Reflections of Reflections

迷离夜 theme song

2007-10-29T08:44:00.000-07:00

And this is how you know you're getting old. When one of your favorite tv drama (迷离夜) looks laughable by today's standards...

My fav anime opening

2006-07-10T03:10:00.000-07:00

Getting Screwed

2006-07-10T03:09:00.000-07:00

A middle aged woman went to a Wal-Mart service counter and tells the clerk she wants a refund for the toaster she bought because it won't work.

The clerk tells her that he can't give her a refund because she bought it on 'special'.

Suddenly, the woman throws her arms up in the air and starts screaming, "PINCH MY NIPPLES! PINCH MY NIPPLES! PINCH MY NIPPLES!!"

The befuddled clerk ran away to get the store manager in front of a growing crowd of customers.

The manager goes to the woman and asks, "Ma'am what's wrong?"

She explained the problem with the toaster, and HE tells her that he can't give her a refund because she bought it on special. Once again, the woman throws her arms up in the air and starts screaming, "PINCH MY NIPPLES! PINCH MY NIPPLES! PINCH MY NIPPLES!"

And doing so draws an even more HUGE crowd!
In shock, the store manager pleads, "Ma'am, why are you saying that?

In a huff, the woman says, "BECAUSE, I LIKE TO HAVE MY NIPPLES PINCHED WHEN I'M GETTING SCREWED!"

The crowd broke into applause and her money was quickly refunded!

The Ten Commandments of Egoless Programming

2006-05-15T23:18:00.000-07:00

Understand and accept that you will make mistakes. The point is to find them early, before they make it into production. Fortunately, except for the few of us developing rocket guidance software at JPL, mistakes are rarely fatal in our industry, so we can, and should, learn, laugh, and move on.
You are not your code. Remember that the entire point of a review is to find problems, and problems will be found. Don't take it personally when one is uncovered.
No matter how much "karate" you know, someone else will always know more. Such an individual can teach you some new moves if you ask. Seek and accept input from others, especially when you think it's not needed.
Don't rewrite code without consultation. There's a fine line between "fixing code" and "rewriting code." Know the difference, and pursue stylistic changes within the framework of a code review, not as a lone enforcer.
Treat people who know less than you with respect, deference, and patience. Nontechnical people who deal with developers on a regular basis almost universally hold the opinion that we are prima donnas at best and crybabies at worst. Don't reinforce this stereotype with anger and impatience.
The only constant in the world is change. Be open to it and accept it with a smile. Look at each change to your requirements, platform, or tool as a new challenge, not as some serious inconvenience to be fought.
The only true authority stems from knowledge, not from position. Knowledge engenders authority, and authority engenders respect—so if you want respect in an egoless environment, cultivate knowledge.
Fight for what you believe, but gracefully accept defeat. Understand that sometimes your ideas will be overruled. Even if you do turn out to be right, don't take revenge or say, "I told you so" more than a few times at most, and don't make your dearly departed idea a martyr or rallying cry.
Don't be "the guy in the room." Don't be the guy coding in the dark office emerging only to buy cola. The guy in the room is out of touch, out of sight, and out of control and has no place in an open, collaborative environment.
Critique code instead of people—be kind to the coder, not to the code.As much as possible, make all of your comments positive and oriented to improving the code. Relate comments to local standards, program specs, increased performance, etc.

quoted from Jerry Weinberg's book: The Psychology of Computer Programming

DUNE series quotes

2006-04-10T01:24:00.000-07:00

The flesh surrenders itself. Eternity takes back its own. Our bodies stirred these water briefly, danced with a certain intoxication before the love of life and self, dealt with a few strange ideas, then submitted to the instruments of Time. What can we say of this? I occurred. I am not . . . yet, I occurred.
-Paul Atreides, DUNE Messiah

Some say I have no conscience. How false they are, even to themselves. I am the only conscience which has ever existed. As wine retains the perfume of its cask, I retain the essence of my most ancient genesis, and that is the seed of conscience. That is what makes me holy. I am God because I am the only one who really knows his heredity!
--The Stolen Journals, God Emperor of DUNE

I know the evil of my ancestors because I am those people. The balance is delicate in the extreme. I know that few of you who read my words have ever thought about your ancestors this way. It has not occurred to you that your ancestors were survivors and that survival itself sometimes involved savage decisions, a kind of wanton brutality which civilized humankind works very hard to suppress. What price will you pay for that suppression? Will you accept you own extinction?
--The Stolen Journals, God Emperor of DUNE

The prophet is not diverted by illusions of past, present and future. The fixity of language determines such linear distinctions. Prophets hold a key to the lock in a language. The mechanical image remains only an image to them. This is not a mechanical universe. The linear progression of events is imposed by the observer. Cause and effect? That's not it at all. The prophet utters fateful words. You glimpse a thing "destined to occur." But the prophetic instant releases something of infinite portent and power. The universe undergoes a ghostly shift. Thus, the wise prophet conceals actuality behind shimmering labels. The uninitiated then believe the prophetic language is ambiguous. The listener distrusts the prophetic messenger. Instinct tells you how the utterance blunts the power of such words. The best prophets lead you up to the curtain and let you peer through for yourself.
--The Stolen Journals, God Emperor of DUNE

In the beginning there was nothing...

2006-03-26T05:15:00.000-08:00

only God laid above... $3.05

Heaven

2006-03-22T21:50:00.000-08:00

The next time you do something wrong, and believe that all your sins will be forgiven, just remember that hell is to the left of the third heaven. They didn't tell you which part of heaven was reserved for you did they?

How to be professional

2006-03-21T19:12:00.000-08:00

How starwars should have been done

2006-03-09T19:05:00.000-08:00

2006-02-22T06:16:00.000-08:00

The reason why Singapore Wushu practitioners will never make it big

Beijing Wushu Team 3

Tell me about me

2006-02-21T18:47:00.000-08:00

Tell me about me, the good:
Like, click here

And the bad:
Then here

Magic

2006-02-21T00:58:00.000-08:00

Lured and Blinded by the illusions of power
I came upon a delicate flower
When asked of its name it answered in riddles
A voice that haunts like a thousand fiddles

In madness I seek to posses that creation
Reached out to seize it from its foundation
Only to be pricked by countless thorns
Guarding the flower like demon horns

A wild rage ignited within my soul
Driving a search for means to foul
The protectors of my treasure from their duty
Crushing them with no mercy or pity

The search became journeys a many
Till I thought of myself as a loony
To act upon such petty desires
Neglecting all my worthy aspires

Wiser I returned to mundane affairs
Surprised to find a lady fair
Awaiting my return with a smile
Leaping into my arms in a pile

She has never since spoken a word to me
But everything about her is plain to see
Her scent is that which had driven my obsession
The flower named Magic my life my passion

Pains, Toys and Houdini

2006-02-18T11:21:00.000-08:00

It has been too long since I had this much fun and felt so happy. In spite of a few imperfections, it had been overall a great day.

C had very bad cramps throughout the day, but she carried on even though the pain was so bad that she had to grab hold of me many times and stop moving to tide over. She did however enjoy herself a lot, and got herself a few toys (Kuromi magnets and a mini potato chip phone deco) she even bought me a spy toy. We were just like two grown up kids when we were going down the lanes of coin slot toy machines. It was so good to see her so happy after months of being down with her illness and all.

Before the boys parted with us, she had a bad series of cramps and I sent her home in a cab after we parted with the rest. As I was talking to her, sitting on the edge of her bed, a movement outside her bedroom door caught my eyes. Looking up, I saw a ball of fur duck into a pile of junk. “You have rats in the house?!” I exclaimed, and rushed to the last spot I saw the rodent. Thankfully, much to my relief and amusement, it was one of her mom’s hamsters. The next few minutes involved a mad rush around the house and moving stuff around in hopes of catching the ridiculously nimble rodent. When we finally caught it, we decided to call it Houdini and were both pretty convinced that the rodent did the name proud.

Kuromi

2006-02-11T09:56:00.000-08:00

Its been a while since I have seen C so happy, things have been tough for her these past few weeks. Still can't stop smiling when I look at her pic with the Kuromi doll pressed against her face *silly grin of bliss*

Imbolc

2006-02-01T11:30:00.000-08:00

Imbolc (from the sunset of 1st Feb to the sunset of 2nd Feb) is a celebration of the coming spring in some parts of the United Kingdoms, since the time when the lands belonged to Celts. More importantly (to me anyways) it is the festival dedicated to the Celtic Goddess Brighid ( aka Brigid, Saint Bridget, Bride, Brigit, Brigana, and many more variations).

Those who have been around these 9, almost 10 years of my life, will know that this deity played an important role in my development during this time. Many will find it hard to understand why this is so, after all she/it might just be a fragment of my over-active imagination, even if she/it IS real, she/it is not human, and all that I understand about her is flawed by my human perception and limitations.

I have no good answer for that, in fact all I can say is this: It doesn't matter.

Brighid has been the media through which I have experienced life, learned its lessons and reaped its fruits. Be she real or not, I am who I am because of Brighid, in that way, we co-existence and intertwine in both our realities.

Hence, on this coming celebration of Light and Life Anew, I wish all the brightest of blessings and may the divine be with us, always.

Chicken pox

2006-01-15T07:27:00.000-08:00

OOOOOmmmmmmm I must not scratch my chicken pox ooooommmmm!!!

Pirates of the Caribbean

2005-11-28T11:19:00.000-08:00

There lays prove that another of my assumptions is wrong. When ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ hit the big screens, I did not go and watch it cause, at that time, I thought it will be another stupid commercial flick meant to suck out my money with meaningless half-ass action sequences. I was wrong

While on a belated Hari Raya visit with C at a friend’s house last weekend, I finally got to catch the show, and honestly, I was captivated. Johnny Depp’s Devil-may-care portray of Captain Jack Sparrow was mesmerizing, stealing, plundering and gutting people with an ease that looked like he was born to be a pirate. All this and more, while keeping his promises, in the most profitable way of course.

What really stuck me about the movie was the part where Captain Jack Sparrow described what the ship Black Pearl stood for. The ship, as he put it, symbolized freedom. He said it with a longing and distance look in his eye and for a moment my heart ached for the strength to be free of the social burdens, roam where I choose, do as I will. Some day perhaps… some day…

BEEP Warning! Low Batt

2005-11-16T00:47:00.000-08:00

New job… started on 8th Nov… F@#$ing early hours…. OT since first day…. *BEEP* Warning! Low Batt … Need… ZZZzzzzzz

Childhood dreams

2005-10-21T01:16:00.000-07:00

I bought a Parker pen today, a cheap $18, ballpoint, click locking Parker pen. It is metallic silver in colour and has a black plastic top where you would press for the nib to come out. Normally I won’t spend so much on a pen, the highest I would go will be $3 before I scream bloody murder, but today was different

It was different because I saw my big boss’s pen, a shiny silver, expensive looking pen that he was dropping casually on the table again and again as he was holding the meeting. It was different because that pen hit one of my sub-conscious obsessions, the obsession to own a good pen, not just any expensive, branded pen that men carry around like a testimony of their genital sizes, but a GOOD pen, one that writes like an extension of my soul, one that inspires my mind to blast out screaming with ideas, one that IS me.

I kept staring at the pen throughout the meeting, and had to tear myself away from it when I caught myself doing it, heck the meeting wasn’t that useless for me to drift off, but it really bugged me. In fact it bugged me so much that when I got off the MRT near my place, I went briskly to the nearest place I knew that sold expensive pens and stared for a good 15 mins at the weak collection for something I liked. Disappointed at what I saw, I started to wander around the surrounding shops looking for something better, but yet again I was let down.

That only serviced to fuel my obsession, and I hurried to the very end of the neighbour where there were a few old stationary shops. Smiling with a child-like excitement, I knew I would find the pen there, I just knew, my heart leaped with joy and my feet quickened their pace, almost running, almost reaching! Just as I was coming onto the main road junction, my heart dropped as I watched the best store in the area closing for the day.

For a short while, I felt at a loss, a strange sadness bit into me as I stood waiting at the pedestrian crossing. But I remembered a small shop around the corner that I never really paid much attention too, perhaps, just perhaps…

When I got there, I absentmindedly glanced around the shelves and was just about to leave when I caught sight of a miracle, there at the glass display of the cash counter, in a tiny shop that seem more interested to earn a quick buck then present its goods to be of quality, stood the same collection of Parker pens that I had in mind. My held my breath as I looked carefully through the cracked and dirty glass, intensely, heart racing. And there it was, the pen that not only caught my attention, but dragged out a million childhood memories as well.

I bought it hastily and carried in my hand as I walked all the way home, trying to digest all the old memories that had lain buried for so many years. I remembered the many times that I stared at pens of the same brand and design when I was still in school, wishing that I had it in my pocket, and sour that I could not afford it. It might seem childish and laughable to say that owning it now actually triggers off an indescribable sense of joy but I am unashamed to admit it, it is after all a fulfilment of a childhood dream, one of the few genuine victories that I can safely say no one was directly hurt in the process. What’s more, I have great plans for my precious new toy, plans that perhaps will win me victories in this game we call Life.

Reflections of DUNE

2005-10-10T02:33:00.000-07:00

After a week of obsession, I have finally devoured the last chapter of the epic science fiction novel, DUNE, in my quest to seek a great comprehension of the Truth. And yet again I am disappointed to find that the pages have not directly illuminated my path, perhaps I am simply too far behind to discover the wisdoms of the author, Frank Herbert’s, perhaps destiny will have me take another path, perhaps…

It was in a train of perhaps when I remembered something I have learnt from many places, answers are often found within oneself, that you need not look farther then the tip of your nose to find what you seek. I laughed at myself when the revelation came to me, yet once again I have sought wisdom where it cannot be found, yet once again I have failed to seek the quietness of my mind in order to hear the voice of wisdom.

But haste will do me no good in this, patience and persistence are my only allies in this quest, I have once again fall for the trap of falsehood, and once again I have stood up and laugh into its face. The time will come, one day…

A blog about blogging

2005-09-23T16:07:00.000-07:00

There have been mounting complaints that I don’t update my blog often, well, that’s because there hasn’t been much I can write about. It might surprise a number of friends when I say that I’m a very private person (stop laughing), in fact, the idea of blogging seemed offensive to me when I was first introduced to it.

Even though my thoughts on blogging has changed, old habits die hard, I’m not about to share my deepest, darkest secrets, post naked pictures of myself to attract attention of sexually starved nutcases or even declare myself as the most handsomest man on the face of this planet, just so that a bunch of idiots will read my blog everyday, laugh at me, and think that it enriches their hollow lives.

This blog is about who I want to be, my dreams, my hopes and aspirations, and things I believe are worth sharing. It is here because I think there are people out there who care about me and want to be a part of my life, to these people I can only present joy, happiness and hope. There is enough misery in this world to fill endless pages, but only that much good that is worth writing about, and it is this goodness that is presented on these pages.

Of course this is not all of my happiness and joys, there is much more, but there are some things you have to keep close to your heart, in silence, for they will only be cheapen when you share them with others. Sorry folks, but this is as close as you get ;)

Wake Me Up When September Ends

2005-09-07T02:39:00.000-07:00

The first time I really took notice of the song was when I saw it on MTV, the anti-war video struck home deep, though I was never caught in a real war before (thank the gods) and never wish too, the shoot-out scene brought back haunting and disturbing memories of my army days.

Recently I chanced upon the song again and when it came into my possession, I played it over and over again, taken over by the emotions that the song evoked and still evokes in me, the song was written by the lead singer Bille Joe in the memories of his late father, in comparison, my own poem about my late father pales in both depth and writing.

What really struck me about the song is that it reminded me that we should never treat the people around us for granted, however forgiving or understanding they are too us, one day he or she might leave and never come back, when that happens, all we’ll have left are memories and regrets.

(For the uninitiated, “Wake Me Up When September Ends” is a punk rock song by Green Day)

I had a dream

2005-09-02T01:42:00.000-07:00

I had a dream
If a dream indeed
I asked for an apple
But got me a seed

I sowed it in a plan
And covered with action
Watering the plot
With will and caution

A strong tree it became
With apples aplenty
Which I filled a basket
All shined and pretty

And off through time
I headed with joy
To share with Life
Whom I knew as a boy

Along the Path
I met a fool
Who sat and weep
And cried a pool

When asked he sobbed
And mournfully muttered
Life handed him a seed
When it was not wanted

Troubled I walked
Head tilted in thought
How Life could be mean
What ills she caught

My arrival was met
With Life’s cheer and warm
And an assortment of fruits
She had recently form

We sat and ate
Talked much of past
When suddenly my hostess
Asked what troubled me last

Ashamed I spoke
Of the fool and asked
What he had done
To deserve what passed

Life blasted into laughter
Most at my blush
And into my hand
Seeds she did push

Chuckled she did
As she remarked in jest
One Fool asked for Fate
And not knew he took best

While another took Fate
And was none the wiser
When he planted and grew
And ate this his wonder

© opyright Ludovic 2005. All rights reserved

Mongolian Doctor

2005-08-22T15:20:00.000-07:00

蒙古大夫 : (direct translation) Mongolian Doctor, commonly used as a Chinese phrase to describe quacks.

It is a personally opinion that the term does great discredit to the centuries of medical science developed in Mongolia as well as the excellence medical workers in that country who are still working under frontier conditions. However, lacking of a better term to express my experiences, the first words that popped into mind were ‘MONGOLIAN DOCTOR’ in Chinese when I exited the clinic.

I had called in sick this morning after I discovered that I was breaking into cold sweat and getting light headed just preparing for work, the killer air-conditioning in my office could trigger another bad fever and I was not going to risk that just to make myself look good in front of the management. With full knowledge on the blood draining rates of the clinic in the bomb shelter below, and unwilling to wait a painful 4 hours at the polyclinic, I turned to my sister’s recommendations and headed for another private clinic nearby.

My first impressions of the place were bad enough, sandwiched between mini-marts selling wet groceries, the air in the badly ventilated clinic had an odour so bad I could catch the smell through my blocked nose. There was a mother and a child who had arrived before me and someone whom I had thought to be the doctor (despite his shifty appearances) lingering in the patient waiting area, I signed up as a new patient and waited for my turn, as I turned to take a good look at the place.

That was when I got concern, the place looked pretty rundown for a clinic, with cobwebs on the corners of higher ceilings and walls badly coated with whitewash. It only hit me that I could be in a bad place when the mother and child came out in under 5 minutes and the shifty man came out after them, promptly heading straight for the two young nurses at the counter and gobbled something about getting his money to them (wtf, a debt collector!?)

Just as I was getting second thoughts, one of the nurses called out my name and waved me in, I headed in reluctantly and was thankful to find a more decent looking fellow in the doctor’s chair, unfortunately, that was when it really fell apart. He started asking me what illness I was having and only examined me half-heartedly when I told him that I was having coughs and that I had just broke my fever. He made everything brief and was almost chasing me out of the office. In the end, he prescript cough mixture and antibiotics (and this is only because I TOLD him that I had a flu before the fever) and sent me packing.
I went out, paid for my visit and collected the medication. On the way home, I figured that I’ll not take the antibiotics, knowing too well what the abuse of antibiotics can lead too, and that I won’t call the authorises to raid this place, after all, you never know when you need a Mongolian Doctor.

A play, my guilt and Flu

2005-08-21T23:36:00.000-07:00

I had wanted to blog about my experiences of Friday’s play the moment I got home, but over taken by flu I could only wash up and stumbled into bed. Now, two days later and still sick, I post this entry in hopes that my weak efforts to make this weekend slightly productive will be fruitful.

All of the efforts that L placed into the play seemed to have gone to the dogs, the acting was bad, the singing was worse and the audio equipment and control was a joke. 15 minutes into the play, my friends and I were wishing that we had not been so supportive of L, its one thing to support a friend but to its another to go through mindless torture just to make him feel better.

30 minutes into the play and we had to start amusing ourselves cracking insults at the play just to stay awake, I had noticed my running nose getting from bad to worse and it worried me a little but I shrugged it off and continued to amuse myself with the bad acting.

An hour plus into the play when everyone was bored to tears but too polite to leave, a 15 minutes recess was called and with a great sigh of relieve, we bolted for the door to get some fresh air. We decided to chance the canteen and by the mercies of the Gods, there was food! Grabbing what seem palatable, we wolfed down the food hoping to move back to the play before the recess ended, my friends finished first and moved ahead, leaving C and me to finish up. I decided to have a cigarette and C accompanied me out of the school compound where I lit up.

As we were heading back, C suddenly stopped in pain and grabbed onto my arm for support, it was only then did I realise that she had not been feeling well all night but had kept quiet fearing that she would dash our moods, she said she was fine and wanted to head back but the pains came back and she had to sit down. It was then when I felt really guilty, since she was partly there to support the song I had written for the play, and on top of that, I had not noticed that she was feeling unwell before. I suggested that I send her home and we headed to the bus stop, but C got uncomfortable about walking off from the play and we finally agreed on her going home alone and I going back to the play.

And that we did, though the rest of the play was just as bad and my mind was thinking about C more then watching, when it came to the part of my song, I struggled from my impulse to dig a hole to hide my shame from its delivery, it was a good thing that I was not credited for the song after all.

When it all ended, I called C to check on her and she sounded like a wreck, I felt even more guilty but decided not to show it in case she felt bad as well. We parted ways and when I came home, I crashed from the flu and was so sick all Saturday that I could hardly get out of bed. C came over today and fussed over me despite the fact that she had not fully recovered, I was very touched by the chicken essence she had bought for me, and she even made me dinner. She looked tired when she left and I will have to remember to call her tomorrow and see if she’s better. Now I’ll end here and crawl back to bed.

Reflections on The Animatrix

2005-08-19T02:37:00.000-07:00

I had begun watching “The Animatrix” for the simple goal of unwinding for the day, without any intention to actually learn anything from it. However, like a plot for a cheap thriller novel, things did not turn out as I had planned.

The first few stories in the collection made it look like some poor excuse to roll soft porn, violence and cutting edge CGI into one and I barely survived them without fast forwarding, but as I came to the story about some high school kid waking up from the matrix by jumping off a roof, I begun to feel disturbed. That story had hit a few soft spots in me, the desire to fly through the air without equipment, the feeling that I’m more alive in a dream than when I’m awake, just to name a few.

As the VCD continued to play on, I started to catch less and less of what was shown and more of the thoughts and emotions that the visuals provoked inside me. By the end of the two disks, I was heavily troubled and disturbed by my own thoughts as I headed for the shower.

It would seem silly that an overly commercialized short movies collection would have all these dramatic effects on my thoughts, but in my defence, I would have to say that some of the script writers appear to be searching for the same answers that I had been looking for. The past weeks had been very stressful, with a new designation in the company, a new relationship and a string of unforeseen minor mishaps. My environment had leave me little control of my life, and being the overzealous control freak that I am, I was starting to feel lost and disoriented.

The Animatrix was a rude wake up call, it had sharply pointed out the fact that I am ignoring all my spiritual training and letting myself get blind sided by the little games of Life again. I know at this point some of you out there are shaking your heads and rolling your eyes as you are reading this, but not to worry, the past weeks have also taught me to have better balance in the different aspects of illusions and realities, hopefully the lessons will stay with me a little longer this time…

p.s. Om money money come!

Random Thought

2005-08-15T00:44:00.000-07:00

"Why is it that dolphins are smarter then we are but we are the dominating species?"
"Cause the truly intellgent always projects innocence and lets idiots send themselves to hell"

More Thoughts from the Insomniac

2005-08-14T05:02:00.000-07:00

Yup, I’m still insomniac, but luckily I was able to sleep much more last night and hence able to blog better tonight, well, at less more sensibly (I hope).

I’m noticing a very disturbing trend growing around me, people I care about are falling into guilt trips and downward spirals, beating themselves emotionally over situations they do not have the courage to overcome, and choosing to brew problems into excuses for hurting themselves or do stupid things.

It sounds arrogant and egoistic that I say all that, after all I am very guilty of it myself, who am I to say that I understand what they are going through? But I’m saying it not to rub salt into wounds, or to mock their pain, I’m saying because I care and want to share my own experiences in hope that it will provide some direction.

Society has taught us to conform to standards and authorities, it preaches that we should not challenge our peers and family members, making us believe that this will hurt us and the ones we love. The truth is, by not standing up for yourself, by avoiding problems and taking easy ways out, we are not only hurting ourselves, we’re hurting the same people we’re running from.

Running away makes problems worse, running feeds problems and they end up growing into situations we cannot run away from anymore, and they will force us into a corner and leave us no choice but pick a path that will end up hurting everyone involved, directly or indirectly.

I have found that it is easier to be true to myself, find the courage to do what might hurt me most at that moment, and lead myself to where I really want to be, then to be trapped by the illusion that what I do will hurt the ones I care about. Would it offend everyone to note that we’ll be too egoistic to believe that we matter so much to them in the first place? That they are so incapable of handing themselves that being who we are will make them wither and die?

Of course, I don’t always find that strength to be myself, I still fail into the moulds others want me to be all the time, but I realised that the ones who really care about me always forgives me when I break their mould, after all, it is me whom they love, not the illusion in their head which they believe I am.

May we all find strength to be ourselves, good night all.