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Wednesday, September 21, 2005

My iPod

I don't indulge much on the latest and greatest techno gadgets--the old black and white Nokia brickphone I carried for the past two years can attest to that. But when I got my first paycheque three years ago, I decided to splurge and bought myself an iPod. Today, a purchase such as this would be quite pedestrian since everyone and their grandmother's seeing-eye dog has one. But in early 2002, the PC version of the iPod had just recently been introduced and iTunes for Windows didn't even exist. My brandnew iPod had only 5 gigs of storage, a mechanical scrollwheel, and was probably more than twice as thick as the new iPod Nanos. But at the time I thought (and quite correctly, I might add) that I had bought the greatest mp3 player on earth.

Three years later my iPod spends most of its time sitting in my desk drawer, neglected and forgotten. Its once mirror-like back has been scruffed up beyond repair, and its once smooth acrylic face has been marred by an uncountable number of tiny scratches. But today I decided to take it out for another spin--the result perhaps of a silly exercise in pointless nostalgia, or maybe it was the result of something far more pragmatic: I had a 40 minute subway ride to the Old Mill Inn waiting for me.

I've carried this iPod with me to many places, some exotic (China) and some mundane (Richmond), but I've never been as glad as I was today that I had it with me. The talks at the retreat (all 18 of them!) were boring beyond earthly description, and half way during the second set of talks I decided to go for a walk to the nearby park, white earbuds nestled comfortably in my ears. I had a terrible night last night and I was exhausted to the core. Almost as soon as I reached the park, I collapsed under the shade of a large, welcoming tree. The music soon lulled me to sleep, and were it not for the playfulness of a small spider on my face, I probably would have slept till the mid-afternoon. I really shouldn't have neglected my little music box for so long. This could be the start of something beautiful...again.

Your Favorite Jerk

Sack of doorknobs

Sometimes life hits you with a sack of doorknobs straight out of the blue. Ouch.

Saturday, September 17, 2005


I have very little to blog about these days. For the first time in a long time, I am content. I am happy with where I am; pleased with what I've done; grateful for what I have; calm even as I'm being buffeted by the storm of life. The new me is boring. The new me is unfunny. The new me is a chore to talk to. You can call him, but he probably won't return your calls. The new me is happily living in his own bubble of bliss, willfully ignorant of his surroundings. The well that once held a seemingly endless supply of snark and ridicule has been drained, replaced with a cloyingly sweet substance that can only be called sap. Yet, I choose to embrace him. I like the new me. I like where he is; I like where he has been; I like where he is going, even though neither of us know where that is. Here's to not knowing what's ahead but knowing the One who does. Cheers.


Sunday, September 11, 2005

Codein's a helluva drug

I spent the last week stranded in Vancouver after rebooking my flight on Monday. If SARS were still around, I would probably still be in Vancouver because I was in rough shape when I flew back on Friday. I don't know what kind of flu I got hit with, but this strain was obviously very fierce--and apparently not covered by this year's flu shot. The only consolation for this misadventure was the amazing drug codeine! Two teaspoons of this stuff knocked me right out, and it allowed me to sleep undisturbed for three straight days. When I recover fully, I will blog again. Until then, don't forget to wash your hands folks.

Your Favorite Jerk