The Island of Cats - A Week After

My cat would have made a lot of friends there.

Parasitic Males

At work today, I was reading an article in wiki about sexual dimorphism (don't ask), and this particular bit had me in stitches:

"Some species of anglerfish also display extreme sexual dimorphism. Females are typical anglerfish, while males are tiny rudimentary creatures with no digestive systems. The males must find a female and fuse with her – he then lives parasitically, becoming little more than a sperm-producing body."

I don't know why, but that passage reminded me of a certain species of mammals too.

Our Elements

I stood contently on the sandy pathway that separated the two of them.

On my left, He whispered softly into my ears, promising soft, warm arms of comfort. His deep blue eyes beckoned soothingly as He reached out to kiss my feet lightly. He was open and free, and He could take me anywhere I wanted to, even as far as the eye could reach. He was friends with the most resourceful; those who prospered above Him and below Him respected Him for His magnanimity and flexibility. He represented everything I wanted to be.

On my right, She cut a striking figure. Shy, unassuming and quiet, She spoke nothing of what She could offer me. But even from where She stood, I could smell Her alluring scent. Her luscious green raiment accentuated Her curves, yet revealed only a little of what I knew She was capable of. She was always shrouded by a mist of mystery; an aura floated around Her, enhancing her quiet elegance and strength. She represented everything I knew was inside me.

So I took a deep breath, smiled a goodbye at Oceanus, and turned towards Ourea.

"I've always been drawn to the sea," he says, noticing my fascination with the mountain in front of us. "And I've always felt at one with the mountains," I replied. And so he'll always be a child of Water, and I, of Earth.

Short-lived Clarity

A random man-bashing MSN conversation with a colleague today:

O: So, would you marry someone you can live with, or someone you can't live without?
Me: All women should do the former, and men, the latter.
O: Huh? Why?
Me: Then the women will not be forever wasting tears on the men who keep breaking their hearts, and the men will stop taking their women for granted.
Me: Then the world will be a much better place.
O: Hmm. So true.
Me: But I'd still choose the man I can't live without.
O: Oi. Masochist.
Me: You would too.
O: Hmm. So true.

Secret Garden - Madonna

In my secret garden, I'm looking for the perfect flower
Waiting for my finest hour
In my secret garden, I still believe after all
I still believe and I fall
You plant the seed and I'll watch it grow
I wonder when I'll start to show
I wonder if I'll ever know
Where my place is
Where my face is
I know it's in here somewhere
I just wish I knew the color of my hair
I know the answer's hiding somewhere
In my secret garden, there's

A petal that isn't torn
A heart that will not harden
A place that I can be born
In my secret garden
A rose without a thorn
A lover without scorn

If I wait for the rain to kiss me and undress me
Will I look like a fool, wet and a mess
Will I still be thirsty
Will I pass the test
And if I look for the rainbow, will I see it
Or will it pass right by
'Cause I'm not supposed to see
'Cause the blind are never free
Even at my secret garden
There's a chance that I could harden
That's why I'll keep on looking, for

A petal that isn't torn
A heart that will not harden
A place that I can be born
In my secret garden
A rose without a thorn
A lover without scorn

I still believe, I still believe
'Cause after all is said and done
I'm still alive
And the boots have come and trampled on me
And I'm still alive
'Cause the sun has kissed me, and caressed me
And I'm strong, and there's a chance
That I will grow, this I know
So I'm still looking for

A petal that isn't torn
A heart that will not harden
A place that I can be born
In my secret garden
A rose without a thorn
A lover without scorn

Somewhere in fountain blue
Lies my secret garden

A disorder, perhaps?

I loathed attending the Business Communications classes that were compulsory in my polytechnic days. Turning up for class in cheap, off-the-rack suits, with awkward briefcase-like bags wasn't exactly the way I'd like to start a school day. The only redeeming fact about looking so different from the other students was the looks of awe and disgust from the IT students and the Design students respectively. Those in my cohort always felt kinda... 'upperclass' in our own twisted way.

It was only after I started looking for my first job a decade ago that I finally started to appreciate what those classes did for me. My cover letters and resumes almost always guaranteed a call from prospective employers. I even began preparing my dad's presentations and drafting business letters for him.

However, everytime I draft a letter or an email, I get nervous, even up 'til now. In my line of work, I can send out up to 10 emails to those in the upper echelons in various organisations. I would hem and haw over the appropriate terms to use. Then I would re-read my draft five times before hesitating over the 'Send' button. After sending an email out, I would go back to my 'Sent' inbox to check that I hadn't misspelt anything. And finally, I would sit at my desk and worry for five minutes with butterflies in my stomach.

Am I OCD-ing or am I just a worrier?

天涯歌女 - 周璇

天涯呀海角，
觅呀觅知音，
小妹妹唱歌 郎奏琴，
郎呀，咱们俩是一条心

家山呀北望，
泪呀泪沾襟，
小妹妹想郎 只到今，
郎呀，患难之交恩爱深

人生呀谁不，
惜呀惜青春，
小妹妹似线 郎似针，
郎呀，穿在一起不离分。