Monday, July 6, 2009
A conversation somewhere in De La Salle School, 2008 :
Lasallian A: Omygosh, did you see Ms Harry Thy's* legs? They are like so hairy lah!
(Lasallian B peeps at Ms Thy's legs as she walks by)
Lasallian B: Wah really leh, but she's a woman leh, how come leg so hairy until like man one har?
Lasallian A: Aiyah, confirm one lah. She last time keep on shaving her leg lorh, now lazy to shave then very fast grow back until so thick and hairy lah, dumbdumb.
*Name changed to prevent excessive laughter from my Lasallian juniors when they read this.
Pun intended.
The point here is not about Ms Harry Thy's legs, but the point that Lasallian A states that leg hair grows back faster and coarser after shaving, in case some people do not know the native language of most Singaporean students.
So is it true?
I used to think it was true. I heard about her leg hair too back in Primary School days, so now since I'm doing this question I might as well research about her leg hair (eew).
Anyway, a search for "shaving causes hair to grow back faster or coarser" has the second result as a forum reply from Updater who replies to the topic about "Shaving hair causes it to grow back faster, darker and coarser." His reply is:
Shaving does not cause hair to grow back faster, darker or coarser. “Shaving is just a method of cutting the hair at the skin surface and has no effect on the part of the hair shaft below the skin surface, which is where growth and pigmentation occur” . “Although the hair may seem to grow faster after shaving, this is just an illusion: a small amount of growth on a clean-shaven face is much more noticeable than a small amount of growth on a bearded face. Likewise, the blunt, stubbly ends of new growth can give the illusion of darker, coarser hair.”
What he/she is trying to prove is that the myth that many people have about shaving hair causing it to grow back faster and coarser is true. Not convinced? The topic is under "Medical Myths".
--------Another example -------------
An even more popular myth is about drinking 8 glasses of water a day.
Entirely hand drawn in Photoshop. Using a tablet. DUH.
Since most of you would be complaining about only one source to prove this wrong, I shall show you.
http://www.thaimed.us/medical-myths-proved-wrong/2008/02/14/
http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2002/08/020809071640.htm
http://www.slate.com/id/2188159/
Did you know water can be found in food too?
And if you need to have 2.5 litres of water everyday, you'd drink ten glasses.
So if many people think something is true, is it true?
P.S. I had another example while surfing the web, but it involves your privates, so I am not going to include it here.
lets get bloody--
~~
laa-laa-lalala
1:13 AM
testing comments
By 
Zeruler, at
July 6, 2009 2:02 AM
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Biography
Robert Frost was born in San Francisco on March 26, 1874. He moved to New England at the age of eleven and became interested in reading and writing poetry during his high school years in Lawrence, Massachusetts. He was enrolled at Dartmouth College in 1892, and later at Harvard, though he never earned a formal degree.
Frost drifted through a string of occupations after leaving school, working as a teacher, cobbler, and editor of the Lawrence Sentinel. His first professional poem, "My Butterfly," was published on November 8, 1894, in the New York newspaper The Independent.
In 1895, Frost married Elinor Miriam White, who became a major inspiration in his poetry until her death in 1938. The couple moved to England in 1912, after their New Hampshire farm failed, and it was abroad that Frost met and was influenced by such contemporary British poets as Edward Thomas, Rupert Brooke, and Robert Graves. While in England, Frost also established a friendship with the poet Ezra Pound, who helped to promote and publish his work.
By the time Frost returned to the United States in 1915, he had published two full-length collections, A Boy's Will and North of Boston, and his reputation was established. By the nineteen-twenties, he was the most celebrated poet in America, and with each new book—including New Hampshire (1923), A Further Range (1936), Steeple Bush (1947), and In the Clearing (1962)—his fame and honors (including four Pulitzer Prizes) increased.
Though his work is principally associated with the life and landscape of New England, and though he was a poet of traditional verse forms and metrics who remained steadfastly aloof from the poetic movements and fashions of his time, Frost is anything but a merely regional or minor poet. The author of searching and often dark meditations on universal themes, he is a quintessentially modern poet in his adherence to language as it is actually spoken, in the psychological complexity of his portraits, and in the degree to which his work is infused with layers of ambiguity and irony.
In a 1970 review of The Poetry of Robert Frost, the poet Daniel Hoffman describes Frost's early work as "the Puritan ethic turned astonishingly lyrical and enabled to say out loud the sources of its own delight in the world," and comments on Frost's career as The American Bard: "He became a national celebrity, our nearly official Poet Laureate, and a great performer in the tradition of that earlier master of the literary vernacular, Mark Twain."
About Frost, President John F. Kennedy said, "He has bequeathed his nation a body of imperishable verse from which Americans will forever gain joy and understanding."
Robert Frost lived and taught for many years in Massachusetts and Vermont, and died in Boston on January 29, 1963.
POEMS
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
He saw her from the bottom of the stairs
Before she saw him. She was starting down,
Looking back over her shoulder at some fear.
She took a doubtful step and then undid it
To raise herself and look again. He spoke
Advancing toward her: 'What is it you see
From up there always--for I want to know.'
She turned and sank upon her skirts at that,
And her face changed from terrified to dull.
He said to gain time: 'What is it you see,'
Mounting until she cowered under him.
'I will find out now--you must tell me, dear.'
She, in her place, refused him any help
With the least stiffening of her neck and silence.
She let him look, sure that he wouldn't see,
Blind creature; and awhile he didn't see.
But at last he murmured, 'Oh,' and again, 'Oh.'
'What is it--what?' she said.
'Just that I see.'
'You don't,' she challenged. 'Tell me what it is.'
'The wonder is I didn't see at once.
I never noticed it from here before.
I must be wonted to it--that's the reason.
The little graveyard where my people are!
So small the window frames the whole of it.
Not so much larger than a bedroom, is it?
There are three stones of slate and one of marble,
Broad-shouldered little slabs there in the sunlight
On the sidehill. We haven't to mind those.
But I understand: it is not the stones,
But the child's mound--'
'Don't, don't, don't, don't,' she cried.
She withdrew shrinking from beneath his arm
That rested on the bannister, and slid downstairs;
And turned on him with such a daunting look,
He said twice over before he knew himself:
'Can't a man speak of his own child he's lost?'
'Not you! Oh, where's my hat? Oh, I don't need it!
I must get out of here. I must get air.
I don't know rightly whether any man can.'
'Amy! Don't go to someone else this time.
Listen to me. I won't come down the stairs.'
He sat and fixed his chin between his fists.
'There's something I should like to ask you, dear.'
'You don't know how to ask it.'
'Help me, then.'
Her fingers moved the latch for all reply.
'My words are nearly always an offense.
I don't know how to speak of anything
So as to please you. But I might be taught
I should suppose. I can't say I see how.
A man must partly give up being a man
With women-folk. We could have some arrangement
By which I'd bind myself to keep hands off
Anything special you're a-mind to name.
Though I don't like such things 'twixt those that love.
Two that don't love can't live together without them.
But two that do can't live together with them.'
She moved the latch a little. 'Don't--don't go.
Don't carry it to someone else this time.
Tell me about it if it's something human.
Let me into your grief. I'm not so much
Unlike other folks as your standing there
Apart would make me out. Give me my chance.
I do think, though, you overdo it a little.
What was it brought you up to think it the thing
To take your mother--loss of a first child
So inconsolably--in the face of love.
You'd think his memory might be satisfied--'
'There you go sneering now!'
'I'm not, I'm not!
You make me angry. I'll come down to you.
God, what a woman! And it's come to this,
A man can't speak of his own child that's dead.'
'You can't because you don't know how to speak.
If you had any feelings, you that dug
With your own hand--how could you?--his little grave;
I saw you from that very window there,
Making the gravel leap and leap in air,
Leap up, like that, like that, and land so lightly
And roll back down the mound beside the hole.
I thought, Who is that man? I didn't know you.
And I crept down the stairs and up the stairs
To look again, and still your spade kept lifting.
Then you came in. I heard your rumbling voice
Out in the kitchen, and I don't know why,
But I went near to see with my own eyes.
You could sit there with the stains on your shoes
Of the fresh earth from your own baby's grave
And talk about your everyday concerns.
You had stood the spade up against the wall
Outside there in the entry, for I saw it.'
'I shall laugh the worst laugh I ever laughed.
I'm cursed. God, if I don't believe I'm cursed.'
'I can repeat the very words you were saying.
"Three foggy mornings and one rainy day
Will rot the best birch fence a man can build."
Think of it, talk like that at such a time!
What had how long it takes a birch to rot
To do with what was in the darkened parlor.
You couldn't care! The nearest friends can go
With anyone to death, comes so far short
They might as well not try to go at all.
No, from the time when one is sick to death,
One is alone, and he dies more alone.
Friends make pretense of following to the grave,
But before one is in it, their minds are turned
And making the best of their way back to life
And living people, and things they understand.
But the world's evil. I won't have grief so
If I can change it. Oh, I won't, I won't!'
'There, you have said it all and you feel better.
You won't go now. You're crying. Close the door.
The heart's gone out of it: why keep it up.
Amy! There's someone coming down the road!'
'You--oh, you think the talk is all. I must go--
Somewhere out of this house. How can I make you--'
'If--you--do!' She was opening the door wider.
'Where do you mean to go? First tell me that.
I'll follow and bring you back by force. I will!--'
The line-storm clouds fly tattered and swift,
The road is forlorn all day,
Where a myriad snowy quartz stones lift,
And the hoof-prints vanish away.
The roadside flowers, too wet for the bee,
Expend their bloom in vain.
Come over the hills and far with me,
And be my love in the rain.
The birds have less to say for themselves
In the wood-world’s torn despair
Than now these numberless years the elves,
Although they are no less there:
All song of the woods is crushed like some
Wild, easily shattered rose.
Come, be my love in the wet woods; come,
Where the boughs rain when it blows.
There is the gale to urge behind
And bruit our singing down,
And the shallow waters aflutter with wind
From which to gather your gown.
What matter if we go clear to the west,
And come not through dry-shod?
For wilding brooch shall wet your breast
The rain-fresh goldenrod.
Oh, never this whelming east wind swells
But it seems like the sea’s return
To the ancient lands where it left the shells
Before the age of the fern;
And it seems like the time when after doubt
Our love came back amain.
Oh, come forth into the storm and rout
And be my love in the rain.
lets get bloody--
~~
laa-laa-lalala
1:56 AM
Sunday, June 28, 2009
TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
"Somewhere ages and ages hence"
-- This is a hyperbole, exaggerating the length of time.
"And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood"
-- This symbolises the choices you have to make in life, where you cannot make all the choices at the same time.
"...[The road was] grassy and wanted wear."
-- This describes the road wanting to be worn out by people walking, want makes it like a person, having its own wants.
I like this poem because it symbolises the choices you have to make in life, in which you pick one and will be unable to turn around and take the other. Taking a different road would result in a big difference, it all matters on your choice. Sometimes, the choices you have could be not what you expect, or not many people have chosen that path before, but choosing it may just come out to be a good thing.
lets get bloody--
~~
laa-laa-lalala
5:43 PM
Thursday, June 25, 2009
A very colourful post, literally.
Now, not less than an hour ago, my dad found some hair on the floor in the bedroom I had just finished sweeping and started to nag. Fine, it was my fault. But then he started to say about how unworthy I was and told me that even if I went to the street cleaning companies to get a job I wouldn't even be able to get a job there. Before that, he saw that I had "finished" sweeping the living room and was heading towards the kitchen and then jumped to the conclusion that I wouldn't clean under the sofas, as usual. Well, today I remembered to clean under the sofa, and would go do it after I had cleared my dustpan, which was then full of dust and hair. My dad started to nag at me again and then when I told him I was going to sweep it later, this was what he said:
Yalar yalar everytime also say like that end up never sweep, don't think I don't know you hor.I heard that, and then instead of arguing back like any other sane kid would do, I turned back and started to vent my anger on the floor. By sweeping faster. YES. THAT WAS ALL I DID. I SWEPT FASTER.
I feel so useless to be unable to fight for myself. What made me so frustrated everytime was that after I finished sweeping the floor, I still had to use the @#&! cloth to wipe all the edges of the house while my dad would just easily mop around, looking for nonexistant stains and not having to bother with hair or dust because the guy who was currently bruising his knees wiping the edges had already swept up most of the hair and dust and would be picking up any hair he sees so that his father wouldn't have to go through so much trouble.
Now, for the part about why I am so useless and cannot argue back.
Yesterday, my dad brought me to one of his friends who was a hairdresser to cut my hair.
NO he didn't do it specially for me.
He wanted to give her some hair highlights for her shop.
So then all the while my dad was still nagging on and on about something in Hokkien which I obviously did not understand and then his friend would just randomly burst out arguing with my dad about how naggy and luo suo(longwinded) he was.
She then commented about me on how I would most likely be repeating her complaints everyday to my dad about his nagging.
So I was supposed to do that?
Is that how any other sane teenager would do?
Thinking about it, I would say yes.
So why would I not argue with my dad and let him have his way?
NO I WILL NOT WRITE TO ANY FAMILY HELP #&#@ because I will know very well what their answer would be. Its always the same cliche about how you should know that your dad actually cares about you and you should sit down and talk with him about how you do not like his nagging and so on and so forth. Sounds familiar?
I mean, I have no idea why sometimes that answer gets voted to be the best answer. Hmph.
Now to target some of your expected answers.
I shall be using the help of "Jessica Alba", a overmature @#*$
-Michelle, an ACT mature @(*%^ @#$#@
and - SZ, whom I used to think was a immature person a few months ago.
3 Complaints!
"JessAl" -- Grady, you should know that your dad actually cares about you and you should sit down and talk with him about how you do not like his nagging and whats more is that he actually loves you, but just doesn't show it. Have a good day, =)
Response -- READ BEFORE YOU COMMENT.
1. I do not sit down and talk with him because I do not have a good relationship with my dad.
2. Then why doesn't he show that he loves me instead of hiding it, HMMM? Is it becuase I'm not worthy of his love?
Michelle -- Ehy brother, I agree with Jess leh, dun be so emo lor, I noe ur dad damn what larh, but then you should fix things up with him oso rite? ahhh... I correct rite?
Response -- Well, "brother", I'm quite sure you are a dog, since you have no opinion of your own and just agree with whatever your owner says, and you and still dare to comment. I haven't got over you and the hyperventilating incident yet.
SZ -- Just put him in lao ren yuan lorh, or next time disown him.
Response -- I have a conscience too. I would never dream of putting anyone into an old folk's home. Now you mention it, I would be eternal enimies with anyone who dares to mention putting my grandfather into a OFH. Even my family.
lets get bloody--
~~
laa-laa-lalala
7:29 PM
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Apparently sometimes when you think life can't get any worse...
it will.
Yesterday Mark, Marcus and Jeffrey came over to my house for the Projects Day meeting. As usual they started making a racket the moment they stepped into my house.
For example, watching Slamdunk on my dad's laptop. Fine. We shall start at 1.30pm.
*happily plays Sims 3*
Because someone would give them $1 if they didn't start wrestling on the floor again like previous times, the two wrestler-wanna-bes didn't fight.
Now, I left two cans of Green Tea on the floor and ahem, used a metal pole which I usually carried around to erm... threaten the guys to get to work to push it.
The can had a hole.
So now, you can imagine a whole lot of Green Tea spilled on the floor. Fine, my bad.
I mopped it up.
Not more than half an hour later, Mr Guy Who Broke My Chair And Electric Socket( Mr. GWBMCAES) just had to spill another can of Green Tea all over the computer desk, spilling it on the keyboard.
Me: Get out.
Mr GWBMCAES: Erm... sorry lar...
Me: GET OUT.
And they all went to the living room for the second time.
Then, when I was busy mopping/wiping up the mess, I overheard Michelle(name changed to protect that annoyance) quoting what my dad would say if he saw the mess:
Michelle: I bet hor, his dad would go : AH BOY AR (my dad doesn't call me that) ! WHY SO MESSY?
and she/he started to talk about my dad and how he was so amusing to them.
Michelle didn't notice Grady standing beside the hallway, facing the living room, looking something like...
that.
Michelle went on talking about my dad until she realized I was standing there.
And said sorry in a very shocked manner and commented about how much I was like a ghost.
I went back cleaning and Michelle started to clean the floor for me, saying that she was sorry and blahblah.
Of course I knew she was just pretending to be nice because she knew what I was capable of when angry.
Before all this she had already pissed me off quite a number of times enough for me to start going quiet before... going crazy.
Anyway when she was done:
Mic: OK finished, lets start.
Me: (pours a can of Green Tea over the floor)
Me: I don't need your help, and now the floor as not clean, so I shall do it by myself.
After I was done, with more piss offs by Michelle, and spraying her with a water spray and scaring her with sharp objects silently, we finally got down to business.
By slumping down silently and doing nothing.
Now Michelle, being the pampered prima donna she was, got pissed by some trival matters which were a thousand times less than my burden and took up her bag and threatened to leave.
No one answered.
In fact I was hoping she'd leave so we coul dhave some peace and quiet.
---FAST FOWARD---
They finally left.
A couple of hours later my dad returned with my godmum.
Just so to inform you, my mother is a Malaysian and my parents are divorced so my mum has been in Penang for somewhere around 8 years or so. My dad soon got me a godmom and is now very fond of her. Don't get the wrong idea.
My dad, being the very clean person he was, saw a patch of Green Tea still not wiped up and started shouting at me and insulting my friends and I. Of course I wouldn't have mind him insulting Michelle, but then he insulted me too.
Anyways, for some reason, most likely because of Michelle, I was very sensitive while wiping the floor and enduring all the words my dad threw at me for so many years without complaints, before finally breaking down and sobbing to him about how it was the 4th time I had cleaned the floor in one day, and instead of doing something not hurtful, he started nagging again how it was my fault. Well by then my tears were coming out like crazy and I started breathing very very fast and deeply.
I was hyperventilating for no apparent reason.
Part II-------------
Now after I was done wiping the whole room,
I heard arguing sounds from the bedroom.
Most likely it was my godmum defending me.
Sometime later she suddenly walked of of the house and slammed the door.
And my dad came out looking very dejected.
Well, five minutes later he went out to look for her, and I was all alone, wondering what would happen next.
I called up my now sworn brother/bff (sz)and told him what happened, while hyperventilating for the second time.
I had many ideas about what would happen, most involving rape, death or injury.
Of course I wouldn't want that to happen.
All this traced back to Michelle And Jean(fake name) 's fault. Most likely, that is.
I was quite angry and confused, and when Michelle knew about it and called me up, I screamed at her.
I started my sarcasm, raising my voice slowly until it came to a volume higher than what my dad shouted.
All this while sz was still on the phone, listening to my wrath.
If I meet him face to face it would have been worse.
It was about 8.30 when my godmum stormed out.
Soon it was about to approach 10pm and I was freaking out.
My godmum had came back and went out again, saying that she wouldn't come back.(she lives in my house) I called my dad and he started muttering to himself before hanging up.
Finally, at 10.30 both my dad and godmum came back.
I was so relieved, but then I realized my godmum was still mad. She slammed the bedroom door.
So now, taking that my godmum was arguing for me, I can sum it all up to one sentence.
Marcus and Mark screwed up my family.
Of course I would need more proof, but for now, my godmum and dad are having a cold war.
So this is the reason, to all of you people, why I have been so dull and cold these few days.
I hope you'll understand. -_-
lets get bloody--
~~
laa-laa-lalala
5:05 AM
Sunday, June 21, 2009
I wouldn't really eliminate any emotion from what I have now, since it will only make my life worse.
But let's see:
Happiness --
no need to say much more, I'll need it.
Anger --
Maybe, because what it does to me normally is cause a whole drama scene that I will regret later.
Sadness --
This one needs a little thinking. If your best friend/parent/cat/dog/fish/frog/whatever dies, you would think why you didn't cherish them before they went, and most likely will start to cherish the things you have around you.
If you weren't sad, you would just treat it like any other small incident.
A more common example will be when your parents get you to stop wasting food, saying that the children in Africa ( I have no idea why its always Africa) will be so happy to have the food you decided to throw away.
You can say that the children will still be starving even if you threw the food, so you would rather not have something you don't like than eat it for no valid reason. But that's another story.
If you would like to know where that came from, its here. I suggest you do not click it if you are easily offended by vulgarites though, Xiaxue can be quite vulgar.
Scroll down to
Comparison to other "lousier" countries
now, back to the point. Your parents want you to feel sad for the poor children, and make you cherish your food.
On the other hand, you would be suffering when you are sad. Depending on your personality, you would get teary, or you would get angry all of a sudden and become violent. You could sit in a corner and "emo" by cutting yourself, and thats bad.
So is sadness good as long as you know how to brave through the actual sad part?
Oh and you'll feel more refreshed after crying, and be more clear about your surroundings. At least for me.
Fear --
I would get rid of this emotion, but then you would not fear anything, and so will others.
Therefore people would not fear a death sentence, and go around murdering others for fun/money.
You would not fear a fine, and therefore spit/chew gum/eat in MRT. Soon you would have no money left and die. But you won't fear death, so whats the matter? But if you die, then your relatives will be sad ( remember sadness still exists ).
Surprise/Shock --
If this does not exist then no surprise birthday parties then.
So should you keep this?
Think of the old ladies who get surprise birthday parties and end up fainting or dying of fright.
Not to mention the trauma.
Love
As with happiness we all will need this.
Obviously I would not be here if love didn't exist.
Think reader, think.
So of all the simple emotions here, I would choose...
Anger.
Anger would only hurt the people around you, and yourself.
You may do stuff which you didn't think you would do. e.g. suicide, murder.
And you wouldn't get much benefits from it.
Unless you are a self-mutilator and enjoying getting caned/beaten up.
So is anger the answer?
are there any benefits of anger I didn't say?
Comment about it. =)
lets get bloody--
~~
laa-laa-lalala
1:28 AM
Googling this would give you a result with none of the words above in its title. (apparently the second result is a someone else's ACE blog)
Many of us would have seen this statement. It looks easy, doesn't it? Just another True or False question. Let's solve it, since we're all smart people.
Now, you are lying, therefore what you say is not true. So the answer is false. But wait, then you would be telling the truth that you are lying, so the answers should be true. But then again, you are lying, so it can't be true.
Puzzled? Wikipedia, which was the first result in the Google search (as usual) said it was a liar paradox.
In philosophy and logic, the liar paradox, known to the ancients as the pseudomenon, encompasses paradoxical statements such as "This sentence is false." or "The next sentence is false. The previous sentence is true." These statements are paradoxical because there is no way to assign them a consistent classical binary truth value. If "This sentence is false" is true, then what it says is the case; but what it says is that it is false, hence it is false. On the other hand, if it is false, then what it says is not the case; thus, since it says that it is false, it must be true.
I wonder if the person who said this actually knew what he was saying.
Did he do it on purpose?
It just keeps going on and on.
BUT if you just scroll down to the end of the wikipedia article, you would see that the statement is false. And the answer to it is under
"Logical structure of the liar paradox"
Don't be fooled, its just a claim by Arther Prior.Would you ever have known a statement so simple could be so confusing?
lets get bloody--
~~
laa-laa-lalala
1:07 AM
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