My former students rave about the TV show Glee. Many of my adult friends rave about Glee. And I just can’t get behind it. I usually end up being a party-pooper because we don’t have TV, and thus I don’t see that one commercial, or that LAST AT-THE-BUZZER FIELD GOAL, or I miss that bare-it-all interview.

This time, I’m going to be a party-pooper because I don’t think I can stand the concept or watching it be played out in front of me again.

High school was a pretty miserable time for me. I moved three times, requiring me to attend three high schools in three different states. Two of them were high-powered academic machines… and the last one wasn’t. The counselor at the last school laughed at me when I showed him my class plan for my junior and senior years, sprinkled with a total of six AP classes. “Oh, you’re going to have to revise that,” he said. “We only have one AP class here.” (I ended up forcing them to let me take my world language class as AP, which they then turned around and used in their district promotional materials in a very twisted way.)  I was smart as hell, but paid dearly for letting my geeky side shine. By the time I got to my junior year, I gave up on the appearance of propriety and embraced my intelligence, outspokenness, and drive. I had no history, and it was far more entertaining to outshine and shock the bumpkins than it was to take the move with stoicism.  I joined the academic team, becoming the only girl to play varsity squad during my two-year stint.  I was on the drumline and became its section leader, getting the rest of the drumline chewed out in front of the band because I took initiative and tried out for district and regional bands, and because I stepped it up and they wouldn’t make the effort to match. I excelled in physics (though for the life of me, I don’t know how), world language, and English.  And the student body just kind of watched in shock as I did all that, and then the shock turned to sour grapes because, really, who was that new girl who came in and took over, when THEY by rights should have had all those accolades? (Another girl in my class who also happened to be in drumline came in one day and said, “Hey, I didn’t know that your dad [worked in a certain capacity in a local health facility].” “Yeah.” “Why didn’t you say anything about it?” “It’s not relevant to anything that has ever come up in band or in conversation.” “Oh. Well, see, if you had mentioned it earlier, I would have been SO much nicer to you earlier!” Seriously. That was an amazing moment.)

When I taught, I had plenty of the “in crowd” in my classes. They sneered at other students when we shared a joke about a sci-fi movie or TV series that we both happened to enjoy. I didn’t teach traditionally, so my assignments were “stupid and useless.” They lorded their special status over other students and teachers, as did some of their parents. When I challenged them, they walked off and laughed… or they went to administration and told them I was not being fair.

So watching a TV show about the geeks who get smacked down and teased by the popular “in” crowd for their passion and outsider status? Not something I care to relive, even if they do have catchy music.

AM exactly one year ago.
I never knew that would be the moment to totally turn my life around. I never knew at that point I could still have someone walk into my life and make me see things in a completely different way. It’s true I’ve still got you on my mind when I shouldn’t be and I’m slowly ushering you out but I want it to be real this time. When you told me it was time for me to move on, I felt like it should be time for you to move on too. I’m not gonna lead you on. You’re my friend, you’re my best friend, you’re my best bear friend (haha) and today stands as the living testimony that even after a whole year of complete ups and downs and 180 degree turns, that two people can still be friends and I can still recognize the day exactly one  year ago when your voice first came through that receiver. I still remember it so clearly..

I could remember that for weeks after I first heard your voice, I could never recognize it. I mean I could tell it was you when I talked to you on the phone but it’s like when you hang up on someone and one minute later you forget what they sound like. Haha, I don’t think I’ve ever told you before. But well, little did I know that one day I would miss hearing that voice and every minute away I could still replay your last words in my head.

That’s just a little anecdote that I’ll always remember. And I know I told you already but to be honest, I didn’t think you would remember what the day was. I also remember wanting to drop some kind of hint like you know talking out loud and asking myself what tomorrow would be so you would answer “December First” and instantly remind yourself that today was is special. Anyway, I don’t want to think of today as anything more than a year since we became friends, well that doesn’t sound right either since we were friends beforehand but I guess not close so technically that makes today the one year anniversary of when we became “best bear friends”, haha I really like that. Thanks for always being there for me, and just because we aren’t and won’t be officially or non-officially dating anymore, I’d like you to know that I’ll alwaysalwaysalways be here for you if you ever need anyone to talk to or to you know if you ever need anyone to go all the way to other side of the world to see you and stuff. =)

Sincerely,
Sarena.

A random post to an online forum I frequent jolted into memory a fact that I hadn’t considered before today…

I’ve been online for 15 years.

That’s almost as long as the World Wide Web itself has been around.

I bought my first computer way back in 1988, with a chunk of my original Jeopardy! winnings. This wonderful addition was an Apple Macintosh Plus, equipped with what seemed at the time like almost unlimited memory — a full megabyte of internal RAM, supplemented by an outboard hard drive boasting 20 (yes, 20!) MB. Heck, on my current Windows Vista-powered Dell notebook, a single keystroke exhausts 20 MB. (I’m exaggerating, but not by much.) But back in the day, that kind of juice meant I was living large in the cybernetic age.

Even more bizarre, I equipped that microscopically brained Mac with a slightly used floor-demo laser printer that cost more than all the computer hardware I’ve purchased in the 20 years since. Combined.

My Mac Plus and I chugged along happily together for six years, blissful in our word-processing glory. Then, in 1994, I started hearing about some newfangled “Internet” thing, and this “World Wide Web” that made it accessible to the common man. So, being about as common as men come, I invested in a fancy new Mac that not only possessed scads more computing power than my charming old relic, but even came with a color (!) monitor. Best of all, by connecting a snazzy dialup modem, I could launch myself out onto the WWW and communicate with folks near and far.

Talk about living large.

At the time, Apple offered its own self-branded online service for Mac users only, known as eWorld. I was, I’m fairly certain, one of the original handful of eWorld subscribers, joining shortly after the service went live in the summer of ‘94. When eWorld debuted, it featured a quaint graphic interface that collected all of the possible online destinations under a handful of category umbrellas, organized to make the Internet feel like a global village.

Newsstand enabled one to connect with news and sports resources. What few e-commerce sites existed then were grouped under Marketplace. Such nexuses as Arts and Leisure Pavilion, Business and Finance Plaza, and Learning Center collected other types of sites. Computer Center offered Mac technical support. Community Center was eWorld’s native aggregation of forums and bulletin boards. If you couldn’t figure out where to go or what to do, you tapped the Info Booth icon.

Navigating eWorld was clunky and far from intuitive. in those halcyon days, though, one thrilled at the mere notion of linking to a world of information with a few clicks of a (single-button) mouse.

Frankly, there never was more than a smattering of citizens populating eWorld. That explains why Apple pulled the plug on the service less than two years later, fobbing us loyalists off on then-nascent America Online. In March 1996, my electronic address changed overnight from my very first, SwanShadow-at-eWorld-dot-com, to the somehow less cool-sounding SwanShadow-at-AOL-dot-com. (I imagine that latter e-dress is probably still extant, even though I haven’t accessed it in a half-decade or more.)

Without question, I’ve seen incredible change along the information superhighway over the last 15 years. It’s faster, infinitely more diverse, and innumerable ways exist to find what you’re searching for.

It’s just hard to believe I’ve been out here in the ether this long.

“Graduation Countdown” is a series of personal posts about my thoughts and feelings in regard to my upcoming graduation from college. This is the second installment.

time is precious right now. i have three weeks until i graduate. this is crazy. it’s overwhelming. i don’t know what to do about it. i don’t know how to respond to this situation. i don’t know how to feel or what to think. do i cry? do i smile? do i scream? do i go out and do a bunch of crazy things while i’m still a college student? i’m trying to use my time wisely. i’m trying not to waste it. but i don’t know what that means. i don’t know what that entails. what do i do?

today i went for a walk. i wish i could spend this time sharing it with all the friends i’ve made over my college years, but that would be impossible. i have no one here to share it with me. i’m alone. facing my past and regrets and facing my future and uncertainty. alone. i guess that’s part of the reason i don’t know what to do. i wish i had somebody here to share this brief period of time with. this fragile, emotion-packed, short-lived period in between the pseudo college world and the real one.

but i don’t. it’s just me. alone with all of these things swirling about my head. there are a lot of people in the world that i’m sure have never been as alone as i have been this semester. there are a lot of people who aren’t comfortable with the silence. the solitude. the itch your skin starts to get when you feel so uncomfortable inside of it. but here i sit. night after night.

anyway.

today i went for a walk. i heard loud noises. like an announcer and a crowd and some music. and i’ve learned it’s always best to walk towards such sounds on a college campus. on previous occasions, it’s lead to outstanding concerts and memorable moments with friends. today it lead to a football game. all by myself. i didn’t have my wallet or my ID with me, so i sat on top of a hill outside the stadium and half-way watched the game. more so, i watched the people around me. middle aged adults walking by all decked out in dawg gear.

i wondered if they had found some kind of sense of community, belonging, or meaning here that i missed that compelled them to come back all dressed in maroon. did it feel good to come back? or did it feel sad? did they feel anything at all about this place when they were my age? or did they feel the emptiness i’m feeling now? are they trying to fill that emptiness years later with expensive logo sweatshirts? or has time filled that emptiness with a nostalgia and rose tint i have yet to understand?

when i think about it, i’ve been in in this town for one year and six months all together. that’s 18 months total. in the grand scheme of things, that’s really not a long time at all. i’m digging through the sand in the back of my mind and trying to scrape out some sense of presence. some memories. some fulfillment. some purpose. but it’s all just sand slipping through my fingers. i can’t seem to grasp anything at all. i hate that.

i should have written more. i should have done more. i should have climbed further out of my shell. things to keep in mind for the future, i guess.

anger. loneliness. cynicism.
things that slip out whenever i write.

Sometimes, little flecks of your childhood memories will float pass you. There are always little things that reminds you of those lost memories. All these sweet memories are slowly fading away as age catches up with you and I decided to try and retain some here. Here goes:

1) Operation

When I about 3 – 4 years old, my parents just bought a double decker bed. So long story short is that I decided to bounce on the new bed, I fell and cut my chin. I remember the bright lights as I the doctor sew up the wound. I still have the very faint scar there now.

2) 1 dollar

When we were travelling to places as a family, my dad will always ask calculation questions and give me a dollar when I am right. And 1 dollar is alot when you were a kid.

3) The center of the car

Another memory was that when my sisters used to be around, my big sis will always fight to sit in the center because if not, “she will vomit”. and my 2nd sis will try to put a valiant fight because she wants to irritate my sister. Me? I was the quiet and often bullied little brother who just sat at the side.

4) Monkeybar

Playing at the zoo playground, falling down and I couldnt breath for a while. gave my mother a heart attack.

5)Tricycle

Remembered crying when my uncle removed my tricycle extra wheels so that it became a bicycle.

6)Penny the First

Before Twinkle, I had 3 dogs. 2 Pomeranian (both named Penny) and another German Schnauzer called Bear.  Only Penny the Second died of old age and the other 2 dogs ran away. Bear was always horny and running out to get some action. Penny the first was actually a very smart and obedient dog. What happened was that my mom and I went to the market together, Penny jumped into the car with us and we thought it was alright because Penny was very obedient. Next thing I knew at the market, he ran out and was forever gone.

7)Kindergarten Love

Remembered liking this girl named Josephine when I was in Kindergarten. And she din like me. like I try to sit beside her and she will sit somewhere else.  As I grew older, my sister always teased me about Josephine as they were in the same school.

     Thanksgiving is usually viewed as a warm holiday, where family and close friends get together, share a nice meal  and talk about the many blessings in their lives.  In many cases, someone is working extra hard that day to make it a special day for all who come to share that time with them.  The list of cooking, setting up the table,  and getting the home ready goes on and on.  By the end of the day those hard working individuals usually collapse, totally out of steam.  I fall somewhere in that discription. 

 While working yesterday, many times I had thoughts of passed Thanksgivings as a child.  Where my Mother and Grandmother spent several days in the kitchen gearing up for the big meal. Or as I got older, my Mother in law, worked extra hard to make it a special occasion.  All of these dear women  are no longer with us today,  and my heart feels sad .  Their lives had many positive examples to follow. 

It is today, the day after thanksgiving, that I feel an unusually heavy heart.  A feeling that I know is only natural, and I am sure I am not alone.  I wish you peace, each of you who may feel heavy in heart today.  

Shannon

One ceases to recognize the significance of mountain peaks if they are not viewed occasionally from the deepest valleys.
   

 Quote by:  Dr. Al Lorin

friday.

cheese and crackers and a silent house.

deadlines conquered and spoken words done.

hardest decisions ever made. concluded.

deals struck, feet hurt.

running against the clock’s awkward march towards forever.

and i sit.

i look at my friends upon my screen, my family in their frame.

my foot aimlessly kicks a soccer ball left under my desk by my daughter.

my phone buzzes with another text from someone special.

my kettle boils itself again and my iTunes flips over to my favourite song.

i think of my mum on the phone this afternoon smiling so widely and calling me by my family nickname.

my mind wanders back to a time in my life when i didn’t know who i was and i left that up to other people decide.

they told me they knew best for me, after all.

i grin and know how very wrong they were. how very wrong they still are.

the best for me? the best for Cam?

is this life. this divine, sad and you-have-to-lose-to-win-somewhere, life.

i’m thankful for the people who believe in me when i cannot believe in myself.

i’m thankful for the warmest hugs and the brightest smiles.

i’m grateful for the criticisms, given in respect.

and i’m thankful for the courage to continue.

i am at peace with the past.

i love the way the future dances for me.

i love the way it asks me how i’d like to join in.

my divine friends.  they have a hard time being objective. because of their love for me. but heaven help anyone who steps in my path, because they’ll knock them to the floor faster than a broom kicked over.

my beautiful daughter. her effervescent joy for life. her all-encompassing love for the flowers. the joy in her face when she sees me. our morning hide and seek game.

my you’re-all-fucking-mad-but-i-love-you family. with their joking jibes and concentrated concern.

my beaming nieces. Aunty Caff, they call me. their little kisses on my cheek.

and when you said…

when you said, all those years ago…

“you’ll never make anything of the life you’ve been given because you won’t give your life you”…

you were right, you know.

so i did.

how glaringly right you were. i miss you my friend. you and your fits of rage at me, and the laughing. the shifting of feet.

today is 12 years since you left us.

i am forever thankful for your presence in my life at that formative time.

i am forever thankful that i have continued to sing so very badly, at the top of my voice, even when it hurts other people’s ears.

how you would laugh now. how you would look at the slipstream and say “i’d say i told you so, but, you know i don’t say that to you”.

how you would berate me for so many tattoos yet, still come with me for the next one.

how you would have phoned me up, demanded coffee and left your gigantic shoes on the floor whilst we went and played our very own “crapcricket” and used it as an excuse to rile each other up.

how we would have cried for each other’s pain.

how you would have said “i’m sorry that people fail you. you don’t fail them”

how you would tell me to slow down and then shock me into speeding up.

how we would have said “FTW!” and not meant For The Win.

you’d ask after my mother and demand we go and see her and check on the cats.

i’d make you promise not to dominate the conversation.

and you’d listen to her speak.

how you would swing Cameron around and ask her if you could come to her year-end concert to watch her sing.

how our children..even though yours are older than Cameron..would play and we would laugh at how mine is probably the best disciplined.

and i would smile.

i would smile because you would be in my home again and there would be a grin wider than the sky at my door.

you are missed my friend. You are never forgotten.

In every moment.

In dark nights, and bright celebrations.

You are never forgotten

I am forever thankful for every day.

JM – gone  12 years. always with me.

I’ve been accused of a lot of things by those who know me and those who pretend to and even by strangers whom I have never met. Like most folks, I’d like to think of myself as someone having a certain amount of depth. There is the occasional thought that goes beyond mere survival, searching for deeper meaning, but for the most part I’m just a simple asshole that enjoys a good beer, foggy mornings, and saying what he damn well pleases. Sometimes I offend. Sometimes that is when freedom of speech is the most rewarding.

I like to provoke thought, even if the thought is just a reaction, such as, “P.R., you are the most ignorant weed on the planet.” I just want real conversation once in a while, not just the distraction of the superficial circus that has been imposed around us by Disney and the thirteen bloodline’s that pull his strings. A little coffee, with whiskey, or just a beer on a back porch, watching the day go by. I just want to go back to the days when we knew each other, instead of pretending to and there wasn’t doom looming over every horizon because some one let the monkeys out on a day pass at the capital.

I’ve had my sanity questioned. (Ah, yes, I remember sanity, that was a good day.) I question it on a daily basis, let alone what is being thought by the people who know me and even the ones who don’t. Then I look at “people” piped to me through the filter of the television and media and I go back to drinking knowing that the white coats have a lot of work to do before they get to me.

Remember the days when only the important news made it to you in the same day that it happened? Everything else you could read in the paper in the next day or two. And when did anything a celebrity do, other than making a new movie, become “news” worthy? The fact that Ashton Kutcher obtained a million twitter followers is only “news” in the fact that it lets us know the white coats are falling behind on the job. I see the tabloids in the checkout aisle, while I wait to purchase my beer, coffee, red bell peppers, shotgun shells, and a six-pack of socks, and apparently Jen and Angelina still don’t like each. Every rag has the same three stories that they have beaten to death, revived and beaten to death again. I think back to my sanity and figure, I must not be too bad off. I might be an old sot, but at least I’m not the unhappy fools on the covers of this trash, or the poor talentless hacks that write this dribble, or lonely, lifeless, prozac poppers that lay down their money to do more than gaze in disbelief at the cover as they wait. Then I smile, make a joke the cashier only looks strangely at me for, and head back to my nut-house before anyone notices I’m gone.

It’s a rant, what more do you want?

P.R. Knuhob

It’s been three nights in a row now, that I’ve stayed up till dawn reading an entire book per night. I know I can’t keep this rhythm going for long, but I like it. Reading for what seems like 8 hours straight. Exhausted, but finally willing to go to sleep, because I no longer have to know what happens next. It reminds me of being twelve years old again. 

I was born in 1942, a time when bombs were falling, and men, women and children were dying all across the world. Britain and her Commonwealth Countries had stood against the might of Adolf Hitler and his strutting Nazi ‘Ubermenschen’ who stormed across Europe. The Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbour eleven months before, bringing the United States into the war.

When I came into the world, the first Allied Invasion of occupied territory, Operation Torch, took place in North Africa where Rommel was close to defeat at the hands of The Eighth Army under General Montgomery. At the time no-one knew how important the allied invasion on the 6th of June 1944 would be, and that it would spell the ‘beginning of the end’ for Hitler and his cronies.

During the war years life in Britain was hard. Mothers got used to seeing their beloved sons head for the front-line as they became old enough for conscription. Their husbands had long since joined the fight. Many a young wife said a tearful goodbye to new husbands, never knowing if they would ever see them again.

The dreaded telegram would be receieved by many, informing them their husband or son had been killed in action, bringing with it grief and despair.

Everything was rationed; food, petrol, even clothes due to the shortages caused by the ceasless dirty war in the Atlantic between the British Merchant Fleet, The Royal Navy and the German U-Boats. The British people took it all with their usual stoicism, determined not to let ‘Herr Hitler’ have his way.

It was to be another 3 years before peace came to the world after the final defeat of Germany and Japan. At the time I knew nothing of this for I was but a baby.

In the aftermath of World War Two, Britain like many other nations started to rebuild. The houses and factories destroyed by german bombs were rebuilt, and families got used to the empty chair at the dining table. As always, life went on. Women became a more common sight in the factories and mills as they replaced the ‘missing’ men in the work force. During the war years they had become accustomed to doing what was then men’s work, because the men were all away fighting.

The post-war years also saw the beginning of the breakup of the British Empire starting with India gaining full independance in 1947. Not that I cared at the age of five.

In June 1950, when I was only seven years old, North Korea invaded the South after the failure of unification talks. Once more England sent troops to fight in a war, but this time under the auspices of the United Nations.

This one, unlike the last, was not felt in England as it was far away on the other side of the world. The main priority at home was rebuilding the economy.

People did not travel far to go on holiday in them days, it was long before the arrival of package holidays to Spain. Just like all the other folks of the period, our family summer holidays were spent on day trips, or if we were lucky a week, to the coast.

I have memories of a great holiday at Butlins Holiday Camp in Filey on Englands east coast. It was I believe the first of a new kind of holiday centre where people lived in chalets on the site and took part in organized activities during the day.

During my school days life was hard, and the national curriculum was tough and extremely varied. Among the standard subjects, I had classes on religion, history and geography which have since all been dropped by the Ministry of Education as being ‘unnecessary’. Religion taught me right from wrong and morality, history taught me about the fine history and traditions of my country, and geography gave me knowledge of the world.

It is sad that today religion and history are no longer taught because it might upset the immigrants, and geography is no longer considered relevant. It is not surprising that young children today have no morals, no patriotism, or any idea of the rich history of our past, and couldn’t even tell you the capitol of Turkey!

Life was so much different then compared with today. If you went shopping for breakfast cereal shall we say, you went to the local shop and had the choice of perhaps weetabix, cornflakes and porridge oats.

Today in every supermarket you see people standing in front of a row of shelves 150ft long with four levels, containing perhaps 60 or 70 different cereals, many with different brands, trying to make up their mind which to buy. Why do we need ten different types of cornflakes?

When the supermarkets hit town, the first casualties were the pleasant local shops where you were always guaranteed friendly personal service. Many stayed open until 10 o’clock in the evening as a service to their customers. You were always guaranteed a warm welcome and many would, if you were a good customer, allow you things ‘on tick’, i.e. until your wages came in at the end of the week. It was common for the children to receive a free sweet or lollipop when they went in.

In those days people always appeared smart in public. No baggy jeans with holes in them, no england football shirts and trainers. All men wore a suit and tie when they went out. Some of the more ridiculous sights I see occasionally today is men going out in a suit and tie with trainers on their feet. Somehow it just doesn’t look right.

Family life is also something that has ceased to exist in modern times. When I was a child the whole family would sit around the table for the evening meal.  I have one brother and three sisters so naturally we needed a large table.

I remember my grandmother on my step-fathers side telling me they never locked their doors, even when they went away on holiday. Burglary, so prevelant today, was practically unheard of in the days after the war. People lived with bigger financial problems than they do today, but to steal from someone else was taboo. I believe this was due to people having more respect for each other, and knowing right from wrong.

In part this could be attributed to everyone being much more religious than they are today. The churches were full on Sundays, and many preachers could be likened to fire breathing dragons as they pumped out ‘The Message’.

I remember going to church with the family on Sunday during my early youth. As I got older we went less often, and eventually only for marriages and christenings. Such was the decline of the church. But I do not believe it is necessary to go the church every Sunday to be a good christian. Now of course, many churches have been closed and congregations are small, made up for the most part by old folks who are daily getting nearer to their God.

When I was a kid, to own a car was to be someone. You could buy a brand new car for £250, but few could afford this extravagance. Once we could afford a car, weekends were always spent together going on a trip to somewhere or other. Another item that entered homes slowly was the television. To have the first television in the street meant playing host to everyone.

There were no computers and Playstations in those far off days. We children made our own fun playing games with the other kids in the street. The boys often played played cowboys and indians while the girls enjoyed themselves with a skipping rope.

Before the arrival of the television it was normal for most folks to listen to the BBC on the radio. Dance-band music, classical concerts and the like were popular. The BBC also had many good serials like “The Archers’ which was faithfully followed by all, and discussed later in the pub over a pint.

In those far off days, crime rates were miniscule compared to today’s rampant figures. Justice was also seen to be done, and criminals got sentences that fitted the crime. Anyone who had been in prison did not offend again for fear of ending up back ‘inside’. Today prisons are more like 5 star hotels.

I witnessed the Cuban Crisis, the assasination of President Kennedy, the killing of his brother, and the first venture by man into space. I remember well the excitement surrounding the launch of Soyuz 1 by the Russians, and the American consternation that they had got so far ahead in ‘The Space Race’. It didn’t take long for the USA to catch up and surpass the Russian ‘first’ by sending men to the moon.

One of the great calamities of the last century must surely be the splitting of Europe after the Second World War by the Communist ‘Iron Curtain’. It cut off all of Eastern Europe from the West, and the people behind it were subjected to communist rule from Moscow. Secret police, spies, jails and gulags were the communist answer to western capitolism. Thankfully all that is behind us.

We live now in a utopia compared to life back then. Everyone has a TV and all the youth have computers, i-pods, mobiles and the like. There are often three or four cars to a family, and we all travel the world during our summer holidays. The question remains however; are people happier today than they were in my time? I think not. Life for us back then was simple and uncomplicated, and ‘stress’ was an unknown word.

There is a plentiful of everything to the extent we have become a ‘Throw Away’ society. The words ‘Quality’ and ‘Sale’ no longer have their original meaning. The majority of goods produced today are shoddy by yesterdays standards because back then things were made to last. That is sadly no longer true. Shops have permanent ‘sales’, where if the word ‘discount’ were to be believed they would go out of business. But I guess thats progress, for me however it doesn’t compare with the old times. I guess I must be getting old!

May your tomorrows be better than your yesterdays.

Roy

Everybody is so excited Christmas is coming. Decorations have been hung around the office and I actually got my inspiration of my blog picture from one of the pictures staring right at me now. Thanks Phelicia! You really did made the office look nicer and I think you rock too.

Now since it is my blog, it is always about bitching anyway. So here goes.

I never really liked Christmas. I mean, I liked New Years because it signifies a brand new start (and another excuse to get drunk) and I like Chinese New Years because you get to see all your relatives (and get money in return). But Christmas? It is so man made and honestly in hot sweaty Singapore, only the retailers benefit in the end. You spent eons pondering over a gift which the person may not like and I guess you always get disappointed in the gift you get back in return. So, I do not like Christmas.

When I was younger, I remember that we use to have a mini christmas tree in which we decorate yearly and put presents below. Yet, all formalities have been thrown away and now we just cant be arsed. Christmas is only good for the holiday it brings. Now for Christmas, is when we get t shirts and underwears from relatives and sometimes good presents from your friends. Ok whine whine whine.

One of my distinct memory of Christmas was as such. My auntie and grandmother invited us to their place to eat turkey and such when I was about 7 years old. And I had never eaten turkey and the thought really excited me. My mother was overseas and it was only my dad and me. My dad was busy and he did not want to go at first. Being a spoilt brat that I am, I sulked and wrote that Christmas sucks at some white board or something around the house and my dad saw it. Next thing I knew, my dad brought me to my grandmother house to partake in the celebration.

2 lessons to learn from that day: my dad even though he can be difficult at times really do care for us and does give some leeway at times. The other lesson is that I dont really like turkey.

I always have a fascination with names, or rather the meaning. In it, you can know what are the parent’s (or whoever that named you) hopes and aspirations. This is especially true for chinese names in which it normally is a combination of 2 characters stating who you ought to be.

I was named by my grandfather (who has long passed on) who doted on my tremendously as I was his first grandson. He named me Wen Qing (To be studious and to celebrate) and in teochew, it is my name as it is now. One point to note is that my grandfather followed the family surname poem and all my male cousins all have the Qing word.

Later on, he told my mother he should have called me Wu Qing (warrior and celebrate) as it reflected my character more. This is current the name of my cousin Jason whose first name is Eng. Thank goodness I still have my name and I still like it.

When I was younger, I had a christian name but that was only explicitly used by my primary school tuition teacher. I dropped the name totally when someone else (or rather 2 – 3 ) ppl in my secondary class had that name because it is so common. When I was in JC, i toyed with the idea of having a westernised name and I actually settled on a few. These names reflected on who I want to be. Now, Im just happy with my name.

Another interesting story that I can share about names. For the women of my generation, their family surname poem character is Su. However, my grandfather was perplexed on why he did not have a male descendant after having three grand daughters. Furthermore, his family was a family of 5 boys and 1 girl. He consulted a fortune teller who advised him on that on the next female grand child to change the girl’s first name to Ai.

And hence I was borned. My 2nd sister has never ceased to remind me that i existed because of her.

So what does your name mean and what is your parents’ hopes on you?