The best response to criticism is simply to ignore it. Something inside of me tells me that I have said enough and that is what I will be doing - keeping my peace.

I believe in criticism, if it does not attempt to undermine the person but helps he or she to examine certain aspects of their lives to decide they want to work on it or otherwise. In fact, I see honest criticism as one of the biggest compliments in a relationship. They care enough to speak their minds and put their relationship with you on the line.

And "privacy" has become something of a convenient by-word which gets more than a casual mention in every now and then in debates, arguments or discussions when in truth not many know what it really is about. It is as misunderstood as the words "peace", "courtesy" and "decency".

The flip side to this would be how there were still opportunities out there, which might be better for me in terms of job prospects. Yet the fear would be how I am misleading myself, knowing how naive and idealistic I can be.

As for my future, I believe I have gone out of the tunnel but the way ahead is still shrouded by a very dense fog.

Addendum

20 applications sent out on this very productive afternoon alone. Coupled with the previous barrage (also about 20) and some applications here and there, I would have sent out 50 applications in three weeks. It may seem like it is no big deal to some others out there, but this is a personal record already.

Of course, sending out applications will not guarantee me the whisker of a chance, but I want to think that this is a good start already. Next up, the job agencies...

There was something comforting to be hearing the voice of the woman you married who responded to your call. It was not just anyone on the other end of the line. It was the lady you loved and chose. She would be there for you no matter what...

I thought about the empty house I would be going to later that night. I thought about the amount left in my bank account and still dwindling with bills coming my way. I thought about the people on the list in my mobile, none of whom were married or committed to me, and how it seemed they would be better off not hearing me gripe for yet another time. I thought about the letter of appointment, which changed its form and content way too many times for my comfort and how the terms stated in it were hugely to my disadvantage...

I could have rounded off this week crying over the milk I spilt and the hugely insecure situation I found myself in. Suddenly the decision I made on 1 Aug became more like one made in the moment of folly.

I am the underachieving underachiever. In all areas of my life...

Directions
1. Throw all items into a black pot and let it simmer for three weeks.
2. Serve and wait for the next big spell to descend.

Schwer’s comment on one of my recent entries:

“HK is definitely more vibrant and I do love to visit the place. But you have to remember that some of the things that you hate over here are ten times worse over there. Eg. Expensive housing, expensive parking, & more importantly, a far more materialistic society.”

Perhaps it is not so much the vibrancy. Perhaps it is not so much the amount of things to see, eat or buy. Perhaps I prefer dirtier places. Perhaps the people there are more materialistic than I want to believe. Perhaps it is because I was suitably impressed with how much more pragmatic the people there are and how they tend not to link their fates to the government.

Perhaps it has something to do with the friends I made there and the bits of gestures to make me feel accepted.

Or perhaps this infatuation of mine on Australia or Hong Kong may just be a sign of how much I want to leave this place and settle down somewhere, disregarding how expensive the housing, the parking or anything else.

And perhaps I will find something so attractive about Timbucktoothed when I visit it one day that I will also rave about it.

***

Sometimes I wonder to myself if there is really a need to explain myself when I say certain things. If I like something, do I need to go at lengths to convince people around me why I have chosen that something to like? Sometimes I feel like I must come up with a list of ten good reasons why I like something and that the listener, whoever it may be, has to accept every one of the ten reasons I can come up with before I feel vindicated.

Maybe this thing about indulging people should stop. Maybe the next thing I feel like I have the need to explain to others why I like that particular stall’s mee goreng, I will tell them that I like it and that is good enough for me.

***

I called her yesterday since I thought it would only be polite for me to give her my answers to the email she sent me. At the back of my mind, I knew it might not be a good time to call. She was at work and I was the bummer in the house.

The long distance telephone call lasted at most five minutes. I made sure I replied her questions and ended it by asking if she would be available that evening so that we could have a short chat. We did that quite a number of times before my trip to visit her and she always insisted that she made the call since the rates were much cheaper than if I were to call from Singapore to HK.

I waited the whole evening. There was no call.

That was yesterday and I waited in vain again today.

There was something about this friendship which I would like to maintain. It happened out of nowhere, but the sincerity was all that I needed to convince me that there was something in it which I should never let go of.

Then again, maybe I am so much an idealist and a naïve person that I am inevitably so easy to please and deceive.

***

In between mouthfuls of fried pig’s intestines, I told her about how certain things in my life never came to be. She listened attentively because she wanted to know why things did not work out for me around the same time she got attached (and still is).

So at the dusty roadside stall, I told her all about my recent past and how I might have kissed dating goodbye. I tried correcting her perception about Singaporean women when I said something about how I would not consider myself eligible until I got the 5Cs (or is it 6 now?).

“You are decent, even without those things. You should not say things like that,” she commented after I told her that the problem was with me and not with the local women who she thought were materialistic.

I gave her a wry smile.

“You only know one side of me even though we have been going out for the past five days,” I stated in my broken Cantonese. “Yet, I am not all that decent actually and maybe those are the reasons why I have subconsciously denied myself getting into relationships.”

With that, I picked up another piece of sweet-sour pork with the chopsticks. She shot me a look which was a cross between bewilderment and knowing.

We left it as that.

***

Not sure others will agree with me, but bumming makes me feel useless. This is especially scary because in a week’s time I will no longer consider myself technically employed.

***

It is interesting how I told her more about my life than anyone else in a place I call home and on my site. Talking it out can be strangely therapeutic but a little distressing at the same time, especially when I have no idea how and why it came to be.

Maybe all those Social Studies or Good Citizen classes are wasted on me but the first thought that came to my mind on reading the headline was simply to change it to read "Singapore: Not Readily Vibrant, Not Really My Home".

*smiles*

Technically I am still employed for another week or so. Technically, I will be employed. Yet, taking away all the technicalities, my post-HK future is still uncertain. The dream to flutter away to some foreign land and start a new life there is still there, though it gnaws at me at the most inappropriate moments. In fact, something inside of me feels like I still cannot get enough of HK and the newfound friends I left there. I will not care if people will say that this is another classic case of the HK grass is greener than Singapore’s. I will not care if most people I have spoken to about HK (or Australia a few years back) find that place boring and expensive. I will not care if people just switch off whenever I pained to tell them how HK, as a place, still retains a certain kind of flavour and character which I can no longer find in sterile Singapore.

What I really care about now is my future. With money, I will have the chance to go on a short trip to places I have fallen in love with or places I have never visited. Without money, I may not even be able to afford a new bottle of Symbicot.

Sometimes I wonder why I spend most of my life living in envy of others – those who have found permanent residency in Australia and those who have found employment in HK (and living on expat wages). While others are being headhunted and have loads of employers knocking on their doors, I find myself knocking on the doors of others and at times, sound as though I was begging for a job.

The writing has stopped and dried up too. Perhaps it is a good thing that I attended a scriptwriting class which meant that I would still be writing. Other than that, my days have been spent chiseling away in front of the PC and pining for … many things.

It has certainly been a week since I walked on the streets of Mong Kok. No matter how dirty, how crowded and how polluted that place is and no matter how clean, how sterile and how boring the place of my birth is, I cannot help but yearn.

Leaning back on the chair, he closed his eyes and allowed the lyrics of the song to sink in slowly. He might not understand in totality what the song was all about but strangely it fitted perfectly with the emotions he held and the situation he found himself in.

It will be the big unknown after this…

***

He never believed that he would have to shed tears without her detecting it. It was not as though he was madly in love with her. It all bore down to their almost indefinite separation after seven days of spending time together. He never thought things would turn out this way and he would feel shattered whenever he would subconsciously start to make senseless comparisons.

It made him all the more sore about leaving that place. It made him all the more sure about his love for these little pieces of rock which were inhabited with way too many people for his comfort. However, there was something about that place which mesmerized him.

He did not take a lot of photos this time, unlike his other travels. Somehow, he did not feel the need for it since a big part of him secretly yearns for the day he would become a full-fledged resident there. And there was also the excellent company which somehow made him forget to just snip a small slice of it for posterity sake.

By the end of the sixth day, he had long ditched the desire to do a little snooping around on the famous places as seen in some of Wong Kar Wai’s films. Far more important than that was not just the food, but the company. Everything about the seven days seemed to have dispelled the notion he held for the longest of time that strangers would do more evil than good to him.

***

He stood by the telephone booth and emptied his pockets of coins, which could be used in this place he called “home sweet home” temporarily for the last seven days. One of them was emblazoned with the image of Queen Elizabeth.

One by one, he slotted in four coins and punched in the numbers, while checking the screen of his mobile to ensure that he got the right number. It took three ringing tones before someone on the end of the other line picked up his call. A familiar voice greeted him.

Unbeknownst to that voice, tears were already welling up in his eyes. He had no idea why he, soon-to-be a thirty-year-old bloke, was overwhelmed emotionally and tried desperately to fight back the tears. He told himself that there were better places to do this than in the middle of a monstrous airport.

***

There are people whom he loves as friends first, and then, there are people who love him as a friend first.

And it is hard to be strong when you feel weak inside...

Purchases so far include 4 Lisa E jazz CDs (at S$7 each!), 1 Hacken Lee album (at S$13) and 1 Hui Brothers CD Compilation (less than S$20). A couple of Nike Dri-fit shirts at around S$30 each and three G2000 work shirts (including a tie) are my pricest purchases to date.

Will be heading off to the HK Museum of Coastal Defence next and the HK Film Archive place. Tonight I will be joining my friends for steamboat (Da Been Lo). :)

***

According to my friend, the way I speak Cantonese is akin to what the locals call "Kwai Zai", which is a term to describe someone who speaks Cantonese in a halting manner.

Will be looking for shops that sell "Ya Sei Mei" or some form of bitter cooling tea. Er... Having sore throat la...

He found it handy to use the self-deprecating humour of how he would be eating a meal of curry gravy and rice under the banyan tree whenever there was an opportunity to share with the people around him of his situation. Most of them would laugh heartily, if they knew him long enough. Some would laugh uncomfortably and a handful would have bewildered looks on their faces. Only one took it upon herself to critcise him for exaggerating his circumstances. Perhaps it was humour indirectly at the expense of others.

Securing his freedom left a bitter-sweet taste in his mouth. The bitter, disproportionately huge, was directly linked to the fact that he would face uncertain days ahead, when once again, he would have to think about his finances and the bills. It was bitter as well because he would be spending at least two weeks at home and that could well be a recipe for disaster, since he had stopped going to the shrink. Other than the trip to Hong Kong, which he knew was ill-timed, he thought he needed to keep himself occupied during the fortnight. Perhaps this was a foretaste to come of what retirement would be like.

The sweet came with the fact that he would no longer be hemmed in at the gulag and was at the beck and call of the gulag masters. His weekends were his to meddle with once again. He could do loads of reading. He could finish the writing projects which came along the way. Most of all, the despair and the stress from work at the gulag would no longer trouble him and give depression a foothold through that.

***

He decided to turn his back on senseless debates on the internet. He would remain a spectator and leave the wrangling to others. He still had in his possession an old newspaper article dated 13 June 2001 which, to his knowledge, was the very first write-up on blogging. It inspired him to publish his amateurish writings online and hone his skills as long as there were the reserves of creativity within.

His only desire now was for the return of the day when people blogged not for the sake of fame or recognition or to thump their chests, but simply for the love of the written word.

***

Other than these, he knew that it was time once again for him to find himself again, amidst all these confusion and strife.

I think I have said enough about how the behaviour of the majority of the local blogging community follows that of the few “celeb” bloggers up there, who would like to believe that they have contributed to the local blogging scene by (a) pumping up the publicity for blogging and bloggers, (b) starting a group blog page which purports to follow bits of philosophies from other group blog sites like Boing Boing, and (c) holding a conference. Through all of that, they developed a relationship with the media where the media wanted to milk the blogging bandwagon for all its worth before things became saturated and the satisfaction of attention which the blogging community craved so much. It was as simple as a “I scratch your back and you scratch mine” relationship. For a moment or two, things were fine and the lines were drawn clearly.

The push came to shove when the media started to report on bits of negative aspects of some bloggers. It could well have been sensationalizing their stories, because, face it, the local rags had to keep an eye on their bottom lines as well. It could well have been oversights on the part of the journos who might have misreported the facts or overly tilted the angle. It could have been the editors who had to chuck things out because ad space would always be more valuable than the space for the articles, and along the way, the intended point of the journo might have been diluted altogether. I would like to make this assumption that not many bloggers, especially those from the “celebs” category, have really been in the newsroom long enough to understand the mechanics behind putting a rag together in that few hours of the day so that it could be put to bed.

So, without trying hard to see and understand the other perspective, knives and swords were unsheathed. The media became one big bad guy who was hell bent on discrediting the blogging community. It became a “them versus us” thingy. From what I have observed, it became a mild form of paranoia where almost anything the media had to say about blogging and local bloggers would not be anything positive to begin with. Bits and pieces of criticism which were spewed from the “celeb” category of bloggers rubbed off on many of their “fans” and “admirers”. I do not wish to consider whether these “fans” and “admirers” had taken a second or two of their time to think clearly about the whole issue before clamouring to join the cacophony of voices (some were extremely loud and overbearing) in putting the media in a bad light. Who knows? Perhaps whoever who came up with the best piece of retort against the media in the comments section of their favoured “celeb” bloggers would be noticed by the “celeb” blogger and any form of endorsement (be it a precious link to their sites or a mention in one of the entries) would come and he or she too could turn into a demi-“celeb”.

This is one problem I see with regards to our society as a whole. As I have mentioned before, it will not take too long before the flimsy piece of stand they hold would collapse a little and a personal attack on the other debater would be launched in hope to save their faces. People just simply fail to appreciate where the other side of the argument was coming from and present their points objectively without degenerating this civil exchange of ideas into a slugfest. Can we form our own arguments without having to ride on someone’s reputation or to parrot what others are saying? Why is there a problem arguing and debating based on facts and your own perceptions, failing which agree to disagree?

I am peeved by the lemmings-esque approach after another blogging article was published in the local tabloid on Sunday. Before anyone can say “The New Paper”, knives were out and the vilifying of the journalist who was credited with the article started in earnest. Along the way, some people earned their way into the local blogging communities “Hall of Fame” by getting endorsement from the few local “celeb” bloggers.

I have to state this. The said journalist is someone I know personally and she blogs as well. So why would she not be capable of penning an article on blogging from the perspective of the Singaporean blogging scene (which is still infantile) versus the ones in the US or the UK? In my opinion, she is more than capable of writing such an article, based on her experience as a blogger and her profession, as a journalist. If people care enough to respect professionals, then such vilifying and mob mentality would never have surfaced in the first place.

(Entry will probably have to be edited.)

(Again, not a pleasant entry. Be warned.)

He has officially crossed the line. It was caused by something which in some ways he saw it coming, but the speed it unraveled was a little discomforting. Now, his life is, in some ways, his own again. Now, he has the freedom to think about the other things in life without having to entertain second guesses and the like. As much as he felt sad about leaving people who supported him during these dark times, there were things to consider and embark on now. Whether they would bring him to the places he would thrive in and in that process find a big piece of himself there could still be arguable. With freedom came uncertainty. With freedom came responsibility. Freedom also meant risks, missteps and regrets.

He leaned back on the office swivel chair and thought about it all. The conversations he had during lunch with his co-workers, the many harried calls he made, the kind of doubts thrown in his direction when he voiced out his intention, and the reactions etched on the faces of his listeners. Closing his eyes, he could see, hear and even feel all of them: the expressions, the intentions and the words. He thought he could see the tears in the eyes of a middle-aged lady with whom he shared his spirituality with. He thought he saw a tinge of regret in the eyes of the big boss when he uttered the words “it is a pity”. He thought he could see the scowl on the faces of his co-workers when he described the events leading to him passing that precious letter gently to the people-in-charge. All these made him wish he could look into the future.

The reality is his future was shrouded in a thick mist. It was so thick that everything seemed dark and gloomy. Someone he lunched with yesterday commented that things would not look as bad if he had someone by his side through it all. He retorted with the statement about how inept he would be as a boyfriend, at the very least, during times like these. Love would be good, but now it was almost impossible to attain without hurting whoever his beloved was so deeply in the process.

***

“What will the future hold?” he hollered into the mist and the imposing darkness which surrounded him.

There was no response. The only thing he heard was silence. There was not even the faintest sounds of an echo.

Weary from all the emotional upheaval, he started to squat, placing his hands on his knees before using them to hold his head. Despair, one of his fiercest enemies, overwhelmed him so much that he could feel the warmth of its foul-smelling breath. He knew that the decision he made might liberate him from one place, but it could also cripple him because this attack from Despair would knock him out if he was not careful.

He clenched his fist, trying hard to muster whatever strength there was left in him to prepare for this final battle. The biggest fear was that he had very little of it left and to continue drawing from the empty within might be necessary but fatal. For the first time in his life, he realized how precarious the situation was now and he could feel the same kind of fear in the heart of the soldier going into a battle with an unknown enemy and in darkness.

He continued in that crouching position and started to whimper a little.

He had to fight it, but had quite forgotten how to prepare himself for it.

***

He gazed at his fingernails, which he should have trimmed yesterday. There were bits of dried blood in them. It was no longer peculiar to him how and why he had gotten used to seeing bits of red in his nails. He knew where they came from.

He gazed at his office swivel chair, which was filled with bits and pieces of white flakes. They were all over the red-coloured cushioned seat. It was no longer peculiar to him how and why he had gotten used to slapping the seat with a cloth to clear the flakes. He knew where these flakes came from.

He gazed at his reflection in the mirror, and noted how unkempt his hair had become. It told him honestly that it was capable of turning into the ultimate nightmare for the hairdresser and how long since he last stepped into the rather up-market saloon. He feared of embarrassing the hairdresser who would notice the pathetic state of his scalp. He knew where that came from.

His mother gazed at the back of his body last evening and noted the now-prominent scabs which she commented that they looked like were bits of rotting flesh. He wanted so much to tell her about how they were related to stress and he was not coping well with it for the longest of time. Quietly, he brushed her comment off and went into his room to put on his T-shirt just to keep her prying eyes away. He knew what these scabs were all about.

He gazed at his eyebrows which were crocked and signified his disbelief at the statement he just made. He just told him about how things were so bad that the effects were now turned inwards and they were affecting his head, only stopping short of showing those unsightly things on his body to him. Acknowledging his disbelief, he turned the subject of their conversation away from how things were linked to health to save himself possible judgment. He knew why he would be skeptical.

He gazed at his facial expression after picking up a sliver of cabbage from the Lo Han vegetarian dish. His other lunch companion was remarking how his fight for freedom came with a price, which at the moment, remained a blank cheque he had to sign soon. He contemplated how much he would be able to fork out and how much he would have to pay. The imaginary amount ballooned with every passing second of his contemplation. It became so big and so unmanageable that a shiver went down his spine. He knew what the price of freedom was.

He gazed at him, he with the bulging eye-bags and the smallish eyes. His face denoted anger and frustration. They were all as a result of what he said two minutes ago and he, the bulging eye-bags, followed up with a statement on how his job was above his family and his personal well-being in terms of his perspective on the priorities of a model employee at the gulag. He could only mutter a mild response, which on rare days when he was more confident of himself would be loud and not a little agitated, along the lines of how this would mean that his philosophies were incompatible to Mr. Bulging eye-bags’. He knew he had hammered another nail on his own coffin with his bloodied bare hands.

Sometimes, he would berate himself for knowing too much.

***

In days to come, he would not be surprised to see him carrying a placard around the central business district in shirt and tie (G-2000 some more). The placard would read “Will work for food” and possibly he might just make it as big as Singapore’s Who’s-who of the local blogging scene, albeit the fact that this would be a piece of negative publicity instead (the person who said that bad publicity is still publicity has a screw loose in his / her head). There, he would invite giggles from the well-dressed, power-suited office crowd, in particular those office ladies in tight skirts and smart make-up. On his back, his shirt would become translucent from all that standing in the sun and it would bring down his job eligibility level down a few notches because his paunch, his ballooning paunch, would be so prominent that any member of the female species could spot a mile away (when they are not ogling at those well-dressed office males in made-to-measure office shirts and slick ties).

Or, as he would love to share this piece of self-deprecating joke amongst his close friends, he would find himself sitting under a rainforest / pong-pong / angsana tree together with his colleagues who came from India, Bangladesh or elsewhere, tucking into his $1-lunch of curry sauce and lots of non-fragrant rice. His body would turn bronze and brazen from standing under the sun plunging the shovel into the red soil unique only to the land of his birth or from twirling the “Go” and “Stop” sign every few minutes while his colleagues toiled by the road.

Then, for a moment, he was reminded of a voice from long ago, comforting him with the words “no one can force you to do anything if you do not want to”. He knew from whom these words were from. He knew where this person was right now.

And he let off a chuckle, an all-skeptical chuckle as though his life and his future depended on it.

Dear Self

I do not think I need to ask you how you have been feeling since morning. I know you want to bring out that precious letter and place it gently on the desk of the personnel manager. It will signal your intention as well as formally cut the ties you have with this place which you have been in for the past five years of your life. Never in your wildest dreams will you believe that the days leading to your exit will be filled with so much desperation and despair. It was not what you think will be in the script when you first entered the doors to this organisation as a fresh graduate. Look how it has turned out.

It is way too complicated and late for an inquest now. The damage has already been done inside of you. There are too many “on hindsight I should” phrases floating in your mind now and you know that talking about them serves to do no purpose other than to compound the emotional pressure building inside of you. You note the alarming rate your body is degenerating as a result of pent-up stress, depression and emotional upheaval arising from the five-year almost torturous tenure there. Under ideal circumstances, you know that the obvious option will be to simply bolt before things get out of hand and that you have paid a very hefty price for attaining more wealth at the expense of your physical, emotional and/or mental well-being.

I do not need to remind you of the physical ailments that have manifested. I do not need to take another glance at the state of your emotions. I do not need to be reminded of how you have decided to stop going to the doctor’s and that you will no longer want to take prozac, because life is a bitch, with or without it anyway.

On the other hand, people who do care about your situation have been advising you against bolting to your freedom without securing, at least in documental forms, your next employment. They are being realistic about it and perhaps they love you as a friend enough to advise against exercising that obvious option. Of course they do not know of the ailments, for to list them down will open yourself up to risks of being stigmatized. At the end of it, this stands as a double-edged sword because you have no idea what their reaction will be like when you share honestly with them about how you have been seeing a shrink regularly for the past year. Honesty, even with all the good intentions, may not be the best policy. Look at how the many dishonest people managed to pull the wool over the eyes of those who brought them to where they are and got away with it. They are laughing now, you aren't.

You are at a quandary now. You and I know it. You know how things have, are and will affect you if you stay here for another day longer. At the same time, the job which you have chosen to take a plunge in will pay you less than what a foreign worker will earn. Sometimes, I know that you are struggling to make sense of everything. I know too that sometimes these things get to you and the thought of just ending it all has crossed your mind way too many times. The only thing that holds you back is when you are reminded of how little your family, including your mother, knows about what is going on in your life and that you cannot simply present yourself as a corpse on them suddenly one day. You always try to remind yourself about the issue of what will become of them if you were to leave one day.

I know you also have been thinking about how you are not suited to survive in this world and that your heart is too soft sometimes. Like that time when some of your friends are in dire financial need and you do not think thrice about helping them out. This is when you try very hard not to get yourself in a tight financial situation. The big problem you have is how sometimes the same set of friends seem to have disappeared when you simply need help emotionally. I know you are aware that not everyone is like that and to those who might have disappeared, you bear no grudge against anyone. You try very hard to be a loyal friend. I believe the big problem you have is that you are inept when dealing with your expectations of others. Perhaps there is a moral flaw in you to expect people to live up to the same expectations you have placed upon yourself. You console yourself by rationalizing how they have their own busy lives to manage, and at the end of the day, whatever tough situation you are in is ordained by Someone Up There bent on teaching you the hard lessons of life. You can say “Life is a bitch” as many times as you like, and predictability, only yourself will hear it.

Give your friends the benefit of the doubt. I believe they love you and are concerned for you. I hate to say this but your unique character makes it very difficult for others to handle or manage you. I am sorry to say that you cannot change others and the only person you can change is yourself. I know it is a used-to-death cliché but it is true. So, it is not too surprising to see how some of them have indeed started to withdraw away from you and this is how you have found yourself to be alone when you need someone. Face it, you are a tough nut to crack and no one with half a mind will want to chug along listening to your many grievances, real or imaginary, when they have their own problems in life to deal with.

All I can say to you is this. At the end of the day, you have a choice, like many others have choices too. You have your own character flaws and others have too. Some flaws are easier to eradicate than others, while there may be some which are simply not worth the effort trying to remove. I do not need to suggest to you which category of flaws I think your persona falls under. Having said that, I think you need to examine yourself again and think about your perspective to everything in your life. As much as you only have a life, you have too many flaws in you as well. So, I say choose wisely.

I know you hate the weekend because a big part of your Saturday will be burnt as a result of some illogical decision made higher up the food chain. Tough luck. Either you try cheering yourself up or you will spend your weekend in misery.

Whichever way, it is your life although it is mine as well. The difference is I don’t care anymore about this life. It is yours and you can have all of it, warts, blood and all.

With “love”

Self

PS: When the push comes to shove, do not expect a nice and soft landing pad. Be prepared to feel the rough texture of the asphalt.

HEY DW

Posted by: Sheesh! | July 29, 2005 01:44 AM

(You can read all about it here.)

***

The Aftermath

He has been humbled.

He knows his mistake now.

He was too full of himself.

He should have just minded his own business.

He could have kept his mouth shut.