Wasting your bandwidth since 1999
I think KY is right.
I only have one look for photographs.
:(
Actually that is what I look like most of the time.
This is the state of my face, I am not angry, I am not lansi, I am not sad, I am not grumpy, I am not moody, I am not emo… This is just what it is.
It’s quite funny sometimes that people suddenly get worried that they have offended me.
Nah, I can’t help what I look like, I can’t help it that I look like an unfriendly bitch.
Good to have it sometimes, keeps the creeps away :D
Today I am going to be anal and remind everyone their ‘P’s & Q’s.
The word PLEASE is used when you need someone to do you a favour, especially if the other person will not stand to gain anything from doing you the favour.
So instead of saying:
Pass me that bottle of water now.
Run to the shop and get me some ice.
Tell me what happened anyway.
You should really try saying:
Could you please pass me the bottle of water?
Could you please run to the shop and get me a packet of ice?
Could you please tell me what happened?
with a big ‘Thank You’ at the end.
These are to be used in everyday life, even in e-mails especially if you are talking to someone new, having never contacted them before, and would like to get them to help you with something.
Well for one, it would make me less pissed and I might actually do you the favour instead of telling you to go bug someone else.
(Yeah there’s a reason for this post, but Asian manners deterred me from divulging the full story.)
So says Prof. Michael Keren from the University of Calgary. According to this article (courtesy of ST):
[...] Michael Keren, who has written “Blogosphere: The New Political Arena,” suggests individuals who bare their souls in blogs are isolated and lonely, living in a virtual reality instead of forming real relationships or helping to change the world.“Bloggers think of themselves as rebels against mainstream society, but that rebellion is mostly confined to cyberspace, which makes blogging as melancholic and illusionary as Don Quixote tilting at windmills,” the author says.
I don’t know if I want to change the world, but as someone who owns a blog for x number of years, I find it very blah that people would write books about blogging.
“The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Blogging”, “Ultimate Guide to Blogging”, “Blogs Rocks: and other blogging delusions” etc with simplistic, overwhelmingly general bold statements such as the one uttered in CSI: Miami (or NY) not long ago; “Bloggers love to leave hidden messages in their blogs”, are utter crap.
Maybe 5 or 10 years down the road, yes feel free to write whatever psychological theories associated with blogging and how it has affected teens and their transition into adulthood and how bloggers *did* change the world, but right now, I *think* it’s a mash of rubbish, even when talking about blogs in the US and UK (and of course Canada).
Sure, the Internet has taken over many people’s lives; today I can’t imagine what it is to be without Internet connection (though I can go without Internet for a week), e-mail is so easy to use and plays an important role in communicating with lots of people that I normally wouldn’t contact, and websites and blogs give me an alternative view of the mainstream media, which is fabulous.
But I actually have a blog, and as for now I am comfortable enough to say this: there are no rules in blogging, not really anyway.
Feel free to read all the “Top Ten Blogging Mistakes” written by other bloggers. But if you are all right with your blog, what do you care what other people think? (obvious rip-off from a Feynman classic).
One of my favourite blogs, Demented Reality has a layout that I rather dislike. Yet I return to his blog every week (in high hopes that he would have updated). Michael Ooi writes on a blog that’s grey on black, which my eyes in their advancing years cannot take (hence I highlight whatever I’m reading, and so on and so forth). But he likes his blog, I like that he likes his blog, so what right do I have to comment on the template? Zero, nada, zilch.
If you are not looking to compete with the network of bloggers making $$ via blogs, and you feel comfortable with your blog, don’t change (since you are not likely to change the world anyway :P)
What about getting into trouble with the law, as Jeff and Rocky so recently exemplified? Apparently according to Jeff and Rocky, they have the right to write within jurisdiction of the law, and that includes writing and exposing NSTP’s flaws so obvious in their faces. Apparently according to NSTP, that’s defamation and they are within their rights to take action against defamation.
It is going to be a landmark case for bloggers and the blogosphere in Malaysia, but honestly speaking, I wouldn’t want either party to win. Don’t really feel like elaborating.
The only example I could associate with blogging is this: blogs are like cars. You double park your car somewhere, you get the summons, not the car.
(Cars have rules, that is for JPJ to deem it fit to be driven. Blogs on the other hand, if the html and css are not correct, then it would be published in a weird way, and would be un-read-able anyway. So, in this case, tak pass.)
That is why I quite tulan with people who have never driven a car before in their lives, bought one, pimp it up and exclaim to the world how hot it is to drive in the car. Wrote a manual on the car too.
Fuck, I am really deviating from the topic. Will continue tomorrow. Or something.
While I was sitting here merana-ing for a prosperity burger, I suddenly thought of food-at-odd-hours in the past. Or rather, the people who brought food to my doorstep at odd hours in the past. They were so great and I wish more people would emulate their nobility :P
Save the whales, feed the Suan.
I was… I don’t remember exactly, 14 at that time? Okay I was 14 years old, and I was the friend to this girl one year my junior. She was not really physically hot and I am not saying this out of jealousy, but she had a feminine, manja-ish appeal about her that drove some guys crazy.
Anyway she was seeing this guy and they ran into some problems and somehow or the other I ended up talking to him most of the time. They broke up not long after, she started seeing some other dudes, and he called me often. I don’t remember what we talked about — heck I don’t even remember what he looked like, but I do remember a feeling of pleasantness, a rather comfortable presence. I can’t recall his name to save my life, so let’s call him SS here.
Sometimes, maybe once or twice a week SS would come over my house on his motorbike bearing gifts of food and sometimes books and music tapes. Even my mother remembers him as the guy who brought me fried chicken. She of course didn’t like it, but she didn’t really say anything about it at that time.
This friendship continued for a couple of years, then for god-knows-what reason, died. I believe he liked me, I certainly liked him but nothing happened from there.
A few years later I met my ex-bf. One night we were hanging out with some other friends in a hotel pub, having a good time when suddenly I spotted someone familiar. Turned out that our waiter was SS! He saw me, shock registered on his face, saw my ex-bf, even more shocked, then quickly walked away. I didn’t know how to react so I turned to my ex-bf and saw his troubled face.
That was when I found out that SS was the brother of HIS ex-gf, the one that he didn’t properly break up with — which I thought was weird, since my logical deduction was that if you saw your gf getting chummy with another guy, that would mean instant goodbye. But my ex-bf was like that one lah, always wanting to save the world type.
And the girl SS was seeing, she is now married to a guy who lived near my house, whom I had a tiny crush on when I was little.
That was why I left Batu Pahat, it was too small for comfort :P Don’t believe me? Well one time I was grounded (which nobody outside my family knew), but when my parents were away I secretly drove the car out to meet my friends. The next day I got a hell of a scolding from my mother. One of her friends had seen our family car zooming around town and for god knows what reason, went and told my mother about it.
I really, really like big cities.
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