Cast all your burdens until the Lord, and He will give you strength.
(disclaimer: theyre not the exact wordings)
Friday, September 22, 2006
17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. "It's the best thing I ever wrote.." It also was the last.
Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teary Valley High School. Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them - notes from classmates and teachers, his homework.
Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life. But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven. "It makes such an impact that people want to share it. You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore said.
Brian Moore died May 27, 1997. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck an utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him."
Brian's Essay: The Room
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings.
As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.
This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.
Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.
When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: "No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.
Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.And then I saw it.. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained with one hand.And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him
No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.
He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.
Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red, so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door.
There were still cards to be written.
reading the first part of the email, i instantly thought abt the rjc guy.it's amazing how news spread so quickly. at first, i could sympathize with him. i've felt so stressed before; yet it wasn't consider depression...he must be feeling a great deal of hurt.at the other hand, i couldn't help but be appalled.death is but only one solution to problems; and that is to run away. but i've always thought of rj students as resilient and always picking themselves up after each failure. (prob cos of the competitive-ness i sense when ard them)
anyways, i went for west zone colours award ceremony today. it is probably because it is my first time; it was BREATH TAKING. i felt so inspired just being in the audi. there was an aura of akinship;i just felt this affinity between everybody in the small hwachong auditorium. it was filled with student athletes with the aspirations to excel in life. Pushing Your Limits... i felt so honoured yet unworthy to be in the presence of this 'grand' ceremony. (no im' not being SAR-CA!--> sarcastic .__.) no, the 'vip' didnt give an inspirational talk (it was quite motivating though :)) but it was just the vibrancy radiated through each athletic. i'm not making any sense. okay to put it simply, i felt that i was standing on common ground. though all the students are in different sports, our mindsets are the same. and that is what makes us equal. neighbourhood, independent, sap school students all alike.
the two acjc runners next to me were so friendly. and when i told the guy i was going to rjc, he hesitated," you do know that...we don't really like them right?" i felt the injustice in his opinion; (i'm not going to rjc because of whtever reason but cos of the coach) so told him the long reason why i chose there. that explained it all; he would have followed me too.
hoiyan exclaimed," rjc is gonna do damn well next yr. snatch all the good tennis ers, runners, swimmers........"
melPOKPOK, "aiyah. they dont have THE FRIENDS."
!!!! how much more unsupportive can my table partner be?! hahahaha. shes suhc an ass.i felt so hurt. but this is what i've set myself up for...so i cant complain. but talking to natt ,hoiyan and tricia during lunch gave me the liberty to. i dont care.i realised how much i'll miss my friends. my hugo a go go friend etc. shouting whenever i want to (smelly and melpok's voices are way louder), jumping in the rain, changing in classroom,sitting at one corner and thinking abt stones without feeling lonely at all. i know i still have my friends behind me.
no matter, i'm still basking in the glory. the effect the west zone award had on me is great...i guess the first for whatever is always the most impactful :) so don't stop me OKAY.
*¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # discipline. says:
if you think about yourself becoming proud in rj
*¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # discipline. says:
i'll be worrying about myself becoming bitchy and playful
HAHAHAHAHAHA. that HAS to go down to my archives man. HAHAHAHA. that IS hilarious. ultimate. it shall be given best quote of the century!
Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teary Valley High School. Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them - notes from classmates and teachers, his homework.
Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life. But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven. "It makes such an impact that people want to share it. You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore said.
Brian Moore died May 27, 1997. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck an utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him."
Brian's Essay: The Room
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings.
As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.
This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.
Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.
When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: "No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.
Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.And then I saw it.. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained with one hand.And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him
No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.
He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.
Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red, so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door.
There were still cards to be written.
reading the first part of the email, i instantly thought abt the rjc guy.it's amazing how news spread so quickly. at first, i could sympathize with him. i've felt so stressed before; yet it wasn't consider depression...he must be feeling a great deal of hurt.at the other hand, i couldn't help but be appalled.death is but only one solution to problems; and that is to run away. but i've always thought of rj students as resilient and always picking themselves up after each failure. (prob cos of the competitive-ness i sense when ard them)
anyways, i went for west zone colours award ceremony today. it is probably because it is my first time; it was BREATH TAKING. i felt so inspired just being in the audi. there was an aura of akinship;i just felt this affinity between everybody in the small hwachong auditorium. it was filled with student athletes with the aspirations to excel in life. Pushing Your Limits... i felt so honoured yet unworthy to be in the presence of this 'grand' ceremony. (no im' not being SAR-CA!--> sarcastic .__.) no, the 'vip' didnt give an inspirational talk (it was quite motivating though :)) but it was just the vibrancy radiated through each athletic. i'm not making any sense. okay to put it simply, i felt that i was standing on common ground. though all the students are in different sports, our mindsets are the same. and that is what makes us equal. neighbourhood, independent, sap school students all alike.
the two acjc runners next to me were so friendly. and when i told the guy i was going to rjc, he hesitated," you do know that...we don't really like them right?" i felt the injustice in his opinion; (i'm not going to rjc because of whtever reason but cos of the coach) so told him the long reason why i chose there. that explained it all; he would have followed me too.
hoiyan exclaimed," rjc is gonna do damn well next yr. snatch all the good tennis ers, runners, swimmers........"
melPOKPOK, "aiyah. they dont have THE FRIENDS."
!!!! how much more unsupportive can my table partner be?! hahahaha. shes suhc an ass.i felt so hurt. but this is what i've set myself up for...so i cant complain. but talking to natt ,hoiyan and tricia during lunch gave me the liberty to. i dont care.i realised how much i'll miss my friends. my hugo a go go friend etc. shouting whenever i want to (smelly and melpok's voices are way louder), jumping in the rain, changing in classroom,sitting at one corner and thinking abt stones without feeling lonely at all. i know i still have my friends behind me.
no matter, i'm still basking in the glory. the effect the west zone award had on me is great...i guess the first for whatever is always the most impactful :) so don't stop me OKAY.
*¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # discipline. says:
if you think about yourself becoming proud in rj
*¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # discipline. says:
i'll be worrying about myself becoming bitchy and playful
HAHAHAHAHAHA. that HAS to go down to my archives man. HAHAHAHA. that IS hilarious. ultimate. it shall be given best quote of the century!
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Sunday, September 10, 2006
dad is bringing us to watch barclay open(golf) later! yay. golf is super super boring to watch on tv. but being at the competition itself is very interesting. e anticipation (theres total silence when the guy is concentrating), the thrill (watching the ball soar), the JOY when the ball scurries into the hole and the perspiration you accumulate on your shirt. yuck. it's very tiring to walk from one hole to another. oh yea, and talking to other sports enthusiasts . the last time i went, this lady commented aloud abt the hot weather. since she was alone, i thought she was talking to me (she wasn't). so i responded," at least we're walking, not running at mrr man." and bam, a common ground for conversation built between us. quite fun ah? there're two main players my dad is going to watch : adam scott and ernie ely (mind my sp)
dad: i'm supporting adam scott
tiff: i go w ernie. same name as my fave cartoon
(tv screens adam scott playing golf)
tiff: i change. i want adam scott now
d: ya. he very handsome right?
t: hmm quite ... that's why you support him right
d: ...he is a very good player. very humble. and ya handsome also
oh my. i've cross, jackson sch mag thing on hand. and class thing for longest day. and it all requires designing . creativity. innovations. of all 3 which i dont possess. but i'm gonna see adam scott live later! hahahaa
dad: i'm supporting adam scott
tiff: i go w ernie. same name as my fave cartoon
(tv screens adam scott playing golf)
tiff: i change. i want adam scott now
d: ya. he very handsome right?
t: hmm quite ... that's why you support him right
d: ...he is a very good player. very humble. and ya handsome also
oh my. i've cross, jackson sch mag thing on hand. and class thing for longest day. and it all requires designing . creativity. innovations. of all 3 which i dont possess. but i'm gonna see adam scott live later! hahahaa
Friday, September 08, 2006
HAHAHAHA. this video is hilarious. was "surfing around youtube" and i thought i spotted runqian in her RJ jersey. i'm so good. but i think this video will make more sense to runners. hahahahahhahahahaha
http://youtube.com/watch?v=mKDmG1Kx_Uw&mode=related&search=
http://youtube.com/watch?v=mKDmG1Kx_Uw&mode=related&search=
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Train-Drops of Jupiter (Tell Me)
Now that she's back in the atmosphere
With drops of Jupiter in her hair, hey, hey
She acts like summer and walks like rain
Reminds me that there's time to change, hey, hey
Since the return from her stay on the moon
She listens like spring and she talks like June, hey, hey
Tell me did you sail across the sun
Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded
And that heaven is overrated
Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star
One without a permanent scar
And did you miss me while you were looking at yourself out there
Now that she's back from that soul vacation
Tracing her way through the constellation, hey, hey
She checks out Mozart while she does tae-bo
Reminds me that there's time to grow, hey, hey
Now that she's back in the atmosphere
I'm afraid that she might think of me as plain ol' Jane
Told a story about a man who is too afraid to fly so he never did land
Tell me did the wind sweep you off your feet
Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day
And head back to the Milky Way
And tell me, did Venus blow your mind
Was it everything you wanted to find
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there
Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken
Your best friend always sticking up for you even when I know you're wrong
Can you imagine no first dance, freeze dried romance five-hour phone conversation
The best soy latte that you ever had . . . and me
Tell me did the wind sweep you off your feet
Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day
And head back toward the Milky Way
Repeat 1st Chorus
i've never really thought too much over a song; much lest know the lyrics. i've been brooding over this song for very long...what does it mean?... it's open to so many intepretations...so confusing.
Now that she's back in the atmosphere
With drops of Jupiter in her hair, hey, hey
She acts like summer and walks like rain
Reminds me that there's time to change, hey, hey
Since the return from her stay on the moon
She listens like spring and she talks like June, hey, hey
Tell me did you sail across the sun
Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded
And that heaven is overrated
Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star
One without a permanent scar
And did you miss me while you were looking at yourself out there
Now that she's back from that soul vacation
Tracing her way through the constellation, hey, hey
She checks out Mozart while she does tae-bo
Reminds me that there's time to grow, hey, hey
Now that she's back in the atmosphere
I'm afraid that she might think of me as plain ol' Jane
Told a story about a man who is too afraid to fly so he never did land
Tell me did the wind sweep you off your feet
Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day
And head back to the Milky Way
And tell me, did Venus blow your mind
Was it everything you wanted to find
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there
Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken
Your best friend always sticking up for you even when I know you're wrong
Can you imagine no first dance, freeze dried romance five-hour phone conversation
The best soy latte that you ever had . . . and me
Tell me did the wind sweep you off your feet
Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day
And head back toward the Milky Way
Repeat 1st Chorus
i've never really thought too much over a song; much lest know the lyrics. i've been brooding over this song for very long...what does it mean?... it's open to so many intepretations...so confusing.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Monday, September 04, 2006
here's a picture of sandcastle!! my church youth went to changi beach on sat and small samuel and his parents were building a "wall to prevent seawater from going into a hole" they dug. im not a geog student so i dont know what that is called. then i joined in the fun.i probably looked so happy (or desperate in need of help) that daniel yuliang and henry came along to help. the other girls were probably not gamed enough to dirty their fingers .___. so anyways, im so proud of it! :) i love playing with sand. (actually major credit to the church photographer, watson. hahahah it doesnt look THAT nice in life)
"If you haven't heard already, Steve Irwin (the Crocodile Hunter that you see all the time on TV) died today on the 4th of September, on the Batt Reef, pierced by a stingray barb throught his heart near Cairns. s a sign of respect for the ustralian cultural icon, please place a turtle ( tu ) at the Start of your MSN name, and forward this message on to others."
i was just mentioning to a few, the way irwin died actually parrallels to that of Jesus' death 2000yrs ago; both died under the hands of the ones they care and love for. mr stingray probably thought irwin meant to kill him not save him. aren't we sometimes like that too towards God's doing? we think the trials and difficult times He gives us are killing us.irwin's death serves as a very strong reminder to us.
and here's smth random tricia thinks is very meaningful from her (piantai)friend "steve irwin died doing smoething he loved." :) i like that.
i find e conversation between tricia and i very intriguing today. (i'm gonna copy wholesale)
you are my strength. says:
when i say something is 'this way'; i will keep to 'this way' and ignore others when they say it's 'that way' (stubborn me)
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
is it
you are my strength. says:
not meh?
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
but i know that when ppl tell you something
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
you'll stick to it
you are my strength. says:
stick to it as in ; stick to what i think right
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
not necessarily
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
umm
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
i'm not sure
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
you're more like
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
i tell you to do this ins tead of this
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
you will do it
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
and not do something else
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
i'm not sure about you sticking to what you think
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
but then again
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
who doesnt stick to what she thinks?
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
an insecure person?
you are my strength. says:
you make me sound like a very guai person
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
mhmmmmmmmmmmm
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
llikeee if i tell you to move her instead of going this way
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
you'll listen (I NVR KNEW THAT ABT MYSELF)
you are my strength. says:
i guess your 'who doesnt stick to what she thinks?' is true... but i go overboard sometimes
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
hmm
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
sometimes you're like that
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
but sometimes you're not
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
so i think for you
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
its more of a normal thing
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
it happens and it also doesnt happen
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
so mr q didnt scold you today
you are my strength. (mil i got damn sexy photos of my bro! but i cant put on my display. so sad) says:
nah. he just opened my eyes to some stuff
you are my strength. (mil i got damn sexy photos of my bro! but i cant put on my display. so sad) says:
i gotta change my attitude. must be more receptive to advices
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
you arentmeh
you are my strength. (mil i got damn sexy photos of my bro! but i cant put on my display. so sad) says:
apparently ,no
you are my strength. (mil i got damn sexy photos of my bro! but i cant put on my display. so sad) says:
and the thing is that, he can see through my weakness . i'm actually a very proud kid =/
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
hahaha gosh
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
i've known you for 3 yeras
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
and i didnt know that about you
you are my strength. (mil i got damn sexy photos of my bro! but i cant put on my display. so sad) says:
sometimes, i think i'm always right
you are my strength. (mil i got damn sexy photos of my bro! but i cant put on my display. so sad) says:
and whatever somebody else say, it's wrong (to me)
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
no offence
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
but i didnt think you knew that much to think something is right -.-"
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
but if you're saying about perceptions in which you say you right they wrong
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
then yeah i suppose so
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
but if you say aboutother things like school work or something
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
then i wouldnt say you;re stubborn (tricia, i'm quite sure i've argued with you abt work before...or maybe someone else...hahaha)
¯¯`;TRICIA CHONG. # says:
i'll prob only agree to the stubborn bit if you're tlaking about perceptions
mr q called me aside today to 'inquire abt my personality'. "is it when you've made up your mind on something, no matter what anybody says, you'll never change your view?" i must learn how to argue less. i must learn how to think before i speak. i must learn how to look at things from a diff perpective. and, God is gonna teach me. you tell me when to shut my mouth too when my old habit kicks up. :)
tricia CUT HER HAIR TODAY TOO!! so cool. i just cut mine too. and janell
http://www.sgedulab.com/ --> that web supposedly gives free notes. will check it out one day.
i was watching some boring show with my sisters ytd night. suddenly, dad barged in gentlemanly and broke their long choo choo train of thoughts. as i looked up eagerly,hoping for any form of entertainment, there he stood, with furrowed brows and his stern smile. in his hands, he had an unsuccessful-attempt-hidden book, "Rich dad, Poor dad." then he began," i just want to say. what i apply in my life now, are not things taught to me during my school days but are things that i learn from the bible. how i deal with clients, with business...everything. i learnt it all from the bible." i was so stunned that i became amused. i smiled, my sisters smiled, my bro stared up lazily, my mum snored; all as an encouragement for him to go on. (he rarely talks abt God. and when he does, it's these occasionally surges of revival) daddy hesitated, then shyly said ," ok i'm done." he left the room AND CLOSED THE DOOR gently.
i learn so much everyday.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)