Image Hosted by ImageShack.us
Saturday 29 September 2007 ;
19:43

i dUn haVe tO dO it jusT bcOs someOne hUrt me e sAme wAy.. i'm vEry tempTed tO.. bUt i wLdn.. 原来,当一段感情不够坚强,要摧毁它是那么简单。。its like, wHen ur immunIty is loW, its sO eaSy tO fall sIck.. aNd wHen u dUn wAnt tO geT well aNd eXpose urself tO more gErms aNd virUses, dEath sTarts wAving at u..

有多余的爱,不知道给谁?很多孤儿,老人,等着有人去关心。。爱情,不是这样挥霍的。。也许有一天,你的爱会给完。。完了就没了。。

a sImilAr sTory.. bUt tHis time i'm nOt in tHe posItion of tHe victim.. tHis time, i haVe the poWer tO destrOy.. tO wReck wHat tHey onCe cAlled haPpiness.. wHat tHey onCe tOt waS fOrever.. aNd i look at tHe guy w dIslain.. is thIs how HE taLked abt ME baCk thEn? tO gaiN symphathy tHat HE didn desErve? tO mK HIMselF feel less gUilty? tO mK everyoNe thinks HE's the victim? wAs tHis hOw HE behaved bacK tHEn?

wHen he sEnds me sWt nOtes, cAring cAlls aNd sMses, aSking me oUT, i cAn't help bUt wOnder.. if hE doeS tHe sAme tO hiS gf, tHingS might be dIffernt fOr them.. if hE carEs tHe sAme, sHe wLdn be insecuRe.. iF he dAtes hEr insTead oF wAnting tO mEet me w e little tIme he has, sHe wOuldn feel uncAred fOr.. all hEr little tantRums, hEr little aCts of insecurity sHows hOw negLected shE feels.. bUt he dOesn cAre..

HE did tHe sAme.. diD he nOt? mEn.. aRE thEy rEally all tHe sAme?

lifE is interesting.. i aSked fOr aNs.. aNd i got tHem.. nOt dIrectly.. God wanTs tO teSt my skills of infErring dAta fr indIrect sourCes..

iS it eaSier tO mend a bRoken r/sP oR tO stArt a new oNe aGain? mOst pple cHoose tO start a neW one.. bUt a nEw one will hAve probs sUrfacing oNe dAy.. jUst bcOs someonE dOesn lOve u tHE wAy u wAnt her tO, it dOesn meAn u sHould be bLind tO the wAys sHe sHows lOve fOr you.. bUt wE all tend tO fOrget.. fOrgEt wat we 1St felT fOr eCh other.. tIme has its wAy of eRoding lOve.. wAys tHat we caN't see.. cAN't comprehend..

tHankfully tHis time i'm nOt in the posItion of e victim.. cOs iT reallY reallY reallY hurTs.. bUt i wLdn be mEan enough tO snaTch and tHrow aWay.. eVen thou i'M really tempted tO.. 女人何苦为难女人?世间男子已经太会伤人,我怎么忍心再给你伤痕?


oR sO sHe sAys..-




Friday 28 September 2007 ;
11:22


The Nightingale and the Rose
A Fairy Tale by Oscar Wilde

"She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses," cried the young Student; "but in all my garden there is no red rose."

From her nest in the holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.

"No red rose in all my garden!" he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched."

"Here at last is a true lover," said the Nightingale. "Night after night have I sung of him, though I knew him not: night after night have I told his story to the stars, and now I see him. His hair is dark as the hyacinth-blossom, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but passion has made his face like pale ivory, and sorrow has set her seal upon his brow." "The Prince gives a ball to-morrow night," murmured the young Student, "and my love will be of the company. If I bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn. If I bring her a red rose, I shall hold her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder, and her hand will be clasped in mine. But there is no red rose in my garden, so I shall sit lonely, and she will pass me by. She will have no heed of me, and my heart will break."

"Here indeed is the true lover," said the Nightingale. "What I sing of, he suffers--what is joy to me, to him is pain. Surely Love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds, and dearer than fine opals. Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it set forth in the marketplace. It may not be purchased of the merchants, nor can it be weighed out in the balance for gold."

"The musicians will sit in their gallery," said the young Student, "and play upon their stringed instruments, and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor, and the courtiers in their gay dresses will throng round her. But with me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to give her"; and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept.

"Why is he weeping?" asked a little Green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air.

"Why, indeed?" said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam.

"Why, indeed?" whispered a Daisy to his neighbour, in a soft, low voice.

"He is weeping for a red rose," said the Nightingale.

"For a red rose?" they cried; "how very ridiculous!" and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright.

But the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student's sorrow, and she sat silent in the oak-tree, and thought about the mystery of Love.

Suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She passed through the grove like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.

In the centre of the grass-plot was standing a beautiful Rose-tree, and when she saw it she flew over to it, and lit upon a spray.

"Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."

But the Tree shook its head.

"My roses are white," it answered; "as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow upon the mountain. But go to my brother who grows round the old sun-dial, and perhaps he will give you what you want."

So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial.

"Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."

But the Tree shook its head.

"My roses are yellow," it answered; "as yellow as the hair of the mermaiden who sits upon an amber throne, and yellower than the daffodil that blooms in the meadow before the mower comes with his scythe. But go to my brother who grows beneath the Student's window, and perhaps he will give you what you want."

So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath the Student's window.

"Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."

But the Tree shook its head.

"My roses are red," it answered, "as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the ocean-cavern. But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I shall have no roses at all this year." "One red rose is all I want," cried the Nightingale, "only one red rose! Is there no way by which I can get it?"

"There is away," answered the Tree; "but it is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you."

"Tell it to me," said the Nightingale, "I am not afraid."

"If you want a red rose," said the Tree, "you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with your own heart's-blood. You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into my veins, and become mine."

"Death is a great price to pay for a red rose," cried the Nightingale, "and Life is very dear to all. It is pleasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl. Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the hill. Yet Love is better than Life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?"

So she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She swept over the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the grove.

The young Student was still lying on the grass, where she had left him, and the tears were not yet dry in his beautiful eyes.

"Be happy," cried the Nightingale, "be happy; you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart's-blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy, though she is wise, and mightier than Power, though he is mighty. Flame- coloured are his wings, and coloured like flame is his body. His lips are sweet as honey, and his breath is like frankincense."

The Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him, for he only knew the things that are written down in books.

But the Oak-tree understood, and felt sad, for he was very fond of the little Nightingale who had built her nest in his branches.

"Sing me one last song," he whispered; "I shall feel very lonely when you are gone."

So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was likewater bubbling from a silver jar.

When she had finished her song the Student got up, and pulled a note-book and a lead-pencil out of his pocket.

"She has form," he said to himself, as he walked away through the grove--"that cannot be denied to her; but has she got feeling? I am afraid not. In fact, she is like most artists; she is all style, without any sincerity. She would not sacrifice herself for others. She thinks merely of music, and everybody knows that the arts are selfish. Still, it must be admitted that she has some beautiful notes in her voice. What a pity it is that they do not mean anything, or do any practical good." And he went into his room, and lay down on his little pallet-bed, and began to think of his love; and, after a time, he fell asleep.

And when the Moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. All night long she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper and deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her.

She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl. And on the top-most spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvellous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song. Pale was it, at first, as the mist that hangs over the river--pale as the feet of the morning, and silver as the wings of the dawn. As the shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver, as the shadow of a rose in a water-pool, so was the rose that blossomed on the topmost spray of the Tree.

But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."

So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew her song, for she sang of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a maid.

And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses the lips of the bride. But the thorn had not yet reached her heart, so the rose's heart remained white, for only a Nightingale's heart's-blood can crimson the heart of a rose.

And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."

So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her. Bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.

And the marvellous rose became crimson, like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart.

But the Nightingale's voice grew fainter, and her little wings began to beat, and a film came over her eyes. Fainter and fainter grew her song, and she felt something choking her in her throat.

Then she gave one last burst of music. The white Moon heard it, and she forgot the dawn, and lingered on in the sky. The red rose heard it, and it trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals to the cold morning air. Echo bore it to her purple cavern in the hills, and woke the sleeping shepherds from their dreams. It floated through the reeds of the river, and they carried its message to the sea.

"Look, look!" cried the Tree, "the rose is finished now"; but the Nightingale made no answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in her heart.

And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out.

"Why, what a wonderful piece of luck!" he cried; "here is a red rose! I have never seen any rose like it in all my life. It is so beautiful that I am sure it has a long Latin name"; and he leaned down and plucked it.

Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professor's house with the rose in his hand.

The daughter of the Professor was sitting in the doorway winding blue silk on a reel, and her little dog was lying at her feet.

"You said that you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose," cried the Student. "Here is the reddest rose in all the world. You will wear it to-night next your heart, and as we dance together it will tell you how I love you."

But the girl frowned.

"I am afraid it will not go with my dress," she answered; "and, besides, the Chamberlain's nephew has sent me some real jewels, and everybody knows that jewels cost far more than flowers."

"Well, upon my word, you are very ungrateful," said the Student angrily; and he threw the rose into the street, where it fell into the gutter, and a cart-wheel went over it.

"Ungrateful!" said the girl. "I tell you what, you are very rude; and, after all, who are you? Only a Student. Why, I don't believe you have even got silver buckles to your shoes as the Chamberlain's nephew has"; and she got up from her chair and went into the house.

"What a silly thing Love is," said the Student as he walked away. "It is not half as useful as Logic, for it does not prove anything, and it is always telling one of things that are not going to happen, and making one believe things that are not true. In fact, it is quite unpractical, and, as in this age to be practical is everything, I shall go back to Philosophy and study Metaphysics."

So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.


oR sO sHe sAys..-




Wednesday 26 September 2007 ;
23:20

陆看起来很远。。走着走着,一路上坚持着些什么。。是对也好,是错也好。。因为问心无愧,所以觉得。。够了。。 目燃回首,啊!原来走得比自己想象中远!辛苦吗?当然。。但是走完,就忘了。。当时的痛,烟消云散。。

I misS cYcling...


oR sO sHe sAys..-




Tuesday 25 September 2007 ;
16:24

fRiends or fOes? tHe tRuth or liEs? rIght or wRong?

rEalised i cAn't differenciaTe thEm.. dAmn..

还是我的 dEarie 好.. i lOve aUdrey tEo! mUahaha..


oR sO sHe sAys..-




Sunday 23 September 2007 ;
22:16
TAXI DRIVER

>Taxi Driver A taxi passenger tapped the driver on the shoulder to ask him >a question. The driver screamed , lost control of the car, nearly hit a >bus, went up on the footpath, and stopped centimeters from a shop >window.For a second everything went quiet in the cab, then the driver >said, >"Look mate, don't ever do that again. You scared the daylights out of me!" >The passenger apologized and said, "I didn't realize that a little tap >would scare you so much. "The driver replied, "Sorry, it's not really >your fault. Today is my first day as a cab driver. I've been driving a >funeral van for the last 25 years."


mY dEArie is baCk!!! hAve i meNtioned hOw much I love aUdrEy teO in a nOn les bUt kinDa les kiNd of wAy? mUahaha.. iGnore me.. I'm jUst tiRed.. vEry..

i need a gOod break.. nOt jUst a gOod breaK.. i nEed tO gEt awAy fOr a wHile.. MIA.. jUst me anD my gUitar.. aNd maybe my tEddy tOo.. jUst 3 oF us.. i'M sO tIred.. aNd its nOt jUst pHysicAlly.. bUt i'm sUpergIrL! I cAN haNg in tHere tiLL nOv.. :) haNg in tHere HAPPILY somEmOre.. jUst wAtch.. xp

你累了吗?走了很长很长的路。。所以我累了。。谁也累了?陪我坐下来好吗?一起看人来人往。。一起看日出日落。。一起读一本好书。。 一起说说从前,聊聊现在,谈谈未来。。陪我走走好吗?走到山上去吹风,不必走到天涯海角。。走到累了,就坐下来,喝杯咖啡。。陪我徘徊好吗?徘徊在人群中,感受孤单。。因为这城市越喧闹,越孤单。。 陪我去冒险好吗?去没有人敢去的森林,没人去的大草原,每人想去的沙漠。。去拍照。。排下那一刻的绚丽。。让我们拿一辈子的时间去回味。。

。。
。。。
。。

你累了吗?


oR sO sHe sAys..-




Thursday 20 September 2007 ;
14:59
mY thRoat is sO inflameD my eAr aChes.. in fAct, 1/2 my bOdy acHes.. oh i haVe 2 teSts n 3 prOjects coming uP.. very sooN.. liKe.. tml? mY lifE is GREAT.


oR sO sHe sAys..-




Wednesday 19 September 2007 ;
23:44

The Cab Ride I'll Never Forget
by Kent Nerburn


Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. One time I arrived in the middle of the night for a pick up at a building that was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself.

So I walked to the door and knocked. "Just a minute," answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.

"It's nothing," I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated."

"Oh, you're such a good boy," she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"

"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.

"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice."

I looked in the rear view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.

"I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you like me to take?" I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.

"Nothing," I said.

"You have to make a living," she answered.

"There are other passengers."

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said. "Thank you."

I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware--beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

.
..
...
..
.

aS i've always belieVEd, its the littLe things tHat matters tHe most.. tHe lettErs written, tHe sTars fOlded usinG sTraws, tHe bOttle of sEashells fR a bEach fAr away, tHe hug wHen i wAs mosT frIghtened, wIping awaY my tEArs wHen i wAs sad, tHe piggybacK rIdes wHen i comPLained mY knEe wAs acHing agAin.. aLL these aNd mORe.. wHen we dO stUff fOr oThers, we usuaLLy dun rem them afTer a wHile.. bUt gUess wHat? tHey rem.. :) well, at leAst i dO.


oR sO sHe sAys..-




Tuesday 18 September 2007 ;
15:25

Who Packs ur Parachutes?

Charles Plumb was a U.S. Navy jet pilot in Vietnam. After 75 combat missions, his plane was destroyed by a surface-to-air missile. Plumb ejected and parachuted into enemy hands. He was captured and spent 6 years in a communist Vietnamese prison. He survived the ordeal and now lectures on lessons learned from that experience.

One day, when Plumb and his wife were sitting in a restaurant, a man at another table came up
and said, You're Plumb! You flew jet fighters in Vietnam from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk. You were shot down!

How in the world did you know that? asked Plumb. I packed your parachute, the man replied.
Plumb gasped in surprise and gratitude. The man pumped his hand and said, I guess it worked!
Plumb assured him, It sure did. If your chute hadn't worked, I wouldn't be here today.

Plumb couldn't sleep that night, thinking about that man. Plumb says, I kept wondering what he might have looked like in a Navy uniform: a white hat, a bib in the back, and bell-bottom trousers. I wonder how many times I might have seen him and not even said 'Good morning, how are you?' or anything because, you see, I was a fighter pilot and he was just a sailor. Plumb thought of the many hours the sailor had spent on a long wooden table in the bowels of the ship, carefully weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of each chute, holding in his hands each time the fate of someone he didn't know.

Now, Plumb asks his audience, Who's packing your parachute? Everyone has someone who provides what they need to make it through the day. Plumb also points out that he needed many kinds of parachutes when his plane was shot down over enemy territory - he needed his physical parachute, his mental parachute, his emotional parachute, and his spiritual parachute. He called on all these supports before reaching safety.

Sometimes in the daily challenges that life gives us, we miss what is really important. We may fail to say hello, please, or thank you, congratulate someone on something wonderful that has happened to them, give a compliment, or just do something nice for no reason.

.
..
...
..
.

病了。。 it sUx tO fEel unwell at thIs point in tIme when aLL the datelines are wAving at you.. dAmn.. XP


oR sO sHe sAys..-




Sunday 16 September 2007 ;
10:56

u kNow wAt i liKe abt bReakups?

1. geTting a pRoper cloSure - wHen u've beEn tHru tHose w/O pRoper cLOsure u'll rEalise hOw sATisfying it is tO haVe a proper conclusion.

2. hAving moRe sPace in my sMs inbox - dElete! dElete! dElete!

3. hEaving a sIgH of rElief - dUnnO wHy bUt i aLways fEel like itS a loAd off mY sHoulders

4. having an eXtra fRen wHo kNows sLightly mOre abOut u tHan a fRen

hAd a gD cRy laSt nIght.. maInly cOs of all tHe pRojecTs & teSTs.. oVerwHelming.. its dRiving me uP tHe wAll.. wOke up w eYes sO pUffy i haD tRouble oPening tHem.. haha.. sO fUnny i aCtually lAughed oUt loud.. 没事了。。继续上路咯!=D

Me, "dUn wOrry.. i'm sUpergIrL, rEm? ;)"
W, "yeaH i kNow bUt sUpergIrL needs hElp fr sUpermaN sOmetimes tOo.."


itS fRens like tHis tHAt mAkes tHe wOrld sEem like a leSs hArsh plAce.. :)


傻瓜 我们都一样
被爱情伤了又伤
相信这个他不一样
却又再一次受伤
-温岚


"la la la.. i'm on my way again tO find my missing piece." -Shel Silverstein

幸福提示 16: 找到答案,还是朋友,不就是最大的幸福吗?:)


oR sO sHe sAys..-




Saturday 15 September 2007 ;
21:22


cAn sOmeone hOld me tIght aNd let me cRy? tEll me eVerything's gonnA b aLright.. leT me sLeep in yOur aRms aNd wAke up fEeling sAfe.. cAn sOmeone dO tHat fOr me?
.
..
...
..
.
sAlly's rIght. sHe sAid “你已经尽力了。。”yUp.. i dId my bESt. betteR tHan tHe lasT tIme, wHich wAs eVen bettEr tHan the laSt. 至少我问心无愧. 你呢?你尽力了吗?还是你欠我一句“对不起?”
.
..
...
..
.
e aNgel perChed on my sHoulder aSked me if i fEel sAd aNd wHether tHe tEars wEre dUe tO tHis issue. i sAid yes, eVen tHough i aLready exPected it. e deVil maDe nOise tOo.. wHat kInd oF nOise? oh.. nOthing much.. it jUst sAt on my oTher sHoulder, pOinted aT me aNd lAughed uncontrollably. i gAve it a -_-" fAce aNd flicKed it off my sHoulder.


oR sO sHe sAys..-




Friday 14 September 2007 ;
23:35
hAppy bIrthdAy bUddY!



M.Y, bUddy aNd mE



aGain..



bIrthdAy bOy, winstOn anD cAlvin



aGain..



uS..


oR sO sHe sAys..-




;
10:14
Handwriting Analysis

What does your handwriting say about YOU?

The results of your analysis say:

You plan ahead, and are interested in beauty, design, outward appearance, and symmetry.
You are a shy, idealistic person who does not find it easy to have relationships, especially intimate ones.
You are negative, fearful, resistant, doubtful, and/or selfish.
You are a talkative person, maybe even a busybody!
You enjoy life in your own way and do not depend on the opinions of others.

.
..
...
..
.

iS it aCcuratE? fUnny leh.. aFter a cOnversaTion w a fRen laSt nIght i rEalised i dUnnO myseLF as wEll as i tOt i did aFterall..

"yOur tRue self is yOur gRoup sElf" - Mary Parker Follet


oR sO sHe sAys..-




Thursday 13 September 2007 ;
09:51

也许已经明白,只是不敢承认。。 因为如果我承认它的存在,我就会放弃。。



放弃相信。。


oR sO sHe sAys..-




Wednesday 12 September 2007 ;
23:37


tHis phOto has a tIttle.. its cAlled "tEmptations"..


wInstOn, tHis stOry is nOt sAd.. :p


Husband Mart

A store that sells husbands has just opened in Ottawa where a woman may go to choose a husband from among many men. The store is comprised of 6 floors, and the men increase in positive attributes as the shopper ascends the flights.

There is, however, a catch. As you open the door to any floor you may choose a man from that floor, but if you go up a floor, you cannot go back down except to exit the building.

So a woman goes to the shopping center to find a husband. On the first floor the sign on the door reads:

Floor 1 - These men have jobs.

The woman reads the sign and says to herself, "Well, that's better than my last boyfriend, but I wonder what's further up?"

So up she goes.

The second floor sign reads:

Floor 2 - These men have jobs and love, kids.

The woman remarks to herself, "That's great, but I wonder what's further up?" And up she goes again.

The third floor sign reads:

Floor 3 - These men have jobs, love kids and are extremely good looking.

"Hmmm, better" she says. "But I wonder what's upstairs?"

The fourth floor sign reads:

Floor 4 - These men have jobs, love kids, are extremely good looking and help with the housework.

"Wow!" exclaims the woman, "very tempting. BUT, there must be more further up!" And again she heads up another flight.

The fifth floor sign reads:

Floor 5 - These men have jobs, love kids, are extremely good looking, help with the housework and have a strong romantic streak. "Oh, mercy me! But just think. What must be awaiting me further on?"

So up to the sixth floor she goes.

The sixth floor sign reads:

Floor 6 - You are visitor 3,456,789,012 to this floor. There are no men on this floor. This floor exists solely as proof that women are impossible to please. Thank you for shopping Husband Mart and have a nice day!


.
..
...
..
.

BtW, i knOw wHy oUr WIL proj's cAse sTudy is cAlled Amadeus Resort.. cOs tHe resOrt is of tHe claSSical eRa aNd is mOzarT tHemed (watever that means).. aNd mOzart's middle naMe is Amadeus.. -_-" sIgh.. cReativitY, RMIT... CREATIVITY!


oR sO sHe sAys..-




Monday 10 September 2007 ;
22:07

i bUmped iNtO saM tOday.. it wAs a pLeasAnt sUrprISe.. itS bEen yEars..
.
.
.
.
.
.
eNuf sAid.


oR sO sHe sAys..-




Saturday 8 September 2007 ;
21:25
duN undErstAnd..
duN undErstAnd..
duN undErstAnd..
duN undErstAnd..
duN undErstAnd..

*shaKEs hEad*

iTS beEn sO sO sO sO sO long.. bUt.. i sTill dUn undersTand..

duN undErstAnd..
duN undErstAnd..
duN undErstAnd..
duN undErstAnd..
duN undErstAnd..

.
..
...
..
.

its tIme i gIve up tRying tO undeRstand aNd jUst accEpt.. liKe wHat Tim aLways aSk me "你要懂这么多做什么?" :( 做什么? i aLSo dUnnO.. i jUst wANt tO kNow..


wHy? :(


oR sO sHe sAys..-




Friday 7 September 2007 ;
17:16

i dUn like tHe waY tHings are gOing.. bUt tHis tIme i'M nOt gOing tO dO anything.. i wAn tO see if it maKes a dIfference tO the oUtcome.. pArt of me hOpes tHat my hypotHesis will be prOven riGht.. (eVen thou i dUn like it).. bUt aT the sAme tIme, i hoPe thAt my pessImistic hYpotHesis will gEt bOoted oUt of my systeM onCE aNd fOr all.. sOmetimes its nOt the actIon or inaCtion tHat gEts u.. its tHe dIsappointment in mankinD in gEneral.. if mY hypotHesis gEts prOven riGht AGAIN, tHAts it.. tHats rEally all the dIsappoinTment i cAn haNdle.. sIgh..
lEt tIme tEll its sTory.. 我想看。。看一切怎么收场。。

.
..
.
PUPPIES FOR SALE
A man was putting up a sign "Puppies for Sale," and before he had driven the last nail, there was a small boy standing by his side. That kind of sign seems to attract small boys. The youngster wanted to know how much the puppies were going to cost. The man told him that they were very good dogs, and he did not expect to let any of them go for less than $35 or $40. There was a look of disappointment and then a question:

"I've got $2.37. Could I look at them?"

The man whistled and called, "Lady." And out of the kennel and down the runway came Lady followed by four or five little balls of fur with one lagging considerably behind.

The boy spotted the laggard and, pointing, asked, "What's wrong with him?" The reply was that the veterinarian had said that there was no hip socket in the right hip, and that dog would always be lame.

The boy's immediate rejoinder was, "That's the one I want to buy. I'll give you $2.37 down, and fifty cents a month until I get him paid for."

The man smiled and shook his head. "That's not the dog you want. That dog will never be able to run and jump and play with you."

The boy very matter-of-factly pulled up his trouser leg and revealed a brace running up both sides of his badly twisted right leg and over the foot, with a leather cap over the knee. "I don't run so well myself," he said, "and he'll need someone that understands him."

.
..
...
..
.
gUess we're all lOoking fOr someone wHo'll understanD us.. unDerstAnd oUr decisions in life.. undersTand our dReams.. oUr hOpes.. oUr wANts aNd our dIslikeS.. undErstAnd and acCept.. juSt tHat.. its mOre thAn enOugh..

幸福提示 15: 忙得晕头转向,什么也不去想,原来也是一种幸福。。


oR sO sHe sAys..-




Thursday 6 September 2007 ;
00:06
I haVE tO admiT, i lOve Audrey's sTory (aS aLwayS).. here gOes:


On a bright and sunny day, John hooked up with Tim who was gay.
At first they were shy even to touch, until they realised that otherpeople's opinions didn't matter much. Queers like them would always
draw stares and whispers of disapproval, in a country where
homosexuality meets with legal reproval. First the days turned into weeks, then the weeks turned into months.
When finally, the months turned into years, they no longer looked at
the moral police with fear. John thought it was time to get hitched,but when he proposed, Tim was hesitant and acted like a bitch. John
got really mad and forcibly had his own wicked way with Tim. When he
was done they were both covered in sweat. Luckily for him, Tim said it
was it best he'd ever had! So the next day they got married at the nearest registrar. Although
homophobic groups jeered and booed, the marriage they did not mar. For
the two were truly in love, and believed in each other's worth.
Curious strangers followed them home, they wouldn't let the lovebirds
alone. As Tim secured the door with a big lock, his thoughts were
focused on John's big c***. John and Tim made love all night, when it ended both were quivering in delight. Suddenly the door gave a shudder, the crowded outside shouted louder, "Let us kill these two deviant gays! They have sick and
perverted ways!" The door had held up all night and the couple weren't
about to give in without a fight. They found the best weapons thatthey could, two table legs of wood. But when the crowd finally broke
through, there was nothing they could do. The two men were utterly
overwhelmed by the mob that was morally impelled. Do you ask why there always sad ends to happy tales? Or do you think
of homosexuals as social ills? Consider the mangled mess on the floor:
the bodies of John and Tim covered in blood and gore. Do their bodies
invoke your pity? Or do you condemn their immorality?


oR sO sHe sAys..-




Monday 3 September 2007 ;
23:26


下次别让我等你! *hUgz*

sPent aLL my tUition $$ eArned oVer tHe wEekenDs in an hOur.. y? i wAs aT Funan.. finaNcial cal fOr me, heAdphOnes fOr bRo, mP3 plaYer fOr mUmmy.. fUnny hOw i cAn feel gUilty sPending on mYself bUt love sPending on mummY & bRo..

mUmmy "bUt my bdAe is sTill a lOng tIme aWay.."
mE "i'm uR dAughtER! dO i neeD a rEason tO gIve mY mumMy sTuff?"

uNcle YL tOld me wIshes/prAyers maDe at fUnerals aRE bOund tO come tRue.. i dIdn reaLLy believe bUT nO harM tRying.. sO i maDe a wIsh.. jUSt one.. cOs i dUn wan tO be gReedy.. aNd its cOming tRue.. :) i'm sO haPpy.. tHey tAlked mOre, qUarelled lEss.. acTually iN a r/sp, if cRacks apPear, bOth parTies aRe at fAult.. its jUSt a maTter of prOportion.. wHo's fAult is gReater.. bUT tHen, wHen cRacks appear, isN it pOintless tO pOint fingERs? (pUn unintended) 要求少一点,快乐就显得来得很简单。。他们这样,我已经很开心了。。
.
..
...
..
.
还是那句话。。是真心也好,假意也好。。Let tIme tEll its sTory.. 我想看。。看一切怎么收场。。wiLl it haVE a haPpy or sAd ending? cAn it be a haPpy one tHis tIme?


oR sO sHe sAys..-




Sunday 2 September 2007 ;
21:24


mY sTudentS aRE sUch dArlingS!!! eSp tHe yOungER oNes.. oNe mSged me sAying sHe haS a sUrprIse fOr me.. aNd wHen i gOt thERe, *sUrPriSe!!!* sHe haD hER rOom dEcorAted fOr tEachers' dAy!!! bAlloons, sTreaMers... tHe wOrks.. oMg.. pERsonalised mSges oN tHe baLLoons tOo.. aWw~~ cHocolaTes in thE middle oF tHe leSson, cAkes tOo.. i fEel sO pampEred.. tEachers livE fOr tHis dAy man.. (aNd sEeing tHeir As :D) acTually wHat tOuched me tHe moSt haD nOthing tO dO w teAchers' dAY.. oNe sTudent wHom i've beEn teAching fOr 2yrS+ aSked me fOr advIce on cHoosing heR sUbjeCt combi fOr seC 3.. sHE listEned intenTly tO my eVery wOrd aNd at tHe end of thE dIscussion, sHe reveAled tHat she haSn consUlted aNyone elSe's opinIons yEt.. sHe wAs gIven tHe lisT of opTions a feW dAys aGo bUt sHe wanTed tO dIscuss w mE 1St.. i feLt sO honoured.. :p

i'Ve beeN feeling prEtty usEless sInce i'vE sTopped vOlunteering eArly tHis yr.. pErphaPs we all maKe a dIf tO pple aRound us.. i dUn haVe tO gO faR tO heLp maKe a dIf..

itS nOt tHe gIfts tHat maTTer.. wHat maTters is kNowing i've heLped bOosT tHeir confIdence in fAcing tHe sUbjects tHey fEAr mOst.. aNy wOnder wHy 1/2 my sTudents aRE N(A) sTudents aNd nOne of tHem arE fr "fAmous" sChs? i liKe it tHis wAy.



if you wonder off too far, my love will get you home
if you follow the wrong star, my love will get you home

if you ever find yourself lost and all alone, get back on your feet and think of me.. my love will get you home.. boy ,my love will get you home

if the bright lights blind your eyes, my love will get you home
if your troubles break your stride, my love will get you home

if you ever find yourself lost and all alone, get back on your feet and think of me.. my love will get you home.. boy, my love will get you home

if you ever feel ashamed, my love will get you home
if there's only you to blame my love will get you home

if you ever find yourself lost and all alone, get back on your feet and think of me my love will get you home.. boy, my love will get you home

if you ever find yourself lost and all alone, get back on your feet and think of me my love will get you home.. boy, my love will get you home

my love will get you home, boy my love will get you home

是真心也好,假意也好,我盖着耳朵,闭着眼。。 我还需要一些时间。。


oR sO sHe sAys..-




Saturday 1 September 2007 ;
21:32

I'm Sorry, I Shouldn't Have Lied

Jenny was so happy about the house they had found. For once in her life that was on the right side of town. She unpacked her things with such great ease. As she watched her new curtains blow in the breeze. How wonderful it was to have her own room. School would be starting, she would have friends over soon. There will be sleep-overs, and parties. She was so happy. It's just the way she wanted her life to be.

On the first day of school, everything went great. She made new friends and even got a date! She thought, "I want to be popular and I'm going to be, because I just got a date with the star of the team!" To be known in this school you had to have a clout, and dating this guy would sure help her out. There was only one problem stopping her fate. Her parents had said she was too young to date. "Well I just won't tell them the entire truth. They won't know the difference. What's there to lose?"

Jenny asked to stay with her friends that night. Her parents frowned but said, "All right." Excited, she got ready for the big event. But as she rushed around like she had no sense, she began to feel guilty about all the lies, but what's a pizza, a party, and a moonlight ride? Well the pizza was good, and the party was great, and the moonlight ride would have to wait, for Jeff was half drunk by this time.

But he kissed her and said that he was just fine. Then the room filled with smoked and Jeff took a puff. Jenny couldn't believe he was smoking that stuff. Now Jeff was ready to ride to the point, but only after he'd smoked another joint.

They jumped in the car for the moonlight ride, not thinking that he was too drunk to drive. They finally made it to the point at last, and Jeff started trying to make a pass. A pass is not what Jenny wanted at all (and by a pass, I don't mean playing football.) "Perhaps my parents were right. Maybe I am too young. Boy, how could I ever, ever be so dumb?" With all of her might, she pushed Jeff away, "Please take me home, I don't want to stay."

Jeff cranked up the engine and floored the gas. In a matter of seconds they were going too fast. As Jeff drove on in a fit of wild anger, Jenny knew that her life was in danger. She begged and pleaded for him to slow down, but he just got faster as they neared the town. "Just let me get home! I'll confess that I lied. I really went out for a moonlight ride."

Then all of a sudden, she saw a big flash. "Oh God, Please help us! We're going to crash!" She doesn't remember the force of impact. Just that everything all of a sudden went black. She felt someone remove her from the twisted rubble, and heard, "Call an ambulance! These kids are in trouble!" Voices she heard, a few words at best. But she knew there were two cars involved in the wreck.

Then wondered to herself if Jeff was all right, and if the people in the other car was alive. She awoke in the hospital to faces so sad. "You've been in a wreck and it looks pretty bad." These voices echoed inside her head, as they gently told her that Jeff was dead. They said "Jenny, we've done all we can do. But it looks as if we'll lose you too." "But the people in the other car?" Jenny cried. "We're sorry, Jenny, they also died."

Jenny prayed, "God, forgive me for what I've done. I only wanted to have just one night of fun." "Tell those people's family, I've made their lives dim, and wish I could return their families to them." "Tell Mom and Dad I'm sorry I lied, and that it's my fault so many have died. Oh, nurse, won't you please tell them that for me?"

The nurse just stood there. She never agreed. But took Jenny's hand with tears in her eyes. And a few moments later Jenny died. A man asked the nurse, "Why didn't you do your best to bid that girl her one last request?" She looked at the man with eyes so sad. "Because the people in the other car were her mom and dad."
.
..
...
..
.
nEed a hOlidAy baDly.. bAdly..
.
..
...
..
.
和以前一样,一遇到想不通的事,又想逃。。 逃离这烦人的城市,琐碎的一切,想不通的人,事,物。 逃到一个完全陌生的地方。。从新开始。。 “改变你所不能接受的,接受你所不能改变的。” 我应该学着去做。 sUpergIrl 不会选择逃避。。 对吗? :)


oR sO sHe sAys..-