Come make your eyes explode!

Come make your eyes explode!

I know what you're thinking. No, it's not just a random picture of candies (I surprised myself with my special secret ability to make sense of that ridiculous picture). But I also know what else you're thinking. Yes, it's ugly. But entertain me and look again. Can you see something else?

I doubt it. Not when you don't know what you're looking for.

This ugly picture here is called a stereogram. Those of you who might know what I'm talking about here can go back to the image immediately and look again. I'm serious, go back before I give you the big spoiler. If you're one of those clueless people, read on.

You know how you sometimes hear about two people looking at a seemingly boring pattern image and you have one guy going, "Oh yeah, I can see a dolphin in that picture!", and the other guy (always the annoyed one, with a Scottish accent) saying, "Are you on Special K again? No, I don't see a damn thing!".

Okay, so I made the Scottish accent up, but you have to agree with me that hear this scenario all the time. Those two people are most likely looking at a stereogram.

A stereogram, to put it simply, a two-dimensional image that is created to produce an optical illusion, giving you a sense of depth. A sense of depth is what makes us see in 3-D. A stereogram, like the one on top, has a sort of "hidden" 3-D shape that you can only see if you focus your vision in a certain way. I don't want to give you a lecture on stereogram, so Google if you wanna know more.

But I will tell you briefly how to look at it. You need to use your "soft gaze", which is exactly the gaze you have when you are deeply lost in thoughts.Remember how the things around you appear blurry and you slightly see double at the same time? This is because your focus is not to an object near you. Instead, your point of focus is far away, as if you are looking at a person far in a field.

If you can't voluntarily make that gaze, or simply can't remember how to, try fixing your gaze at a wall a bit further from you. Then hold that gaze and slowly turn your head to the monitor and look at the crazy candy picture. Keep on looking and slightly adjust your focus until you see a 3-D shape. If you can, pat yourself on the head. The first experience of that three dimensional perspective is always quite overwhelming.

If you can't, keep trying. If you still can't after trying, then it sucks to be you.


P.S. I remember my first stereogram many years ago. I was basically like a kid excited to get a remote control helicopter. Oh, wait, I never got any.

I hate you too

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Home II

Home II

I reached home. Mama was there to greet me first. Her face was filled with a thousand emotions that magically resonated within me as well. It wasn't simply "happy" or "relieved". The concoction of emotions splashed into a unique colour that is rarely ever seen.


She stood there as if waiting to be hugged. I embraced her and closed my eyes. I could feel the rest of the world didn't exist as I was locked. It was just... us.


Then there was my dad together with my brothers all rejoicing in the reunion. I hugged each one of them.


I gave one of my best hugs to my dearest younger sister. I can see how she have grown into a mature woman.


But one was missing. And I missed him dearly.


Then they told me he died. From their faces, I could tell it was a truth. My brother was really gone.


Slowly I kneeled and I cried.


I cried very hard. And it was very hard to control.


My sister sat beside me later that night. She said three years ago, I was supposed to die. I didn't wake up for a year and my dead brother made a selfless deal so that he could trade places with me. Ever since then he was slowly dying, but he never showed it to anyone.


The worst part was that I never realised any of this ever happened. I didn't even know I was out cold for a year. With this newfound knowledge, again I cried. My sister hugged me differently this time. It was as if she was trying to embrace my broken heart to prevent it from chipping away. I think I felt her tears on my shoulder.


Days later, I found myself staring out the window into the dark midnight sky. There were strands of stars dangling in the moonless dark blue canvas. It was indeed a beautiful sight but I failed to appreciate it. I might be looking at the stars, but my eyes truly staring into a lifeless void.


Then he came into my room. I looked to him and felt a gush of tears wanting to stream down my cheeks again. To see him again after all the years, after all the news, after all the tears, after all the guilt, was an overwhelming experience that I could not describe in existing terms. He approached me slowly and stroked my right cheek. He never said a word, but I could understand him. His gentle eyes and bittersweet smile said it all. He wanted me to know that it is alright. "Everything is going to be alright..."


At this point too much tears had streamed that I could not feel them anymore. I had never cried so much in my entire life.

Then I woke up - eyes opened first - but I was still lying on my bed. I wasn't sure if my eyes were wet, as I was too engrossed in the emotions I felt at that moment, and it didn't matter to me. Strangely (or not?), I knew it was just a dream within seconds of waking up.


Sometimes I have incredibly vivid dreams such as this, and I could retain the memories of the emotions that I felt within the dream. They all felt exactly like the real thing; the emotions were not blunted in any way at all. As horrible as the dream I had last night was, I was glad to live in that dream. The experience of such intense emotions I have never encountered before in my real life. I was given the opportunity to go through it before a real scenario hits me. Maybe this will prepare me. But then, maybe you can never prepare.


With that said, I felt a strong longing to be at home with my mum and dad, my brothers and my only sister. I really wished I was at home where I don't feel alone.


When a person misses his family, meeting them, seeing them with his own eyes, kissing them and hugging them are not the only things that matter - it goes so much further than that. In essence, it is their mere presence around him that his heart asks for.


In other words, when you are with your family, you don't even have to say anything. It is enough to just sit quietly beside any of them and look softly at the faces. They might be puzzled at your rare gaze, but keep on looking and just give a slight smile. They might then understand.


How I wish I could sit at my usual spot at home with my mum and sister right now. With the sound of scissors and sewing machine and baby and trivial chat filling my ears. Ridiculously noisy at times but I can always escape to the kitchen.

--------------------

(credits to desertman @ deviantART)

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Home I

Home I

Where the doors are moaning all day long,
Where the stairs are leaning dusk till dawn,


Where the windows are breathing in the light,
Where the rooms are a collection of our lives,


This is a place where I don't feel alone,
This is a place that I call my home...

(Cinematic Orchestra - That Home)

----------------------------------------------------

I swear if this song was what I hear first thing when I woke up this morning, I'd cry.

Dreams can feel so real.

--------------------

(credits to ariadnezenit @ deviantART)

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Crumble

Crumble

I met you earlier this year. It was the first time - I stood there looking at you, with a tingling sensation I could only describe as adoration. As I knew you more and you became comfortable with me, I took solace in your presence. You sheltered me from harm and provided me solitude when I needed one. I would stay with you until piles upon piles of sand flowed. Until the sun has shifted its arc.

Time has changed.

Scorching harm has come to me. Solitude no longer feels like one. Staring at you from a distance is a routine. Staying with you is a necessity. I would rather escape your presence and bask in another oasis.

Perhaps you cease to please me with the descent of a new season. Perhaps it is the companionship that I seek; one that you can never offer me. Perhaps life is simply not that simple that fingers can be pointed to a single face.

Woe!

Oh, my chamber, no longer you are my haven.

---------------------

(credits to TristanGreer @ deviantArt)

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Silent emotions

Silent emotions

Imagine this and imagine it vividly in your mind as best as you can:

You sitting in your chair in front of your computer and books.

You stopping whatever you were doing and turning your head towards the large window to your side, while one arm supporting your chin as your gaze drifting softly at the scene beyond the window.

You watching the continuous stream of traffic on the road across your vision field, hearing the muffled sound of vehicles zooming pass as people move on with their lives and realising you with yours.

You noticing the distant sky scattered with clouds and the sun shying away behind the thick still clouds.

You barely knowing what is in your mind at the mundanity of the moment and being oblivious that you are caught in a tranquillising trance.

You holding in this position in the physical and mental sense for minutes and minutes that when you snap out of it you realise perhaps 10 minutes has gone pass.

This is how I lost presence in this world. This is the melancholy in me emerging spontaneously at random times. This is one of the moments in life that I feel most calm and become deadly quiet - almost everything seems so crystal to me as I observe a snapshot of the world outside my window moving with time while my body is held in time stasis.

Speaking of time, I realise it is a waste, but I simply cannot help it.While in this trance, a great concoction of feelings comes splashing in an overwhelming force and these feelings are often the most difficult things for me to describe. Is is sadness? Longing? Helplessness? Frustration? Or is this what melancholy really is?

Perhaps I will never know the answer. But the answer does not matter to me. The whole experience means so much more to me. I consider it one the pleasures of life, actually.

You might raise an eyebrow to that last sentence, but I consider experiences and savouring emotions as ways to live your life fully. I thinks I would miss out on a lot if I didn't get to experience as many different kinds of emotion. It's just a waste to live without tasting them. (Okay, I think I'm starting to not make any sense, so I'll stop talking about it. But if somehow I do make sense to any of you, maybe you have found a mate!)

Although my melancholy can be brought about deliberately (which isn't very common of me), it is oft most triggered. By music. (Not again)

Here's one:

Just click on it. Three minutes of audio data is hardly a permanent damage to your monthly internet quota.

Out in the garden where we planted the seeds
There is a tree as old as me
Branches were sewn by the color of green
Ground had arose and passed its knees

By the cracks of the skin I climbed to the top
I climbed the tree to see the world
When the gusts came around to blow me down
I held on as tightly as you held onto me
I held on as tightly as you held onto me...

Cause, I built a home
for you
for me

Until it disappeared
from me
from you

And now, it's time to leave and turn to dust...

Rarely you come across such powerful lyrics. Good songs are truly difficult to come by nowadays.

P.S. I may be misinterpreted by you as being "emotional" (the term as defined by people to describe certain difficult-to-handle people, as in "You're soooooo freakin' emotional!!!"). Those who truly know me would know better than to say I'm that kind of emotional.

P.P.S. Maybe I just simply miss home.

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Humans are humane? Chicks will disagree.

Humans are humane? Chicks will disagree.

This is a baby chick.

In case you still didn't get it, this is also a baby chick.

Attack of the chicks. Please tell me that you get it already.

Oh, I knew very well what you are feeling right this moment. Go on, feast your eyes some more at these precious photos of cute, charming little chicks with their awesome cuteness that capture their pure innocence cutely.

I remember when I was about 12, my family had a small chicken cage-- no, scratch that - a relatively large chicken cage considering the population. It was the size of four moderately sized washing machine put close together, and it housed three adult chickens (one male, two females) with their little chicks. During the day, we let them out to roam free around the house. They especially liked to dance on the soft, green grass.

I watched the chicks grow up right from their hatching up to adulthood. Man, chickens do have a super swift biological development, and I sometimes wished they would stop growing at day 4. That is when they are cutest (see attached pictures).

Then today I watched something very, very disturbing. Too disturbing indeed that I had to share this with other people - yes, that means you. But this is not because I find it entertaining (read: NOT akin to spamming other people's inbox with stuff that is considered to be hilarious) but because I think the chicks would definitely want the world to know and take some sort of action.

Embedded below is a short documentary recorded at the world's largest egg-laying breed hatchery in Spencer, Iowa. I urge you to watch it immediately. I can guarantee that it is VERY disturbing to anyone, so don't say I didn't warn you. But you still have to, should, and must watch it. (I think I just contradicted myself)

If only Americans knew.

I don't know how exactly it is done here in Australia, but for the poor chicks' sake, I sure hope Aussies have a more gentle and humane story. A true chicken soup for the soul, if you will. (Was that a pun?)

What do we do? I'm not too sure myself. I don't think I will go vegan (as recommended at the end of the video) but at least I found something useful from Daily Finance website. Maybe we can do something after all. To quote:

Addendum: Many commenters have suggested that buying organic or free range eggs is the answer. While that is certainly preferable, it is not the answer; the chicks raised by Hy-Line and other hatcheries using instantaneous euthanasia can and do go to farmers who raise organic and free-range eggs. If you buy your eggs from a grocery store, they are almost certainly the fruit of this broken industry. I realize now that even the chickens I keep in my backyard for eggs (and treat extremely well, in a way incomparable to factory farms) were probably born in a hatchery only to see their brothers head toward the grinder. The answer is to buy chickens and eggs raised by very small, diversified farms. They're probably the ones at your local farmer's market, and they probably charge prices I've mentioned; as much as $5 per dozen for eggs and $6 per pound for meat. Talk to them, learn more about their practices and beliefs, and thank them.

P.S. If you were eating chicken while reading this entry, I apologise for the trauma I may have caused. If it makes you feel any better, the chicken in your hand was probably very well taken care of.

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"We bake our own iPhone"

"We bake our own iPhone"

When countless technologies are condensed into such a small device the size of roughly a short stack of business cards, it becomes extremely difficult not to bring said device everywhere you go. If you own such device, you might say, "I bring and use this incredible device everywhere simply because it makes me a productive person," and you continue to ramble on with reading online news, typing notes and ideas, and organising schedule. Perhaps more often than not you just want to look cool and be the subject of admiration among aspiring, trendy teenagers. But whatever, the reasons don't really matter.

What matters is that you do bring the magical device literally everywhere as if it is actually surgically attached to your body. That includes bringing the device to a dark storeroom to shine your way around, and to a kitchen to look for a French recipe (stupidly ambitious, considering you don't even know what tarragon is).

One day I carried my iPhone with me for a visit to the toilet in my own house, thinking I might as well be "a productive person" and read some news while I'm at it (or maybe I just wanted to look cool, not that anybody is there with me in the toilet to admire my coolness). After I was done and all and had flushed the toilet, I was punished. My iPhone slipped and "splash!" it went straight into the toilet bowl.

My iPhone must be so proud to be honoured as such.

It took me a full two seconds before I decide to fish it out from the (thankfully flushed) bowl. After patting it relatively dry with some tissue, my medical knowledge told me to sterilise it in some makeshift way that I can try in my house. I sanitised it with a liquid disinfectant (read: Dettol) and dried it again. My iPhone screen was dark and blank, as if the brief swim had taken its poor soul out of it - you could pretty much call it a diePhone now. To be honest, I'd probably be left soulless myself if I had that kind of a swim.

The whole process seemed to turn my iPhone off unintentionally. I didn't dare to turn it on immediately in fear of short-circuiting my iPhone in case the water had already went deep into the electronic circuitry. Operating under the assumption that the worst case scenario has happened, I thought of ways to dry it.

I placed it in front of my room heater switched on and left it there overnight. Then I used my hair-dryer a bit (I can't believe I just said that). There was still some water underneath the touchscreen, but I was somewhat confident that most of the moisture had evaporated from the circuitry, so I tried turning the iPhone on.

(A partially chomped off apple appeared on the screen)

My iPhone survived the horrible ordeal, but the water underneath the screen was a massive annoyance to me as I didn't need a less-than-sensitive touchscreen and I certainly didn't need an abstract artform to permanently shadow the screen. I needed a way to drain those moisture out.

After doing a bit of research in numerous forums (turned out I wasn't alone after all - I'm so happy), I found out some really rad and crazy methods of drying an iPhone (or any other electronic devices for that matter). I switched my iPhone off, took out my baking Pyrex, filled it with uncooked rice, and buried my iPhone in the middle of the rice. Supposedly, rice is just inherently thirsty, even going as far as sucking toilet water to quench that thirst. To speed up the drying process, I needed to raise the temperature. Since a microwave would just fry any electronic device and render it useless, I opted for conventional oven, as professionally recommended by some random people in forums. Setting the oven up on low temperature (about 100-120 degrees C; you don't want to melt your iPhone as I suspect it won't be very nice), I literally baked my iPhone for 9 hours.

(ding!)

I just LOVE the sound ovens make. This time around, however, it sounded even more pleasant than usual. I took the Pyrex out of the oven and digged for my iPhone. I turned it on to find that it worked perfectly fine and the touchscreen was devoid of water! It seemed that life has once again returned to the soulless device. Who knew a baked iPhone can make a man happier than a baked lasagne?

I know any normal person would now be traumatised enough to not bring such a device when visiting the toilet next time. Once is quite enough.

But since I'm not normal, I still keep bringing my iPhone to the toilet. What? I like to be "productive". Go away. (flushing toilet sound)

P.S. What do you think happened to the rice?

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The Gaze

The Gaze

Media: Ikea pencil (HB? H?), B pencil, mechanical pencil on paper.

Date of start: 23.8.2009

Date of finish: 23.8.2009

Description:

I always wish I could draw more often (damn you, medical course!). Now and again, I would feel like drawing or sketching but I usually suppressed my desire so that I could focus on the more important stuff at hand.

Today, however, I had the strongest urge to draw and there was no way I could let that unheeded. So I said to my journal article critical appraisal assignment (which is due next Friday), "Ah, screw you!" and grabbed my sketch book and the nearest pencil I could see at that time. That pencil turned out to be a short pencil that you get for free when you go to Ikea. Just so you know, it was a lousy pencil.

When I started to draw, I thought I wanted to produce a familiar face. So I took a self-portrait of mine as a rough source material. After 4 hours and some imagination on my part, the result was a Caucasian guy (what the--?). If not fully Caucasian, the guy is at least half-Caucasian. I guess I was kinda curious as to how I would look like if I were a white guy. Not sure if I would be that good-looking, though. (quirky smirk)

Major alterations: Nose, facial structure

(Very) Minor alterations: Eyes, lips

Retained features: Ears, brows, hair, neck, hoodie

So yeah, basically the guy has the same exact pose and clothing as the source photo, with some of my facial features incorporated. Wouldn't say he's me, and wouldn't say he's not me either.

Anyway, I focused on brushing up on my shading and lighting skills, especially on the face. That's why the hair was drawn unsophisticatedly and the shading on the hoodie was light and simple. I just wished that the scan would look better than this. The scanning process has a habit of bleaching out the lighter shades. Oh well, let me admire the original art by myself.

To those of you friends who have seen me in real life, do you think he has my resemblance? Even if you've never seen me face-to-face, you're more than welcome to drop your thoughts/comments. Maybe you can talk about his gaze? Or maybe he looks familiar to you? Like an actor or a model, perhaps? Hey, wait, where are you going?

P.S. That was my hair 3 months ago.

P.P.S. In retrospect, the hair wasn't that much different from what I have now.

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EPIC(on) WIN!

EPIC(on) WIN!

Take out your kitchen mixer from the cabinet, and set it nicely on the counter. Next get a top-notch orchestra assemble and an esteemed choir (which go very well together indeed), and gently place them in the mixer bowl. This might seem a bit strange to some, but now grab a rock band by the neck and put it in the middle of the ingredients in the bowl. The next step is very important: DO NOT turn on the mixer on high setting as this will cause the sound coming out the mixture to be simply tasteless and inconsistent. To avoid having to throw out the mixture and start all over again, mix the ingredients gently and slowly instead so as to produce a flavourful, creamy, and chromatic music that may be enjoyed again and again with your family and friends.

I'm guessing a lot of people might think that it takes the form of the following equation:

orchestra + choir + rock band = Rock You Like a Hurricane

Well, the album Epicon, by Globus, I assure you, is very much different than Scorpions. In fact the left side of that equation is not quite right. Not all of the tracks are rock. It is difficult to categorise the album into any of the conventional genres that we have today - it has a mixture of rock-driven orchestral track, choir-orchestra combo with solo vocal, ethnic music, orchestra-supported rock music, classical music in Italian, and choir in Latin. I could go on, but let's not go there, shall we?

Cover art of Epicon

In any case, once you have listened to the whole album, you would agree that the tracks are very emotional, grand film soundtrack-like, and simple EPIC. It's funny that some would even classify the album under the genre of 'epic'. To be honest, I think it's a fair classification since it is immensely difficult to pigeon-hole Epicon. Besides, 'epic' pretty much sums the album quite accurately.

In the Hollywood film-making industry, the making of movie trailers are usually commissioned to a trailer company that specialises in producing, well, trailers. Film production companies are far too busy with the film projects themselves (especially during principal photography and post-production) to make trailers for advertising purposes. Now trailer companies usually have their own composers to create music for the trailers they are making. Generally, however, big-budget films necessitate trailer music that match the quality and calibre of film soundtracks. For this reason, trailer producing companies may then purchase music (or license, rather) from another specialised company to be used in the trailers.

This specialised company is what we call "movie trailer music production company". The companies employ numerous composers to compose music beforehand and then keep the music in their library. Big companies literally have hundreds of such high-end music that sounded exactly like film soundtrack, sorted according to genres (such as comedy, drama, thriller, and so on). Other production bodies may browse their extensive libraries and purchase the license for use of the chosen music.

Complicated stuff, and you'd think film-making or even trailer-making is simple.

One such movie trailer music production company is Immediate Music. It's a huge and very successful company that has been providing music for trailers of famous movies, such as:

Spiderman 2 trailer (Warning: music is quite obvious.)

Now, since I'm not a PR officer for Immediate Music and I'm not gettin' paid for it, I'm not gonna list down other movie trailers that have used their music (go Google that yourself). However, as an informed fan, I will let you know that following popular demand, Immediate Music has formed a collective band consisting of an orchestra, choir and a rock band that is Globus. Several trailer music were hand-picked by the composers and re-arranged for the album. This explains why the album is "very emotional, grand film soundtrack-like, and simple EPIC".

And I just had to capitalise the word "epic". EPIC.

The wonder of Epicon is that it brings all sorts of emotion with different tracks. I generally like the whole album, but I especially love "Preliator", "Europa", "Orchard of Mines", "Madre Terra", and "Sarabande Suite".

Here's a medley of almost all the music in the album Epicon for you to have a taste.

And one of my personal favourites: Europa

I can't remember how I came by the tracks from the album early last year, but I do remember before having a copy of the album (which I eBay-ed from UK), digging as deep as I could for the music and live performance at YouTube. You might actually just do the same thing.

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"No, it can't be true..."

"No, it can't be true..."

Media: 2B pencil on paper

Date of start: 30.10.2008

Date of finish: 31.10.2008

Description:

Today, I digged up my close-to-a-year-old HUGE stack of papers, notes, hand-outs, feedbacks, and whatever crap I get from classes. You see, I have this one special corner on my bookcase that I accidentally dedicate for all sorts of paper I get and simply wasn't quite sure where to file into. I lost count how many times I rolled my eyes and grimaced upon sorting through that ridiculously tall stack - there were some papers I would have thrown away in a heartbeat but for some magical reason slipped their way into the stack.

Wait, that's not the point. The point is that I discovered my second year portfolio. The med faculty at Monash Uni has this really weird habit of asking students do all sort of even weirder stuff as part of academic assessment. Some of the assignments we had to do were:

1. a report on Behaviour Change Project, in which you had to change a bad behaviour/habit of yours and improve upon it by utilising some of the outlined methodology and strategies. While a lot of people chose to exercise or eat better, some people chose to stop nail-biting.
2. a report on Human Lifespan Development, in which you had to interview some random guy/girl you choose and get info about the stage of life he/she is in (e.g. young adulthood) and probe into their previous life stage (e.g. adolescence). Weird stuff.
3. a report on Critical Learning Incident, in which you recount and reflect upon one incident in your life that you find has brought great impact and hence, 'critical'. I don't wanna use the word "weird" twice, but hey.
4. two additional pieces of work, in which you can pretty much submit ANYTHING you want (really, anything) as long as you can relate your work to medicine. Some made "clinical examination for idiots" videos (you can find a lot of those on Youtube, you know), some constructed a huge model of brachial plexus or human eye (yeah, I know, real easy to slip into your average folder), and some wrote poems.

Well, suffice to say that the med faculty wanted us students to be a well-rounded doctors one day. I do understand that, but to do all those stuff when you're busy with classes and other more important assigments and revision was an absolute torture. You'd actually stare at the monitor while typing and think for a while, "What the hell am I doing again?"

Anyway, the drawing at the top was one of my two additional pieces that I submitted as part of my portfolio. I even wrote some description to couple with the drawing. Seeing back the drawing within the huge stack of paper sure did bring back memories. Aww.

All medical professionals would agree that one of the greatest joys derived from the profession is to see smiles carved on the faces of their patients, after the pain is lifted from them, or knowing that they have been fully cured. Doctors also enjoy great merriment and satisfaction when their patients shed tears of joy after being told that they will be alive after a fierce battle with their fatal disease.

However, it is inevitable that the opposite of these situations happen as well. It is gravely difficult for patients to receive bad news, and it is also difficult for doctors to deliver them. This drawing serves as a reminder that a patient's reaction may vary greatly depending on how doctors deliver bad news. It is important that one in the medical profession master the art of delivering bad news.

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Dhall

Dhall

Media: Black ball pen on paper

Date of start: 27.7.2009

Date of finish: 27.7.2009

Description:

It was a quick (lazy) sketch of Dhall, whom The Nameless One met only to find even more questions. Took me less than an hour to draw, so I don't think I'm doing the character much justice. Well, he certainly did not look like how I imagined him would be. I suck at sketches.

Dhall is extremely old, and definitely not human. His skin has a trace of yellow, like old parchment. Dead charcoal gray eyes lie within an angular face... a non-human face, as the ears narrow to points. A large white beard flows down the front of his black robes like a waterfall. He coughs occassionally. The book he works in front of is huge, and seems to contain many names of corpses that have been brought to the Mortuary.

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