was wondering what to blog when i saw this quiz on Emily Pang's blog.

1. Do you know what's love?
God!

2. Have you been in love?
band and pandas x) and some people whom i shall not name here.

3. Who do you like now?
all my good friends ^^

4. What's on your wish right now?
for everything to go back to last year.

5. List 10 people who are top 10 to you.
darn, this isn't a very nice thing to do, is it?
but well...
(in no order whatsoever)
Fann, Celestine, Amelia, Yilin, Alyssa, Cheryl Ho, Qingyi, Emily Pang, Isabel, Melissa

6. Is 6 (Cheryl Ho) pretty/handsome?
well. everyone's beautiful, cos we're all creations of God ^^

7. How does 3 (Amelia) treat you?
really nicely :)

8. The most memorable thing 10 (Mellie) has done for you?
being the most adorably cheerful person i know ^^

9. The most memorable thing 8 (Qingyi) has said to you?
er... "join clarinets. we get to sit in the front." (first thing she said to me ma...)

10. Are you close to 2 (Celestine)?
GFFs!

11. Who is 1 (Fann)?
er. Fann?

12. Who is 9 (Isabel) to you?
THAT BIG GENTLE GIANT :)

13. What kind of person is 5 (Alyssa)?
really funny and really nice ^^

14. What is your relationship with 4 (Yilin)
hmm... church camp groupmates, cell group groupmates, children of God and my good friend ^^

15. Is 7 (Cheryl Ho) a kind person?
yeah, rather ^^

16. Name 10 people to do this quiz.
zzz
Yilin
Fann
Celestine
Isabel
Debbie
Dione
Cheryl Ho
Qingyi
Abigail
Eugenia

...

why do i feel so forgotten...

...

put a plaster on that wound and let it heal.

and then we can all move on :)

...

17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the best thing I ever wrote." It also was the last.

Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teary Valley High School. Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them-notes from classmates and teachers, his homework.

Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life. But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven. "It makes such an impact that people want to share it. You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore said.

Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.

The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him."

Brian's Essay: The Room...

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings.

As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.

This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.

Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast wasted time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded.

An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card.. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it.. The title was "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.

No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.

He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood.

He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.

He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

...

i liked it.

i got it from an e-mail Linda sent me, anyone who reads this, if you want the e-mail so you can pass it on, leave a tag won't you?

thanks!

random song ^^

张栋梁 - 那一年

不想出门的阴天
适合听什么音乐
流行的还是经典
只怕都跟你有些关联

说穿了无非怀念
现在与过去之间
那片段还很新鲜
所有美好记忆焦点
都集中在纷乱的那一年

只差那么一点点就不会断了线
当时我们不了解爱情里的磨练
总是要兜了一圈才发现
在之前我们太会埋怨

也许只差一点点故事就要改写
我们回不去昨天删除某些情节
等到伤口都复原才怀念
那一年那一天那世界完美无缺

说穿了无非怀念
现在与过去之间
那片段还很新鲜
所有美好记忆焦点
都集中在纷乱的那一年

只差那么一点点就不会断了线
当时我们不了解爱情里的磨练
总是要兜了一圈才发现
在之前我们太会埋怨

也许只差一点点故事就要改写
我们回不去昨天删除某些情节
等到伤口都复原才怀念
那一年那一天那世界完美无缺

只差那么一点点就不会断了线
当时我们不了解爱情里的磨练
总是要兜了一圈才发现
在之前我们太会埋怨

也许只差一点点故事就要改写
我们回不去昨天删除某些情节
等到伤口都复原才怀念
那一年那一天那世界完美无缺

later, toony