I really think that I'm not cut out for all this - so many demands on my time... Yet, before all of you start 'chouping' the organs thinking that this blog is dead, I have to say something.
Anyone out there seen the Llyod (how do you spell this name?) Webber musical "Jesus Christ Superstar"?I remember being a huge fan of it when I was in school, eons ago... Perhaps those of you who still believe in checking this out 'in case she's not that dead' can comment on which musical you really, really like (ok, some of you may say the Dim Sum Dollies, I'm ok with that...) :)
Thursday, 27 March 2008
Friday, 22 February 2008
Tuesday, 19 February 2008
Reading carefully...
Here's a quick one, everyone!
You are taking part in a school race. You are running your hardest and right before the finish line you over take the second person. In what place do you finish?
Be sure to leave your answer in the comments!
You are taking part in a school race. You are running your hardest and right before the finish line you over take the second person. In what place do you finish?
Be sure to leave your answer in the comments!
Monday, 11 February 2008
Inspiration for Lent
Found this little poem -
Up-Hill
Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day's journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.
But is there for the night a resting-place?
A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
You cannot miss that inn.
Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you standing at that door.
Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Of labour you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.
Christina Rossetti
Powerful!
Up-Hill
Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day's journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.
But is there for the night a resting-place?
A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
You cannot miss that inn.
Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you standing at that door.
Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Of labour you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.
Christina Rossetti
Powerful!
Wednesday, 17 October 2007
Right Brain v Left Brain
http://www.news.com.au/heraldsun/story/0,21985,22556281-661,00.html
Please, people, take this simple test!!
Please, people, take this simple test!!
Friday, 12 October 2007
Thursday, 11 October 2007
Sudoku fever hits bad!
I really don't know what it is about Sudoku, but I just can't get enough!!!
Maybe it's the numbers.... Now with the widget added, I'll probably have to log on to the blog much, much, much more!!!
Maybe it's the numbers.... Now with the widget added, I'll probably have to log on to the blog much, much, much more!!!
Friday, 6 July 2007
Hmmmm....
Selections from Alexander Pope's 'An Essay on Man'
Know then thyself, presume not God to scan,
The proper study of mankind is man.
Placed on this isthmus of a middle state,
A being darkly wise, and rudely great:
With too much knowledge for the sceptic side,
With too much weakness for the stoic's pride,
He hangs between; in doubt to act, or rest;
In doubt to deem himself a God, or beast;
In doubt his mind or body to prefer;
Born but to die, and reasoning but to err;
Alike in ignorance, his reason such,
Whether he thinks too little or too much:
Chaos of thought and passion, all confused;
Still by himself abused or disabused;
Created half to rise and half to fall;
Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all;
Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled:
The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!
Know then thyself, presume not God to scan,
The proper study of mankind is man.
Placed on this isthmus of a middle state,
A being darkly wise, and rudely great:
With too much knowledge for the sceptic side,
With too much weakness for the stoic's pride,
He hangs between; in doubt to act, or rest;
In doubt to deem himself a God, or beast;
In doubt his mind or body to prefer;
Born but to die, and reasoning but to err;
Alike in ignorance, his reason such,
Whether he thinks too little or too much:
Chaos of thought and passion, all confused;
Still by himself abused or disabused;
Created half to rise and half to fall;
Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all;
Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled:
The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!
Thursday, 5 July 2007
Monday, 7 May 2007
A favourite -
Of My Self
This only grant me, that my means may lye
Too low for Envy, for Contempt too high.
Some Honour I would have
Not from great deeds, but good alone.
The unknown are better than ill known.
Rumour can ope' the Grave,
Acquaintance I would have, but when 't depends
Not on the number, but the choice of Friends.
Books should, not business, entertain the Light,
And sleep, as undisturb'd as Death, the Night.
My House a Cottage, more
Than Palace, and should fitting be
For all my Use, no Luxury.
My Garden painted o'er
With Natures hand, not Arts; and pleasures yield,
Horace might envy in his Sabine field.
Thus would I double my Lifes fading space,
For he that runs it well, twice runs his race.
And in this true delight,
These unbought sports, this happy State,
I would not fear nor wish my fate,
But boldly say each night,
To-morrow let my Sun his beams display,
Or in clouds hide them; I have liv'd to-day.
Abraham Cowley (1618 - 1667)
This only grant me, that my means may lye
Too low for Envy, for Contempt too high.
Some Honour I would have
Not from great deeds, but good alone.
The unknown are better than ill known.
Rumour can ope' the Grave,
Acquaintance I would have, but when 't depends
Not on the number, but the choice of Friends.
Books should, not business, entertain the Light,
And sleep, as undisturb'd as Death, the Night.
My House a Cottage, more
Than Palace, and should fitting be
For all my Use, no Luxury.
My Garden painted o'er
With Natures hand, not Arts; and pleasures yield,
Horace might envy in his Sabine field.
Thus would I double my Lifes fading space,
For he that runs it well, twice runs his race.
And in this true delight,
These unbought sports, this happy State,
I would not fear nor wish my fate,
But boldly say each night,
To-morrow let my Sun his beams display,
Or in clouds hide them; I have liv'd to-day.
Abraham Cowley (1618 - 1667)
Cough, cough
Ok, already!!! I'm really trying to cough some life back into this one - by popular demand.....
I totally enjoyed the "being missed" bit - it's hilarious, the tagboard, I mean. It's like everybody wondering when stuff's going to start happening again! I think the next time I'll try to resist putting in an update for longer, like maybe 4 months or something! I particularly liked the suggestion for me to "at least blog about the staff race"! Lol! So, what was I supposed to have blogged about the staff race? I ran, 'nuff said.
It's exam period - sigh. You remember those days? The assessment books, the talking in your sleep, the only time you're allowed to read a book during dinner? So what do we do with ourselves when we don't have an exam but have a million and one other assignments that take up just as much of our energies and time?
I totally enjoyed the "being missed" bit - it's hilarious, the tagboard, I mean. It's like everybody wondering when stuff's going to start happening again! I think the next time I'll try to resist putting in an update for longer, like maybe 4 months or something! I particularly liked the suggestion for me to "at least blog about the staff race"! Lol! So, what was I supposed to have blogged about the staff race? I ran, 'nuff said.
It's exam period - sigh. You remember those days? The assessment books, the talking in your sleep, the only time you're allowed to read a book during dinner? So what do we do with ourselves when we don't have an exam but have a million and one other assignments that take up just as much of our energies and time?
Friday, 23 February 2007
A little poem...
In case I forget to come in with a 'pome' on some days, take this one, by Roger McGough ('debt' settles it!)
Streemin
Im in the botom streme
Which meens Im not brigth
dont like reading
cant hardly write
but all divishns
arnt reely fair
look at the cemetery
no streemin there
Streemin
Im in the botom streme
Which meens Im not brigth
dont like reading
cant hardly write
but all divishns
arnt reely fair
look at the cemetery
no streemin there
Monday, 12 February 2007
See the amount of litter on the doors to the Orchard MRT station?
I haven't been in a train for the longest time, and with the excuse of the jams in town, I took to the underground.
My sister and I went about the shopping and, quite satisfied with the haul we managed to catch, set off home. Thirsty after an afternoon's walking, we bought drinks, then headed towards the trains thinking we'd finish the drinks and dump the cups in litter bins just before we got into the station. When we got there, I could hardly believe it - there were zero litter bins around. Not wishing to litter the place, we tried to get into the station with the empty cups and were promptly stopped by security. We told him we wished to throw the cups away in litter bins when we got to the Bishan station. His answer was a curt, "No." He said there were bins above ground, at the top of the escalators. Like a teacher who tries very hard to be a good role model, I took the escalator up to ground level, but there were no bins to be found.
I stashed the cups away in an extra plastic bag, but couldn't help noticing all the empty cups balanced on the bars of the doors to the station. It's little wonder that people resort to littering to catch the trains. I pointed it out to the said officer and his reply was, "Why are there no dustbins in the station? Look at the tv screen... never watch the tv, ah?" There was a trailer of someone leaving a bag under the seat of a train unnoticed and setting it off after he had disembarked.
The officer then went after another commuter who had walked through the stiles with a full cup of sugar cane juice. I watched as he instructed the young man to leave his still-quite-full cup at the foot of the nearest pillar.
Are we being too paranoid? What about the bins "above ground, at the top of the escalators"?
My sister and I went about the shopping and, quite satisfied with the haul we managed to catch, set off home. Thirsty after an afternoon's walking, we bought drinks, then headed towards the trains thinking we'd finish the drinks and dump the cups in litter bins just before we got into the station. When we got there, I could hardly believe it - there were zero litter bins around. Not wishing to litter the place, we tried to get into the station with the empty cups and were promptly stopped by security. We told him we wished to throw the cups away in litter bins when we got to the Bishan station. His answer was a curt, "No." He said there were bins above ground, at the top of the escalators. Like a teacher who tries very hard to be a good role model, I took the escalator up to ground level, but there were no bins to be found.
I stashed the cups away in an extra plastic bag, but couldn't help noticing all the empty cups balanced on the bars of the doors to the station. It's little wonder that people resort to littering to catch the trains. I pointed it out to the said officer and his reply was, "Why are there no dustbins in the station? Look at the tv screen... never watch the tv, ah?" There was a trailer of someone leaving a bag under the seat of a train unnoticed and setting it off after he had disembarked.
The officer then went after another commuter who had walked through the stiles with a full cup of sugar cane juice. I watched as he instructed the young man to leave his still-quite-full cup at the foot of the nearest pillar.
Are we being too paranoid? What about the bins "above ground, at the top of the escalators"?
Tuesday, 6 February 2007
Starting out...
As I start out on this 'think aloud' thing, I cannot help but remember the wise words of Robert Frost:
What Fifty Said
When I was young my teachers were the old.
I gave up fire for form till I was cold.
I suffered like a metal cast.
I went to school to age to learn the past.
Now I am old my teachers are the young.
What can't be molded must be cracked and sprung.
I strain at lessons fit to start a suture.
I go to school to youth to learn the future.
Sigh...
What Fifty Said
When I was young my teachers were the old.
I gave up fire for form till I was cold.
I suffered like a metal cast.
I went to school to age to learn the past.
Now I am old my teachers are the young.
What can't be molded must be cracked and sprung.
I strain at lessons fit to start a suture.
I go to school to youth to learn the future.
Sigh...
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