I didn't realise today was Happy 4.13-Math-Teachers-Should-Tell-A-Joke Day. Gave me quite a pleasant poke, since both my teachers never really put up a good laugh with the class before.
Amaths
So there we were, playing Block Dude on our GDCs during amath tutorial on Mathematical Modelling, after finishing the worksheets that is. And it so happened that a question came into my mind so I cornered the man to voice my doubts.
Me: So, sir, how d'you get this thing to plot an absolute-value graph?
KY: Urhh...I'm not very...absolute about that.
Me: (wide-eyed) Er...okay.
KY: So...I'll find out for you and tell you next lesson, alright? (looking exceptionally enthusiastic at my retarded expression)
Me: Er...yeah sure. Thanks sir. (hides a grin, goes back to seat for more Block Dude)
How interesting.
Cmaths
The last lesson of the day found our class extremely hyperactive. Apparently, MS decided to match our frequency as she started teaching us about probability.
MS: So, a situation is said to be biased when the probability of an event happening is not equally likely.
Class: (nods)
MS: Okay. Let's say, if one fine day I were to just come into class, will the probability of a person getting scolded by me be equal for everyone else in class?
Class: NO. (laughter)
MS: Of course! Because some of you just REFUSE to hand in your homework, or you can say that I'm biased towards a few of you people!
Class: (rapturous laughter)
MS: Yeah I never said I was fair what. Look at me, I'm not, I'm dark-skinned! (points to arm)
-silence- (crickets chirp, crow flies over)
Class: (jeers, then even more rapturous laughter)
Ah what a day. Thank God for humour, again.
Wednesday, 15 August 2007
The Marriage of True Minds
Shakespeare is genius. Brilliant sonnet, no. 116.
The Marriage of True Minds by William Shakespeare
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixèd mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me prov'd,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.
The Marriage of True Minds by William Shakespeare
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixèd mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me prov'd,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.
Monday, 13 August 2007
My Faith is in the Wind and the Rain
Grats blogspot, upon your international face has been inscribed my 40th post. Yeah! My blog's 40 posts old, 不惑之年! o.O
In addition, happy Hungry Ghosts' Festival! Sorry spirits, all I've got to offer is a lexical feast, so enjoy. And don't blow at my ear when I'm sleeping, legs are rather uncontrollable in sub-consciousness. But then again you guys are supposed to be ethereal. So how the hell do you blow anyways!!
(In case you haven't already noticed, I'm so kidding -.-")
Aside from that..ah, when the night and the drizzles paint such a lovely ambience, how can one resist the temptation of poetry even at the risk of absolutely owning oneself by taking one's mind off several extremely-highly-complicated-and-examinable-in-less-than-one-days-time Hamlet extracts? Duh you can but I can't. 情非得以！:p
My Faith is in the Wind and the Rain
A crystal kiss, a passing wind
That lifts my shivers pure but not
The swifted dates that none recall.
An icy mellow hark of strings
That stroll my soul with shadows warm
A clamour, a fondle, oft’ deep and sweet
Snakes and seraphs, my skin beneath.
What slipp’ry thoughts in falling clouds
Might He be He my light to grace?
Has He my golden wish forgot?
But all perceived, He sings for me
And cries when He allows me be.
By not day, not night, nor not by neith’
I slip in trembling, glorious bright.
Spite Man Divine such clefts to crawl,
I catch His chosen springs and falls.
In addition, happy Hungry Ghosts' Festival! Sorry spirits, all I've got to offer is a lexical feast, so enjoy. And don't blow at my ear when I'm sleeping, legs are rather uncontrollable in sub-consciousness. But then again you guys are supposed to be ethereal. So how the hell do you blow anyways!!
(In case you haven't already noticed, I'm so kidding -.-")
Aside from that..ah, when the night and the drizzles paint such a lovely ambience, how can one resist the temptation of poetry even at the risk of absolutely owning oneself by taking one's mind off several extremely-highly-complicated-and-examinable-in-less-than-one-days-time Hamlet extracts? Duh you can but I can't. 情非得以！:p
My Faith is in the Wind and the Rain
A crystal kiss, a passing wind
That lifts my shivers pure but not
The swifted dates that none recall.
An icy mellow hark of strings
That stroll my soul with shadows warm
A clamour, a fondle, oft’ deep and sweet
Snakes and seraphs, my skin beneath.
What slipp’ry thoughts in falling clouds
Might He be He my light to grace?
Has He my golden wish forgot?
But all perceived, He sings for me
And cries when He allows me be.
By not day, not night, nor not by neith’
I slip in trembling, glorious bright.
Spite Man Divine such clefts to crawl,
I catch His chosen springs and falls.
~tc©
Friday, 10 August 2007
Experimental Blends
Experimental Blends
A little of this
A little of that
A bubbling chorus and
A sizzling clap
With uranium on the bench
And fart on the tap
Oops that’s acid on my lap
OUCH THAT’S ACID ON MY LAP!
And the wrong tap leaves me
With gas in nasal cavities
Not the liquid
I expected
Ah there, there, the water channel
Soothing burns in nasty places
Thank God thank heavens for filter funnels
And plastic briefs for private spaces
Alright, that’s done
Back to more fun
But what’s that familiar orange swarm
Ahoy there! A mushroom cloud!
That’s something to worry about.
Rather cute I thought, rising through
The conical tubes
Smelling of breakfast’s chicken soup
Well, what goes around
Comes around
Ew,
Shouldn’t have tried bovine
Latrine exocrine,
Should’ve just used mine.
A little of this
A little of that
A bubbling chorus and
A sizzling clap
With uranium on the bench
And fart on the tap
Oops that’s acid on my lap
OUCH THAT’S ACID ON MY LAP!
And the wrong tap leaves me
With gas in nasal cavities
Not the liquid
I expected
Ah there, there, the water channel
Soothing burns in nasty places
Thank God thank heavens for filter funnels
And plastic briefs for private spaces
Alright, that’s done
Back to more fun
But what’s that familiar orange swarm
Ahoy there! A mushroom cloud!
That’s something to worry about.
Rather cute I thought, rising through
The conical tubes
Smelling of breakfast’s chicken soup
Well, what goes around
Comes around
Ew,
Shouldn’t have tried bovine
Latrine exocrine,
Should’ve just used mine.
~tc©
Sunday, 29 July 2007
The Old Wound
团契聚餐 was quite brilliant. Many thanks to the Duck brothers, and God of course. Zz bad HABIT to leave blogs dormant for fornights, some one help me:p.
Here's a new story
Part I The Old Wound
Fatigue was routine. Cupping the lower-most hollow of his ribs he eased the familiar pain away and trudged on. The air was damp and heavy with the jaded breaths of a hundred other uniformed veterans, wearing the youth of age on their faces, flaunting the maturity of martyrdom under their focused brows. He was the kid of the lot, but nevertheless a fraction of the whole. Glancing behind, he reinstalled confidence upon sight of the grin of the Nazi flag, secured his grip on his weapon, and proceeded to take the boldest step he had in about fifty. The rest then gradually slipped into a stupor of hesitation once more.
The barren lands echoed with the rhythm of a ruthless march. Small, makeshift huts that lined the pedestrian inlets were completely vacated; their tin roofs seemed to clatter and tremble at the sound of impending death, though they housed no life. Unlike the others, the soldier still preserved fragments of a conscience, but he was careful not to show it. His eyes wandered to a finger that had started bleeding again and motioned to tighten the already taut bandage clasping the digit stiff. It became even more pallid, but he shut his eyes and deeply inhaled the sweet stench of sweat and blood nonchalantly; he enjoyed the numbness.
Then there was a swift movement of flesh and metal. He took less than a second to absorb the gliding action between his palm and the hand-grip, but it was too late. The rifle met the earth with the loudest possible clash, and the damage was done. He panicked like never before, as if a thousand shadows were devouring his core, and with a fleeting movement he recovered his weapon and his stance, immediately encircled by piercing stares and raised barrels. He wished he could run at the speed of his heart.
His adjacent comrade didn’t let out the slightest cry. With a feverish glimpse at his new wound square in the chest, his legs collapsed and he fell to the ground, eyes wide shut.
“Damned traitor!” bellowed a voice in the vicinity.
“Bastard!”
“Kill him! Now!”
The soldier heard a sickening crunch. Colonel Leurc’s massive knuckles sank deep into the jaws of a man whose fingers were about to make resonant another gunshot.
“Sir we have a turncoat! Right here, right now!”
“Silence, McCain.” Leurc’s voice was deep and imperious. “Lower your weapons.”
“But sir! He-”
His eyes were equally commanding, and there was a shifting sound of relinquishment.
“Who did this?” He inquired.
The soldier knew there was no escape. Perhaps death would be a better reality. Meekly, he raised his quivering arm. “Sir!”
Leurc moved towards the fallen body and with a sharp stroke ripped apart its owner’s uniform with bare hands. Blemishing the otherwise well-defined sinews were numerous cuts and shallow stabs, as well as the most recent wound in his chest, which appeared to be a small rotting cavern of charcoal flesh, all a grotesque mosaic of red and yellow. A crimson patch was visible towards the left side of the right thigh, another gash.
“Well executed.” Leurc turned to meet the frozen expression of the jolted soldier, flabbergasted with mounting relief.
“Men,” Leurc spoke. “All he did was to end the suffering of a fellow soldier mercifully. Realistically. Learn from this. Now resume the march, the other companies are growing impatient round the bend. Move it!”
“Sir the body-”
“Leave it.”
“Yes sir.”
The soldier re-marshalled his medley of feelings and hastened his pace to catch up. His skin was still ice with fear. Everyone else had shrugged it off in a matter of seconds, leaving him to digest, once again, with whom, for whom and for what he was fighting this war for. There was no turning back; there was no room for tears and such.
Gratsburg inched closer with the decline of daylight. Soon, it crept into sight. The soldier examined his uniform soiled with blood, dirt and grease, and wondered if his soul was comparable. Eyes ahead, he marched towards the city with bittersweet remorse.
Here's a new story
Part I The Old Wound
Fatigue was routine. Cupping the lower-most hollow of his ribs he eased the familiar pain away and trudged on. The air was damp and heavy with the jaded breaths of a hundred other uniformed veterans, wearing the youth of age on their faces, flaunting the maturity of martyrdom under their focused brows. He was the kid of the lot, but nevertheless a fraction of the whole. Glancing behind, he reinstalled confidence upon sight of the grin of the Nazi flag, secured his grip on his weapon, and proceeded to take the boldest step he had in about fifty. The rest then gradually slipped into a stupor of hesitation once more.
The barren lands echoed with the rhythm of a ruthless march. Small, makeshift huts that lined the pedestrian inlets were completely vacated; their tin roofs seemed to clatter and tremble at the sound of impending death, though they housed no life. Unlike the others, the soldier still preserved fragments of a conscience, but he was careful not to show it. His eyes wandered to a finger that had started bleeding again and motioned to tighten the already taut bandage clasping the digit stiff. It became even more pallid, but he shut his eyes and deeply inhaled the sweet stench of sweat and blood nonchalantly; he enjoyed the numbness.
Then there was a swift movement of flesh and metal. He took less than a second to absorb the gliding action between his palm and the hand-grip, but it was too late. The rifle met the earth with the loudest possible clash, and the damage was done. He panicked like never before, as if a thousand shadows were devouring his core, and with a fleeting movement he recovered his weapon and his stance, immediately encircled by piercing stares and raised barrels. He wished he could run at the speed of his heart.
His adjacent comrade didn’t let out the slightest cry. With a feverish glimpse at his new wound square in the chest, his legs collapsed and he fell to the ground, eyes wide shut.
“Damned traitor!” bellowed a voice in the vicinity.
“Bastard!”
“Kill him! Now!”
The soldier heard a sickening crunch. Colonel Leurc’s massive knuckles sank deep into the jaws of a man whose fingers were about to make resonant another gunshot.
“Sir we have a turncoat! Right here, right now!”
“Silence, McCain.” Leurc’s voice was deep and imperious. “Lower your weapons.”
“But sir! He-”
His eyes were equally commanding, and there was a shifting sound of relinquishment.
“Who did this?” He inquired.
The soldier knew there was no escape. Perhaps death would be a better reality. Meekly, he raised his quivering arm. “Sir!”
Leurc moved towards the fallen body and with a sharp stroke ripped apart its owner’s uniform with bare hands. Blemishing the otherwise well-defined sinews were numerous cuts and shallow stabs, as well as the most recent wound in his chest, which appeared to be a small rotting cavern of charcoal flesh, all a grotesque mosaic of red and yellow. A crimson patch was visible towards the left side of the right thigh, another gash.
“Well executed.” Leurc turned to meet the frozen expression of the jolted soldier, flabbergasted with mounting relief.
“Men,” Leurc spoke. “All he did was to end the suffering of a fellow soldier mercifully. Realistically. Learn from this. Now resume the march, the other companies are growing impatient round the bend. Move it!”
“Sir the body-”
“Leave it.”
“Yes sir.”
The soldier re-marshalled his medley of feelings and hastened his pace to catch up. His skin was still ice with fear. Everyone else had shrugged it off in a matter of seconds, leaving him to digest, once again, with whom, for whom and for what he was fighting this war for. There was no turning back; there was no room for tears and such.
Gratsburg inched closer with the decline of daylight. Soon, it crept into sight. The soldier examined his uniform soiled with blood, dirt and grease, and wondered if his soul was comparable. Eyes ahead, he marched towards the city with bittersweet remorse.
~tc©
Sunday, 15 July 2007
What We Need to Know
Finally.
What We Need to Know
Space tails my gaze and
I feel the drag, can’t
help but feel it come
fast and soft with death
in wake. In this wide
plain of white I scarce
can dream our past with
cuts and bites, just brave
scars that boast in eyes.
But now have we lost
you or me?
The flames come,
the flames come.
What we will be I see no tree
I lock the chains you set them free
When winds and rain shall gust as one
how then shall we not come undone?
豆在釜中泣。
本是同根生，
相煎何太急?
“七步诗”
曹植
《三国演义》
What We Need to Know
Space tails my gaze and
I feel the drag, can’t
help but feel it come
fast and soft with death
in wake. In this wide
plain of white I scarce
can dream our past with
cuts and bites, just brave
scars that boast in eyes.
But now have we lost
you or me?
The flames come,
the flames come.
What we will be I see no tree
I lock the chains you set them free
When winds and rain shall gust as one
how then shall we not come undone?
~tc©
煮豆燃豆萁，
豆在釜中泣。
本是同根生，
相煎何太急?
“七步诗”
曹植
《三国演义》
Sunday, 8 July 2007
Whatever It Takes
07/07/07 was very colourful, but for reasons I just couldn't bring myself to paint. So here I am one day later, composed to compose.
Lifehouse, brilliant band. They're something like Switchfoot, semi-secular, always shunning the Christian label, living to make music for everyone.
"A faith, not a genre." Very cool way to put it.
Jason Wade simply writes too beautifully (that's Lifehouse's lead vocalist, guitarist and lyricist). He came from a highly spiritual background, having both of his parents being missionaries, and it is shown very evidently throughout his music.
One thing about their music for which I hold dire admiration - ambiguity. They're always two layers of meanings in their lyrics, one for the spirit and one for the flesh. And both are edifying. Sadly, perhaps only a believer can appreciate the full beauty of these songs, especially when I looked at these lyrics below last night, from the perspective of what we know as the 三角关系. At one time the voice speaks to God, at another, it speaks to a person. And when you see these things together as one song gently whispering one message, that soothing feeling is...there, just renewed once again.
Great is Thy faithfulness.
One more thing, the subject "she" in their songs, also often mean more than one person. I think it's spiritually artistic. Ok here it is. A full rendition can be heard over there on the right too. --------->
(If it doesn't display for you, you might need to install Adobe Flash Player 9)
Whatever It Takes by Lifehouse
A strangled smile fell from your face
It kills me that I hurt you this way
The worst part is that I didn't even know
Now there's a million reasons for you to go
but if you can find a reason to stay
I'll do whatever it takes
to turn this around
I know what's at stake
I know that I've let you down
And if you give me a chance
Believe that I can change
I'll keep us together whatever it takes
She said "If we're gonna make this work
You gotta let me inside even though it hurts
Don't hide the broken parts that I need to see"
She said "Like it or not it's the way it's gotta be
You gotta love yourself if you can ever love me"
I'll do whatever it takes
To turn this around
I know what's at stake
I know that I've let you down
And if you give me a chance
And give me a break
I'll keep us together, I know you deserve much better
But remember the time I told you the way that I felt
That I'd be lost without you and never find myself
Let's hold onto each other above everything else
Start over, start over
I'll do whatever it takes
To turn this around
I know what's at stake
I know I've let you down
And if you give me a chance
and believe that I can change
I'll keep us together whatever it takes
Lifehouse, brilliant band. They're something like Switchfoot, semi-secular, always shunning the Christian label, living to make music for everyone.
"A faith, not a genre." Very cool way to put it.
Jason Wade simply writes too beautifully (that's Lifehouse's lead vocalist, guitarist and lyricist). He came from a highly spiritual background, having both of his parents being missionaries, and it is shown very evidently throughout his music.
One thing about their music for which I hold dire admiration - ambiguity. They're always two layers of meanings in their lyrics, one for the spirit and one for the flesh. And both are edifying. Sadly, perhaps only a believer can appreciate the full beauty of these songs, especially when I looked at these lyrics below last night, from the perspective of what we know as the 三角关系. At one time the voice speaks to God, at another, it speaks to a person. And when you see these things together as one song gently whispering one message, that soothing feeling is...there, just renewed once again.
Great is Thy faithfulness.
One more thing, the subject "she" in their songs, also often mean more than one person. I think it's spiritually artistic. Ok here it is. A full rendition can be heard over there on the right too. --------->
(If it doesn't display for you, you might need to install Adobe Flash Player 9)
Whatever It Takes by Lifehouse
A strangled smile fell from your face
It kills me that I hurt you this way
The worst part is that I didn't even know
Now there's a million reasons for you to go
but if you can find a reason to stay
I'll do whatever it takes
to turn this around
I know what's at stake
I know that I've let you down
And if you give me a chance
Believe that I can change
I'll keep us together whatever it takes
She said "If we're gonna make this work
You gotta let me inside even though it hurts
Don't hide the broken parts that I need to see"
She said "Like it or not it's the way it's gotta be
You gotta love yourself if you can ever love me"
I'll do whatever it takes
To turn this around
I know what's at stake
I know that I've let you down
And if you give me a chance
And give me a break
I'll keep us together, I know you deserve much better
But remember the time I told you the way that I felt
That I'd be lost without you and never find myself
Let's hold onto each other above everything else
Start over, start over
I'll do whatever it takes
To turn this around
I know what's at stake
I know I've let you down
And if you give me a chance
and believe that I can change
I'll keep us together whatever it takes
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