Youngest kid of six with an inferiority and black sheep complex, but determined that God saves not just his soul to heaven but the remainder of his manic-depressive life, so others won't say he became a Christian and remained a jerk.
i won't be transparent before i'm opaque. and you'll get to know me starting from the small things: who my favourite bands are. what kind of movies i like. who are my heroes.
I’m convinced that when confronted with sincere, real love, the Jesus factor will become obvious. But let’s not plant the cross before we carry it. I’m not trying to con you.
Some dreams are meant to be achieved. I know that. But maybe other dreams are meant to drive us, privately. Never known to anyone but ourselves.
It is a sadness that, when choosing between crying and sighing, will choose sighing. I'd almost say that melancholy is being sad about sadness itself.
On memory and nostalgia
It saddens me when life moves forward and people decide that certain things are worth forgetting.
I've learnt that the word irregardless is filed as a non-standard word in the English language. That's a lexicographer's way of saying it's not a real word.
Crowds are fickle things. So when we stand in the thousands and cry against the present government, do we know who we're actually crying for?
People always want the best for themselves. But I want to sometimes take second or third or fourth best, just so that the loser down the road doesn't always have to come in last. It must feel like shit to always come in last.
On growing old
Leasehold property make me feel sad. It doesn't matter how old the family photos are that you put on your wall. It's your family but it's not really your wall.
I ask you, if God loves everyone, and if God is also incapable of loving evil, how can there be such a thing as an evil man?
On a daily basis
One line quips, like this.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
You know, it feels so good and so rewarding when this happens:
You've been working on the same product for months now, and many updates have gone through your hands. You open up new commentary and scan through it. All the judges names are in roman, all the spans are joined by ndashes, all the housestyle is in place because you took the trouble a few updates ago to go through the black stuff and fix it eventhough you didn't have time and you never have time.
And when you see some of that nice, clean copy and you remember exactly when you fixed that commblock, and you remember a night you spent in the office doing that, and you see it now all fixed, it's particularly rewarding. And then you know all you need to do is look at the new stuff. Cos it's your product. And your products all look good like that.
And then you feel so proud.
I don't feel proud when my boss' boss' boss' boss' boss comes from sydney to tell me i'm part of a larger structure or how much money we turn around and how many SMEs we're eating up internationally. i feel proud when i look at my commblocks and they reflect my image, my diligence or hard work. so i really, really, really don't want to sit in for any more of that corporate propaganda garbage, i'm so sick of it. please, boss' boss' boss' boss' boss, don't come down anymore. i just want to sit at my desk and work hard.
i'm just a simpleton like that.
Labels: defeat, happenings
5:00 pm ]