just minishorts.

I learnt something very very strange about human behaviour recently, or more precisely, over the course of two days.

You see, I'm no angel, so I have my share of detractors. Actually I have a HUGE number of detractors, and at one time it got so bad that I almost had to stop blogging – which I did. But then I came back, because blogging, apart from being a place for me to articulate some thoughts that were going on in my head, allows me to occasionally collect samplings of human thought and behaviour, and in the work that I do – these experiences help me help my people immensely (if you don't know already, I'm a PR professional, but I'm sometimes invited to give professional coaching in writing and business communications to companies).

I don't know about you, but when I get scolded by some people in their blog, the last thing I'd want to do is go in and tell them how wrong they are and start a long argument with them. I would NEVER EVER return again and again, several times in a day, to tell them how rude and unlearned they are, much less give my two sen to them over how I think they should lead their lives.

The other thing I would never do is to walk into another person's blog who is commenting on something that is close to his opinions, and tell him how wrong he is to have that kind of opinion.

But I must say, because I am sort of righteous and opinionated, and judgemental myself, I do get agitated when I read of news and posts and actions of other people who occur to me as the biggest culprits of pointless stupidity. And I'm not that kind of person who thrives over gossiping at the local coffeeshop, because personally I think it's not very nice to disrupt a relaxing milo session by talking about people who are stupid and wrong, in my eyes. So, I let'er rip by blogging it, and when I blog it, yah, I get into my words and I really let them out.

…

To me, a blog is a personal place with windows to the soul of the person. it's a bit like somebody's home, with curtains that are drawn open occasionally to give you a peek into what's happening there. My blog is something like a show unit, so many times, I open doors and allow visitors, strangers even, to walk in and enjoy the view. Of course, it's not all the time comfortable and soothing. Once in a while, there are arguments and glass vases thrown around the house.

If you are a visitor to this kind of house, do you tell the owner off in her face, 'You are rude and you are a lousy host?'

I don't know about you, but I'm the type who would shut my yap and never return, because obviously our characters clash.

THE LAST THING I WOULD DO IS START AN ARGUMENT WITH THE OWNER OF A HOUSE IN HER OWN HOUSE. If she scolds me back, I think she has every right. If I know she scolds me back, I wouldn't come back again and again to argue with her.

I'd thought that was common sense, but since two days ago, I really learnt something very very strange about people. *puzzled*

Belief in God is faith confined to a structured understanding of what and who God is, where God originates, and what God requires of practitioners.

Peace is providing everyone else his/her space to live by the tenets of their own beliefs.

Faith is trusting that God has already resolved all the issues in our lives, even the ones that we don't see happening yet. Even the ones that revolve around contradicting beliefs in God.

I've got a busy busy week ahead, and the whole bending over to scrutinize the words job is getting my neck into bony knots again.

Sniff.

I wish I had more time in a day. Oh no, its not that I have none. But Kill me already, Restaurant City is taking over my life!

Randomly.

This is personal space. So glad it's so.

Its late, I'm sleeping, dreaming of something I think, vaguely I see people walking around, and in the dreamy fog I kind of sense a new story beginning to unfold….

Then suddenly this loud shout wakes me up, 'Wah!! THE FOOD VERY NICE LAH!'

Suddenly I'm awake, and there's my Eric, eyes wide shut, mouth half open and not smelling so nice – i'm a little woozy, but I thought it was important, so I go, 'Huh? What did you say?'

'The food is so nice!'

'What food?'

He continues to snore.

Na-beh! (never said this in a million years). Five months later it comes down to this, my man talks in his sleep! HOW NOW? HOW NOW?

In the wee hours of the morning, I am reminded of the old days. A flick of the switch, the screen flickers on, and then I would let my fingers run wild – the words would flow, as if of their own accord, and then a few minutes later, I would sit back, somewhat impressed by myself, and then wondering – did something possess me?

Some people ask me how do I do this? The truth is, I don't know. I become someone else, when given a job, I drown myself in the pages, I drown myself in the schedules, I get lost in the deadlines – they tighten, I deliver, regardless. Like a monkey on a leash, I bounce around in excitement, whenever given a task – I am like that.

These days, my time is my own, I watch the clock tick, I pick up the calls, and I answer, I choose, yes I choose. I feel lost sometimes, because this freedom to choose is unfamiliar, strange territories. I make my own keep, I watch the people walk past, I choose the times I want to contribute, I choose to be careful about how I spend what I earn. I listen to the people talk, and then if I am able, I watch, I watch.

Once upon a time, I had a dream that it would end like this, somehow, I would become here, doing what I do, liking what I do. Now that I'm here, living the dream – a man who loves me, a house in the clouds with its own pool (or two actually), top-speed internet and two computer game consoles later, best friends who will appear at my side whenever I need them to, and the opportunity to pick and choose from luxuries that I used to dream of – my time is my own, my own to contribute, my work is my own to dictate – the directions, my own to chart, and yet I am lost, lost, lost.

Suddenly, I realize I'm there, and now, I don't know what to do.

*Make a new dream, Claire. Make a new dream.*