Seasoned Reason in Sesame.

Sometimes when I'm about to blog, I'll think of whether to blog in english or chinese. Unlike some people who can switch comfortably between languages, I always feel a block when switching, like being tongue tied, only that it happens to the mind. Generally, I feel more at ease writing in chinese but don't get me wrong. Both languages are beautiful, just that I tend to think in chinese more. When you sink into either language, it's hard to pull out.

Nevertheless, sometimes men are dictated by circumstances. Due to studying in a more-of-english speaking community, and english written assignments, it would be wiser to practice english writing, as to facilitate better communication, be it in the work I do or in human relations.

So here I am, writing in the language that I grew up in yet feeling oddly distant, so foreign I almost feel like I'm writing in arabic (and nope I don't know arabic). So strangely new (and refreshing perhaps) in trying to pen my thoughts down, like the intrigue a patient with an injured ankle ligament feels when he gains movement flexibility during physiotherapy, like the feeling a blind man gets when learning all over how to read again, but this time with his fingers.
It's like a hobby you lost during your pub-teens years, and picked up again end-teens, and with zest.


Fools in the fray! Watch em' bleed

The strong, known as the Barbarians, rely entirely on their overwhelming strength and endurance, fight fiercely and bravely.
The diligent, known as the Builders, they collect resources and build structures, for protection and survival.
Blessed with the gift of the gap, the intelligent, known as the Magicians; they form councils and win the strong and diligent over with words of hope.

The battle rages.


Either way

Fated are those who believe in destiny
doomed are those who opposes conformity
yet karma gets those leadin' muntinies
Make your own facility
there's no reward for unity.


Tears don't define my years; Ashes to ashes, Dusk to dusk

a tear for the fallen in the fray
and a splint for the lonely hay
crimson glower on the face
casting false hopes with false rays.


Soliloquy: The broken general

Say goodnight, it's the final goodbye.
There's nothing left to try.
The tower's fallen, the men broken.
star light, star bright, the morning light is breaking high.
Victory is mine, so is darkness nigh.



P/s: I'm becoming really random...Call me Mr dice. (crows flying pass, some hovering by)