Black Box.

Smile, I commanded
you obeyed
and I caught forever
that moment
when something on your face
disguised itself
so well
as happiness.

[ G. Koh, Photograph ]

They Flit Ever On.

The Little Girl clutched a singular thought fervently.

In her naivete, she believed that if she kept very, very still,

Maybe, just maybe, Time would return to its point of origin.

Thus, she waited.

And as she did, the welted chrysalis failed to catch her eye.

Mich : Fragile. Handle With Care.

Let's be honest, shall we?

I'm Happy when I'm with You.

Yet, there were many days weeks months years of trickles when You pulled away, when You let Me down after I'd let You down - the Nightmare of 2007 sent me spiralling into an abyss, one of which had taken me a long time to overcome and pick myself up.

Am I game for this again?

At what price does this sliver of Happiness come?

A day of Happiness for an infinite trail of tears?

Everything for what may very well be Nothing?

I don't want to make any assumptions.

Speculations are but conjured semantics filtered through ignorance.

There's only so much of Me that's left from the fragmented past.

>> Mich : Fragile. Handle with care. <<

Fancy Naming This Decade 'The Aughties' ?

21st century's first decade is slipping away without leaving its name

By Michael S. Rosenwald
Washington Post Staff Writer
Saturday, December 26, 2009

Jesse Sheidlower, editor at large of the Oxford English Dictionary, cannot escape the question: What should we call this decade? We have the '80s, the '90s, and . . . the "twenty hundreds"?

With six days remaining until the '10s begin, Sheidlower has bad news for those searching for the answer. "For years and years, people have been seeking a solution," he said. "Well, it never happened. We don't have a name for the decade. Sorry."

Dictionary editors, linguists and even radio DJs say we have entered a semantic black hole in which the English language failed to produce a term for the outgoing decade in the same way it has failed to find a catchy moniker for your former in-laws. (Out-laws never stuck.) The language is stumped. The Zeroes? The Ohs? The Oh-Ohs? Help!

Word search

The Two Thousands? The Aughties?

Surely this is a philological crisis. A language that has a word for "a soft fleecy material made from linen, usually by scraping" -- lint, according to Merriam-Webster's -- cannot possibly exist past Dec. 31, 2009, without a name for the preceding 10 years, right? Wrong. ("The state of being mistaken or incorrect.")

Dennis Baron, a University of Illinois linguist and curator of a Web site that decodes language in the news, said, "People think if we don't have anything to call the decade, that maybe we will forget it, that it will be some kind of orphan decade, that it won't exist. But it's simply not true."

Kenny King, operations manager at WRQX (107.3 FM) -- the radio station that began the decade billing its music as "the best mix of the '80s, '90s and today" and now calls its tunes "the best mix of . . . everything" -- thinks the culture over the past 10 years has grown too complex to be encompassed in a single name. Radio stations that have historically used decade names to give listeners an instant read on what they'll hear have turned away from the practice as listeners started using iTunes to turn their personal music experience into a jumble of decades.

Reeling in the years

The search for a consensus name for the first decade of the millennium is an illustration of a larger problem in the world of numbers. "We have never had a handy way of characterizing the first 10 numbers in a sequence of zero to 100," said Baron. "We have seen the best minds in the world try to find a solution, but the kids aren't dancing to it."

The concept of naming decades is a rather modern one. In the 19th century -- people in the word business tend to take a long view -- nobody really cared a darn. ("Used as a form of asseveration," according to the Oxford English Dictionary.)

But if people insist on searching for the perfect sticky term, Baron has an idea. It involves cash.

"Maybe we could sell the naming rights, like we do with stadiums," he said. "We could give the money to charity. We could get a panel of experts to judge. We could get our friends from Merriam-Webster, from Oxford, from the American Dialect Society. This panel could very easily be assembled."

Or we could just give up, once and for all. [ Extracted from The Washington Post. Read the original article here. ]

The Unspoken.

Things that I could not tell you in person for the lack of courage, I shall squiggle them here.

1. I was really Happy to see You. But to mask it, I acted nonchalantly, as if it did not matter. I feared that You would think little of Me if even a wisp of it glistened. And so, I acted in that silly manner.
2. I'd told myself that if You did what You'd tried to do the second time, I would not avoid it should the opportunity come knocking again. Yet, the same mistake repeated itself. Again, it was out of fear, that You would think little of Me.
3. Nonsensical gibberish was spouted because once again, I feared that You would think little of Me should the truth be told.

And because of the singular factor, Fear, I'd consciously allowed opportunities to slip before my eyes. Not just once, but time and time again.

Because You had Your perceptions and I had mine, we realised a tad too late that if only we'd said what was on our minds instead of guessing.

We're not young anymore.

If it's to Be, let me know.

"Sometimes, the Unspoken hurts you more than what You have to say." [ Liar, Liar ]

1, 2, 3 .....

They say that lightning never strikes the same place twice.

They do, however, agree that the third time's the charm.

Third time lucky?

Could It be?

Really?

Could It Be Magic?

I dont believe in magic
But I believe in You.

And when You say You believe in Me
There's so much magic I can do.

[ Don McLean, Birthday Song ]

For I, At Odds

I saw, besides
The mien in ringlets sieve.

I smiled, before
Its artifice a shade of yonder.

I craned, afar
It would permit to depart

I watched, alone
In regard of that asunder.

- Mich

So Abound WIth.

"Say quickly what thou wouldst have of me,
For there is but a short hour that we may tarry here."

[ Nathaniel Hawthorne, From Twice Told Tales ]

What?

What I want is what I cannot have.
What I have may not be what I want.
What I want may be what I have.
What I have could be what I want.
What I want is to want what I have
What I have is to not want what I want.

What I want....
Could it be what I have?

我不配....

My consciousness has been plugged into this melody for the past two hours. And still, the trickles have yet to ebb.

我不配
作词：方文山　作曲：周杰伦

这街上太拥挤　
太多人有秘密　
玻璃上有雾气在被隐藏起过去
你脸上的情绪　
在还原那场雨　
这巷弄太过弯曲走不回故事里

这日子不再绿　
又斑驳了几句　 　
剩下搬空回忆的我在大房子里
电影院的座椅　
隔遥远的距离　
感情没有对手戏你跟自己下棋

还来不及仔仔细细写下你的关于
描述我如何爱你　
你却微笑的离我而去

这感觉　已经不对　
我努力在挽回
一些些应该体贴的感觉我没给
你嘟嘴许的愿望很卑微在妥协
是我忽略　你不过要人陪

这感觉已经不对　
我最后才了解
一页页不忍翻阅的情节你好累
你默背为我掉过几次泪多憔悴
而我心碎你受罪你的美我不配

In Time.

When twirls and curls incline no more,
Pirouettes spill thus across the floor.

And while the chimes of the clock yet ring,
The lapse of the hour they soon shall sing.

-- Mich

Jehovah-Jireh (The Lord is my Provider.)

Jehovah-Jireh.

“Your Father knows the things you have need of before you ask Him.” [ Matthew 6:8 ]

Here We Go.

I have a stinking feeling about this these.

Oh, yes I do.

Call it Instinct or Preconceived Notions based on experience,

I just know that little by little,

It all adds up.

You.

Here we go.

Again.

Sublimal Fragments

"Signs from God come to people
To wake them up or to lead them.
Next time you have coincidences occur,
Remember it, write it down with the date and time.
Pray about the meaning
And shortly, you will know what it is leading you to know."
[ Excerpt from Signs from God : Coincidences ]
Dear God,

I know that nothing happens by chance.

Everything happens for a purpose & reason.

The string of coincidences, the purported missed opportunities, the ........

I ask of You to lead me wisely.

For everything should be of Wisdom and Purpose.

Guide me, God.

Because I know not what to make of It.

Amen.

D.C. al Coda.

"The wheels of the bus go round and round..."

For days, this enchanting ditty had been infiltrating my mind.

I finally know why.

The wheels of the bus do go round and round.....

And sometimes, a spherical oscillation is not a good thing.

Because, it is infinite.

Ad Infinitum.

D.C. al non Fine. (musical academics will throttle me for coining this.)

If You get my drift.

Do You?

[Note : D.C al Fine has gone to the dogs. Meanwhile, D.C al Coda is right up my alley.
Segno, Senor! Legato mucho! ]

Happy 4th Wedding Anniversary @ F0rlin0.

Happy 4th Wedding Anniversary!

The Man and I celebrated this special occasion with a 6-course set meal (yes, 6 courses each!) at the following restaurant @ One Fullerton.

Beautiful, isn't it?

Aside from the breathtaking ambience and view, this epicurean enclave served delightfully succulent palatables. Kudos to the excellent service rendered by the manager, who bantered candidly and cracked a few jokes as he remarked that The Man appeared to be 'rather serious'. (Those who are familiar with The Man, like my hao peng you Leion, would know that this is far from the truth!) This somewhat sombre expression would be primarily attributed to The Man having slaved at work for 12 hours prior to our dinner.

Despite being worn out after work, The Man insisted on dining on our actual anniversary instead of adhering to my suggestion of having a belated celebration.



To top it off, he bought Mich a pair of Christian Dior shades. It wouldn't have mattered if it were cheap pasar malam shades instead of this rather expensive pair.

What matters most is the effort and thought undertaken.

That said, isn't The Man sweet indeed?

**More pics will be uploaded in Facebook. As you may have noted of late, there are scarcely any pics uploaded here as Facebook has predominantly been my platform of choice for recent photographs.

Congratulate Me.

Congratulate me.

Congratulate me not for the aforementioned celebration.

Congratulate me for what I'm about to reveal.

After a year, I finally logged into my Flickr account and started uploading pics again.

Prior to this, my paid account had remained dormant, albeit renewed on an annual basis, for each time I'd logged in, my attention would invariably be riveted on the photographs with You and it relived every word, gesture, gift and song.

Congratulate me.

For tonight, this eluded me.

For tonight, I deleted whatever I'd written in those albums with You.

What's left are plain, stark photographs.

Devoid of words.

Because words don't matter at the end of the day, be they sweet and alluring to the ear.

I learnt it the hard way.

I learnt it through You.

Now, who's going to congratulate Me? =)