I've moved

Here it goes: http://traviswong.wordpress.com/. Have been blogging constantly for 5 consecutive days, it's fun. So I really hope to see you there and thank you for checking out my blog. Your continuing support fire up my will to write. Thank you once again. :)

Approximation and My Maths Teacher

I watch the clock ticks, and I have been watching it for exactly 138 seconds. I know because I was counting it from the moment it makes the first tick, which means it is 1 second. It calms me down knowing that I only need to count the number of ticks because it is easy and doesn’t require much of thinking. I’m happy with that because I can handle it well and I’m very sure that the correct answer is 138 seconds because it ticks exactly 138 times. This concept is easy to understand because there is no approximation or any round-up which can be very confusing.

We are taught not to tell lies. But my Mathematics teacher uses ≈ 208.5 to approximate the value of 208.4615385. This is confusing because if we are taught to tell the truth, we should use the value of 208.4615385, but no, my Mathematics teacher is very stubborn and cunning because he forces me to use the value of 208.5. I asked him why, he told me that it’s to make things easier. I didn’t give him any response because I'm angry. I dislike him because he is just being lazy and he teaches us to tell lies. He forced us to use approximation in exams. He is very stern looking, so I'm afraid of him. Since he forced me to use it, I have to obey because I don't want him to give me a big fat F like last time. I know F is bad because when I went home that day, I was being caned exactly 23 times by my mum and grounded for exactly 120.3 hours. To avoid it, I lied exactly 20 times for my recent Mathematics exam because it had exactly 20 questions.

I ran home after the exam (because I was upset) which took me exactly 17 minutes 39 seconds (I forgot to calculate the no. of steps that I took, normally I do but that day I was very upset) to reach my room and locked myself up for 20 hours because that’s what I usually do. For every lie that I told, I will give it an exact period which is 1 hour to lock myself upon (no approximation here because I don’t want to tell more lies which causes me to lock myself longer).

If you wonder why 208.4615385 this is because my calculator shows this value after I keyed in 813/3.9 and my Mathematics teacher said calculator is very honest because it doesn’t tell lie. I love my calculator.

(The 'I' above is a fictional character which means it's not the real me. I have told a lie. But I do not need to lock myself up this time because I just told you the truth that 'I' is not me. So, in mathematical term, it should be written like this 1 + (-1) = 0. This is what is called the 'counter-effect'.)

~inspired by mark haddon's 'the curious incident of the dog in the night time'

After all, I'm only a human

Three hours had passed; the gigantic coach soar passed the winter night air with velocity of 62.5 kilometer per hour, hungrily eating its way up to Victoria Coach Station, London. Most of the passengers were savoured in their own dreamland by then, including the guy who was sitting next to me, his snore broke the immortal silence in the coach, but no one seem to care – after all, it was a low budget journey. I plucked in my MP3, adjusted its volume just enough to overcome the commotion. I leaned my head back, eyes affixed to the world outside. We were on M6 highway, cars were drove in notorious speed; trucks with advertisement painted were visible sporadically, streetlamps glowed with bright orange, aligned straight along the road with great length dispersed, and the trees, stood vaguely with branches piercing through the cold. The highway looked utterly soulless for drivers were furiously catching up with time, not a single trace of harmony could be smelled, except the thick desperado atmosphere covered, and the coach that I was on, was no exception either.

I ignored the speeds and geometries, and found myself watching the sky - the infinite universe. I saw Orion, hanging serenely above. Amidst the buzzing world, it was held transfixed, framed within visible range of naked eyes. It never leaves nor changes, abide how progressively men evolved or alterations in acre of lands. It was funny how a glimpse of Orion could fish back memories that I never thought of in a long while. Sitting in the coach, with only my music and the promises I once made under the constellation, I was left contemplating compunction with distaste, one that leaves a man helplessly yearning for reversal.

‘One’s real life is often the life that one does not lead.’

Many of us crucify ourselves between two polarized groups: regret of the past and fear of the future and to live life without both is just like physics without Newton’s law of motions. And yet in Orion, I find a flawless space with distinct rectangle bounded within with 3 stars in a row which make up its belt. The thought of it and the universe, makes my life seems insignificant, of who I am only a tiny fragile human being with limited life span, an utterly short one if compared to a star.

A water globe. A wisdom

As a child, I used to soak in the grandeur of classical music, mesmerized by the orchestras splendid. I dreamed of being part of the team, gracefully bowing the violin with dazzled accompaniments. Enchanting, soulful and the contagious energy entraps within the philharmonic hall with glorified musicians play with great affections. Emotions flying high and the molecules resonate with frequencies – high and low. What a view.

But all of this is only a dream, and all this while I have been kept looking in from the outside. I wonder what I would turn out to be if I insisted upon embarking life with music, will I be gracefully performing Tchaikovsky, Bartok or even Debussy now? Or would I fail miserably ended up chasing instead of catching?

Unforeseeable assumptions are horrifying, so I don’t assume; I choose to live in the moment for alterations are possible with great freedoms ahead and it offers me to make choices, now that is exciting. I only believe what the moment offers, and grab the plausible if possible. Success depends on choices, and choices are controllable. Just like a water globe, if I choose to shake, it flourishes the objects within, but if I choose not to, it will never shine.

Midnight Blue

The air tonight seems eerily mystifying. After all, it has nothing to prove, no will to dignify or expectations to behold. The mizzle that coupled with the tranquility and the darkness, creates an odd sense of emollient and calmness that I find favour in. Slowly, it intensifies within my inner soul, growing stronger with the passing minutes. The mystery and the silence are captured under the moon; saturate every nook and cranny with molecules seeping through cracks and corners. The street outside my window which is used to be lively in daylight is left soulless with cold air lingers. Trees had long since shed their leaves, leaving their filigree branches plastered nakedly to the nature. But it’s December. Coiling of Christmas lights around them can easily be seen, it creates another kind of artificial beauty. There is one stands firmly outside my window, blinking rhythmically with white, turquoise, orange and red. Instantly, it becomes the centre of attention, like a red poinsettia visible from far. Funny - it is the one and only, and with my translucent bordered window frame, it looks like a painted picture with moving lights softly embedded amidst the watermarks that adhered on the glass. It reminds me of my Christmas tree somehow.

My Embolden

It is amazing how a sense of self-worth can optimize the day with unprecedented gratitude so deep that unleashes the power of motivation. That moment of pure greatness boosts the underlying confidence forefront that shines with every relishing corollary moment. It consolidates the satisfaction of accomplishments, astonishes self-capabilities, and instills the force of determination. The dispirited moments that baffle after-choice are of no albatross or whatsoever for the solidness of certainty is overwhelming. I have the tendency to grab the instantaneous positivism; psychologically expand the influential of its worthiness to enthrall the simplistic side of me. Call it childish, but the contentment is reassuring. The emotionalism it creates is joy that revolves around the axis of my defined happiness. Self-knowingly bath in its existence, I'm glad that it happens.

Arrival

A building which was founded in the early 18th century, stands proudly along the Oxford Street with its finest details retained. With the contrast from the modern architectures, it gives life to the old quadrangle. It adds to its specialty and to no avail, it amazes me. With modern technologies preserving its wondrous, I bow to the great creations of man with nothing but appreciation. Warm sunlight adding its touch and the building is once again, alive in human eyes. I stood in front of the building, capturing the magnificent and a sense of aliveness boiled within me, from toe to the finest end of my hair, the felicity felt is beyond descriptions. With a twist, I’m right here, scratch the fact that I’m torturing my bones with freezing temperature, or the fact that I’m surrounded by people with funny accents, and above all, people who are practically doubled my size, the first encounter is eye-opening. For among thousands of people passing by, I happened to be transfixed in the moment so inexplicable to believe. And the fact surprises me.

I walked through the archway with the heading reads University of Manchester, my heart fluttered with weird ECG pattern which corresponds to excitement. After all the beautiful disasters, with approximately 10628.01 kilometers away from home, after endless hours of traveling alone, I think I’ve found my way home.