Don't you just hate it when someone tries to explain something that begins with "Basically. . . . . ." and follows it up with an explanation long enough to become a university lecture or text book in itself? And thats just within the first sentence.
"So basically, we need you to design the solution to accept a variety of objects such as orders, networks, work breakdown structure elements, confirmation numbers, not to mention. . . . . "
(the sun sets and night falls, polar ice caps melt, Osama died of old age, Service Pack 3 for Windows XII was released.)
" . . . . . and the various order quantities should be handled as well which should allow the forecasting module to give an accurate number, up until they finally confirm it. You got all that?"
"Yeah, no problem. When I get back from trimming my beard, could you please elaborate on it some more?"
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Providence
This blog is called "Providence".
About a year ago, as I was flipping through my barren Friendster profile, I stumbled upon the blog which I had written a few years back. I read through my then posts, and was amazed. It was like reading the writings of another person.
It was the writings of a person with a sense of humor, a believe in values, and most importantly, a sense of hope. Writings of a stranger. Except, it wasn't. It was me, 2 or 3 years prior.
Reading it, I realised; how far it was I had fallen in the previous years, how much of my former self I had lost, how huge of an impact that event had on me (see Prologue). My viewpoint on life, after that event, had apparently been skewed. Everything I see, hear, perceive, is taken with a pinch of salt. Scratch that. With A LOT of salt. I carried a burden in me; pessimism. My own mind was taking me down.
But reading my old posts, and its mix of humor, philosophical musings, and optimism brought back a little of my former naivete and optimism in me. It was almost as if I had known, all those years ago, that some event or occurrence would bring me to my knees, and wrote those posts to lift the spirits of my future self. It was as if I was making preparations to lift me up from my own fall. "Providence", is the word.
It was almost like providence.
And so I created this blog, as whatever providence it may serve, to whoever I may become, in the future. This blog will capture anything that runs through my mind that I care to write about. Thoughts, musings, or just strokes of creativity that I would like to capture.
This blog is mainly for myself. A time capsule of thoughts. Anyone else who stumbles upon this blog can consider themselves lucky to step into the unfiltered musings of a person's mind. Because that is what this blog is about. Honest, unfiltered musings.
And so, this is where it begins. . . .
About a year ago, as I was flipping through my barren Friendster profile, I stumbled upon the blog which I had written a few years back. I read through my then posts, and was amazed. It was like reading the writings of another person.
It was the writings of a person with a sense of humor, a believe in values, and most importantly, a sense of hope. Writings of a stranger. Except, it wasn't. It was me, 2 or 3 years prior.
Reading it, I realised; how far it was I had fallen in the previous years, how much of my former self I had lost, how huge of an impact that event had on me (see Prologue). My viewpoint on life, after that event, had apparently been skewed. Everything I see, hear, perceive, is taken with a pinch of salt. Scratch that. With A LOT of salt. I carried a burden in me; pessimism. My own mind was taking me down.
But reading my old posts, and its mix of humor, philosophical musings, and optimism brought back a little of my former naivete and optimism in me. It was almost as if I had known, all those years ago, that some event or occurrence would bring me to my knees, and wrote those posts to lift the spirits of my future self. It was as if I was making preparations to lift me up from my own fall. "Providence", is the word.
It was almost like providence.
And so I created this blog, as whatever providence it may serve, to whoever I may become, in the future. This blog will capture anything that runs through my mind that I care to write about. Thoughts, musings, or just strokes of creativity that I would like to capture.
This blog is mainly for myself. A time capsule of thoughts. Anyone else who stumbles upon this blog can consider themselves lucky to step into the unfiltered musings of a person's mind. Because that is what this blog is about. Honest, unfiltered musings.
And so, this is where it begins. . . .
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Prologue
The White Raven
There had once lived a raven,
Whose dark black coat saw wear.
He had grown weary of living,
And lived each day without a care.
Then came a dove, perched nearby,
Feathers white made in heaven.
A stark contrast to the dark'ning sky,
And even more so to the raven.
"O' raven, raven, but why do you strain?"
Cooed the dove; voice like melted honey.
And with narry a hint of his usual disdain,
Raven gagged "I'm making home on this tree".
The dove watched and pitied the raven,
For trying and failing was he,
"O' hither. I shall aid you, raven,"
And aid the raven did she.
She pecked twigs, and pulled twine together,
A mass of sticks, and leaves, and grass.
The raven had simply twigs to gather,
Suffice to say it was a simple task.
Soon it was finished, raven's abode,
The dove left, fluttering away,
The raven stared, he hadn't told,
How grateful he was to her that day.
The smitten raven vowed to himself,
"One day the dove I shall woo,"
"But foremost is to rid myself,
Of these feathers black I rue."
So the raven worked, and labored and toiled,
And improved himself with time,
So sure was he his plan couldn't be foiled,
Certainly not when he 'comes sublime.
And lo' and thus, the raven whitened,
Its black feathers now shades of white.
With a worn coat now thick and brightened,
His goal to woo the dove was in sight.
But alas and alack for the raven,
The dove had found its mate;
Another dove with feathers of heaven,
The raven was simply too late.
He cried and wept in silent sorrow,
For his efforts were for naught,
His grieving followed each morrow,
For how long, time had forgot.
And till this day, there lives a raven,
Whose shady white coat saw wear,
He has grown weary of love and living,
And lives each day with little care.
There had once lived a raven,
Whose dark black coat saw wear.
He had grown weary of living,
And lived each day without a care.
Then came a dove, perched nearby,
Feathers white made in heaven.
A stark contrast to the dark'ning sky,
And even more so to the raven.
"O' raven, raven, but why do you strain?"
Cooed the dove; voice like melted honey.
And with narry a hint of his usual disdain,
Raven gagged "I'm making home on this tree".
The dove watched and pitied the raven,
For trying and failing was he,
"O' hither. I shall aid you, raven,"
And aid the raven did she.
She pecked twigs, and pulled twine together,
A mass of sticks, and leaves, and grass.
The raven had simply twigs to gather,
Suffice to say it was a simple task.
Soon it was finished, raven's abode,
The dove left, fluttering away,
The raven stared, he hadn't told,
How grateful he was to her that day.
The smitten raven vowed to himself,
"One day the dove I shall woo,"
"But foremost is to rid myself,
Of these feathers black I rue."
So the raven worked, and labored and toiled,
And improved himself with time,
So sure was he his plan couldn't be foiled,
Certainly not when he 'comes sublime.
And lo' and thus, the raven whitened,
Its black feathers now shades of white.
With a worn coat now thick and brightened,
His goal to woo the dove was in sight.
But alas and alack for the raven,
The dove had found its mate;
Another dove with feathers of heaven,
The raven was simply too late.
He cried and wept in silent sorrow,
For his efforts were for naught,
His grieving followed each morrow,
For how long, time had forgot.
And till this day, there lives a raven,
Whose shady white coat saw wear,
He has grown weary of love and living,
And lives each day with little care.
-Event construed by K.C-
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