angels on a high.
Pratchettian quote of the year:
"[T]he interesting thing about angels, is that sometimes...at a point in a man's career where he has made such a foul and tangled mess of his life that death appears to be the only sensible option, an angel appears to him and offers him a chance to go back to the moment when it all went wrong, and this time do it right..."
Few amongst us ever aspire to be angels.
In this age and time where pack rule rules, and herd mentality reins, counter-social Darwinism like being "an angel" seem to be suicide. Even for the few who does make that conscious choice, what is it that stops them from being the self-appointed judge later on, and eventually, the personal devil meting out punishment? I have seen it so often. Not a pretty sight.
Yet, there remains a few who will stick to their angelic cause to the core, to really be harbingers of hope. How many angels have there been in your life? Have you been an angel to someone's day?
Was visited by one last night, an old mentor asking of an old pupil. It is comforting to know, and assuring to discover, that amidst this desert of harsh worldly cynicism, there is still an oasis of warmth, soothing waters waiting to quench any who will find it.
A wry smile found its way to my face as I fended off her inquiries, and led her to another verbal cul de sac... just like in the good old days. Yes, she admits she cant out talk me, but the gesture is really much appreciated. All hail the kindly angels of the world.
[Cath: if you got to this line, you must REALLY had lotsa coffee and cant sleep. Thanks, angel.]
I was rudely awaken by a belligerent sis today, to be forced to run... and somehow I really appreciated it. My body had been screaming for a good workout for so long, yet I was too stuck in my own stupor and inertia to run. It seemed like ages ago when I would wake at 5 to run, go work, then run again at 7 pm after work. Distant, disjointed memories, lost in the tracks of time. Sis would have qualified for an "angel", if I had not known of her hidden agenda, which features largely, the weight losing effect of an early morning run. And few could set pace, amuse, and taunt as well as yours sincerely.
Hmm.. too bad sis, u DUN QUALIFY as an angel. Not yet. Muahaha. It did me a lot of good though, that early morning air. for one, it dispelled the thick melancholia, and made it ferment again into sweet rich heady euphoria that comea with adrenaline which I SO had to share about. Glorious Sunday... Amen!
On a sombre I recall dimly I had agreed to join the Stanchart marathon with Jess. Answer to the question of the universe? 42.
42!!!! I must be MAD! 42km... my poor legs! Time to buy NEW good shoes. I swear there was some element of duress or unconsionablity with my acceptance of that offer... But until I find that... I better start training... Dear sis *smile*.
Old memories tug at me... I recall the Knight Templars... those poor misguided creatures of old. Ironically, the predecessors of advocates and the former tenants of the 2 inns of court. Will we, in our attempt to be angel to another, ever become as the Templars? Resort to arms, clouded by wealth, and replace evil oppression with kind oppressions?
I have a sick feeling that I had made similar flaws in the past... sigh... to arms my fellow compatriots, to arms!
Incidentally, the replica of the Templar sword at Caesar's is SO pretty. Definitely a must have. A sharp reminder NOT to fall into that same old pit.
Have no idea where to store it when I buy it tho... too many weapons at home as it is.
Office? Hmm... that would definitely scare away colleagues with intentions to dump. And provide something to play with at 4 am. Like, slash-the-boss's picture etc etc.
Car? Hmm... just imagine the fun on the TP's face when he pulls me over... and I saunter off the car witha sword in a hand, and my Silver Sun in another... I wonder where one can learn broad sword fencing in SG...
Hmm. I have rambled long enough, and the coffee has gone cold. Angels, runs and templars. Better than any blue mountain eh? ha... Time to give my jamaican aunt a ring... we need more coffee!
....And Damien Rice's "Blower's Daughter" KEEP playing in my mind!!! yes I know... interesting title... Not for that reason though.. I love tortured vocals.
Bleah... must be the after effects of all the stock talk! I just need to figure out with which stock deserves a live rendition...And which stock would put a stock to it!
"[T]he interesting thing about angels, is that sometimes...at a point in a man's career where he has made such a foul and tangled mess of his life that death appears to be the only sensible option, an angel appears to him and offers him a chance to go back to the moment when it all went wrong, and this time do it right..."
Few amongst us ever aspire to be angels.
In this age and time where pack rule rules, and herd mentality reins, counter-social Darwinism like being "an angel" seem to be suicide. Even for the few who does make that conscious choice, what is it that stops them from being the self-appointed judge later on, and eventually, the personal devil meting out punishment? I have seen it so often. Not a pretty sight.
Yet, there remains a few who will stick to their angelic cause to the core, to really be harbingers of hope. How many angels have there been in your life? Have you been an angel to someone's day?
Was visited by one last night, an old mentor asking of an old pupil. It is comforting to know, and assuring to discover, that amidst this desert of harsh worldly cynicism, there is still an oasis of warmth, soothing waters waiting to quench any who will find it.
A wry smile found its way to my face as I fended off her inquiries, and led her to another verbal cul de sac... just like in the good old days. Yes, she admits she cant out talk me, but the gesture is really much appreciated. All hail the kindly angels of the world.
[Cath: if you got to this line, you must REALLY had lotsa coffee and cant sleep. Thanks, angel.]
I was rudely awaken by a belligerent sis today, to be forced to run... and somehow I really appreciated it. My body had been screaming for a good workout for so long, yet I was too stuck in my own stupor and inertia to run. It seemed like ages ago when I would wake at 5 to run, go work, then run again at 7 pm after work. Distant, disjointed memories, lost in the tracks of time. Sis would have qualified for an "angel", if I had not known of her hidden agenda, which features largely, the weight losing effect of an early morning run. And few could set pace, amuse, and taunt as well as yours sincerely.
Hmm.. too bad sis, u DUN QUALIFY as an angel. Not yet. Muahaha. It did me a lot of good though, that early morning air. for one, it dispelled the thick melancholia, and made it ferment again into sweet rich heady euphoria that comea with adrenaline which I SO had to share about. Glorious Sunday... Amen!
On a sombre I recall dimly I had agreed to join the Stanchart marathon with Jess. Answer to the question of the universe? 42.
42!!!! I must be MAD! 42km... my poor legs! Time to buy NEW good shoes. I swear there was some element of duress or unconsionablity with my acceptance of that offer... But until I find that... I better start training... Dear sis *smile*.
Old memories tug at me... I recall the Knight Templars... those poor misguided creatures of old. Ironically, the predecessors of advocates and the former tenants of the 2 inns of court. Will we, in our attempt to be angel to another, ever become as the Templars? Resort to arms, clouded by wealth, and replace evil oppression with kind oppressions?
I have a sick feeling that I had made similar flaws in the past... sigh... to arms my fellow compatriots, to arms!
Incidentally, the replica of the Templar sword at Caesar's is SO pretty. Definitely a must have. A sharp reminder NOT to fall into that same old pit.
Have no idea where to store it when I buy it tho... too many weapons at home as it is.
Office? Hmm... that would definitely scare away colleagues with intentions to dump. And provide something to play with at 4 am. Like, slash-the-boss's picture etc etc.
Car? Hmm... just imagine the fun on the TP's face when he pulls me over... and I saunter off the car witha sword in a hand, and my Silver Sun in another... I wonder where one can learn broad sword fencing in SG...
Hmm. I have rambled long enough, and the coffee has gone cold. Angels, runs and templars. Better than any blue mountain eh? ha... Time to give my jamaican aunt a ring... we need more coffee!
....And Damien Rice's "Blower's Daughter" KEEP playing in my mind!!! yes I know... interesting title... Not for that reason though.. I love tortured vocals.
Bleah... must be the after effects of all the stock talk! I just need to figure out with which stock deserves a live rendition...And which stock would put a stock to it!
posted by Zachary Shim | 8:45 am
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