wait and see. =D - Xiaxue

That piece of letter up there came from Xiaxue 3 years ago. Xiaxue, the blogger who receives 30,000 unique hits or readers in her website per day. 3 years has come and gone, today, she is very much the same her, nothing has changed. She still sounds very average financially, no SLK or a car though, very popular but not exactly practical. That's how you go with a personal blog I guess. But one thing she taught me very well:

To all the young kids reading this, make sure you go into JC if you can. -Xiaxue

I am different, I don't know whether all of us think like that of ourselves or it's just me. But I see myself very special, very unique and I am above average thoughts, average minds and average performance. That doesn't necessarily has to make me a proud person. But I refuse to fail in what I want to see myself successful. Am I saying that Xiaxue's life sucks? Absolutely not, she is living great. But what I'm saying is, I know at this moment of time, it's just better for me to do what I should be doing.

I hate this. People used to ask me what stream I was when I was in secondary school, Express, Normal Academic, or Normal Tech?

I took pride in replying, "Special."

Because that's what I am.

Now when people ask me whether I am in Poly or Uni, I can merely say Poly - and they nod, like they totally expected me to be a Poly girl, because I do not seem like the JC type. Not that Poly is an embarrassment, but if people used it as a yardstick for my worth, then I wanna say I could have gone into Uni anytime I wanted.

But I cannot say that, because there is no proof. -Xiaxue

Just in case you're wondering all these fuss I created is at all necessary. This post alone took me 3 hours to write. 1/2 an hour to recheck my sentences and whether I'm making it too hard for you to read. You want to be a good blogger? You want to be the next Xiaxue? You gotta do 1000 times better than me. Because 1000 times of me should give you 100,000 readers per day.


So for the meanwhile, this will be my last entry in this blog. Throughout this journey, I earned myself Rm20 from Ejunction ads, Rm26 USD through paypal (which I spent to buy a shirt and they charge me 9.50USD for shipping fees!), Rm10.74 from Nuffnang which I think I'll probably not be able to cash it out as I haven reached the minimum earnings, 5 crappy USD from Google Adsense (useless thing) and a 3-6 month (Rm300 per month) blogging job which I recently talked over with a guy. I wonder if he stills wanna hire me after I stop blogging. And by far my greatest achievement in blogging is having Kenny Sia blog plug me and having Xiaxue replying my comment to her post. I know, they are totally useless in getting me a permanent job, to feed my wife and kids.


Whoever you are my readers, God bless you richly. I still have 83 members in my crappy friendster fans club! Live and let live, they are all my friends.


Goodbye guys. I love you all. *Smile warmly and wave my hand as I slowly fade away, just like the movie usually does.........*

Just right before you leave a comment, I hope you could for once play this song I have below. Please do it before you leave a possibly angry, contradicting and discouraging comment. Cheers.



First of May - Bee Gees

When Bad Writing Becomes Funny

Worst analogies ever written in a high school essay:

* He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

Joseph Romm, Washington

* She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to dangle from screen doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open again.

Rich Murphy, Fairfax Station

* The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.

Russell Beland, Springfield

* McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty Bag filled with vegetable soup.

Paul Sabourin, Silver Spring

* From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and "Jeopardy" comes on at 7 p.m. instead of 7:30.

Roy Ashley, Washington

* Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.

Chuck Smith, Woodbridge

* Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the center.

Russell Beland, Springfield

* Bob was as perplexed as a hacker who means to access T:flw.quid55328.com\aaakk/ch@ung but gets T:\flw.quidaaakk/ch@ung by mistake

Ken Krattenmaker, Landover Hills

* Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

Unknown

* He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.

Jack Bross, Chevy Chase

* The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

Gary F. Hevel, Silver Spring

* Her date was pleasant enough, but she knew that if her life was a movie this guy would be buried in the credits as something like "Second Tall Man."

Russell Beland, Springfield

* Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

Jennifer Hart, Arlington

* The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the period after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.

Wayne Goode, Madison, Ala.

* They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth

Paul Kocak, Syracuse, N.Y.

* John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

Russell Beland, Springfield

* The thunder was ominous-sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play.

Barbara Fetherolf, Alexandria

* His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free

Chuck Smith, Woodbridge

* The red brick wall was the color of a brick-red Crayola crayon.

Unknown

Based on an unoriginal article in the Washington Post.

A letter for them

I now understand what it means when they say you'll never understand until you experienced it on your own. However there are certain things which I'll never have a chance to experience, for example, ovulating. But of course there are also other things where we all share in common experiences. The time has come and it is now for me to miss you, all of you.

I started missing the days when we used to talk about our plans for a future so near yet seemed so far. The future that was always spoken of has come and it is today. I did not expect it to be pleasant as decisions are made to walk our separate ways, but neither did I think that it would be that bad. It has been a while since I felt so numb in heart, it has also been a while since I lost my appetite. It came too much of a surprise, I wasn't ready to lose anyone of you, and I wasn't ready to make new friends.

"And summer hath too short a date", Shakespeare was right when he said that good times are often too short. Like the evening sun so beautiful yet sets in its own time. I wished I could cry like a baby girl, but somehow I did not. I teared in the heart.

I know your faces, our experiences, the every day when we used to meet, to study and have fun, I know all these someday I might forget in time. Perhaps I may not even be mindful again on the same day of the month next year. But it doesn’t matter, because right at this moment, I have to say that I love you.

I should now take a deep breathe, knowing in heart that we might not cross path again for a long time, knowing that opportunities are less than more for us to meet and be like how we were. The ‘used to be’ shall never repeat itself again. But I shall make this prayer, as much as I hesitated, I pray that as we divide for better plans and paths, may the Lord prosper you with a hope and a future. I am Andrew, your high school classmate.

Still

It's been a little while since I blog by my incredible gift in tranverciating literature.

In case you are wondering what 'triverciating' means, it's just a word a I created to show how great I am in tranversing the literary journey while showing great appreciation and gifting. If Shakespeare could have invented his own words to help him express, so could I. Just that nobody shall acknowledges me. I know you smart Alec by now should be thinking that after the word 'nobody' I should have use 'will' rather than 'shall. You must have never heard about literary license. All poets are allowed break the grammatical law with the purpose to beautify their poems, whilst they are not demerited. So here we go...



I shall wait until I saw the fun , wondering why it didn't come. And why remain why, nothing have change. The world shall never pause for one like me. When I saw the grace of the morning sun, wished I could shine like it does. I'll cross the ocean to pursue the beam of light, which happen to glimpse only in my mind. All is still, nothing have change, what was remain was and now is. I wonder will it be so too in every tomorrows. The plucking of guitar starts to sound in my head, I know I'm drunk again, yet I never felt so clear in mind. I would have died in ecstasy, walking down the road alone. Nothing have change, it's just me waking up from a dream, a dream I thought was reality. The fact remains fact, fiction remains fiction. My heart is drenched and it thirst. The winds may keep blowing, the sea might never stop hitting the shore, I shall wait until I saw the fun, wondering why it didn't come. I knew I was looking for something, but I forgot what it was.

It’s a heart breaking beautiful Friday Night

These are the days when I am missing you, give me the joy, give me the taste of summer wine. And these are the days of endless dreaming, I feel the sweetness of the sun and I feel fine. It’s a heart breaking beautiful Friday tonight, it is suppose to be so if you look at the day but not life itself. Because the truth is that none is too good in the life of this too fallen earth.


In the fog of the war, details get overlook, Facts become irrelevant, truth becomes fiction, knowledge becomes ignorant, night becomes day, chaos reign, tear off your history books and live in a cave, this is mankind day one


People don’t like me speaking in metaphors, they don’t very much appreciate it. But I’m not really bimbo, and if you’re wondering what bimbo means, it’s an offensive term for a man or woman who is regarded as being unintelligent or superficial. And if you don’t know what superficial means, it is a word to say a person for being shallow in character or attitude. But I have to say that being profound doesn’t mean sitting alone at the back in the seats of life dwelling alone pathetically craving for companionship you never get to reach. It does for a few, but then those were them that used to live in ancient China writing sensible poetry or those committing suicide after getting out of the asylum like Van Gogh or Hemingway. No kidding, Starry Night by Van Gogh and Da Vincent from Don Mclean had been very inspiring to me.


Literature is never boring for those that see and feel, read and understand, think and interpret, dream and live in reality while treating both just the same. It is never, for those that start living and stop existing.


It’s a heart breaking beautiful Friday Night.

When I Can See

I learned how beautiful the world could be, when I learned to see the beauty out of others, just as others see the beauty in me. ‘Not what I was, but what I could be’. Look at me now, I am neither too good nor too bad. If weaknesses are the yardsticks to judge my character, I shall gladly fail. For me like you, are just mere mortals. One out of the many faces in this world. From dust we came and to dust we shall become.

'To love me is to know me’, the quote I knew many years ago, the meaning I learnt many years after. Perhaps to you it may rather sound a little self-centered or very much superficial, but would you think again if I were to twist a word or two and say it like this “To love you, is to know you”….

And in knowing I mean to aside all my dignity and self-esteem, to level myself to your standard, to know you as you and to love you as you. If you are wondering by now whether I am such a man or whether I am a Saint, well again gladly I’ll tell you No. Oh boy, I am only human.

It takes two hands to clap, just as it takes two people to make love. I learned how beautiful the world could be, when I learned to see the beauty out of others, just as others see the beauty in me. Think now, start thinking.

I'm no blogger

I’m not a blogger, I’m a writer. But then why the heck are you blogging? No one wants to publish my book mah! That’s because you are not good enough loh! Outside there got 6.5 billion more people, of course I am not good enough lah! Then you are lousy writer! Yalor, lousy writer, but still not a blogger….

You say like that you think you very ke si ah, outside got how many tons of blogger, trying to offend them all meh you? No lah, blogging is good, but that’s just not where my interest fall mah. Outside got some very professional punya blogger, very humorous and interesting one but sorry loh I’m not leh….

Blogger blog about anything under the sun mah, me not good at telling my daily life stories, I only like literature nia. Eh, you know got one certified phobia out there is call phobia of poetry you know? Yah Meh? No wonder all the gals avoid me!

I read my first novel towards the end of the year as a 12 year old. I bummed into it at a comic rental shop from which my knowledge of Doraemon came from. Before I knew it, I was addicted to Chinese novels, mainly those related to traditional martial arts, kung-fu fighting of swordsmen and flying dagger all alike written by two of the legendary authors Gu long and Jin Yong from which many of their stories were made into Cantonese dramas. Having read mostly all the novels they had written in the next two years, I learned to appreciate the minds and talents behind those writers. Or should I say every writer.

Following on, I also shifted to reading English material and felt an ardent passion to the language. In a matter of time, I totally forgotten Chinese novels and try as much to understand Shakespeare, Frost, Somerset and Hemingway. As much as I appreciated literature, I also took the initiative to make writing a past time, constantly trying to produce good literary pieces, although most of them, never were any good after all.
=)

But I wasn’t any particular; it’s just something I do that makes me happy.

I love literature as much as a rocker loves music, a painter loves art or a person being in a state of infatuation. Being able to read, cherish or write those beautiful lines compact with wisdom, thoughts and philosophy really thrills me. Shakespeare would call this experience similar to sipping good wine while Leonardo Da Vinci would call it portraying a miracle and me, I would just call it having very good sex. Which I never had. But never mind, it’s just an expression after all. My point here is……. I have no idea. Perhaps you might have but don’t pull me in…~~~

My Reason To Write

Finding joy in expressing and delivering oneself in writing is an intellectual pursuit that requires fore mostly patience, thoughts, imagination and creativity. In this I say because for many writers, inspirations do not fall like manna from heaven. Where else they come in bits and pieces. Where we will jot down and put them together similarly to arranging a jigsaw puzzle. And in order to produce good literary pieces, it comes harder because if one is not inspired, scribbling a single word on a piece of paper would seem to be the hardest thing to do. Though in today’s society, due to the various alternatives to deliver messages, arts and entertainments through the digital media, writing may not be the most popular form of art where many show undivided interest in. (it never was anyway). But judging from the track of history itself, it is in debatable, that it was through words and languages that civilization began, and in the same matter, it will go on.

I see writing as a favorite past time. It’s a thing I do to enhance my mind while making self-discovery, exploring potentials and sharpens analytical skills. I believe these are time well spent, just as many other hobbies would do. Although many have the perception of "what is the point to write when no one else is reading". Well, I’ve seen some people playing UNO STACKO on their own. While others enjoy masturbation, what say you? Ladies and Gentlemen, This is the Daily Blog. =)

Life Is Too Short To Drink Cheap Wine

I learn to precious the little seconds that tickle pass by time, I learn to treat myself well, just like a service you would get in a luxurious hotel. I also learn to steal time from all due business of the day just to breath the breathe of relaxation. Nay, I learn to cheer myself up in the hardest hour in time, I learn to enjoy my own company when I'm alone,wherelse while in the midst of people, I enjoy theirs'. I learn to make myself smile through the laughs I deliver to others, I learn to give myself the best while others just the same. I learn to enjoy life, because I know, that life is too short to drink cheap wine...

I learn to write what I have in heart, lest I soon forget them and let those precious words lost themselves in time, just like a song in the night. I learn to love others as much as I do to myself, because it makes me happy, when you are happy. And I don't really do it for you, I do it for who I am. I learn to pull a smile on my face with four fingers from both hands when I fail. Even if it happen to be really bad, even if both those that care for me and those who doesn't thinks that I am really going down the drain, I will learn to sing the song that the old singer sometime ago used to sing- I'm singing in the rain. I do all these because I realise, that life is too short to drink cheap wine...

I learn to watch the tenses when I write, not to put what is in the present in the past and not to put what is past present. And never put the far away future too present, I learn to live today as today, tomorrow as tommorrow and the day after tommorow as that day. I learn not to dwell in a pity party, like a saddy feris wheel that turns around thus meets no end. I learn to twist my way out of the crooked path of lies which blured my vision as a man and lead me to trespasses. I don't do things not because I don't like them, I don't do things because they are wrong. I learn all these because I know, that life is too short to drink cheap wine...

I learn never to look down on myself, even when I know I am not as pretty I will tell myself I am. I will hold up the little integrity that I have and spare unnecessary principals for the greater good. I don't do it to earn a little name, a little fame or a little praise from those who see my deeds. I do it because it is the right thing. And it makes me happy to do so. I learn to say no just as much as I learn to accept. I learn that life will not be forever, so I learn to spend all time that I have and make use of it to gain the very most out of life itself. For I understand, that life is too short to drink cheap wine...

Kipling's poem "IF"

One of the best poem that I have ever read and appreciate a lot is none other than the words of Kipling. If you can understand what he was trying to say, you could have been one of the coolest person on planet earth. If... ...



IF

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!


--Rudyard Kipling

将喜怒哀乐化为笔墨

在人生高高低低的起伏之中，经过那所谓的漫长路，坎坷途。我学到的无非是在言语之中学会方从自己。因为我深信，言，是发自内心的言，语，是藏在内心的语。这里是我中三，十五岁时写的一篇文章。它也是我曾经写过最好的其中一篇华语文章-------将喜怒哀乐化为笔墨。。。

能将自己的心情，自己的感受，一点一滴，完美地通过笔墨描绘而出并不是一件简单的事情。有些人，他们永远都办不到，或办得好。而那些能做得到这点的，他们都明白其中的价值，其中的可贵。。。

一个作家，或是一个喜爱写文章的人，区区一支毛笔，单单几滴墨，对他而言，没有比这更重要的东西不过。有了这些，他能把藏在心里头的心情，所思，所想，很潇洒的通过文字而表达出来。。。

临朝林越静，鸟鸣山更幽，好不容易来到屋后的小山坡，接着夕阳未了，让我好好写下一篇文章。我好落力地写，把一个字慢慢地刻画下来，人道“为人性僻耽佳句，语不惊人死不休。”该倒说得好，但我又试问谁人不“也思笔墨传千古，莫到仙人不爱名？”我把藏在心里的感想，全部都写在纸上。这便是文字的艺术。它能把看不见，摸不着的东西，也就是一个人变化无常的喜怒哀乐如云流水般描会而出。

“喜”，带有一片希望，乐中却藏有一股兴奋，气势如长江滚滚，落木箫箫，使人乐以忘忧，所谓“人逢喜事精神爽”, 其中自会。“怒”，有着百马奔腾之势，所以怒火中烧，如大海澎湃起浪，风起云涌，一发不可收拾。“哀” 给人脑海里刻下冷月无情，凄凉无比的心境，萧条冷清；悲中带愁，愁里藏伤，离愁则未语泪先流，伤悲则垂泪到天明。其味非要亲生体验方能尽知。“乐”一个多莫令人渴望，追求的感幻，凡人虽看不见，摸不着，但却能尝到它那一份带给人类的温暖，愉快。人言道“快乐似神仙。试问我们该多快乐方能如仙人一般？没人晓得，但知时心平静无忧，浑身自如，轻若鸿毛。。。。。。

写文章的艺术，笔墨的魔力，他能把千言万语，难以表达的事情“如清水出芙蓉，天然去雕饰”般清新自然地描绘出来，平凡的它包藏着无限的艺术，创造出一个一班人都无法办到的事情，那就是写；写出一个人的心曲，一个人千丝百班无可捉摸的思路情感，将喜怒哀乐化为笔墨，这就是写文章的至高水准。

Still Standing

One room all musicians,
Me alone a poet,
Neither the room nor the world knew who I was,
What is the difference?
One room all musicians,
Me alone a poet,
A little cold and a little lost.


Written 26.1.2005

Rolling Coasting on your blues

I was walking down the street, in a forest of legs shuffling back and forth. The blissful morning was unfolding like a fog, covering every corner of this sea of humanity. I walked for a long time, humming the same old tune as I have done in the past twenty years.

It was a typical day. I followed the same route, circling around the pavement. I lifted my eyes and saw the beginning of a new day, a new dawn and a new life. Everything was divine before my eyes, falling right at the perfect place. The pines stood tall along the path and daffodils beneath those giant boughs sprang forth in yellow showers. My nose picked up the fragrance of flowers drifting through the breeze; I felt the warmth of the sun. I flung my sight down the lane towards the beautiful end of the street only to find a beggar – a dirty old beggar sitting on the five foot way.

I moved forward, heading towards the old man. I was curious about him. A sense of compassion stirred my heart. I thought to myself, how unfortunate it was, to live a life such as this – ragged man in ragged clothes with an outstretched arm holding a cracked bowl. I was ready to see a pathetic face shown by the poor man.

“Good morning sir!” A voice thundered as I walked to the man. I was astounded to hear the old beggar greeting me. I saw a big smile on his face and I could see that he was truly happy. I could hardly believe my eyes. It was not what I thought at all, absolutely beyond expectations. Recovering from my surprise, I looked at the man, stunned for a moment and answered, “Good.... morning. Sir, you look very happy.”

“Yeah? Can’t an old beggar like me be happy? That is all I got, no family, too old to work, living alone like an isle and the only thing I have now is a smile, take it away from me and I’ll be as good as dead.” The beggar replied with a grin on his face. Now the last thing I ever bargained for was a philosopher.

“If life was really that tragic, why then do you still wear a smile on your face?” I asked.
“What is past is past, when there’s no reason to be sad, there’s every reason to be happy. Please sir, don’t ask too many questions, life is too short to answer them all.” Looking once again at the man, I took out some money, held it to him and slowly walked away.

The next morning, I headed for the same direction to the same street only to find that the man was no longer on the five foot way. However, I could still hear his voice ringing in my ears. “Don’t ask too many questions, life is too short to answer them all.”

Andrew Ho


An excerpt from a class-published story book 'Nostalgia', TQ to those that had helped us in making the book a sucess in one way or another.

I Used To When A Child

There’s like a shadow over all those lasting years,
It was when I was a little child when it all began,
I was a happy man,
And I could live all those yesterdays,
Thinking tomorrow will always be the same,
Until they finally faded and slowly they changed.
I remember when I was a toddler,
When life was much simpler and the world didn’t spin that fast.
When I didn’t read the papers and I didn’t bother that much,
About the fuzz of this too political world.
I used to when a child.

In the 60’s of an hour, I used to have more cheers,
Then I have now added together in those passing years,
It was when we started to grow when we started to learn,
That people will always be concerned,
Of the things that did not, will not, never not bother us when we were as a child.

The grown up life of those ones in this little world,
Kept our heads spinning along with this earth.
O’ when will we realize,
That all we fantasized,
One day will come to really nothing that much, not like what we expected it to be,
I miss how it was when I was a child.

When worries didn’t capture your heart and troubles seemed a little too small
To spend a 60’s in an hour to take away our smiles.
It’s time we learn,
For one day, to live like when we were as a child.

The One Thing from Martin Luther King (An essay I wrote)

If you can understand the very heart of man, and know at least to care for their deepest secret, and to show a little concern to those who need, nay some tears to those who weep. Then do allow me to pay you my deepest respect. If you can look past the little faults of others and act for the greater good, aside self interest to understand, doubtless to say, you are one man very rare. Would your heart feel if I am to tell that some people somewhere in this world are dying, and if I were to tell you that you have a chance give a helping hand, given that opportunity, would you take it or would you not? Every single soul in this third rock from the sun needs somebody like you, somebody that will…
I have a dream to see a world of peace, while liberty swept over this large piece of linen land. I have a dream to see crimeless fields coated with thick snow of righteousness. I wish to see cheers and joy spring fourth over the after winter, while the sun beam over the park with little children frolicking in the playground. I have a dream to see brutality dissipate into the darkness and a gentle morn born. I have a dream…
I stood upon the rocks staring as the ocean slowly hugs the shore, asking myself, when will my dream come true?
Another day had passed away, I was still writing in my little room with that little light. Enough to brighten the room, not enough to brighten my heart. The papers today showed me more crimes, more deaths, more accidents, pains, sorrows, social injustice, widows and mothers cry, children swim in a pool of sorrows. So crude I should say “better die today than suffer tomorrow”. Hope, where are you? Another day passed away.
I was riding my bicycle down the road one day, probably the worst day of the year and hopefully of my life. I met two men with a motorcycle, robbers I should call; they stopped me of my ride, took my cell phone away, and left me behind with my bicycle. I sped home after that hitchhiking and due to the lack of skill, I overthrew myself off the bicycle, had my knee bleed and fingers wounded. Not enough? A broken brand new bicycle after two days of purchased. No wonder I wrote this article.
Do I hate the world, or the world hates me?
Six billion people, why me? Why you?
A little poetry I wrote:

A stream of river I once saw
And thought of drinking from below
To my amazement I reached the stream
To see blood was all that flowed
I wish to see this war no more
That peace may heal my sore

Yes I know how tough sometimes life can be, trust me, I know a little of what I’m saying. And I’m much astounded too by the unfathomable journey of life both you and I are going through, everyday of our life. Every second can be life changing; every decision could change the world. Yet in the darkest corner of life, I dare say “Ladies and gentlemen, I have a dream”.
I have a dream to ensure all leaves that collect at my feet are swept in by the breeze of harmony. I have a dream to see a bright future after the foggy morning had lasted. I have a dream to see the flag of my nation to be raised up high, as it reached to the sky, let it be lifted up high among this nation. So I dream to open my eyes beyond the starry night, to know the beautiful constellation that twinkles never fades, never ever fades from this blessed land, sealed with refreshing air of miracles and lasting happiness, of purity and distinct between love and lust, of dignity and pride.
The age of miracle hadn’t pass, O’ where and when would I find, the so called joy beyond compare?
It was night, late night. I was watching the nightline when all of a sudden a revelation struck me; I was enlightened to know that all news that flashed on the screen were horrendous. “Canadian boy killed, group suicide, father rape seven of his daughters and nieces later murdered them”. Whilst the pale moon was still smiling, that night, I changed my stand on death sentence. I was taught to forgive those who sin against me, at the same time hate what is evil, “two roads diverge in a yellow wood”, and I wonder sometimes which I would choose.


If you see a fifty and a hundred ringgit note down the street, which would you choose? My smart little baby cousin shouts out ‘both!’ And I, the smarter one came up with a conclusion, I’ll take both ways, forgive you yes I would, but still you have to die.
Summer kisses winter tears, I always thought this phrase was really poetic, but never knew what it truly meant, even until this day. There’s no need a perfect understanding of all things in order to love, sometimes you can love even without having so. I don’t really understand what’s with this world, many things in it I do not know, but still, I love, and wish hard enough to see it turn to be a better place someday. The bottom line is, would you dream with me?

Not that I love Caesar less, but that I love Rome more
Not that I hate facing the reality, but dreams are more lovely





Original work from Andrew Ho
Brevity clarifies, at the same time gives no room for imagination

Because I had a bad day

Tell me who have not,
A little dreams that could not be achieve,
Tell me who have not,
Made a little mistakes here and there
Tell me who have not,
Failed in making his best in the endless moment of time,
Tell who have not,
Had a bad day.

Tell me who did not learn better,
While traversing in the journey of time,
And live out every day,
Through the various colours,
And of course grey.


Tell me when all things turned around,
When reality rebels against our definite will,
Tell me when I lost the battle I was once determined to win,
Tell me beyond the existence of such circumstances,

Tell me Faith stood still,

Tell me when I am grief and sadden,
When dry leaves collected at my feet,

Hope lies still,

Tell me when a little dreams slipped away,
When people walked astray,
You and I,
Will have the courage,
To redefine reality.

Because I had a bad day... ...

The Sun Rises Tomorrow (short story)

In 1957, I traveled to Durban city in South Africa. I was one of the finest writers for the largest news press in Britain. Being a great patriot expressing myself through countless articles, I earned myself several National Laureates and the Queen knighted me “Sir” in 1955. That particular year I went to Durban for I was asked to conduct a meeting with a group of journalist who were starting another branch of our news press. Durban was a beautiful city.
I took off in the morning reaching Durban in the late evening. My desire was to finish my work as soon as I could and get back to Britain for I knew that I was not very welcomed in this land. The apartheid was the hot-buttoned issue in South Africa during those years. Any white man like me would never like to stay too long there.
The next day, I conducted the meeting and it ended in the afternoon. I was relieved that I had finished my job. My colleague, Robert, kindly brought me to a coffee house to try out the famous Durban Black Tea. As I was entering the coffee house, I could see a small sign by the door, it read “No dogs and coloured skin.”
I sat down in the shop and took a good sip of fragrant tea. Through the glass of the window I could see a man, a black man in his thirties, carrying a stake of paper trying to paste them on the wall. I thought he was probably one of the protestant. These people were constantly trying to create reformation, at the same time removing segregation and discrimination. Deep in my heart, I sympathised them for how they were being treated, though I was a white man myself.
I walked out of the coffee house and moved towards him. Before I could get near him, he turned his head to me and said “What do you want?”
I stopped immediately and kindly asked him “Can I have a piece of your article, like you, I am also a writer.”
“Do you know how to spell the word ‘liberation’?” The man replied my question with another.
“I do, believe me I do, would you like to have a cup of tea with me.” I asked
“I am not allowed to enter the shop.” The man replied.
I walked towards him, put my hand on his shoulder, and said “No man would dare to stop you as long as you are with me, Sir Jack of England”.
I sat down with him in the coffee house and dismissed Robert from the table. I took one of his papers and on it was an article entitled “Do not judge us by our skin, but our heart…” He told me that his name was Olujah. He was indeed a protestant actively fighting the apartheid across the nation. He also shared to me how his father went to jail and was murdered for being a strong critic who produced many articles against the discriminations in society. It had been his life long ambition, hoping that through writing, he could make a difference in his country. Before we ended our conversation. He took out his pen and said “Sir Jack, look at this pen, I believe that my pen is sharper than any two-edged sword, and with it, I shall make a difference for my people who are suffering, even if I have to die for it like my father did. I shall see you again Sir”. After that, he left.
That night, I took a flight back to Britain. When I was in the plane, the conversation I had earlier on with my new friend Olujah filled my mind. To make a difference, isn’t that what all writers write for?
Four years later in 1961, I traveled back to the same city. It was the same place at a different time. Nothing much had changed there. I walked to the same street heading to the same coffee house. I could still remember the friend I met when I last came to Durban. But I did not meet Olujah this time. After a drink in the coffee house, I decided to return to my hotel. When I walked out of the door, I noticed that the sign I saw years ago was not there anymore. I turned back and asked the owner, “Where is the sign that you used to put by the entrance?”
The owner replied “Oh, we removed it. It was stained with blood. The other day a black man was shot when he was trying to paste his articles on the wall near the door.”
“Do you know who it was?” I eagerly asked
“I think his name is Olujah.” The owner answered
My heart sank when I heard the name Olujah. I was moved grieved and shouted to the owner “You shall never put another sign like you used to again, or else, you will suffer the same fate as Olujah.”
I stared at the wall for a very long time. A piece of article was pasted on the wall. The article read “The sun rises tomorrow, the darkness will soon be gone, my brothers, let us take our stand and continue our fight for justice…”
I took the article down and published it in the newspaper across Britain the next day…the sun rises tomorrow.