On My Way Home

It was raining this afternoon. When I finished my teaching, a lab of which had some music students complaining why they were doing a LAN networking lab, I was really not in the mood of appreciating the walk in a cool and wet winter night. Why did we have music students doing electronic labs anyway? Universities could always mess up the right things they were supposed to be doing in one way or another. I was so thirsty but I couldn't be bothered to walk back to the student union shop. It was a wet night and the drops had no sign to calm down. I searched my wallet hoping to find a pound so I could get something from the vending machine. I was lucky. There was a big fat two pound coin. I put the coin into the machine and press the code for a bottle of coke zero. Nothing happened. The coin was not accepted by the machine. I read the instruction again. Two pound coin was supposed to be working. I tried it once more but ended with disappointment. I thought I could still make it home without the coke.

The weather had not been good for the day at all. Thankfully I was not cold. The cashmere sweater that I was wearing was bought back from China two years ago. My mother bought it for me. So its colour really suited my father well and could make me look 5 years older with no problem. But it was really warm and soft.

I was soaking. The shortcut I normally took was dark and wet, which made it not attractive at all. So I decided to walk home through the shopping mall. It is probably the only thing keeping Hatfield from a dead place. It is not very big but managed to provide some entertainments out of the quietness in this small, not modern and not traditional English town.

As I was walking through, it just hit me that I was sharing with a friend with the books we read and our desire of buying more books. We were talking about visiting Waterstone and the shop was right there on my way home. I thought I would just hop in and see what they had got to offer before Christmas.

'3 for 2', the favourite trick of Waterstone was being played again. It was such a temptation, I had to admit. I thought I should be able to afford three books with no problem at a price of two. After all, the university just gave me my Christmas bonus although I won't share the amount in case you would be laughing too loud. That would be bad for your spleen, an old Chinese saying. It was not to my surprise that then I found my self struggling to keep the goods into my budget because I picked out six books. I was attempted to buy all of them but I was concerned that I still had my grocery shopping undone yet. So I put three down, the trilogy, the fist book of which was filmed as 'The Golden Compass'. A friend of mine told me it was really good though. I got myself a Ian Rankin's book The Naming of The Dead because I saw it’s adverts on my way to Liverpool for a conference four months' ago. I thought this ought to be good. I also got myself another Bill Bryson: The Life and Times of The Thunderbolt Kids. I read his book, A Short History for Everything, before. That was fun. The last book I got was The Shadow of the Wind, for no reason but that I had seen it on the shelf for a long time.

With my proud new entertainments in hand, I walked out after paying. There is a few fast food restaurants towards my home. It was still raining. Kids were trying to hit cars that lined for the fast food take out with garbage, I reckoned. I walked faster in case they turned around to give me some trouble.
……
After dinner, I turned on the radio, got my self a warm cup of tea and opened the page of The Naming of The Dead. It was such a peace and relaxing of mind I haven't had for a while.

Wear A Red Ribbon

1st of December is the world AIDS day, let's just try our slight effort and wear a red ribbon.

The pound that you donate for getting the ribbon does matter. But more importantly, it is the signal of attracting people's awareness of this serious issue that exists in our modern civilised world.

It is more than just asking for people's sympathy for AIDS victims. The awareness of AIDS is for the sake of very singlel one of us and it is the reason for the existence of world AIDS day. A red ribbon that is worn serves as this gentle reminder that fulfils its duty even if only one pedestrian catchs it with their eyes and gets the message.

I am trying to convince as many friends as possible to do it. Strangely, I find it is rather hard. Apparently AIDS still sounds far away from the majority of us. Because it is far away, we don't know it. Because we don't know it, we fear it. Because we fear it, we pretend that it is far away. The number of AIDS victims is rising very year in almost very country. It is actually just right behind our doorway.

So, just for the day, if you see a box of red ribbon, please donate a pound, pick one ribbon, and wear it. Some day, somehow, it will done someone good in one way or another. And that will be YOUR good deed of the day.

Wear a red ribbon.

It is world AIDS day on 1st of December. It's the coming Saturday.

I Let It Go

Finally, I decided to let it go. I thought I would insist but I foresaw a broken heart. At last, I couldn't pursue any more and I decided to pull out before I was hurt. I let it go.

I genuinely thought I had a shot over there and we would just work like a click of fingers. I thought he liked me. I knew he did. I liked him. I never doubted it. But I never expected that the feeling became so strong and my rationality couldn't control it any more.

So one day, I told him.

He said he couldn't go into a relationship. He said that he was through a difficult time and relationship was the last thing he could put his mind on. He said he liked me. He said if he started a relationship, he would hurt someone. He said it was him not me. He said let's see how it went. He was laying there right besides me.

I felt rejected and it tasted bitterly. Things had been tough on him, I knew. I wanted to help but he wouldn't open up. I turned around and looked at him. I was trying to make out of list of why I liked him but I couldn't. Right there, I knew he was what I wanted. I left in the morning. He said it was so nice to see me. I went back home and had some sleep.

I thought if I try harder, it might eventually work. So I tried. He was difficult to get in touch. However I tried I barely succeeded. He liked me, I believed that, yet distant he still was. My friends told me that I should just take the signal and took it like a man. I was about to. However, every time I was about to be the man, he rang me up. His voice never fialed to remind me how sweet he was. He liked to talk cold cars and IBM PCs that I barely understood but I just enjoyed it. My imagination then told me that I still stood a chance. I couldn't possibly let it go just like that. Not yet.

We had a long list of Gmail conversation. It had been running for over a year, although the recent mails only went from me to him but few went back. It was the 100th mail. I wanted to write something brilliant. But little could I put down. Besides all the nonsense, I only wrote: I miss you. Nothing came back and that was the last of our Gmail list. My friend said I should delete the email list. I couldn't do it.

For seven days, he had totally disappeared. I checked my phone every five minutes and the screen remained dead and black. My imagination had been making up stories that scared me. I finally noticed that I needed an answer. Although it appeared to be obvious, I needed to hear it from him. I left a message on his phone without any hope. He phoned back. The talk was as joyful as usual. He didn't give any excuse for his absence. Let's just don't argue it, said he. I didn't.

Two days later, I met him again. We had a lovely evening like always. We had some lovely drink, went to see a dull film, and had a nice KFC meal. That night, I asked him again. I was seeking the answer.

He couldn't go into a relationship, said he. He was through a difficult time and relationship was the last thing he could put his mind on, said he. He liked me, said he. If he started a relationship he would hurt someone, said he. It was him not me, said he. He was laying there right besides me.

This time, I knew there was nothing I could do to change it. I still believed that he liked me. But, as my friends said, it was more like an appreciation for accompany rather than a heart beat. That heart beat wouldn't be me, no matter how long I insisted. I was arguing with my friends but at that moment, I knew it was true. I felt rather relieved, in a strange way. I wasn't hurt but I knew I would be if I didn't stop by then. It was another sleepless night.

In the morning, I kissed him on the cheek, I had touch on his cute belly, I walked him to work and I left. I walked to the Hyde Park. The view was lovely. Walking among the beautiful greens with rays of golden sun shine in the air, I was calm and happy.

I thought he liked me. I knew he did. I liked him. I never doubted it. But finally, I decided to let it go. I thought I would insist but I foresaw a broken heart. At last, I couldn't pursue any more and I decided to pull out before I was hurt. I let it go, willingly.

A Lazy Day

Monday is always hectic for most of us. But as a student I have the privilege to have a lazy Monday. I did. I really shouldn't, considering how much my PhD thesis still needs me to finish. But just for the day, I can't care less. I got up nearly 11 am. I woke up earlier and the lovely sound of the shower hitting my windows soon put me back to sleep again. It was so cold outside. Who would ever want to go out today?

The room was messy. I thought I'd better clean it again. A friend of mine never understands why I am always cleaning my room. Me either. But it is just messy always. I am surprised that I could live in a cave like this for weeks now. I folded up all the clothes that were lying all over the places and those that have been hanging there to dry for a whole week now. I added some water to the pot of flowers near my window. I have got this pot for three years now. It is strange though that it blooms in the winter this year and was struggling to die during summer time.

There was a sound of someone banging on the bed for about 30 minute. Who got lucky in the middle of Monday?

The spicy girls are determined to com back. They've on the radio all day. The only funny thing I heard on the radio is that duck quacks don't echo. Really? The nerdy evil inside me won't like let something funny like this just going away. I looked it up in the internet and apparently, it does echo. How come we get a saying like this anyway?

While I am still wondering what to do for this relaxing day, it was dark outside already. And I just remembered that I have had nothing to eat today at all. But I am still not feeling like cooking. I think I can hold it up for an hour or so. It is about six now and looks like the call I was expecting won't come anyway. I am working in the graduate ceremony for the university over the nearby town tomorrow. It will be boring. On the work specification list sent to us by exam office, after a list of responsibility there is a line: We would suggest you to bring a book with you. You get the idea.

So there will be no thesis writing tomorrow, and probably none on Wednesday either. I will worry about it sometime else and when I fed up by it again, I will write some more rubbish over here. Time to cook.

An Unhealthy Desire

Desire, is always a temping word. I have many desires. Who don't? I desire for career, for money, for a ridiculously big mansion and all the other usual clichés. And I also share the desire with millions of single people, the relationship. But, just all of sudden, I found that my desire of such has become so unhealthy and I am starting to worry about it.

Love experts who write columns at some news paper's 10th or 100th page must have the ability to list out hundreds of reasons for the existence of the desire for relationship, based on all perspectives: science, emotion, horoscope, big fat crystal ball, and so forth. I don't really read columns that often, so I was trying to work out where I got such strong desire of relationship and trying to save me a few pennies for paying news papers. Oh yeah, I am cheap alright.

If you prepare to continue your reading, I have to warn you that the following sound awful, strange, and don't make me good at all. So if you love me, please don't proceed because you will end up feel sorry for me. If you hate me, do not proceed, because that will just make you way too happy.

Well, here goes, the first reason: I think my desire for relationship is because being single is always the thing, which I am blame. Strange, isn't it? I guess every one of us has the period of time that everything is just not working out. We are not saint. We try to find something to blame. My unfortunate bachelorhood is what I can grab. I always thought that were I coupled, my life would’ve been so much easier. Even with my pea-sized brain, I know it is naive. But I just can't stop wandering. Ok, if you are laughing too hard, I will have to ask to you stop drooling for the sake of your keyboard, in case it has run out of warranty.

The second I shall say is jealousy. That's even stranger. This probably contributes to the amplifying of my desire. Simply speaking, most of my friends are either married or coupled. Technically, as a good friend as I am, I should be happy for them. I seriously do. The feeling of jealousy just coming as buy one get one free, something you can't help. Is it just lucky to be my friend? Hopefully, most of them don't read my blog. This feels like that when I was then, very kid was getting their own bike and I then wanted a bike of mine so much. I's like I have turned everything into a competition and I am loosing if I am the one who is single. I know this must have made my brain shrinks even more. Btw, Jyri, I am seriously happy for you.

Now, we come to the third. Well, just for the goodness's sake, I will put down reason as the old rotted saying of looking for love, looking for company and other blahs. The feeling of loneliness does hit me more frequently. Well, I cuddle my pillow and I have survived so far. Sadly, my pillows didn't make it. May those I trashed rest in peace.

I have been trying so hard in the writing of this not to use the word ‘desperate’. I think that really makes me sounds bad. But now, I realise it doesn't make a difference now. I'd go and wipe out the big L O O S E R off my face. You have had enough fun here. Go home!

I Am Legally Responsible...

I am obviously legally responsible for wrongly accusing ASDA, the biggest supermarket chain in UK.

It all started with a shopping at ASDA one day. I passed by the raw meat products section and found a box of lamb mince with a bit funny colour. A small bit of the mince appeared to be grey, a colour of which would make me suspect that bit of meat has been exposed to a high temperature. Then I recalled this programme I watched some time ago in BBC, which took undercover research on supermarket butchery. One of the cases was that a supermarket worker found the machine to mince the meat was broken as the mince came out cooked. Those mince then should be discarded. But they mixed the cooked mince with other mince and sealed to sell. Out of curiosity, I took a picture of the mince with my phone. I was thinking of summoning a staff but decided that I could do the evening without any argument of such. So I left.

Then, it was last night. I didn’t find anything else better to do than hanging around on a forum and I thought it would’ve been fun to ‘show off’ my proud evidence of careless ASDA. So I posted the picture saying that it was a box of mince with cooked meat from ASDA and I was expecting people argue if it indeed looked to be cooked or just a normal colour that can be expected in a box of mince. People did…but…

Soon, the replies started to highlight for my legal liability for making ‘public accusation’ of ASDA without real facts. Experts said that I should only do so if I bought that box and sent them to a place called…EHO (I don’t even know what EHO is, some sort of watchdog is my wild guess -_-0).

When I was trying to defend myself saying that I didn’t think that far as some sort of public accusation but just want to post something fun, my fake make up was soon penetrated by people with shining eyes. Other replies soon reveal my carefully structured conspiracy as I didn’t buy the mince yet I took a picture of it and then posted it on a public website. With all the evidence, legal experts in the following replies soon upgraded my behaviour into an ‘allegation towards ASDA’.

I have to admit that those were such a blow. I know my big mouth can get me trouble, but this is certainly not very testy. Obviously I am foolish, as pointed out by some replies of my thread, of trying to set up ASDA and making public ‘allegation’ against it. I did apologise at the end of the thread telling people that I am still a good boy. I guess I just didn’t think that people would take this post from that perspective. Doesn’t modern world surprise us? I should find out what EHO is.

A New Post

With no surprise, I haven’t touched this little space of mine for ages…big surprise. I actually don’t believe someone will actually read this bit but I was proved wrong yesterday. It then got me thinking of trying to start writing here, once again.

Let’s talk about music. Of course, a man like me can have no deep thoughts about music. It just came to my notice that there was a very nice music on the UK chart a few weeks ago. The song was: Apologize [Timberland Ft. Onerebuplic]. However, I didn’t realise that the original song was much more beautiful without Timberland’s ‘contribution’. This is the video of the original Apologize from YouTube:



However, what is more interesting is that this is not the official music video for the music. Apparently, there was no official music video for un-remixed Apologize (the remixed video was totally rubbish though).The author of the video above appears to be an independent director. So, it all looks like Timberland didn’t do a good thing on this originally beautiful song, or did he? Without famous Timberland to pull this song up the chart, and gets all the radio station play the remixed version, I still don’t know the original one. So, this must be what they call a commercial approach, the proud product of modern entertainment industry.