Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Welcome Back, Mr X !

This comes a little late, but here it is anyway:
Welcome Back, Mr X!
Have a good rest. Sleep early.
Hopefully, work doesn't keep you up all night,
lest you look like this in the morning.
(click to view)

Beary Adorable!

This website (click here to view) has many adorable bears!
Mich's personal favourites are these:
4" plush $5.992.5" pin $3.99
(prices are in USD, I think)

Firefox Down

So, I spoke too soon.

Firefox has just gone mad. After spending hours uploading a gazillion pictures here and organizing them, Firefox came to a halt. A script was inserted at the beginning of each picture http://not-a-real-namespace.

I could ignore it, couldn't I? Well, sadly, the answer is no. It literally stopped the browser from loading and it was left hanging. While IE users are looking at this blog and wonder what the fuss is about, Firefox users will be able to see an entry with a vacuum that was previously occupied by pictures in that entry. Despite deleting the entry on Blogger's dashboard ad nauseum, the stubborn entry remains and once "not-a-real-namespace" appears, Firefox is handicapped. Check the template & settings? Been there, done that. Zilch.

Apparently, after googling and yahooing (the irony of it all), it appears that this problem was experienced as early as in 2003. While complaints and desperate pleas are easily found, there is no solution and one common thread echoes among those who are/have been affected - No word from Blogger. No word from Mozilla.

Which translates to G-R-E-A-T.

Is it some hacker's work? I don't know.
Is it a bug? I don't know.
What I do know is that I've spent hours and it's all come to naught.
I'm extremely peeved.

Welcome to Mich's world.
As if things weren't bad enough.

What Were You Doing At 21?

What were you doing when you were 21?

* Mulling over which university to head for and the course of study to undertake?
* Serving your duty in NS?
* Just started work and received your first paycheck?
* Clinched an overseas scholarship for yourself?

Look at this boy.





What was he doing at 21?
Nothing.

That's right.
Nothing.

He'll never know what it's like to be 21 years of age.
He'll never experience life as a university undergrad.

This is Private First Class Michael S Adams. At the tender age of 20, he is but one of the numerous US war casualties. (click here to view the list)

Is war a necessity? Does the justification of a cause sufficient to snuff out individual lives? Are young people like Michael mere pawns of those who are in power - manipulated and propagated with sufficient propaganda to execute and pave the way while the top brass bestow glory and honour upon those who sacrifice for the nation?

Michael was someone's son, someone's neighbour, someone's classmate, someone's friend. Would he be sent had he been the son of a high-ranking officer? Would his mother be proud of her son's death or would the lady grieve that the little boy who once fell off his bicycle at the age of 3 would never have have his feet on their porch again?

Your guess is as good as mine.

Are You Happy?

Dear Mich,
Are you happy? The girl sitting here isn't. This girl wishes you well. She wishes that whatever befalls upon her would not be inflicted upon you. She peers through her cracked glasses and welcomes each day anew. She beams and believes that with each new day, the catalystic moment would arrive and magically remove her grinding moments. Mich, what about you? Can you teach this girl a trick or two? Oh silly me, there I go again, verbalizing my thoughts to this mirror of mine. You must excuse me for this oddity. Really, I ought to tuck that in its drawer now. I'll see you around, Mich, at the next mirror.

Cheers,
The Girl

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Firefox vs IE

Forgive me should this blog be askew at times, for I'm using Firefox and it looks perfectly fine. However, I do notice that this does not necessarily hold true for IE. My latest observation - Why has the font been enlarged in the sidebar when I view it with IE?

Rants

If Only....
I Wish....
What If...
Do You...

Hemming and hawing?
Tussle within your cognitive frame of mind?
Pacing to and fro?

What does it all boil down to?
Cowardice? Being indecisive? A lack of initiative?

"Just do it" is a selfish mantra. It reeks of little consideration on the impact of one's actions. An imperative with careless guile on the consequences which may be dire. A pompous heroic display on the exterior, it serves little purpose other than to inflate the ego. An affirmation of determined stature, it lacks a concrete alternative. Black and White. Win or Lose. There is no Draw. Losers die by the sword drawn by the victor.

Tarrying indicates a constant struggle, where right and wrong battle for established ground. Hesitant to ignite a chain of possible events, it strings along preventive measures and searches for other avenues. Mental activity blends seamlessly with the emotional ingredients for a perfect concoction.

Monday, May 29, 2006

How To Laze On The First Day of Your Holidays

Take a leaf out of Mich's book:
  • Slept at 11 the night before, jolted at 4am, surfed online and went to bed at 7am, jolted again at 8am, dozed off at 9am, finally stirred at 1pm.
  • To keep the long story short, MSN Messenger failed to work some time ago. Web Messenger was prohibited. Following a failed download of Trillian, Gaim worked. Till today. Reinstalled Gaim and hey presto, it got going again. ^_^
  • Watched four hours of National Geographic & Discovery Channel. (yes, these are my most frequently watched channels on the tube.)
  • Added a column of reads & links at the sidebar of this blog.

我很想爱他 - Twins

(Click here to download)

天空 下起雨了
The sky's pouring
他撑的伞 在你的身边陪著
He holds the umbrella by your side in companionship
可是我不快乐 因为看见
But I'm not happy because I see
他脸上的笑是很勉强的
The awkward smile on his face.

我很想爱他 但是眼睛在说谎
I desire to love him, but my eyes tell a lie
隐瞒比较容易吧 免得感情变的复杂
Perhaps it's easier to withold the truth, lest it gets complicated.
我很想爱他 但是理智在吵架
I desire to love him, but logic tussles in my mind
退出可以解围吗 谁能给我一个好回答
Would withdrawing solve this problem?
Who is able to provide a good answer?

爱情 是模糊的
Love has a blurred vision
可怜的是 没有勇气选择
Piteous is the lack of courage to choose
如果 再舍不得
If this lingering continues
这样下去 我们每个人都是受害者
Down the road, all of us will get hurt

当爱情陷在危险边缘
When love's hanging by the edge,
是否都会伤痕累累
Will it always be full of hurts and weariness?
是否都会苦不堪言
Will it always be bitter beyond words?

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Return Of The....

Sniffles.
*ack*
*achoo*
-rubs nose-
*ACHOO!*
-watches tissues fly in all directions-

Monday, May 22, 2006

How

How do you get back on track when bricks are pelted against you relentlessly?
How do you pick yourself up when your hands are pinned?
How do you piece yourself together when you're shattered, not broken?
How do you continue when the baggage weighs you down considerably?
How do you abandon your safe haven, your sole recluse for solace?
How do you find direction when the compass is whirling in all directions?
How do you find a solution to an infinite problem?
How do you smile when all you want to do is cry?

Teach me.

The First & The Second

In the world of interwoven coincidences, this has got to take the cake.
  • The First is in the same profession as I am. (gasp)
  • My primary school classmate is The First's colleague.
  • So is my friend from secondary school.
  • The Second was from the same class as the aforementioned friend from primary school.
  • As known to all, the Second is also in the same profession.
  • In fact, I had been in the same office as the Second's mother in my previous company.
  • I was acquainted with the First and Second on separate occasions at the age of 5 and 7 respectively.
  • The First and Second lived within the same vicinity as I did.
  • The First and Second were eventually in the same junior college as I was.
  • Fast forward to this current moment, three of us are in the same profession.
  • If that's not freaky enough, consider this - the First and Second share the same name.
Uh huh.
Yeah.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

The Good & The Bad

The Good ^_^
  • Today's a holiday. (thanks to the elections last week)
  • Vern took half a day off from work to go out with me.
  • Happy 24th Birthday to Vern!
  • Sally may be return from Australia in 2 weeks, if she can spare the time.
The Bad >.<
  • Remaining 3 hours in Snoozeland before I stir again.
  • 26 & 27 May (Fri & Sat) - Work stretches beyond 6pm on both days with consecutive major events. I'm in charge of many key aspects on Saturday. Stressed!


Why am I here at 6 am? Promise not to laugh?
I kicked my clock off the bed and that jolted me.
*-_-*

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Comforting Sphere © Mich

nectared thoughts, ashen ways
the truth of which her mien betrays.

one it was not but ten
nary a word with the gent

marked in time this decade
the hefty price of that she paid

a line in two's vision askew
belying truth of that they knew

when two in congruency abide
the third wave must then subside.

assumption of this identity
oscillates between she and he.

affirmity in this repose
solace of only which he knows.

rueful beads from these lids glisten
unshackle her vacuous prison

find her a chair, give her a hug.
choose not to ignore nor shrug.

To where it once was.

She had words filtering in and out of her mind. Promptly, she plopped herself into this seat only to find a silent occupant dwelling in her head. A vaccuum, of nothingness abound. She laughed to herself. A piteous laugh. When nothing fans out to be everything and everything becomes nothing, is she looking for something? She knows the answer.

Her amative imaginings, accordingly, reached the verge and vaulted across the retaining wall. The multifarious marvel of her congested nuances conjured a vexation gamely quaffed. For such was the straining avarice poised, the mutterings whipped were mere noise. And she suffered this noise. Jarring. An artifice of thought strung another, aligned in rumination.

Fruits she can never eat
Water she can never drink.

Melancholy cradled by the past, parent to the apparent void. Tarried has she, scant and found wanting. Wanting of that which is simple. That which is not said transcends superficial utterances. That which is said lawns the spokes of the unspoken blades. The insipid vessel that she is scrapes at splattered mirth.

Till there is none.

You

You, who see, do you turn away?
You, who hear, do you listen?
You, who speak, do you judge?
You, who think, do you know?
You, who feel, do you care?

Who are You?

Monday, May 15, 2006

prendre la balle au bond © mich

She should. But, can she?
She doesn't want to. Till says he.

Down the trodden path, footprints left behind
Yesterday's imprints framed in the mind

Time, this length of void between
Casts its silent shroud unseen

Words offer solace and hugs, much more they mean -
These splinters, a fragmented dream

Wretched being, a soul despaired
Lips departed from the cup once shared.

Silence reaped a bond between
Words unspoken bound her and him

Chagrin immense, she could not say.
Pangs repined this forbidden display

Disdain and chides she bore before
A frame of a thousand words she saw

The cogwheels clicked and made a pair
A remnant shard had no place there

She tossed a die, she lost the game.
And now, she must forget his name.

Jesus, Take The Wheel - Carrie Underwood

She was driving last Friday on her way to Cincinnati
On a snow white Christmas Eve
Going home to see her Mama and her Daddy with the baby in the backseat
Fifty miles to go and she was running low on faith and gasoline
It'd been a long hard year
She had a lot on her mind and she didn't pay attention
She was going way too fast
Before she knew it, she was spinning on a thin black sheet of glass
She saw both their lives flash before her eyes
She didn't even have time to cry
She was so scared
She threw her hands up in the air

Jesus, take the wheel
Take it from my hands
Cause I can't do this on my own
I'm letting go
So give me one more chance
To save me from this road I'm on
Jesus, take the wheel

It was still getting colder when she made it to the shoulder
And the car came to a stop
She cried when she saw that baby in the backseat sleeping like a rock
And for the first time in a long time
She bowed her head to pray
She said, "I'm sorry for the way
I've been living my life
I know I've got to change."
So from now on tonight

Jesus, take the wheel
Take it from my hands
Cause I can't do this on my own
I'm letting go
So give me one more chance
To save me from this road I'm on

Oh, Jesus take the wheel
Oh, I'm letting go
So give me one more chance
Save me from this road I'm on
From this road I'm on
Jesus take the wheel
Oh, take it, take it from me
Oh, why, oh

Friday, May 12, 2006

A Sad Little Girl


Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Someone

Let me tell you a story about Someone.
  • Each raindrop pelts noisily against the glass pane. He is about to leave to fetch his heavily-pregnant wife by bus. Someone insists on having his umbrella because she wants to leave. When this is met with refusal, Someone promptly snatches the umbrella out of his hands and exits. He is stumped.
  • Someone is standing in on her behalf. The stipulated time frame is 30 minutes. Shortly after, Someone learns that the absentee in the enclosed environment is down with chicken pox. Returning to the safe haven later, Someone creates a furore by pointing and accusing her of deliberate harm by keeping mum. Someone trumps with the sympathy card. Most guiless onlookers fall for Someone's dramatic overtures which include swaying, loud wailing, collapsing into the seat and flailing arms. Those in the know are disgusted.
  • In the two years since Someone's arrival, loyal followers of the System have trickled out abruptly. On the surface, some have left for greener pastures. Few are in the know. A gentle, faithful and popular key figure up high on the ladder for the last ten years will leave in a few weeks. From the horse's mouth, Someone is the core reason. A few days ago, another has chosen to leave because of Someone. Those in the know are enraged that The One is blind to Someone's conniving ways.
  • The upper hands of the System are kept in the dark because Someone has perfected her skills in the fine art of wayang. Additionally, her sweet and innocent exterior pulls the wool over many eyes.
  • Someone blatantly nestles in the bosom of those who wield power within the System. Her style of execution on her hapless Target of The Moment is the same - through increased communication, showers of flattery, incessantly asking the aforementioned figure out for lunch every single day and hooking of arms to enforce this.
  • When Someone arrived, the Fool was good to her. To integrate Someone into the System, the Fool often took Someone out for lunch, helped Someone out with her assignments and spent weekends with Someone. Someone was immensely disliked by many in a matter of weeks and to cheer Someone up, the Fool showered her with attention. The Fool's best ally then was one of the most influential powers that be. Unknown to the The Fool, Someone was hatching a plan. The Fool's ally was now Someone's Target of the Moment. A liaison with the Fool's ally would increase Someone's power up There. After some time, the Fool realised this but the ally by then, had been won over. When the time was perfect, Someone sent a message to the Fool to sow discord. It was a thinly-veiled trap addressed to the intended receiver - the ally. The Fool saw through this, but was too tired to fight. The Fool conceded defeat and withdrew. The Fool was chided by those in the know for allowing Someone to triumph. The Fool did not want to engage in playground politics and cut off all ties with the ally. By now, Someone had formed a strong circle with the powers that be.This year, Someone had given the unprecedented invitation to the Fool to join this circle with the same tactics. The Fool ignored this.
  • Today, the Fool sensed something amiss when Someone threw a discreet cocky glance with a smirk. It was an expression the Fool was familiar with. Someone had thrown daggers behind the Fool's back to the powers that be. The Fool was her casualty yet again.What disgusted the Fool most was Someone's constant self-portrayal as the Innocent Party. Someone had the cheek to send the Fool a message pleading innocence and expressed hurt. The Fool expects dramatic overtures tomorrow.
I hope you like Someone.

Walk while you have the Light, so that darkness will not overtake you;
he who walks in the darkness does not know where he goes.

Monday, May 08, 2006

If I Thought You'd Ever Change Your Mind - Agnetha Faltskog

I will bring you flowers in the morning
White roses as the sun begins to shine
Sweet perfume in tiny jewel caskets
If I thought you'd ever change your mind

I would take you where the music's sweetest
Feed you winter fruits and summer wine
Show you things you only read in story books
If I thought you'd ever change your mind

I will bring you happiness
Wrapped up in a box and tied with a yellow bow
I will bring you rainbow skies
And summer rain to make your garden grow
And in the winter snow
My songs will keep you from the cold

But what use of flowers in the morning
When the garden they should grow in is not mine
And what use is sunshine if I'm crying
And my falling tears are mingled with the wine

I will bring you happiness
Wrapped up in a box and tied with a yellow bow
I will bring you rainbow skies
And summer rain to make your garden grow
And in the winter snow
My songs will keep you from the cold

I will bring you flowers in the morning
White roses as the sun begins to shine
Winter fruits and summer wine
Sweet perfume and columbine
If I thought you'd ever change your mind
If I thought - you'd ever - change your mind...

Sunday, May 07, 2006

Oops, I Did It Again!

Vern needed to shop for her ROM shoes. Who else did she drag along but moi? While Vern satisfied herself with her shoes & Guess skirt, yours truly went on a spending spree. For the second time in a week, the two madcaps were together again.We started the day at noon and reached home at midnight.

Fresh at noon.
Mich & Vern....
...two fanatics...
...after 10 hours of shopping..The vainpot in a solo shot.
At Mango, I bought my shortest skirt ever. I think I look like a bloated hippo. -_-
My first Stussy skirt....
...and its discreet label tucked at the hem
What I bagged at Future State: A laced corset tube top...
...and a plain white tube with lace trimmings at the hems.
My splurge on this pair of shoes from Nine West......
....I must stop spending...
....but I just love these blue slippers!
A Wacoal slip.....
and its matching bottom...
Another Wacoal slip. Cute!New additions to Mich's ever-expanding mass of accessories

The Leaves Of The Forest Rustle Today....

The Lion of the jungle roars. He is a mighty force to be reckoned with. Few have dared to cross his path and those who do, have paid the hefty price. The monkeys of the forest chatter incessantly. Swinging from branch to branch, they abhor the Lion and his iron fist rule. "He must be put in his place!",they chant. They offer nuts to those who stop and listen.

The animals of the forest tremble at the impending arrival of the Lion. The monkeys have garnered their own supporters who rally their cries for a paradigm shift. Most, however, remain dormant and nary a whisker is twitched. Placid and defiant, the monkeys push their way through the crowd. They demand a head-on challenge with the Lion. Their brave battlecry is met with eventual defeat.

Triumphant from his win, the Lion swaggers away into the distance. The animals of the forest speak in hushed tones. Some leave with the monkeys while the others trail behind the Lion, fearing the punishment meted out should they follow otherwise. The Lion is essential for their very existence, their social & economic bearing. Thus, for a long time to come, the animals of the forest have little choice but to ascribe to the greatness of the Lion.

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Up With Grups by Adam Sternbergh

I'm a New York Magazine convert. Having read an incisive take on the global social phenomenon - The Grups, here's a quick summary on the 9-page article. Bona fide Grup in the near future, here I come.
****
NY says: Let’s start with a question.When did it become normal for your average 35-year-old New Yorker to walk around with an iPod plugged into his ears at all times?
Mich says: Does an MP3 phone count? Mich is desperately awaiting the arrival of Nokia N72.

NY says: It showed up in the early eighties as “the Peter Pan Syndrome,” then mutated to the yuppie, which, let’s face it, has had a pretty good run. Later, it took the form that David Brooks called “bourgeois bohemians,” or bobos (as in Bobos in Paradise). Over in England, they’re now calling them yindies (that’s yuppie plus indie), and here, the term yupster (you can figure that out) has been gaining some traction of late. And as this movement evolves, something pivotal is happening. This cascade of pioneering immaturity is no longer a case of a generation’s being stuck in its own youth. This generation is now, if you happen to be under 25, more interested in your youth.
Mich says: 26 can't be too far away from this benchmark, eh? Strictly adhering to the calendar, Mich won't be 27 till the end of the year, so yeah, she's still 26! =D

NY says: No wonder Grups like today’s indie music: It sounds exactly like the indie music of their youth. Which, as it happens, is what kids today like, too, which is why today’s new music all sounds like it’s twenty years old. And thus the culture grinds to a halt, in a screech of guitar feedback.
Mich says: Back then, Green Day, Nirvana, Backstreet Boys, Take That, Soundgarden, Coldplay, Savage Garden and the likes were the rage. It's not my fault that most of them are still pumping out albums these days, non?

NY says: This is an obituary for the generation gap. It is a story about 40-year-old men and women who look, talk, act, and dress like people who are 22 years old. It’s not about a fad but about a phenomenon that looks to be permanent.
Mich says: I forsee myself dressed in Mango for the next decade. At least.

NY says: A number of trends have nudged us in this direction, from the increasingly casual dress codes at work to the persistent marketing of counterculture “rebellion” as an easily attainable, catchall symbol for cool. So why would anyone dress up anymore? A suit says, My mother made me wear this to go to a bar mitzvah. The Grup outfit says, I’m so cool, and so damned good at what I do, I can wear whatever the hell I want. At least when I go out to brunch.
Mich says: Corporate wear has pared down a few notches within this decade. Teachers no longer have to be stuffed in staid high-waisted skirts nor frumpy frocks. -cheers-

NY says: Of course, when you’re 40, with a regular paycheck, yet still want to resemble a rock star who resembles a garage mechanic, well, what’s a guy to do? Status symbols still have their uses, especially in the world of clothes. And this is where the $200 ripped jeans come in. Or $450. Or $600. You want the tattered jeans, but you also want the world to know, I can afford the very best in tattered jeans.
Mich says: The extravagance of $400 jeans in the past (remember Roccobarroco, Iceberg, Versace, MCM, et al?) has now been replaced by $150 Levi's. Hey, that's a savings of nearly $300, no?

NY says: Grups don’t avoid having kids. Grups love kids. In part, though, this is because Grups find kids to be perfect little Mr. Potato Head versions of themselves. Of course, there’s more to Grup parenting than simply moulding your kid’s tastes. You must be vigilant that you don’t grow up and become uncool yourself.
Mich says: Does working with kids count? -ponders-

NY says: But isn’t there something unsavory in the idea of your kid as a kind of tabula rasa for you to overwrite with your tastes? Less a child than a malleable Mini-Me?
Mich says: Every generation is an extension of its predecessor! Think of it as an additional plug-in. Next!

NY says: The last time teenagers weren’t expected to rebel, it was because they were heading off to work in the coal mines at age 13. Can we really expect to be cool parents and also raise cool kids? Is this youth big enough for the both of us?
Mich says: The media propagates the notion of eternal youth and you blame us for falling victim to consumerism?

NY says: For a Grup, success isn’t about how many employees you have but how much freedom you have to walk, or boogie-board, away. You see, it’s not that Grups don’t want to work; they just don’t want to work for you. In a recent Money magazine poll about bosses, 54 percent of the respondents said they wouldn’t want their boss’s job no matter how much money you paid them. Fifty-four percent.
Mich says: Amen to that, freedom at work ranks high on my priority scale.

NY says: There’s that tricky word again: passion. What’s with the Grups and passion? It’s all anyone wants to talk about. Passionate parents, passionate workers, passionate listeners to the new album by Wolf Parade. And I start to realize: Under the skin of the iPods and the $400 ripped jeans, this is the spine of the Grup ethos: passion, and the fear of losing it.
Mich says: That's true. Mich will only pursue that which intrigues her. She does not understand how one can partake in anything without an inkling of passion. Well, at least Mich is passionate about English and that makes her job easier.

NY says: Which brings me back to my father: the one who wore suits, not jeans; the one who, when he was my age, already had four kids; the one who logged a lifetime at exactly the kind of middle-management jobs that no one wakes up excited about going to in the morning, and who then found himself sandbagged by the late-eighties recession, laid off in what must have felt like the worst kind of double whammy. All the adult trade-offs he’d made turned out to be a brutal bait-and-switch.
Mich says: Uh, yeah. Whatever.

NY says: Is it any wonder that the Grups have looked at that brand of adulthood and said, “No thanks, you can keep your carrot and your stick.” Especially once we saw just how easily that stick can be turned around to whap your ass as you’re ushered out the door, suit and all. Just how easily a bona fide, by-the-book adult can be made to wonder where it all went wrong, and why you ever bothered to grow up in the first place.
Mich says: I don't know about you, but carrots are really tasty. =)

NY says: Being a Grup isn’t, as it turns out, all about holding on to some misguided, well-marketed idea of youth—or, at least, isn’t just about that. It’s also about rejecting a hand-me-down model of adulthood that asks, or even necessitates, that you let go of everything you ever felt passionate about. It’s about reimagining adulthood as a period defined by promise, rather than compromise. And who can’t relate to that?
Mich says: An adapted model of the Grup would be the best compromise - to balance work with play. Now, that's maturity. Heh.

Monday, May 01, 2006

Cash Splash

29 April 2006 (Saturday)

The Progress Package had just fattened our accounts and Singaporeans flocked out of their homes into the throes of malls. Yours truly started the day with Vern, who initially wanted to meet at 10am (yes, the girl is insane about shopping). The accumulation of purchases stopped at 10pm and we rested our tired laurels (and feet!) till 11.30pm. Thereafter, supper at Jalan Kayu was on the cards and we stayed there till 5am. It was 7am by the time I crawled into bed.

Our purchases, mostly from Mango. I liked this Mango outfit which I had worn. Striding into the boutique, I pointed at myself and asked for another set in another colour.
Couldn't resist this pair of Nine West-esque heels
Lovely green Wacoal Set with the butterfly appliques!
Another pair of shoesMich cannot resist anything with lace.........like these Esprit camisoles ........this pair of Osmose cropped shorts...
...this white skirt from StapleWear........and these sweet bikini briefs. Vern & I had each reserved a set in every available colour.
Look what I'd found! Before the Backstreet Boys, there was Take That. (for the uninitiated, Take That had a nasty split when Robbie Williams left the group). Who can forget Pray, Babe, Everything Changes, Relight My Fire, A Million Love Songs, Back For Good, Never Forget, How Deep Is Your Love, et al?

= A Million Love Songs =
Put your head against my life
What do you hear
A million words just trying to make
The love song of the year
Close your eyes but don't forget
What you have heard
Someone who's trying to say three words
The words that make me scared

A million love songs later
And here I am trying to tell you that I care
A million love songs later
And here I am

Looking to the future now
This is what I see
A million chances pass me by
A million chances to hold you
Take me back, take me back
To where I used to be
To hide away from all my truth
Through the light I see

A million love songs later
And here I am trying to tell you that I care
A million love songs later
And here I am.