<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325</id><updated>2011-04-22T08:51:52.605+08:00</updated><title type='text'>bomberben</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>113</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-4113565903130026801</id><published>2008-01-19T19:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T11:29:26.228+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Youth Choir Outing</title><content type='html'>Morning service. I was less adventurous about the warm up. Yesterday the choir was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;squeaking&lt;/span&gt; like a mouse. I was more confident than yesterday as I elected a helper from each section to stand in front of the members to guide them along. I felt that it is essential to rise up new people in choir as we are moving in the direction of mulitplication. &lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;But 无敌 was right. I need to select the right people. &lt;/span&gt;After the service, we set off to prepare for the youth choir outing. I wanted to sell masking tapes and mahjong paper to the choir. But I forgot to bring out of the office. Superman forgot to pass to me during service. Next time ba. Twelve teams. Six stations. The Mummy Returns. Pirates of the Curry Bean. Walls of Jericho. Animal Planet. Captain's Banana. Bridegroom's Wine. It was fun &lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;helping 无敌 to manage the games. It was like playing a strategy game. Messengers provide information for the king. The king makes his decision. The soldiers make their move. I wanted to stay on, but I had to leave at 5 pm. I had a family photo shoot at 6 pm. It is a miracle that our family can come together to take a photo. There was once when I thought that our family will never sit together for dinner. But after the photo shoot, we went for a BBQ buffet. Thank God.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-4113565903130026801?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4113565903130026801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4113565903130026801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2008/01/youth-choir-outing.html' title='Youth Choir Outing'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-8888742085001490239</id><published>2008-01-16T23:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T12:25:02.132+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Holy Spirit</title><content type='html'>Dr. A. R. Bernard revealed a truth about the Kingdom of God. God, Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit. God make the world by faith. He made it through and for Jesus Christ, His one and only begotten Son. The word 'begotten' means 'produce' or 'make to happen'. God has made an entity that shares the same glory as Himself. The word 'glory' means 'sinless' or 'perfect in man's sight'. The world includes Adam, a man made in the image of God from the earth and the life of God. He is made in but not with the glory of God. In order for God to commute with man, He gave man a powerful but dangerous tool called free will. This free will allows man to choose his destiny as well as who to love. God, being the maker of the earth and man, knows what is good for His creation. So the saying ' God has thoughts of good and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.' Man, however, has the ability to choose this future, or his own, though God constantly encourages to 'take His yoke, which is light'. Adam has chosen to disobey God. God look upon his sons and descendents, hoping they will choose God and life. But they has chosen to disobey God. But God so loved the world. He works by laws and convenants, thus he made a new convenat with man. He gave his only begotten Son, so that those who believe in Him may not perish but gain eternal life. This is a new convenant with man, so that it may be easier for man to return to God. To ensure that man is able to fulfill his destiny, He sends Jesus Christ to be a physical entitiy of God so as to demonstrate the full potential of man to love. Then he sends the Holy Spirit to reside in Jesus Christ to demonstrate the full potential of man to believe and transform it into power, and to resist evil. Jesus Christ demonstrates what God can do for man, and what man needs to for each other. But Jesus Christ needs to return to God, as His physical entity does not permit it to be omnipresent. But the Holy Spirit, being a spirit is able to permeates the earth and all man. The same power that Jesus Christ has, man has to because of the Holy Spirit. God has the perfect plan, Jesus Christ can influence the plan, and the Holy Spirit reveals and executes that plan. The Holy Spirit represents Jesus Christ directly, for God has given Jesus Christ the power to choose who He wants in the Kingdom. Jesus Christ is appointed the King of our future kingdom. He has chosen the twelve disciples to rule over the twelve tribes of our future kingdom, and He will also choose who is to enter into the Kingdom. If man don't pray for his loved ones to enter the Kingdom of heaven, then his loved ones may not be chosen. Indeed everything is possible. We can ask for anything persistently in His name and it will be done, but not all things are good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-8888742085001490239?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8888742085001490239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8888742085001490239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2008/01/holy-spirit.html' title='The Holy Spirit'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-6412122798436559180</id><published>2008-01-12T22:00:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-09T23:40:32.411+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Got A Scratch On My Car</title><content type='html'>God forgive me. I was hoping that the service could end earlier as I was looking forward to drive my cell group to a far away land to enjoy a good meal. It has been a long time since I joined them for dinner. Caught up with carolling and service. Christmas is the season of giving, and I gave my time to my family, some friends and people I do not know. I was planning to drive them to Bedok Market Place when I was called to serve a greater purpose: to plan for a choir outing. What a man got to do is what a man got to do. I discussed the outline of the event with Frankenstein. Then I went to eat dinner with 无敌, All Smooth and No Big. I flew to join my cell group. Eliz Navida was standing at the cross junction. Cars were zooming past. She hopped into my pickup. We drove round the carpark thrice but could not get an empty parking space. I was waiting for a passage to clear when a car made a big swing and scratch my door. I wind down the window to check the damage. Thank God. Just a scratch. I looked at the other party's car. His Hyundai got a scratch too. I decided to let him off out of kindness and drove off. I realised that the car was behind me. I drove out of the carpark and entered it again. The car did likewise. Suspicious. I stopped by the side of the main road. The car stopped beside me and the driver motioned me to wind down my window. He said, "Get down. We need to talk." I asked with a curious tone, "Why?" He answered, "You scratch my car." I was taken aback by his answer. He scratched my pickup. I let him off. He chased me and claimed that I scratched his car! What is his problem, I thought to myself. I was agitated as I explained to him the whole picture. He made a swing. I alerted him with a honk. His car scratched my pickup. He and his friends insisted that my pickup moved and scratched his car. Eliz Navida tapped at my shoulder and asked me to keep my cool. But she barked at him herself. You should have seen her face. Never mess with a woman. Finally he said, "Forget it." His car scratched my pickup and he acted like the good Samaritan. What a big joke.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-6412122798436559180?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6412122798436559180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6412122798436559180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2008/01/got-scratch-on-my-car.html' title='Got A Scratch On My Car'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-4159177525570315695</id><published>2008-01-01T23:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-05T00:07:28.362+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Family Outing</title><content type='html'>I was woken up by the voices of my parents. My family were planning to go to Johor Bahru, Malaysia! I was not informed yesterday. I hardly had the chance to join any Malaysia trips because of my commitments in work and in church. I was free on a public holiday for once! What a great start to 2008. We ate our lunch at Teck Sing Restaurant in Johor Bahru. Paper-Baked Chicken is their specialty. After that, we drove to a shopping centre and had a go at all the machines in OSIM. Superman owned an OSIM uPaPa. I always feel that the name is a bit diaoz. The machine produced drum beats on my back, but made my back itch after use. I almost fell off the uGallop. We tasted green tea ice-cream. A bit weird weird de. Thai massage @ Giant. My mum has been singing praises about the massage for months. She extended my message session to 90 minutes! My massager was a man leh. Nothing 'brokeback' happened, though I thought he broke my back. A dinner at Johor Bahru Food Centre as usual.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-4159177525570315695?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4159177525570315695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4159177525570315695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2008/01/family-outing.html' title='A Family Outing'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-965166946342242445</id><published>2007-12-14T12:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-14T22:41:28.977+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dare You To Move</title><content type='html'>I have made a decision to move. In this world, I shall have tribulations. But I will be of good cheer, for Jesus Christ has overcome the world! If S. A. Tan is going to dwell in my failures and weakness, I am going to move to somewhere better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dare you to move too.&lt;br /&gt;http://squeakytoad.com/dare.html&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-965166946342242445?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/965166946342242445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/965166946342242445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/12/dare-you-to-move.html' title='Dare You To Move'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-8728005882986001217</id><published>2007-12-09T19:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T20:07:58.686+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Song In Season</title><content type='html'>&lt;u&gt;You Are Faithful&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Verse 1:&lt;br /&gt;Lord of all the earth&lt;br /&gt;How you care for me&lt;br /&gt;You have made me&lt;br /&gt;You will save&lt;br /&gt;And carry me always&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chorus:&lt;br /&gt;You are faithful&lt;br /&gt;You are faithful&lt;br /&gt;You are faithful&lt;br /&gt;You joy is my strength.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Verse 2:&lt;br /&gt;Lord you are my guide&lt;br /&gt;I rely on you&lt;br /&gt;I put my hope in things not seen&lt;br /&gt;Your promises are true&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bridge:&lt;br /&gt;Always you're with me&lt;br /&gt;You hand will lead me&lt;br /&gt;My trust is in your name&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-8728005882986001217?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8728005882986001217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8728005882986001217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/12/song-in-season.html' title='Song In Season'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-5570057738215990827</id><published>2007-12-09T18:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T13:22:56.374+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Backup Vocalist</title><content type='html'>The service started. The band played. The chorus board was empty. No lyrics. I was stunned. I smiled. I suddenly realised that I didn't know how to move with the music when I was holding on the microphone. I turned to look at Herbal Tea. She swayed naturally from side to side with the music. I tried to imitate, but her movements were too &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;feminine. What was I thinking? Of course her movements were feminine. I tried clapping. The micophone seemed to picked up every sound I made with my hands. Thup, thup, thup. I put my hand in the air. I put my hand on my chest. I put my hand on my diaphragm. Ran out of movement. Repeat. I had a feeling that many eyes were looking at me from the front and from the back. I saw people running at the back of the hall, trying to correct the fault on the chorus board. Took ages. I sang 'destiny' during the song Destiny and 'rain down' for the song Rain Down. Nothing else. I realised Comestic Surgery was stunned too. I heard his voice. Then it disappeared. Then I heard his voice again. I did not know what happen to the other BVs as I did not dare to look at them. The lyrics appeared when we were singing the song You Are Faithful. Thank God. After the P &amp;amp; W, we went to the Artists' Room. Before I made a sound, the other BVs started screaming and complaining. It turned out that they were having problems too. Bigger ones. Comestic Surgery and More Than One J did not know the lyrics too. There was miscommunication between them and the band. Sword River knew the lyrics, but lost his voice all of a sudden. He said that this was the worst P &amp;amp; W experience he ever had. We sang better after the offering and at the end of the service, now the lyrics were on the chorus board. What a start for me. It will never get worse. I hope not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-5570057738215990827?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5570057738215990827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5570057738215990827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/12/backup-vocalist.html' title='Backup Vocalist'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-3436427456291791462</id><published>2007-12-08T23:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T18:25:05.714+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My First BV Practice</title><content type='html'>New experiences. I sang P &amp;amp; W songs in chinese. I always wonder what the BVs are listening to when they put a ear piece in their ear. The answer is... *drum roll*... themselves! They hear themselves sing! I borrowed a ear plug from Sword River for the ear piece. He told me not to leave any 'chocolate' on it, if you know what I mean. Helpful and friendly guy. When I returned to choir full-time, he was my first friend in choir (other than Sponge Jem) and the first person who made me feel appreciated. Now he was the first person who taught me the 'do's and 'don't's in the BV ministry. Tired night. Practice until 11:30 am. We had two new songs to learn: Rain Down and You Are Faithful. I almost slept on the sofa in the Artists' Room after the practice. No dinner at home. Ate cup noodles + steamed chicken &lt;span&gt;legs. 无敌  is going to wake me up tomorrow morning at 6:30 am. Too tired to be nervous.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-3436427456291791462?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/3436427456291791462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/3436427456291791462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/12/my-first-bv-practice.html' title='My First BV Practice'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-6423571152476833432</id><published>2007-12-07T22:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T19:08:50.662+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Solve One Problem</title><content type='html'>My parents were not quarelling le. At least not now. They had a misunderstanding on money initially. My dad was concerned about my traffic offence and talked to me about it. I took the chance to get him to open up. My mum was around. I got one party to talk to me while the other party listened. Thank God. I wouldn't say that my traffic offence was worth it. But at least it did a miracle on my family situation. I mean God did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-6423571152476833432?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6423571152476833432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6423571152476833432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/12/solve-one-problem.html' title='Solve One Problem'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-8190995887226184647</id><published>2007-12-07T10:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T19:09:27.828+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Traffic Offence</title><content type='html'>Another trial and tribulation day. My dad called me when I was driving. He complained to me about my mum. I went into a little heated argument with my dad and lost track of the road conditions. Suddenly, a traffic police appeared on my right, drove in front of my pick-up and signalled to me to stop. I knew I was in deep shit. I hung up on my dad and stopped my pick-up. Mobile phone confiscated. S$200 fine. 12 demerit points. Depressed. I couldn't control my tears. S. A. Tan was trying to slice my faith. My studies, my family and now myself. No wonder it is written in Joshua 1:7: Only be strong and very courageous. Only. Very. Indeed. I had no other choice but to make the decision to abide the Word. Do not turn from it to the right hand or to the left, that you may prosper wherever you go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-8190995887226184647?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8190995887226184647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8190995887226184647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/12/traffic-offence.html' title='Traffic Offence'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-3535875587966184356</id><published>2007-12-07T02:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T19:14:51.142+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Slapped By S. A. Tan</title><content type='html'>A bad afternoon. After the camp, I was asked to return to the sound equipment to CHC @ Jurong West. So I called Superman at 12 pm. Superman did not switch on his mobile phone. zero battery life in mobile phone + sleep like a log = uncontactable. I called his house number but no one picked up the phone. Wasted money on an automatic answering machine. The equipment rental receipt was with him too. Die. I drove down with Daniel Wu and Bee Get Even and caught a drizzle. Bee Get Even helped me cover the equipment with a cover. Bee Get Even looked cool even when he was holding down the cover in the rain. We reached the building at 2 pm. The security guard told me that the UFO was out of the building. The building was closed until 3 pm. 2 choices. Wait until 3 pm or send the guys home. I called WK for help. He told me that I was supposed to return the equipment at 4 pm. Oh my God. Worse. Daniel Wu was running out of battery life too. I decided to send them home. I realised that Daniel Wu's smile was not run by Energizer. First he stunned. Then he slept for 10 minutes, woke up and kept his smile for 10 minutes. Then he stunned again. After I drove them home, I went to the UOB bank. My second brother deposited S$9 700 into my bank account. My job was to withdraw this money from my bank account and deposit it into my mum's bank account. Sounds simple. But the trouble was this. The sound equipment was still on the back of my pick-up. I parked at a location where it was safe to leave them alone. A road with double yellow line. I queued for almost half an hour. I was unfortunate enough to wait behind a group of elderly people which took ages to complete their transactions. Sigh. I withdrew the money, left the bank and went to OCBC bank. Queued for 15 minutes. Just when I was about to write down my mum's bank account number, I realised that my mum's bank was UOB bank. Oh my God. I left OCBC bank and returned to UOB bank. Have to queue again. Sigh. I deposited the money and returned to my pick-up. A parking fine of S$50. Sigh. I drove back to CHC. Caught a heavier drizzle. Oh my God. I wiped the equipment dry with my shirt and return it to the UFO. Then I drove home to get changed for cell group. Self-pity sets in. Negative thoughts streamed through my mind. A &amp;amp; R season. Friends were sleeping soundly after the camp except me. I helped my second brother and got myself a parking fine. I wasted my working day. Now I understood why God led me to read Joshua 1. Be strong and of good courage indeed. Strength and courage pumped me up again. Then a change of events occured. I reached Plaza Singapore at 7 pm. My cell group members were late. I bought the tickets for the movie The Golden Campass just in time for everybody. Once again bomberben saved the day! I had one of my best dinner at the food court: a grilled chicken drumstick set. Delicious! The Golden Compass turned out to be an interesting movie. I did not know that it was inspired by the book Northern lights: a book that I read and enjoyed years ago. No wonder it had a familiar plot. After the movie, I drove Daniel Wu, I-Loh and Matching Pipes. I had a especially long chat with Daniel Wu. Other than discussing about the concept of vision, I shared with him what I felt about fellowship. Fellowship leads to a spiritual build-up. It is not just spending quality time with friends or a moment of fun and excitement. There is always a spiritual lesson to be learnt. After the talk, he was so excited that I thought he was not able to sleep that night. I returned home. I woke my mum up when I entered the house. She was sleeping in the living room. Dispute with my dad again. I accompanied my mum till 2 pm. Both of us felt asleep in the living room.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-3535875587966184356?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/3535875587966184356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/3535875587966184356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/11/slapped-by-devil.html' title='Slapped By S. A. Tan'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-6628764690235258173</id><published>2007-12-05T10:00:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T18:07:39.629+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Strength &amp; Courage</title><content type='html'>Devotion time in the morning with Bee Get Even. He suggested that I read Joshua 1 with him. God promised Joshua will "make your way prosperous" and then "have good success". I was curious about this repeition in the chapter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jos 1:6 "Be strong and of good courage..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jos 1:7 "Only be strong and very courageous..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jos 1:9 "Be strong and of good courage..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jos 1:18 "Only be strong and of good courage."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be strong and of good courage. Why did God repeated that phrase four times to Joshua? Why did Joshua need to 'be strong and of good courage' ONLY? Why did he need strength and courage to fulfill God's calling upon him? I searched the concordance for the word 'strong' and discovered three reasons why I may need strength and courage when my faith in God is tested.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;First reason: I need strength and courage for battle.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Psa 24:8&lt;br /&gt;Who is this King of glory?&lt;br /&gt;The Lord strong and mighty,&lt;br /&gt;The Lord mighty in battle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do I need to battle against? I read Eph 6 and realised that this 'battle' is not a physical battle, but a spiritual one against 'the wiles of the devil'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eph 6:10 Finally, my brethen, be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eph 6:11 Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand against the wiles of the devil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eph 6:12 For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Second reason: I need strength and courage when I am weak.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;2 Cor 12:9 And He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness." Therefor most gladly I will rather baost in my infirmities, that the p0wer of Christ may rest upon me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 Cor 12:10 Therefore I take plpeasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ's sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Third reason: I need strength and weakness to bear the scruples of the weak.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Rom 15:1 We then who are strong ought to bear with the scruples of the weak, and not to please ourselves.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What can I expect if I obey the Word?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Joshua 1:7 "Do not turn from it to the right hand or to the left, that you may prosper wherever you go."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-6628764690235258173?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6628764690235258173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6628764690235258173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/12/joshua-1.html' title='Strength &amp; Courage'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-4746314758146260371</id><published>2007-11-30T17:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T18:08:39.051+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Trouble With Monash</title><content type='html'>I was working on my assignment. Today is the submission day of my assignment. Usually I need to submit it before 5 pm to be on time. When I called Dawn at 4 pm to confirm the submission time, she told me that according to Australia time, the submission time is 3 pm Singapore time! Shock. Immediately I gave my final output on the assignment and went to MUSO @ &lt;a href="http://www.monash.edu.sg/"&gt;www.monash.edu.sg&lt;/a&gt; to submit it. I could not get MUSO to upload my assignment for half an hour. I submitted my assignment via email to my lecturer instead. I prayed that it will work. I went to check my results. Distinction for my first module. Distinction for my second module. Fail for my third module...! Trauma. I almost thought that it was just a nightmare. How did I fail my third module without knowing it? 34/100. That's the mark I got for my first assignment of the module. My lecturer did not submit my results for the second assignment of the module. I realised I was done for. I did not kept a copy of my second assignment and its result. A &amp;amp; R season. I prayed that this is not the start of my trials and tribulations.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-4746314758146260371?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4746314758146260371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4746314758146260371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/11/trouble-with-monash.html' title='Trouble With Monash'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-8144409368834736971</id><published>2007-11-25T09:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T10:30:23.243+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Departure of Tamiya Man</title><content type='html'>Tamiya Man is leaving for Beijing @ China for a school project! I kept thinking that he left for his Tamiya car racing competition, but he was not! He already competed and got the ninth position in Singapore. I think I am losing touch with my cell group friends. I picked up Eliz Navida at Serangoon MRT station and started our usual friendly squabble over God knows what. I picked Superman athis house and Pearl at Punggol MRT station. Once again Pick-Up Man picked up everybody with his pick-up and saved the day! We ate our breakfast before Toilet Man joined us. The soya bean drink tastes like 1 x big straw. 70% water + 25% sugar syrup + 5% soya bean milk. We then went to the departure hall to find Tamiya Man. Took some photgraphs. He was expecting someone. She never came. Sad. Eliz Navida cried when Tamiya Man went through the customs. Really drama queen. The scene does like this. She runs through the customs with tears in her eyes. The policemen drag her back and call for help. She screams "Sa lang heyo!" (I love you in Korean) or "Ngo ngoi lei!" (I love you in Cantonese). Tamiya man takes out a piece of paper, writes something on it and put it in a Tamiya car. He set the car moving in Eliz Navida's direction, who picks it up and read the words on the piece of paper. She smiles, but when she looks up, Tamiya Man is gone. She burst into tears again, but this time with tears of joy. He wrote "wait for me".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-8144409368834736971?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8144409368834736971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8144409368834736971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/11/departure-of-tamiya-man.html' title='Departure of Tamiya Man'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-6591767039952154560</id><published>2007-11-20T19:13:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T10:03:04.308+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Beginning</title><content type='html'>Today is a new beginning for my career and marks the end of my tuition days! Maybe not the end, as I am expecting myself to continue teaching a couple of students for the sake of bread and butter, and commitment. Sometimes I cannot help but feel that life is about doing the things I do not wish to do. Some people tell me that I can decide what I want to do for my life. But that will be selfish. Maybe life is a combination of what I want to do and what other people want me to do. It really feels like straw to feel that I cannot decide what I want for my life. Might as well end it. I feel like a prawn. Just joking. I mean pawn. I think I am getting started on the holy trinity: I, me and myself. Talk about happy things. Overjoyed makes me overjoyed. Building a business with no liabilities means that I can take my time to do it. 8 am to 6 pm is not enough for me. I feel horrible when my working time is cut short. For once I feel that time is mine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-6591767039952154560?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6591767039952154560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6591767039952154560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/11/new-beginning.html' title='A New Beginning'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-9047097802061359095</id><published>2007-11-11T11:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-01T09:32:46.794+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Best Man (Again)</title><content type='html'>Today is my third brother's wedding. He chose this day to start his jail term for the simplest reason. 11/11 @ 11:11 am. I am the best man again. I deduced that if I am going to be the best man one more time, I shall be branded a bachelor forever and ever amen. On the positive side, being single and available allows me to earn extra cash even for a time like this. A red packet for being the driver. A red packet for being the best man. Two red packets for being the youngest in the family. We were at the door of the bride's room. Immediately after we knocked, bridesmaids and kids started screaming for money. I felt that this is different from other times. They spelt D.E.S.P.E.R.A.T.E. I cannot help but dislike the group of relatives that come into my life. I have heard stories about how they discouraged my sister-in-law-to-be to share her finances with my third brother and how they encouraged her to leave him when he was financially burdened. Things like this makes me think that having a girlfriend or a wife make my life feel like a straw. The wedding was held in a mini function room in The Florida @ Upper Serangoon Road. My third brother bought this condominium with his ex-wife. Money matters. Lawsuit. Divorce. money + women = straw. Period. A nun came to be the witness of the wedding. Funny thing was no one knows that she was a nun as she sounded like a monk. This is not a joke. I spoke to my second brother about my business. As a calculative man, he was very interested in how I earned my profits. I decided to tell him about my vision for the company instead. I hope that I can convince him that earning money is not our utmost calling in life. Fruitful and multiply. That's what the Bible says. I did not talk to my first brother. I cannot forget how he tries to use his 'strategy' to break my life. A man with great pride. He thinks that he can control people at his finger tips. One attempt is enough to deter me. I do not want to decide whether I should hate him or forgive him. I just want to focus on building my life and keep him out of my it. At least for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-9047097802061359095?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/9047097802061359095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/9047097802061359095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/11/best-man-again.html' title='Best Man (Again)'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-4243967483884355663</id><published>2007-11-04T18:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T08:25:41.426+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tamiya Man's Birthday</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Tamiya&lt;/span&gt; Man held his 21st birthday party at Essential Brew @ Holland Village! Rumours said that the party cost more than a S$1000 to hold... wow! When I went to Superman's house to fetch, he was excited to share with me a new marketing strategy that he thought of. Hey Superman! Sunday our Sabbath day and talking about work is NOT ALLOWED &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;! Oh well. That's what happens when you got your buddy, business partner and cell group leader in one package. However, the A &amp;amp; B season compels us to work even harder for ourselves and for the kingdom of God! We are also in the market when many big players like Pampers Mart, Mad Cow City and Artillery Enemy exist. We have to rise up fast, fight hard and put up a strong defense. Anyway. Our cell group members have reached before us. Daniel Wu, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Eliz&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Navida&lt;/span&gt;, Hello Nurse and Matching Pipes were playing a board game. Once again, the courtesy of Hello Nurse turned Essential Brew into The Mind Cafe (again!). Halfway through the game, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Tamiya&lt;/span&gt; Man requested that I entertained his classmates by teaching them how to play Bang!. For a moment I felt like a sheep sent into the midst of wolves. I was getting good at explaining the game. After the first round of play, they went autopilot and I took a break. I was losing my voice &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;le&lt;/span&gt;. I played a couple of bridge with my cell group members before rain started to pour. That spelt B.A.D N.E.W.S. My pickup has no shelter! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Eliz&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Navida&lt;/span&gt; and Pearl sat in front. Daniel Wu, Matching Pipes and Superman sat at the back with two pathetic umbrellas. As I drove, I commented that Superman falls sick very easily. Me and my big mouth. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Eliz&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Navida&lt;/span&gt; and Pearl immediately scored their point as they pleaded to exchange place with Superman. Girls! Think of the big picture! I got another plan in mind. I drove back to home and changed a vehicle: my dad's car! I gave them dry towels, and a bottle of Sprite by accident (I was supposed to bring plain water =p). &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Nevertheless&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;bomberben&lt;/span&gt; saved the day once again and brought the people out of Israel into the land of milk and honey! Praise the Lord!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-4243967483884355663?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4243967483884355663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4243967483884355663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/11/tamiya-mans-birthday.html' title='Tamiya Man&apos;s Birthday'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-2812177464763725667</id><published>2007-10-22T21:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-10-22T22:30:41.601+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Balanced Life</title><content type='html'>I realised that ever since I have became a Christian, God has never failed to give me a birthday present. God has taken me for a ride since my birthday in June 2007. He brought Superman and I together for a business venture. Although I have never taken a good break since then, I felt that "living life to the fullest" has sinked into my life. Managing an art and craft store, giving private tuition to students, studying a post-graduate degree, serving in CHC's choir ministry as a vocal IC and singing overnight in KTV. My life is coming to a balance. Slowly but surely. God gave me the promise that I can continue to shine in the market place and serve actively in church. No doubt about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-2812177464763725667?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/2812177464763725667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/2812177464763725667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/10/balanced-life.html' title='A Balanced Life'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-1512977501992630744</id><published>2007-10-15T14:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-10-26T22:30:26.100+08:00</updated><title type='text'>One Step Closer To Success</title><content type='html'>@ Overjoyed Store. I worked on the inventory list on Quickbooks until 4 am. I have to complete it as soon as possible, as our company will lose money as each day passes. Overjoyed is now a GST-registered company! That means we can claim back our expenditure's GST from the Government. That's a good sum of money into our pockets $$$! Superman is really talented with designing. With his help, I completed the design of our company's invoice in a flash. We then met up with Red Chin @ Plaza Singapore at 8 pm to finalize the outlook and functions of our shopping cart @ overjoyed.com.sg. Red Chin is a web designer and programmer. Judging from the preview he has shown us, I think we are in for a real treat! Multiple customer modes, unlimited category depth, multiple sales and discounts, multiple display modes, unlimited extra pages, multiple advertisement banner controller, multiple shipping options, multiple payment options, newsletter manager, discount coupons, gift certificates, featured products, quantity discounts, etc. You name it, Red Chin can make it. Wow. Thank God.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-1512977501992630744?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/1512977501992630744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/1512977501992630744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/10/one-step-closer-to-success.html' title='One Step Closer To Success'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-2251867254316488599</id><published>2007-10-01T09:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T11:39:06.744+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Advices To Future Dog Owners</title><content type='html'>Two peaceful days have past. Thank God for the bark control collar. My mum woke me up this morning. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Rusky&lt;/span&gt; managed to climb out of the baby gate. Miraculously. But that's a small problem &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;compared&lt;/span&gt; to what we experienced in the past. These are my advices to future dog owners.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;When you have a new dog in the house, get a life ring and a dog leash. It is essential to keep the dog under control at any time.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Set a boundary for the dog. The boundary should include a sleeping area, a 'dining' area and a 'toilet'. If the boundary is a door, use a baby gate. If the boundary is an area, use a make-and-break cage. The make-and-break works for my Collie Minnie as it is very tame. It obviously do not work for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Rusky&lt;/span&gt;. My student Teddy has the space to put a giant cage for his Jack Russell Terrier Cookie as he lives in a terrace. If the dog barks, pull the dog leash. If the problem persists, get a bark control collar.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Do not use a paper box as a bed. The dog will tear it up. Do not use a rug. The dog will use it as a 'toilet'. Rusky has a plastic container with a thick towel for its bed. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The 'dining' area is where the dog's bowl usually is. Always keep the bowl after use. The dog should be fed only once a day, with as little food and water as possible. This will slow down its 'processing' time, making it easier to predict and control where it drops its 'bomb'.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Newspapers should be use as a 'toilet'. It is not just a cheap source. It is easily recognised by most dogs as a 'bombing' area. If the dog 'bombs' other area, catch it! Make a loud noise. Clap your hands. Scare it away. You have to be on 24 hours standby for any intrusion. The area has to be cleaned with sweet-smelling detergent, or else the dog will 'patronise' it again. I bring Rusky to the newspaper and encourage it to smell it. Sometimes I have to shake and rustle the newspaper to attract its attention. Newspaper do not absorb urine quickly. Sometimes the urine will flow on its paws... yucks. Now I place a rubber mat below the newspaper so that the urine will flow into the rubber mat. I am planning to take the newspaper away one day and see whether Rusky will pee at the same spot.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Engage a dog trainer. The dog trainer should give timely advices to you when you need it. This will 'train' you from having any thoughts of abandoning your best friend. Furthermore, the dog can pick up good habits and learn new tricks, which enables it to grow to its maximum potential and a life to the fullest!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-2251867254316488599?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/2251867254316488599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/2251867254316488599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/10/advices-to-future-dog-owners.html' title='Advices To Future Dog Owners'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-1269392590349777851</id><published>2007-09-29T08:58:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T09:20:03.720+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pet Trick The Dog Saviour</title><content type='html'>I called Pet Trick in the morning. He suggested that I should get a bark control collar. It sends electric signals to a dog whenever it barks excessively. He was worried that I might think it is a cruel method to shut Rusky up. What could be more cruel than putting a dog to sleep or abandon it on the streets? I asked God for His plan and He gave it to me. I bought a baby gate at Pet Resource @ Serangoon. Toilet suggested that I could keep Rusky in his house for a day. Thank God. That was exactly what I had in mind. I bought the bark control collar @ Pasir Ris. I was on time for pre-service choir practice. After the day's events, I went to fetch Rusky. Toilet's family loved Rusky! Rusky flirted with Toilet's Golden Retriever Janielle and Janielle chased it angrily around the house. His relatives laughed at the playful pair. Toilet's mum Jo was very understanding with Rusky's bad habits. She even suggested that I should bring Rusky back if her relatives visit them again. I brought Rusky back and tried the collar on it. I prayed for a peaceful day ahead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-1269392590349777851?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/1269392590349777851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/1269392590349777851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/09/pet-trick-dog-saviour.html' title='Pet Trick The Dog Saviour'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-8199240463076483156</id><published>2007-09-29T05:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T08:58:05.175+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Overboard</title><content type='html'>I was studying at McDonald's @ &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Toa&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Payoh&lt;/span&gt; with 无敌 when my mum called me at 1 am. A panic tone. My whole family members were awake. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Rusky&lt;/span&gt; went overboard with its barking again. Our condominium's security guards rang the door bell and woke them up. Our neighbours made a complain once again. They warned that if &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Rusky&lt;/span&gt; continued to bark, the authorities would be informed and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Rusky&lt;/span&gt; would have to go. I was traumatised! I drove back at the speed of light, only to find &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Rusky&lt;/span&gt; wagging its tail and running towards me. I pushed it away angrily and went ahead to find my parents. When I walked into the room, my parents and my third brother looked at me gloomily. My mum insisted that Rusky must leave. Even my third brother agreed with her. I was at a lost. After they went back to sleep, I sat quietly in the living room. Rusky jumped on my lap and we cuddled a little. I must save its life. No one else will do it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-8199240463076483156?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8199240463076483156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8199240463076483156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/09/overboard.html' title='Overboard'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-8789176714492049580</id><published>2007-09-28T12:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-28T12:18:49.283+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rusky The Incredible</title><content type='html'>Rusky's living space is the drying area in the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;He wailed like a ghost when I tied it to the railing.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He screamed like thunder when I left the door closed.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He creeped out like a rat when I left the door opened.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He slipped out like a snake when I put a metal barrier.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He jumped out like a frog when I put two metal barriers.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;He climbed out like a monkey when I put three metal barriers.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;And all I thought I had was a dog. Oh my God.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-8789176714492049580?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8789176714492049580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8789176714492049580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/09/rusky-incredible.html' title='Rusky The Incredible'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-5135152760806931291</id><published>2007-09-28T01:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T09:15:47.683+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Mind Cafe @ Chiltern Park</title><content type='html'>Our cell group had prepared for a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;barbeque&lt;/span&gt; session at my house. Oh no! Here comes the rain! Superman seemed to attract rain all the time. It rained the last time his cell group had a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;barbecue&lt;/span&gt; session during Christmas season. It also rained on his wedding day. However, we were not taunted by S.A. Tan's attacks. He didn't know that Superman had a backup plan this time... The Mind Cafe @ &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Chiltern&lt;/span&gt; Park! I brought them to my house. Hello Nurse did what he do best... teach the new friends how to play board and card games! Hello Nurse brought Saboteur and Bang! and Daniel Wu brought Risk. As they stalled time, I-loh, Pearl and I were busy changing the food menu. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Barbecued&lt;/span&gt; hot dogs turned into fried sausages served with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;naan&lt;/span&gt;. Barbecued crab sticks turned into scrambled egg with diced crab sticks and sausages. Barbecued potatoes turned into boiled potatoes with mayonnaise and beacon bits. Superman led them into ice-breaker games and I did a simple dog show with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Rusky&lt;/span&gt;. All of a sudden, I got that God-had-planned-this-long-ago feeling once again. Everything seemd to fit into place. Like what the Bible says, each of us are parts of the body of Christ, serving a common purpose and working towards a common goal. Our cell group may be not perfect, but as we pool our talents, abilities and resources together, our weaknesses are made strong and our strengths are made stronger!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-5135152760806931291?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5135152760806931291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5135152760806931291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/09/mind-cafe-chiltern-park.html' title='The Mind Cafe @ Chiltern Park'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-1443995295453879213</id><published>2007-09-25T01:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T01:32:41.243+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Ring</title><content type='html'>Rusky did both its small and big business on the sofa! I was pissed to the max. I almost wanted to strangle it to death with my bare hands. I had a fight with it and endured a few scars. I drove Rusky back to its bed and sat angrily in the living room, waiting for Patrick to arrive. He reached my house at 8: 45 am. The first thing he did was to attach a training leash called a life ring around its neck. He demonstrated how to keep Rusky under control and to restrict its movement. Miraculous. Rusky transformed into a pleasant little puppy. It stopped struggling almost immediately. He suggested that I do not need to cane or scold Rusky any longer. In fact, he said, that is how dog aggression arises. I heeded his words as though it came from God. When I returned from work, I kept it in the kitchen. As usual, it barked for attention. I pulled its leash a couple of times. It laid down silently on the ground. Wow. I am sure God inspired the invention of the life ring!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-1443995295453879213?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/1443995295453879213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/1443995295453879213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/09/life-ring.html' title='Life Ring'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-6404315611873927615</id><published>2007-09-19T00:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T11:44:58.133+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rusky: A New Beginning</title><content type='html'>I searched desperately on the Internet. I found a dog trainer called Pet Trick at &lt;a href="http://www.waggie.com.sg/"&gt;http://www.waggie.com.sg/&lt;/a&gt;. Inexpensive. Only S$380 for ten lessons. I brought Rascal to a multi-storey &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;carpark&lt;/span&gt; at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Ang&lt;/span&gt; Mo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kio&lt;/span&gt; Ave 1. I made a total of ten turns up five storeys before I reached &lt;span&gt;the roof carpark. The lights were faulty. Complete darkness except for my vehicle's two front lights. Creepy. I almost thought Pet Trick was going to pounce on me with his gang of dogs anytime. Speak of the devil. Pet Trick called to inform me that the training ground was switched to the first storey. I made another ten turns down and met Pet Trick. On first look, he looked like Jacky Wu (吴宗宪 ).&lt;/span&gt; Rascal seemed to have a natural &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;affinity&lt;/span&gt; to him. Jumped and wagged its butt excitedly. Wow. Rascal made many friends. Golden Retriever, Maltese, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Pomeranian&lt;/span&gt;. Rascal was the only dog who behaved like a wild dog. I talked to one of his 'disciples' about Rascal's problems. I felt that I was not alone to bad dog behaviour. I was determined to sign Rascal up for the dog training. She suggested that I changed Rascal's name. Rascal sounded unfriendly and wild. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Rusky&lt;/span&gt; is the new name!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-6404315611873927615?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6404315611873927615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6404315611873927615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/09/ruskythe-new-name.html' title='Rusky: A New Beginning'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-2986148335344359406</id><published>2007-09-18T23:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T09:24:12.838+08:00</updated><title type='text'>One More Dog Down</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/Ru_5Lt6C8wI/AAAAAAAAAD8/vrw9fUmLWJs/s1600-h/DSC09388.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111578081785737986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/Ru_5Lt6C8wI/AAAAAAAAAD8/vrw9fUmLWJs/s400/DSC09388.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Rascal has to go. It urinated on the floor of the living room again. As usual, my dad locked it in the kitchen. As usual, it barked like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;nobody's&lt;/span&gt; business. As usual, my dad caned it to shut it up. As usual, it refused to shut up as long as it remained locked up. It is simple. It is a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;vicious&lt;/span&gt; cycle. My dad didn't understand it. He blew up. I sped home and took Rascal out of the house. I kept it in my car. Should I put it to sleep? If not, who wants to keep it? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-2986148335344359406?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/2986148335344359406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/2986148335344359406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/09/one-more-dog-down.html' title='One More Dog Down'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/Ru_5Lt6C8wI/AAAAAAAAAD8/vrw9fUmLWJs/s72-c/DSC09388.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-6705463450326818479</id><published>2007-09-17T15:53:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-18T23:56:58.688+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sparrow's Revenge</title><content type='html'>Sparrow launched a number of attacks on our family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;She took &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Groban&lt;/span&gt; away when we were so attached to him.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;She took Bark Bark away secretly from school and hid her away from us.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;She found a 'golden tortoise' who financed her fight for Bark Bark's custody.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;She brainwashed the kids to hate their dad.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;She was linked to the murder of Jungle the Good.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;She made Bark Bark spy our family's every move.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;She took a video interview of Bark Bark, who cried because of the 'pain' and 'torture' her dad had caused her.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;She demanded a higher payment of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;maintenance&lt;/span&gt; from my second brother, now that she had two children under her 'care'.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sparrow convinced Bark Bark that her dad's well-intentioned scolding and caning were merely means to make hell out of her life. Her ability to brainwash ignorant people has proven that she was nothing more than a washing machine. I almost wanted to think of ways to get back at her, but the Holy Spirit reminded me to forgive her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;trespasses&lt;/span&gt; and let God deal with her. I rest my case.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-6705463450326818479?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6705463450326818479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6705463450326818479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/09/sparrows-revenge.html' title='Sparrow&apos;s Revenge'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-7797088154114889175</id><published>2007-09-17T00:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-28T11:58:40.191+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Posion Ivy's Chalet</title><content type='html'>I reached Poison Ivy's chalet at 9 pm. It's been a long time since last year before I saw my Fairfield buddies. Cheat Demon got himself a pair of brown tinted contact lens to match his brown-dye hair. Free Willy wore an interesting China shirt. Chiong brought his girlfriend-wannabe along. Block Punch served us barbequed food throughout the night. Really nice guy. He taught Posion Ivy with great patience how to play Mahjong. I encouraged Poison Ivy not to miss such a good catch. She did not seem really interested though. 1:45 am. I drove them to Changi Village for supper. We then drove to the carpark to 'observe' the 'different kind'. Next, we went to Old Changi Hospital to 'enjoy' the 'spiritual atmosphere'. But we didn't stay too long for different reasons. I was more afraid that bad thugs might be around to rob our money and rape our girls than the spirits that roamed the place. Block Punch was afriad that he might have a ghostly encounter like his friends. He was telling me about how his friends went into the building and videotaped the happenings. As they drove back to their chalet, the video captured things that they did not want to see. The driver sped on the road and had a car accident. Only one of them returned to tell the story. Scary leh. 4 am. We were back to the chalet. By then I was dead beat. Chewing Gum woke me up at 8 am. I drove them to Pasir Ris MRT station. I drove to church for pre-service choir practice. I almost couldn't open my eyes. I went for Nat's tuition. Automatic system shutdown for a number of times. She had to 'boot' me a couple of times. Thank God Emo Ming canceled her tuition. I drove home to catch some sleep. I woke up in time to teach Harmonica. My dad then called me to 'inform' me that Rascal had broken a cup, soiled the sofa and urinated on the corridor. When I went home, my dad was sleeping on the couch, holding a cane. I guess he had a rough night with Rascal again. This was the first time I felt bad for bringing Rascal the troublemaker back to our peaceful home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-7797088154114889175?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/7797088154114889175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/7797088154114889175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/09/posion-ivys-chalet.html' title='Posion Ivy&apos;s Chalet'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-4080552663924471572</id><published>2007-09-14T17:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-14T18:17:57.065+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rascal's Fate</title><content type='html'>Complains about Rascal. Morning to night. I think I am going crazy already. I thought that Rascal is an adorable and obedient dog. But Rascal is a real rascal behind my back. It bit people inside the house, chased people out of the house and ran after people outside the house. It tore my brother's books apart and drank fromit  it I heard that my dad, my mum and my third brother had a duel with Rascal last night. Rascal won. They almost died from a heart attack. I want to believe that Rascal will change for the better, but time is not on my side. My mum suggests that I send it to the SPCA. But SPCA will put it to sleep within 24 hours. How can bring myself to do that? My last resort is to make him stay at the back of the kitchen. Let's pray that it will keep its boundaries clear. Quietly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-4080552663924471572?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4080552663924471572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4080552663924471572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/09/rascals-fate.html' title='Rascal&apos;s Fate'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-2328302016596648058</id><published>2007-09-12T22:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T09:18:00.870+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Second Cell Group Meeting With W230</title><content type='html'>Cell group was G.R.E.A.T.! We played sports at Punggol Community Centre. What a good opprtunity to feel a rush of adrenaline! Exercise is once in a blue moon for me, given my busy schedule. I almost died from a heart attack. Panting like Rascal. Eliz Navida was funny. She hopped around the court, busy ducking the ball instead of running for it. She screamed ALL THE TIME! Daniel Wu is an extremely skilful basketball player. He stopped traffic and girls as he dribbled the ball around the court. Superman was good with his 'tunneling throught the people' move. In fact, no one dares to touch him as we were afraid he might 'lay hands' on us. My basketball team lost. What's new? I cannot play ball for nuts. After the basketball game, we played batminton. I-loh was really irritating with his gentle moves. He kept making me run forward for the shuttle cock. We went to eat prata @ Kovan for supper. Superman and I loved the prata there. Then I sent Daniel Wu home. I told Daniel Wu that after having a taste of how wonderful w230 is, I cannot see myself attending other cell group anymore. Daniel Wu said that I am a good addition to the cell group. What an honour!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-2328302016596648058?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/2328302016596648058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/2328302016596648058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/09/second-cell-group-meeting-with-w230.html' title='Second Cell Group Meeting With W230'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-4511821502111875569</id><published>2007-09-12T15:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T12:24:40.240+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Closer To The S$5 000 Grant!</title><content type='html'>I just finished a 4-hour Physics tuition with Dying Ant, Rubber Biakky and Weeping Mann. We were all trying to keep ourselves awake with one giant packet of potato chips, green tea and home-made barley. I realised that Sim Lim Square is round the corner! A opportunity granted by God to go sourcing out for hardware. I went back to the shop that sold me my old Canon LBP-2900 monochrome laser printer. S$225 for the printer. S$80 for the toner. 2 500 printings per toner. I searched &lt;a href="http://www.dell.com/"&gt;www.dell.com&lt;/a&gt; for a laptop. S$999 for Dell Vistro 1000. I searched &lt;a href="http://www.quickbooks.com/"&gt;www.quickbooks.com&lt;/a&gt; for an accounting software. S$1 872.50 for Quickbooks Premium 2007/2008. S$1 284 for Quickbooks Point-Of-Sales 2007/2008. Our company only need to pay S$600++ for all that!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-4511821502111875569?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4511821502111875569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4511821502111875569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/09/closer-to-s5-000-grant.html' title='Closer To The S$5 000 Grant!'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-4619859529230316696</id><published>2007-09-11T23:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T00:28:01.666+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Worst KTV Session</title><content type='html'>Hello Nurse, Song, Superman and I decided to meet to celebrate Indomee's birthday at The Mind Cafe @ Boat Quay. Another boardgames cafe. We waited for 2 hours for Hello Nurse and Superman to arrive. Hello Nurse disappeared, even though I saw him earlier before I went to buy a birthday cake at The Coffee Bean &amp;amp; Tea Leaf. Superman was held up by work. All of a sudden, Hello Nurse turned up in a black The Mind Cafe uniform. He was working in The Mind Cafe! He was just downstairs serving customers. To think that we waited so long for nothing. We started playing some games before Superman arrived with his lovely wife Wonder Woman arrived. I ordered Crispy Chicken Platter and Ice Peach Tea... delicious! After the celebration, my third brother gave me a call. Surprisingly, my third brother asked me out for a KTV session. KBox @ Jurong Entertainment Centre. I reached there at 11:30 pm. 5th Month invited her employees. I&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt; realised one of them was drunk. She first went to the toilet to comb her hair for almost half an hour. When she came back, she started jumping at the microphone at every song. To be nice, I shall not comment on her singing. Furthermore, she pushed forward her own songs and cut short my songs. I was singing 曹格's 背叛 until the 'high part' when she suddenly cut the song. I lost my singing mood completely. And her friends kept on pushing her towards me. OH MY GOD. I was praying that the KTV session could &lt;/span&gt;end as soon as possible. When it finally ended, my third brother volunteered to send them home and asked me to go straight home. I never loved my third brother so much before.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-4619859529230316696?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4619859529230316696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4619859529230316696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/09/my-worst-ktv-session.html' title='My Worst KTV Session'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-5773238759878530424</id><published>2007-09-09T02:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T09:24:13.143+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jungle Died</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/Ru_5nd6C8xI/AAAAAAAAAEE/gcqF-W-0mZw/s1600-h/DSC09251.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111578558527107858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/Ru_5nd6C8xI/AAAAAAAAAEE/gcqF-W-0mZw/s400/DSC09251.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jungle died. Trauma. Shock. Brain damage. My second brother brought it to the animal clinic, where it breathed its last. My eldest brother and sister-in-law cried with deep pain in their hearts. They loved Jungle. Jungle was a good-natured and innocent dog. Bark Bark is the murderer. She threw Jungle hard on the floor. She claimed that Sparrow's maid Pretty Shark told her to do it. Melissa told her that if she kills Jungle, she can stay with Groban forever. Melissa knew that if Bark Bark kills Jungle, we will not want to keep her. What an evil plot!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-5773238759878530424?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5773238759878530424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5773238759878530424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/09/jungle-died.html' title='Jungle Died'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/Ru_5nd6C8xI/AAAAAAAAAEE/gcqF-W-0mZw/s72-c/DSC09251.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-2031209924091530258</id><published>2007-09-08T21:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T10:14:37.226+08:00</updated><title type='text'>First Cell Group Outing With W230</title><content type='html'>Ah Ong visited my church today! Wow. I couldn't help but felt that she was growing taller every time I see her! Most of my cell group members commented at first sight that she was extremely tall. As a new friend, she was made to introduce herself more than ten times: her name, how we know each other, where she works, where she lives, etc. I drove Ah Ong and my cell group members to Kopitiam @ Le Meridian Hotel. I seldom looked forward to a great fellowship with my cell group members. After dinner, we chilled out at Coffee Club Express till 11 pm. Ah Ong and I were supposed to visit Rascal. However, by the time I sent all my cell group members home, it was already 1 am. Until next time!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-2031209924091530258?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/2031209924091530258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/2031209924091530258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/09/first-cell-group-outing-with-w230.html' title='First Cell Group Outing With W230'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-3130777782595059260</id><published>2007-09-08T17:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T10:33:45.713+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nic Rocks!</title><content type='html'>Nic shared his testimony with us during the service. What a man with great aspirations! Nic was born without limbs, but that doesn't stop him from living God's purpose in his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no joy in my circumstances, but there is joy in the purpose in my circumstances: Nicholas &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Vujicic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He inspired me with tremendous courage to face my fears with courage. No wonder his nickname is Captain Courageous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many people accomplished nothing simply because they are too afraid to do anything. Nicholas Vujicic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I cannot empathise with his situation, but I understand from him what it means to place our complete trust in God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope: Jeremiah 29:11&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was deeply touched by his love for God and God's love for us. I realised that I did not love God as much as he did. Even though I have limbs, I am handicapped in many ways. I thank God for my circumstances, as I realise this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am an ordinary man with an extraordinary God. With God, I have to live an extraordinary life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Know Nic. &lt;a href="http://www.lifewithoutlimbs.org/"&gt;http://www.lifewithoutlimbs.org/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-3130777782595059260?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/3130777782595059260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/3130777782595059260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/09/nicholas.html' title='Nic Rocks!'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-758060496554281595</id><published>2007-09-08T14:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T19:31:40.876+08:00</updated><title type='text'>She Hates Her Dad</title><content type='html'>I had a personal talk with Bark Bark. She hated her dad for, in my opinion, the most minor of things. She hated him for arranging tuition and swimming lessons. She hated him for not giving her enough allowance. On the other hand, her mother gave her personal tuition and big allowances. I told her that she should not hate her dad for such minor things. But she would not listen. She insisted that she will be happier staying with her mum. Oh my God. Her mum Sparrow slept around with rich people who could financially support her material indulgence. She made up stories about people who &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;antagonised&lt;/span&gt; with her, especially our family. She would use all ruthless means to get what she wanted. I told my brother we should use wits to let her play own game. Let Bark Bark stay with Sparrow. Firstly, since Sparrow is behaving like a dog, biting hard at the bait and refusing to let go, we will surprise her by letting go. Burden her with the two children. Distract her from us. Secondly, given Sparrow's nature, she will reveal her true nature to Bark Bark, who will regret her decision and returns to her father's side. Even if Bark Bark chooses to continue staying with Sparrow, at least she can live with my nephew Josh. They can take care of each other. Fourthly, my brother can free himself from the evil clutches of Sparrow and start afresh with his new girlfriend. Once Josh reached 21 years old, I will give them an objective point of view of the whole picture and let them discern for themselves what is right and what is wrong.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-758060496554281595?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/758060496554281595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/758060496554281595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-hate-my-dad.html' title='She Hates Her Dad'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-7797346923107011001</id><published>2007-09-07T02:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T08:44:31.883+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rescue Rascal</title><content type='html'>I was teaching New Tear when my sister-in-law called me. Must be bad news. She seldom called me unless necessary. Most likely she wanted to complain about Rascal. Indeed. But it was worse. She told me that the lady from the management committee of Children Park told her that our neighbours had complained to her about the prolonged barking and whining of Rascal. They even put Rascal on video camera and recorded its sound. They seemed to suspect that Rascal had been ill-treated or tortured by us. Besides, it caused them extreme nuisance and sleepless nights. She told me that they had called the S.P.C.A. If Rascal is been ill-treated or tortured, S.P.C.A. will issue a fine of S$500. If Rascal does not have a microchip (a tiny device injected into dogs to find out whose its owner), S.P.C.A. will issue a fine of S$5,000 and, quoting my sister-in-law's word, 'exterminate' it. Scared me to death. I thought S.P.C.A. is supposed to protect against cruelty to animals. How can they put Rascal to sleep? Following that, my mum called me and screamed about how much trouble Rascal had caused. I assured her repeatedly that S.P.C.A. will not find Rascal and everything will be fine. It seemed as though nothing can go into her head and she hung up. Then she called again. I reassured her again. She hung up. Then she called again. I reassured her once again. She hung up. New Tear was looking rather awkward by then. I played my cool. Must maintain my 'image' lol. Once the lesson ended, I packed everything that belonged to Rascal and fleed the house immediately. I went to Sweats' house and left Rascal in the car. He barked like thunder roar. During the tuition, I called Children Park management office and spoke to a lady. Indeed at least five different households had called in and complained about Rascal. I explained to her that we did not want to cause intentional harm or damage to anyone. She understood and agreed to inform us before S.P.C.A. came into the premises of Children Park. Thank God. Next, I called Agri-Food &amp;amp; Veterinary Authority of Singapore (A.V.A.) to consult them about injecting a microchip into Rascal. I can bring Rascal to any animal clinic to inject the microchip. I brought Rascal to Animal Practice @ Upper Serangoon Road. Thanks to Rascal I met a pretty nurse. During the injection, it struggled with all its might and farted at the vet's face! What a funny scene!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-7797346923107011001?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/7797346923107011001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/7797346923107011001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/09/rescue-rascal.html' title='Rescue Rascal'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-9060626699483852842</id><published>2007-09-06T16:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-09T02:41:50.420+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mind Your Own Business</title><content type='html'>Sourcing for an accounting software. I found out through the Internet that Spring is offering a grant, under the Goods and Services Tax (GST) Assistance Scheme, to all small and medium enterprises (SMEs) who voluntarily register to become GST traders for the first time. This grant amounts up to S$5,000 and can be used to pay for 100% of an accounting software costs and 50% of qualifying costs that include consultancy fees, training fees charged by consultants&lt;br /&gt;IT hardware costs and Internet subscription fees of up to 1 year. Wow. We are planning to get an accounting software called Mind Your Own Business (MYOB) Accounting Premium, a laptop and a Canon laser printer. With this grant, it is as though you have earned a good sum of money without working hard for it! Praise the Government! Praise the Lord!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-9060626699483852842?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/9060626699483852842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/9060626699483852842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/09/mind-your-own-business.html' title='Mind Your Own Business'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-5479466674849350167</id><published>2007-09-06T16:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-06T16:55:40.888+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad To Worse</title><content type='html'>Rascal was getting out of control. It ran its 'business' all over the house. Drove me crazy. I spent most of my time cleaning the floor, caning the dog and screaming at the wall (the wall is more cooperative). My sister-in-law has to tie him up every time she comes because her students are afraid of dogs (maybe that is because they saw Rascal). I shifted its house to the laundry area at the back of the kitchen as my parents disliked the mess and smell that Rascal had created. It struggled and barked as I dragged it to the kitchen. It did not appreciate that I was just trying to make his stay in my house a liitle longer. It simply did not understand what I wanted. I am not going to give up trying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-5479466674849350167?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5479466674849350167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5479466674849350167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/09/bad-to-worse.html' title='Bad To Worse'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-5077704452248889718</id><published>2007-08-31T23:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-01T03:42:52.932+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Heavy Loads</title><content type='html'>Superman and I were prepared to go Jalan Bahar. I called Bunsen to confirm the meeting time and place. He told me he was not prepared to meet us as I did not confirm with the meeting with him. But I did! How on earth does he want me to confirm? He wants me to send him a lawyer letter meh. Superman flew back home as his contractors had arrived at his house to make a display cabinet. I drove to a pet shop at Upper Serangoon Road. I need to get a mouth leash for Rascal because it couldn't shut its mouth yesterday. It woke my neighbours up. One of them stared angrily at me from the balcony. Really embarrassed. I then went to collect wood from Superman's contractor. His worker made a grave mistake. He brought me to his supplier to collect the items that we bought. Won't get wood from him next time liao lol. Reached our customer's office. He wanted me to carry the materials to his office on the third floor. 3 x 4' x 8' plywood + 20 assorted pieces of wood. I almost died of exhaustion. Never carried so much heavy loads since army days. Thank God that I used to be a combat engineer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-5077704452248889718?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5077704452248889718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5077704452248889718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/08/heavy-loads.html' title='Heavy Loads'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-1217849701829035352</id><published>2007-08-23T01:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T19:32:58.528+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bang</title><content type='html'>Rascal has learnt a new command! Point a 'gun' at its face, say 'bang' and it will 'drop dead' on the floor. Cool right. I have found a new tool to train him: a cane! It works on the 'fear factor'. The problem is, it still does what it does, except that it will go into hiding. It does its business at every possible spot in the house (including my bed), digs my trash bin for food (it found itself a big juicy bone) and barks at every person that enters (or doesn't enter) my house. But the minute it hops towards you and wags its extremely short tail (sometimes it 'wags' its butt instead), my heart softens. No wonder they survive evolution.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-1217849701829035352?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/1217849701829035352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/1217849701829035352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/08/bang.html' title='Bang'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-8729512946818373766</id><published>2007-08-21T12:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T09:24:13.328+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Berlinda Died</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RvACI96C80I/AAAAAAAAAEc/rphC1qelTvU/s1600-h/DSC09392.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111587930145747778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RvACI96C80I/AAAAAAAAAEc/rphC1qelTvU/s400/DSC09392.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Berlinda fell down from the first floor to B1. She laid on the floor half-dead. After I took the picture, I left the house for work. My sister-in-law called me shortly after that. She died.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-8729512946818373766?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8729512946818373766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8729512946818373766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/09/berlinda-died.html' title='Berlinda Died'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RvACI96C80I/AAAAAAAAAEc/rphC1qelTvU/s72-c/DSC09392.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-1523987261140594473</id><published>2007-08-21T00:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-01T03:18:10.685+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Zombie</title><content type='html'>12 am. At McDonald's. Giving my last shot at the essay. 无敌 and No Big were studying for their examinations. I got a splitting headache. I wanted to give up on the essay. But I chose to press on. I decided that this is going to be my last degree for my entire life. Schooling is no fun. I want to choose what to learn at my own pace. 4 am. I slept a while. 5 am. When I woke up 无敌 and No Big were almost dead le. No Big wrote me a list of useful points for my essay. She understood the guidelines of the essay in 5 minutes. I spent a week to analyse the question and I still couldn't get to the point. Really pathetic de. 6 am. We ordered breakfast. I wasn't in the mood to talk. 7 am. 无敌 and No Big left for home. I hit furiously at my laptop as time continued to fly mercilessly. 9 am. I drove to OCBC building to meet Superman and Wonder Woman. He signed us up for a tutorial on Velocity. I felt like a zombie as the meeting dragged on. I was supposed to have tuition with Dying Ant, Rubber Biakky and Weeping Mann. Thank God they called me last minute to cancel it. Dying Ant said that they had to study for a literature test. Sponge Box then called me and asked me out for lunch at Vivocity. It has been a long time since we went out for lunch. The time was right. He shared with me his new business plan: make and sell crystals ornaments. A crystal ornament smaller than the size of a palm is worth S$48. Unbelievable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-1523987261140594473?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/1523987261140594473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/1523987261140594473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/08/12-am.html' title='Zombie'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-3239039647973854283</id><published>2007-08-19T23:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-30T09:58:50.945+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Taming Rascal</title><content type='html'>My mum called me twice in the afternoon and complained to me about Rascal. The first time she called, she said that Rascal was biting every person it sees, including my baby nephew Darren. It even bit my brother's dogs, Jungle and Minnie. I told her that Rascal can be trained and all it needs is time. But she insisted that Rascal is incorrigible. The call ended suddenly when Rascal jumped onto the sofa and attempted to bite her. What a 'cooperative' dog. She called me a second time and screamed about how Rascal left big lumps of fur in the living room and how she was worried that it might have bitten an animal to death. The more I listened, the more worried I was. I felt frustrated as I was helpless and stuck at tuition. I finished a couple of tuition before I flew home at the speed of light. The front door creaked opened and I switched on the lights. Indeed, lumps of fur scattered all around the living room. Rascal 'murdered' the fake fox skin that I hung behind my bedroom door! It ran up to me excitedly. I slapped its backside hard and shouted 'back', which means to retreat to its bed. It disobeyed my command and ran around the house like a mad dog. I ran after it like a mad man. It took shelter behind the display cabinet and growled angrily at me. "This dog is so wild," I thought to myself. I was so mad by its misbehaviour that I dragged it by the collar and slapped its backside several times. I pointed at its nose and repeated my command. It ran back to the same spot and growled again. We replayed this scene over and over again until it unwillingly dragged itself back to its bed. When I walked towards it, it growled silently and attempted to bite me. I was so mad that I hold its neck down and slapped its backside several times. It tried to retaliate, but its attempts were futile. Finally it kept its head down and laid motionlessly on the ground. I guess this is what it means to 'tame a dog'. Like what its 'dad' has said, you have to show the dog whose the boss.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-3239039647973854283?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/3239039647973854283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/3239039647973854283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/08/taming-rascal.html' title='Taming Rascal'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-8802305063233843393</id><published>2007-08-17T15:49:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-30T10:16:45.875+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Roll Over</title><content type='html'>I taught Rascal a new command called 'roll over'. Power de leh. This trick can definitely make your day. I was so happy that I gave it more munchies than it could imagine or think of. However, it did its small and big businesses at different spots again. Smacked it real hard. It didn't seem to like me anymore. It didn't ran after me when I left the house. Heck. I must stand firm in my discipline. Once it knows where its 'toilet' is, I will not lay a hand on it again. I left the house as I was supposed to meet Superman at Pop Spots' warehouse at Pasir Panjang Distripark. Got lost and drove to Alexandra Distripark instead. Sianz. A big warehouse with a huge range it items that we can sell. Wow. This will bring our company to the next level. A friendly auntie brought us around the warehouse. Each time we asked for the specifications or pricing of an item, she would say," No, don't ask me! I never study in school like you. You should know better than me!" She smelled real bad though. Superman asked me twice where the smell came from. I chose to keep the answer to myself for his own good. After that, I brought Superman to another wholesaler of stationaries called Merlion. Superman was excited to find the shop because this company has what he was looking for: rubber bands! After we took our lunch, I drove to NUS and borrowed Leen Pork's student card to access the library. I realised that NUS never fails to create an atmosphere that inspire me with ideas to write my essays. How come I realise it only after I left school?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-8802305063233843393?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8802305063233843393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8802305063233843393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/08/rush-hour.html' title='Roll Over'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-6403126085255472861</id><published>2007-08-17T00:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-17T09:58:47.098+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rascal's 'Parents'</title><content type='html'>Rascal used to stay in a three-storey bungalow owned by his 'grandfather'. It used to run up and down the house in order to get his adrenaline rush. It learns the 'sit' and 'fetch' commands from his 'dad'. His 'dad' is the only son. He is studying engineering in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;NTU&lt;/span&gt;. The reason why he cannot keep Rascal is because his dad is afraid of dogs. Besides, he is going for an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;internship&lt;/span&gt; program in Germany for a year. Its 'mum' lives in a condominium. Lots of space for Rascal to run about in the garden. But its 'grandmother' is a clean freak. You can imagine her freaking out when Rascal  sheds its fur and does its business in every spot of the house while she works. Its 'mum' is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;contemplating&lt;/span&gt; whether to rent a room for Rascal and herself to stay once she starts working. I cannot understand why anyone will leave their family for a dog. When they came to visit Rascal today, they were simply thrilled. They went berserk when I showed them the 'come here', 'shake hand' and 'lie down' commands. Never seen Rascal doing any of those things for them. When they drove off with their car, Rascal was whining exactly like the first day when it left its 'parents'. I got a little jealous. Even so, I told myself again that I will return Rascal to them if they want it back. After all, it's their 'son'.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-6403126085255472861?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6403126085255472861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6403126085255472861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/08/rascals-parents.html' title='Rascal&apos;s &apos;Parents&apos;'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-8721789992367357346</id><published>2007-08-15T15:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-30T10:19:00.705+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Killing Me Softly With Homework</title><content type='html'>Sitting outside Hon Sui Sen Memorial Library @ NUS. The library has set up a barrier that allows entry only by student pass. Oh man. I cannot sneak in anymore. I have an assignment to be completed by next Tuesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my assessment task 1A:&lt;br /&gt;Identification of a researchable issue or problem derived from a specific workplace or professional interest. Discussion of strategies used in gathering information for a literature search focusing on the specific problem or issue you have chosen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realise only now what I'm supposed to write. Praying hard that it is not too late and I can complete it before the deadline. Studying is killing me. Especially when you have no time to do it. Every minute I put into it is like a thorn in the flesh. Frustrating.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-8721789992367357346?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8721789992367357346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8721789992367357346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/08/killing-me-softly-with-homework.html' title='Killing Me Softly With Homework'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-4370081591389224093</id><published>2007-08-14T22:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T09:24:13.525+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bokia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/R35WJjOslFI/AAAAAAAAAEk/tcppzvBkvaY/s1600-h/DSC09382.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151649745834120274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/R35WJjOslFI/AAAAAAAAAEk/tcppzvBkvaY/s400/DSC09382.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This phrase makes sense to me. Totally. Hit my funny bone.&lt;br /&gt;(For non-Hokkien-speaking people, 'bo kia' = no child.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-4370081591389224093?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4370081591389224093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4370081591389224093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/08/bokia.html' title='Bokia'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/R35WJjOslFI/AAAAAAAAAEk/tcppzvBkvaY/s72-c/DSC09382.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-8642480438770113608</id><published>2007-08-14T15:17:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-23T00:46:46.090+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Homework</title><content type='html'>June is harvest time. June holidays. Mid-year examinations for JC students are just round the corner. My students are desperate to 'buy insurance' from me, meaning buy more tuition time. It happened that my MEd classes clashed with those time. I skipped it as usual, thinking that I can still complete my assignments without them. I realised only recently that I have to complete, present and submit a poster during lesson time. I didn't attend the lessons, let alone submit anything at all. I desperately called Dawn Patrick , my new unit coordinator for help. She told me to submit a power point presentation instead. I pray that God will make a way for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-8642480438770113608?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8642480438770113608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8642480438770113608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/08/homework.html' title='Homework'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-74974489425933648</id><published>2007-08-14T02:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-30T10:27:31.230+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Calling It A Day For Rascal</title><content type='html'>Rascal is always on my mind. When I reached home, it jumped excitedly for attention. I revised its response to clicks. Improving, but worked only when there's food. I took it downstairs for a walk. I wanted it to sit down whenever I stopped. Threw it a snack when it did the trick. It ran around the garden and sniffed hard at any suspicious item on the floor. I revised its response to clicks again. He walked eagerly to the spot where I clicked my hand. I found a tennis ball at the playground. We went back home and played fetch using its favourite soft toy Beanie and the new tennis ball. It tugged ferociously at Beanie as though it wanted to tear it apart. It speeded around the house for the tennis ball and spinned desperately on the spot as the ball rolled and turned. 2:30 am. It never seems to lose its enthusiasm. All of a sudden it ran to his drinking bowl and carried it to me. Smart animal. I was amazed by its wit. He relished it at such a speed I almost thought the water was not there in the first place. 2:45 am. Snores emerged from the dead beat dog who really looked dead by now. I carried it to its bed. It climbed out and laid down beside me. It just want to stay by my side. How sweet.  3:15 am. Time flies. He took so much attention from me. I seldom give so much time to anybody. What a amazing creature.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-74974489425933648?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/74974489425933648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/74974489425933648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/08/calling-it-day-for-rascal.html' title='Calling It A Day For Rascal'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-6413613632615326075</id><published>2007-08-14T02:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-30T10:33:07.040+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Opportunity Is Often Disguised As A Problem</title><content type='html'>I finished my delivery by 1:30 pm. I stopped by the road and sent an email to Belle. Then I drove to the Singapore Immigration &amp; Checkpoints Authority (ICA) building to pick up Waiter. Along the road I shared what I learn during Dr. A. R. Bernard's Business Breakthrough Dinner and my own experiences in the marketplace. I heard from him that Rejoyce is interested in printing T-shirts. A few days ago I found a company that supplies the printing equipment and ink for printing T-shirts. Perhaps this is what Dr. Bernard meant by a cross road, where an opportunity lies at the junction. Opportunity is often disguised as a problem. Face it. Walk through it. We reached Ron Wesley's warehouse. What an eye opener. I watched eagerly as he steered the elevator. The elevator then rose to 9 metres in height. We bent down as the elevator almost touched the ceiling. It's amazing how a machine only 3 metres tall can hide so much of its enormous interior. Sometimes humans work the other way round. Waiter tested whether my pickup can fit the elevator. It turned out that Ron Wesley intends to buy a vehicle for his company. I asked what is the name of Ron Wesley's company name. Champion.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-6413613632615326075?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6413613632615326075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6413613632615326075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/08/opportunity-is-often-disguised-as.html' title='Opportunity Is Often Disguised As A Problem'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-5835911697480903793</id><published>2007-08-13T07:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T03:16:08.359+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Let There Be Light (Rascal's First Morning)</title><content type='html'>I throw myself out of bed. For the first time since a long time. I need to tell my parents about this new member of the family before they get bitten. They look at the dog and smile. Adorability 200%. Simply irresistable. Check the floor. Toilet-trained. I teach him to respond to clicks. Not gifted. I mean I am not gifted as a dog trainer. As I leave the house I worry that something may happen to the dog. I can see it dying of hunger and thirst. I can see it climbing out of the window. I can see strangers taking it away. I can see my sister-in-law's students torturing it. I can see it crying in loneliness. I call my maid and give her instructions as a precaution.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-5835911697480903793?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5835911697480903793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5835911697480903793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/08/problems.html' title='Let There Be Light (Rascal&apos;s First Morning)'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-3504631057845181152</id><published>2007-08-12T01:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-01T03:10:19.887+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rascal</title><content type='html'>At Pussy Thadd's house for tuition. His mum asked excitedly whether I want to rear another dog. A Jack Russell. Wow. Ever since I watched the movie The Mask, I desire to own a Jack Russell from the bottom of my heart. Pussy Thadd's cousin Wailing said that her mum wanted Rascal out of her house by today. Jack Russells are hunters of the wild. A hyperactive lot. She cannot stand its high enthusiasm and activeness. I picked up Rascal at Changi. An adorable little puppy. It hugged my leg and looked at me with its soulful eyes. Love at first sight. Then it bit my leg. Real hard. I realised it has teeth. Sharp teeth. There is another problem. She hopes that I can return Rascal to her after six months once she finds a place to stay. I understand that love is not about ownership. We agreed to give Rascal six months time to adjust to its new home before we decide what to do next. As I drove away from Wailing's house, Rascal kept on looking out of the same car window where its previous owner disappeared. What a faithful dog! By the time we reached home, it seemed to have forgotten about its previous owner. What a forgetful dog!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-3504631057845181152?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/3504631057845181152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/3504631057845181152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/08/rascal.html' title='Rascal'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-7923153717547090373</id><published>2007-08-11T12:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-23T02:21:57.710+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Building Fund</title><content type='html'>I am amazed by the powerful force behind the building fund. My family has experienced breakthroughs after breakthroughs. I ask God to let my parents live their life in good health, in prosperity, in happiness, and to the fullest. My mum has found exponential increase in her income due to the booming economy and stock market. In almost every week, she tells me that she's earning big money. My eldest sister-in-law used to be barren. Countless disappointments. My parents almost think that they are not going to expect any grandchild from them. My eldest brother decided that they will adopt a child and went through the procedure of adoption Just when we are expecting a nephew, my sister-in-law gets pregnant with a baby. That means my parents are now expecting two grandchilds at the same time! Miraculous. My second brother used to avoid my parents because he thought that they are money-minded and despised him because he was poor (note the past tense). He didn't even bother to call upon them during any special days like their birthdays, Father's Day or Mother's Day. He didn't allow my niece to stick with them, fearing that they will 'preach money' to her and influence her in a bad way. He didn't like to talk to my other brothers because he bore grudges on the perception that my parents are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;bias&lt;/span&gt; towards them. He used to be so busy with his work (also a tuition teacher) that he neglected his family. Now he calls my parents often (my mother in particular to give her tips on potential stocks), gave fat red packets to them on their birthdays, offers to treat us for dinner and even gave me a birthday present for the first time in a decade. All thanks to his new girlfriend who takes care of all these things for him. He finds an alternative income as an investor of stocks, and is rumoured to earn in the stock market as much as he did as a tuition teacher. That is like... a lot lol. My third brother hit a dead end in his career two years ago.He then found a business opportunity as a garang guni. Do you believe that a garang guni can earn more than S$20,000 a month? Nothing's impossible with God! As for me, I am starting a new business. Although it is not as profitable as my brothers', it is a growing business. I believe that God will not do anything less for me since I am the one who prayed and gave the building fund. *evil laughter*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-7923153717547090373?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/7923153717547090373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/7923153717547090373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/08/building-fund.html' title='Building Fund'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-4720621694936079707</id><published>2007-08-10T23:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-12T13:45:13.384+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Standing Lamp</title><content type='html'>Have to help Superman transport a standing lamp to his house at 10 pm (irony giddit giddit). I don't like Sengkang de leh. Never manage to find my way to anywhere. I drove for 45 minutes before I found the place. Gecko Superman told me his car can fit the 2 metres long standing lamp. A simple reason: it can be dismantled. Sianz. I can do a lot of things in 1 hour. If he is not a man of steel I would have plant a bomb on him. But Wonder Woman is also there. Two against one. Superman + Wonder Woman against Bomberben. The odds is not on my side. I told myself to think on the bright side. At least I can go home earlier.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-4720621694936079707?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4720621694936079707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4720621694936079707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/08/standing-lamp.html' title='Standing Lamp'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-1585347576275482439</id><published>2007-08-06T23:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-30T10:58:58.793+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Collection &amp; Delivery</title><content type='html'>Woke up late again. I was supposed to reach Superman's house at 8:30 am. Went to suppliers to collect goods. We bought 1200 screws! Damn screwed right. After that, we drove to Balestier to collect a dining table. Superman bought it for our home office. S$500. On eBay. His sister-in-law M got him to take part in a competition organised by eBay. The home office concept is accepted and he is entitled to spend S$3000 on eBay to change the outlook of his room! Very blessed right. Very hungry the whole day. But there was no time to eat today. I had to deliver the goods by 5 pm. We missed out an item for one of our customers. Gotta deliver again tomorrow. Sianz.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-1585347576275482439?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/1585347576275482439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/1585347576275482439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/08/collection-delivery.html' title='Collection &amp; Delivery'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-7472839477873546575</id><published>2007-08-06T09:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-30T10:51:38.446+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello Kitty Uno</title><content type='html'>I wanted to watch the movie Alone with my choir friends today. But there was no movie casting after 10 pm. Sad. The same director as Shutter leh! I organised supper instead. Meeting 10:30 pm at Arab Street opposite Concourse. After tuition, I rushed home to eat dinner. University cooked already... bo bian. Turn out she made me spaghetti. Sianz. At this point of time my saviour sent me a sms! 无敌 suggested dinner at Taiwan 白痴 @ Bugis. Wow. Chucked the spaghetti in the fridge. Flew down to Bugis. Damn hungry. Didn't watch the road signs. Lost my way. Reached the place. Ate beef noodles, pork chop and water leg. I recommended dessert at Liang Seah Street. Ice mango juice + pamelo + ice cream. Red bean paste. Waiter was really funny with his camera man act. I secretly took it down on video (cannot put on YouTube... copyright reserved by Waiter =p). We then went to an Arabian cafe called Samar. I remembered the name of the cafe because it reminds me of You-Know-Who. Trust No Big to suggest it. Arabian drinks. Arabian music. Arabian waiter (actually he's just dark-skinned). Guess what we played under such a unique ambience? Hello Kitty Uno! Last card must say Uno Kitty. End game must say Hello Kitty game. Trust Hello Kitty to think of it. Played until 2:30 am. Dead beat. zzz.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-7472839477873546575?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/7472839477873546575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/7472839477873546575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/09/hello-kitty.html' title='Hello Kitty Uno'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-6027521815713427164</id><published>2007-08-02T23:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T09:24:13.809+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fernandez Liquor</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RrdAJK4pzjI/AAAAAAAAACk/zXxQgzvGf4Y/s1600-h/fer.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095612029677981234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RrdAJK4pzjI/AAAAAAAAACk/zXxQgzvGf4Y/s400/fer.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I was sourcing for suppliers when I saw this. Tribute to Bimbo!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-6027521815713427164?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6027521815713427164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6027521815713427164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/08/fernandez-liquor.html' title='Fernandez Liquor'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RrdAJK4pzjI/AAAAAAAAACk/zXxQgzvGf4Y/s72-c/fer.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-5938129293026170862</id><published>2007-08-02T13:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T09:24:13.982+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wireless</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RrdBAK4pzkI/AAAAAAAAACs/r0Myjoy1-wI/s1600-h/CC.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095612974570786370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RrdBAK4pzkI/AAAAAAAAACs/r0Myjoy1-wI/s400/CC.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span&gt;I love M1 Broadband! Damn cool. I was doing my research on the suppliers via the Internet in the middle of the road. I msn with 无敌  while driving on the road. Now I am blogging in Chung Cheng High School with an exceptionally cool view &lt;/span&gt;of a lake right in front of me (see picture). I just see Rubber Biakky, Dying Ant and Weeping Mann walking down the stairs. Waiting for Emo Ming to end school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here comes Emo Ming. Driving her home. All of a sudden a car beat a traffic light and bumped into the car in front of mine! Wow. The car could have hit mine. Thank God.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-5938129293026170862?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5938129293026170862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5938129293026170862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/08/wireless.html' title='Wireless'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RrdBAK4pzkI/AAAAAAAAACs/r0Myjoy1-wI/s72-c/CC.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-836459317783800654</id><published>2007-08-01T12:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-30T10:55:23.138+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Prata Night</title><content type='html'>I went to eat prata for supper at The Cheese Prata Shop @ somewhere-near-NUS with Leen Pork and Sponge Box. I don't know this shop sells such a wide variety of prata. Wasted my 3 years in NUS. I don't even know a double egg prata exist in this world. I ordered mushroom prata. I love mushrooms! But it turned out that what you see is what you get: prata + mushroom. Period. Leen Pork and Sponge Box ate so much people almost thought they came back from Africa or something. Damn porky leh (tributed to Leen Pork, who taught me my lousy adjective =p). You can't imagine how thick and tasty the kambing soup was. It was as though the sheep was squeezed alive and minced into pieces, and the juice was mixed with blood and urine. No offence. Just crapping. The soup was simply thick and tasty. Period. Then this Jasmine Lye-looked-alike came. Got a shock of my life. I thought Leen Pork knew her. But her name is Michelle (not another Rubber Biakky hor). She brought her friend Gabriel (not the angel). I know this is getting lame but...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's my blog and I'm&lt;br /&gt;lame if I want to x3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pastor Kong sang this during service (but not this version lah!), so I guess I'm entitled to sing this too. Anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leen Pork was weird de. Other than the non-stop shooting of n*** s*** (censored to protect animal rights), she laughed at jokes that doesn't require any brain effort. You can call them brainless jokes bah. She dropped her prata on the table and frantically throw them back on the plate with her fork and spoon. You should see the look on her face. Damn joker. Sponge Box almost dropped his whole plate of prata on his stomach. The plate simply bounced back onto the table. Miraculous. Leen Pork and Jasmine Junior kept on bickering over God-knows-what. Girls. Quoting Jesus' words: God, how long must I bear with them?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-836459317783800654?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/836459317783800654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/836459317783800654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/08/prata-night.html' title='Prata Night'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-8134303549509443555</id><published>2007-08-01T12:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-10T18:57:52.271+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Day</title><content type='html'>Happy Day:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He taught me how&lt;br /&gt;To watch&lt;br /&gt;Fight and pray x 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we rejoice&lt;br /&gt;In Him&lt;br /&gt;Everyday x 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smart Alec, San Francisco, JJJJJJ, Rejoyce, Sofierce, Waiter and I sang this song as a demostration for the choir members. Turn out alright, except that I forgot not to sing one of the notes. I always have this weakness: My mind will turn blank when I am singing to a crowd. Sometimes when I think back, I didn't even know what I was singing. The words just came out like a Merlion spitting water. Nervous freak de leh. Bel was right. I already know how to sing the song. All I need is to deliver it to the people. Rejoyce (dedicated to Joyce, who sent me the lyrics via sms =p)!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-8134303549509443555?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8134303549509443555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8134303549509443555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/08/happy-day.html' title='Happy Day'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-6514076689965169913</id><published>2007-07-30T00:54:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-10T13:08:07.160+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Late For Cell Group</title><content type='html'>I was supposed to go tutor Johnny Crash at 8 am. I woke up at 7 30 am and decided that I gave it a miss. I slept on till 10 am and struggled out of my bed. I reached Big Eye Moody's house and realised that there were no shoes outside the house. Die. Suddenly a thought came into my mind: Cell group is at New Man's house! I ran to my pickup and flew to Woodlands. As I drove, I told myself that next year, I will collect back my spirits, focus only on a few things and do them really well. When I reached her house, my cell group friends were playing games. Thank God. Tuition after cell group was damn tiring. My brain undergone auto-shut-down a few times. Thank God the day is over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-6514076689965169913?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6514076689965169913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6514076689965169913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/07/late-for-cell-group.html' title='Late For Cell Group'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-7029935802927027743</id><published>2007-07-28T23:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-30T10:49:40.174+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pia Zui</title><content type='html'>I went to a Clementi North Primay School outing today! Really old school leh. Even the sound of it made me feel damn old. It's been 13 years since I graduated from my primary school. I used to have a handful of close friends back then. Around 3 or 4. But due to my childishness, I lost all of them. I made enemies out of them (long stories... share with you if you ask). We met up at &lt;span&gt;Chevron, a SAF club, for a BBQ. Switching is still shy. Pooh is still pretty. Ninja is still crappy. Salty Plate is still intelligent. Yellow is still hospitable. Sonic is still weird. Raymond is still sociable. Ninja and his friends set up a program that can track the records of visitors to a webiste and establish contacts with them. Looks like an opportunity for me. I left at 11 pm and met up with 无敌 . She was lamed. She hurt her leg (lame... giddit giddit). We watched a movie called Knocked Up with my choir friends at 12 30 pm. Although it's rated M18, but it's a little R(A) for me leh. Kind of weird to watch such a movie with your church friends. It was not a movie you would want to watch at midnight. Feeling sleepy throughout the movie. After the movie, we went supper at 捅谁. I was driving when I saw a man jumped off a car and ran across the road. Just when &lt;/span&gt;I was wondering what was happening, I saw a group of 6 to 7 men fighting on the road! Some of the men had their clothes pulled off. Some of them were lying on the road. PIA ZUI leh! It's the first time in my life I witnessed such an incident. I stopped the pickup and watched on excitedly. I was about to take out my phone to video the fight when A Dumb Thumb banged on my car window and shouted at me to drive on. Umbrella was sitting behind my pickup and she was almost scared to tears. I was shocked by the sudden impact on my car window and got a little confused. I couldn't concentrate on my driving and lost my way for a while. By the time I found the cafe, I was mentally tired and couldn't say a word anymore. Feel like sleeping le. I stoned throughout supper time until they finished supper. Drove home with Jimmy. Jimmy shared with me his vision to help people to set up businesses. Great man. I seldom meet a man who has such great aspirations. I always believe that visions and dreams make a man great.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-7029935802927027743?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/7029935802927027743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/7029935802927027743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/07/pia-zui.html' title='Pia Zui'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-5975471165293310780</id><published>2007-07-27T01:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-17T10:16:46.307+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Friends</title><content type='html'>I cut short my tuition to meet up with GST, Poison Ivy and &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;毛&lt;/span&gt;. It's been years since I last see them. I like to meet people my own age and find out what they are doing with their life. It's my way of examining whether I am different as a Christian. I want to be a world-shaker and a history-maker. I hate being mediocre. It's also one of my first step to reach out to my friends and build long-lasting relationships with people. After 3 years of endless money-grabbing, I realised that true riches dwell within good relationships with family and friends. Such riches are intriguing and beautiful. A meal at Marche: S$15. A cup of Mocha Frappachino: S$6.80. Reliving days of carefree and happiness: Priceless. Indeed, there are things in this world that money can't buy. I'm sorry folks, but not even with Mastercard =p.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-5975471165293310780?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5975471165293310780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5975471165293310780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/07/fairfield-friends.html' title='Friends'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-2279176903021856468</id><published>2007-07-26T04:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-30T10:39:45.754+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Screws</title><content type='html'>I hate screws. Every time Superman gives me a big order with screws, my stomach will flip. 50 M3 round, 50 M4 round, 50 M5 round, 50 M3 flat, 50 M4 flat, 200 M5 flat. Every screw includes a nut and a washer. I screwed them up and put them into small, transparent plastic bags. 4 am already. My sleeping pattern is also screwed. All these screwing is driving me nuts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-2279176903021856468?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/2279176903021856468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/2279176903021856468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/07/screws.html' title='Screws'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-5118432721452389977</id><published>2007-07-26T00:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T23:04:47.393+08:00</updated><title type='text'>M1 Shop</title><content type='html'>Superman and I went to meet the sole distributer of Favourite-Castle. Familiar rite. Trigger any childhood memories on drawing with colour pencils and crayons? Favourite-Castle sells colour pencils and crayons! The security guard working at the building cannot make it. When I drove into the building, I thought that if I told him that Superman was right behind me and was going to park his car together with mine, he would let him in faster. God knows he said that he could only allow one car in the building! If I had known better, I would have kept my mouth shut and pretend that I didn't know Superman. Superman was stranded outside the building with his car. He had to park his car in the building beside the one we were going. Sad case. Dun know what the security guard feed his brains with. We then met Gary. Gary is the guy who talk to us about distributing their products. Busy man. 15 minutes was all he gave to us. We got our intentions across. Job done. I am impressed by the emphasis Gary placed on the high quality of the products. You can say for sure that the prices of his products are 'high quality' too. That gives me an idea that we can charge our products above market rate, provided we can deliver high quality products and good services to our customers. I then went to source for more suppliers. Went to a shop named Miracon. Dealer of adhesives. I was looking for an adhesive named Araldite. God knows he only sells 'pirated' adhesives. Araldite became Bondite. Loctite became Holdtite. Damn joker. I was speechless. However, I managed to convince him to give me a sample of Bondite. I got it juz to show Superman and make him laugh. 'Pirated' adhesives. Imagine that. Next stop: M1 shop! My internet connection sucks big time. Dun know why. I had been trying really hard to get it good and done with. I met up with the sales person. Took damn long to fix it up. I went to MOS Burger and tried its newest burger. Not too bad, but the serving was a bit small. The price was a bit high end leh. But it gave me an idea. Why are people willing to spend a few dollars more to buy MOS burgers? Other than stupidity (excluding me =p), I guess it may be due to branding, and the quality they deliver. MOS burgers are specially wrapped in a neat special paper which looks clean and feels good to hold. Even their straws wear clothes (though we strip them ultimately). For these extra effort, they deserve a round of applause! It seems to me once again that quality products and good services are keys to unlock consumers wallet. I bought a cup of peach tea for Weeping Mann (she called me, got to know that I'm in MOS Burger and conveniently asked me to buy it for her) and went back to M1 shop. Almost done. The sales person was friendly and enthusiastic. Diminishes any grudges I previously had for M1. I felt 'lead' to give him the peach tea that I bought for Weeping Mann. He was very surprised and thanked me profusedly. I rushed off to get another one. I felt real good about it. It's like I have done a great deed. It's like what the Bible talks about being 'a cheerful giver' =).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-5118432721452389977?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5118432721452389977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5118432721452389977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/07/m1-shop.html' title='M1 Shop'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-2540717209987537804</id><published>2007-07-25T23:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T09:24:14.269+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Puppet</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RrdC6a4pzmI/AAAAAAAAAC8/9OzDdFggGB4/s1600-h/puppet.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095615074809794146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RrdC6a4pzmI/AAAAAAAAAC8/9OzDdFggGB4/s400/puppet.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RrdBua4pzlI/AAAAAAAAAC0/DiLJxG7pXyM/s1600-h/puppet.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Tuition with Dying Ant, Rubber Biakky and Weeping Mann. Took a picture of Rubber Biakky. Did you see a ghostly puppet floating behind her?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-2540717209987537804?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/2540717209987537804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/2540717209987537804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/08/puppet.html' title='Puppet'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RrdC6a4pzmI/AAAAAAAAAC8/9OzDdFggGB4/s72-c/puppet.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-2597836680789614453</id><published>2007-07-23T00:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-23T01:18:01.617+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Disappointed</title><content type='html'>Oh my God. Finally I have an internet connection. A man without internet connection is an island in the middle of an ocean. After a long period of deprivation from Internet connection, I am convicted to get my OWN Internet account. I figure that M1 broadband is the most suitable for me. M1 claims that Internet connection is possible anywhere under the Sun. Wow. I haven't got the chance to try it. I received the USB modem by post yesterday. The postman was really attitude de. He asked for my IC. I showed him my IC. He said he needed a photostated copy. I didn't know that. I was thinking what to do when he shaked his head and walked away. Just like that. I had to call him back and told him I'll get it for him. I asked my maid to photostat my IC at my brother's house. He and I waited. The copy came. He took the money, handed over the goods and walked away. I realise that when delivery services are outsourced to other companies, you get negative results as these companies and their employees are not committed to serve you better. I am still trying to get the modem working. Apparently the software M1 provided doesn't work on my Windows XP Media Center. Damn fustrated. I don't understand why such a big company cannot make it easier for users to use their products. I called M1 five times. One of them made me wait damn long and then gave me the wrong information. The last one gave me a sleepy tone. I still can't make it work. A total waste of my time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-2597836680789614453?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/2597836680789614453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/2597836680789614453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/07/disappointed.html' title='Disappointed'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-5415818816280274505</id><published>2007-07-22T00:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T23:25:15.229+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wonder Woman</title><content type='html'>Superman came to my house. I was looking forward to the meeting as I had got lots of things to share about the business. He flew me to a nearby prata shop. He got a number of deals today. Damn annointed. He always seems to have a way to grow his contacts. I am glad to be his buddy and business partner. Thick and thin we will overcome our obstacles. Wonder Woman called. He was supposed to fetch her home. His face changed. Apparently we talked longer than we should. I pray that his steel body can withstand her blows.Sometimes I don't know whether I should be glad that I'm still single. At least I have one less person to care about. I can do whatever I want. I have been thinking whether I want to stay single or get attached. Crossroad. Let God decide bah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-5415818816280274505?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5415818816280274505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5415818816280274505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/07/wonder-woman.html' title='Wonder Woman'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-7371575983779983723</id><published>2007-07-21T01:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-10T18:59:36.843+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bimboline</title><content type='html'>Bimboline. Bickering with me all night. Rather fun though. Jasmine Flower is right. You will never understand why anyone who dress so well will behave so unglam. Contradication to the max. Maybelline, Dennis, Bimboline and I then went to a prata shop for dinner. She ate one giant murtabak and two glasses of Milo dinosaur. What an appetite. On our way home, I made a sharp turn with my vehicle, her purse flew off her hands and onto the road. She panicked and started screaming at me to stop my pickup. She jumped off the pickup, ran about 10 metres back, picked up her purse and ran back. Laughing at herself the whole night. We were laughing our heads off. One thing I didn't mention: she's wearing a skirt that night! A feat even Catwoman cannot do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-7371575983779983723?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/7371575983779983723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/7371575983779983723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/07/bimbo.html' title='Bimboline'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-5883020895623596934</id><published>2007-07-19T23:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T09:24:14.841+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Twins</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RrdDi64pznI/AAAAAAAAADE/mStrAjWJHCY/s1600-h/twins.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095615770594496114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RrdDi64pznI/AAAAAAAAADE/mStrAjWJHCY/s400/twins.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Tuition with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Faggot and the twins. Took a picture of the twins. Now who wants to join their tuition group? =p&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-5883020895623596934?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5883020895623596934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5883020895623596934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/07/twins.html' title='Twins'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RrdDi64pznI/AAAAAAAAADE/mStrAjWJHCY/s72-c/twins.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-6540048581630753176</id><published>2007-07-12T02:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-23T01:33:52.247+08:00</updated><title type='text'>This Other Eden</title><content type='html'>I finally got myself a new blogskin. I have been trying a couple of weeks how to get it done. In fact, it turns out to be a very simple procedure. Revert to your old template. Go to &lt;a href="http://www.blogskin.com/"&gt;www.blogskin.com&lt;/a&gt;. Choose a blogskin. Cut. Paste. Done. Stupid me. Took damn long to do it. I asked Weeping Mann and Rubber Biakky to teach me today. Took a part of their tuition time to learn some more. Don't know who tuition who leh lol. I had a fruitful discussion with Superman about our company direction. We met a lot of competitors today. A niche. That will do the trick.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-6540048581630753176?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6540048581630753176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6540048581630753176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/07/new-blog-skin.html' title='This Other Eden'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-5274632850391510190</id><published>2007-07-10T09:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-11T10:09:57.576+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Delivery</title><content type='html'>This morning I went to the suppliers to collect our goods. Without Superman. First time on my own! Found a shop that sells good acrylic stuff (turn out to be Superman's ex-boss's loggerheads!). Then I met up Superman to discuss the sales, collection and delivery plan. He checked the goods I collected and realised the supplier got one of the paint colors wrong. Superman said, "Just go ahead and deliver lah!" My first delivery: Greenvale Secondary School. Reach the place. Met an unfriendly security guard. Went to the general office. Got the teacher's name (read Matinah as Matini =p). I felt guilty about the wrong colored paint and asked the teacher to check whether the goods were in order. She checked the goods out and accepted the goods. Chop and sign. Deal closed. Thank God. Next: Telok Kurau Secondary School. A very small and old building. I never knew a school this small and old. In Singapore. It's like heaven closed over them. The guard was friendlier then the one at Greenvale. Met the old technician. He doesn't seems to understand what I'm saying. He doesn't even kseems to know what I am here for. Chop and sign. Deal closed. What a day. I finally did something that is not about tuition. In fact I feel very tempted to quit tuition. I'm already thinking how I am going to spend my sunday in church, with my family, with my friends, and with myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-5274632850391510190?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5274632850391510190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5274632850391510190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/07/delivery.html' title='Delivery'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-4546432951755569718</id><published>2007-07-10T09:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-10T09:05:13.705+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Making A Website</title><content type='html'>Wah. This few days I am trying to teach myself to make a website using Adobe Dreamweaver and Microsoft Word. Super hard leh. It's like I can't bridge the knowledge gap. I think I am getting old. Adobe Dreamweaver uses computer languanges that I can't understand. Microsoft Word sucks at making hyperlinks. It might be because I suck. I think I reconsider Blogspot, provided I find a way to display my symbols.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-4546432951755569718?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4546432951755569718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4546432951755569718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/07/making-website.html' title='Making A Website'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-1935655876344302143</id><published>2007-07-09T09:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T23:05:37.348+08:00</updated><title type='text'>MMM</title><content type='html'>Superman and I prayed before we enter the MMM building. We then found ourselves facing a lady from MMM. We did our presentation on an introduction to our company. She then mentioned this: she will discuss with again regarding the distributorship of MMM products. DISTRIBUTORSHIP! To think we just want them to be our supplier. I think we got a piece of cake bigger than what we can swallow. It's a opportunity we can explore. After the meeting, we went to a coffeeshop near my house to discuss about the direction of our company. Do we want to continue pursuing our dream to be the largest supplier of asthetic products or focus on distributing MMM products? Crossroad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-1935655876344302143?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/1935655876344302143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/1935655876344302143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/07/3m.html' title='MMM'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-5669680472523991168</id><published>2007-07-08T09:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-30T10:59:27.520+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Misunderstood</title><content type='html'>I shed my tear. After 3 years. I thought I have stopped feeling emotional and start getting rational. Emotional inclination is dangerous. It makes you vulnerable. You want to care but don't feel appreciated. You see a hole in front of the person you care. You give a cry of warning. You get a cold stare. Ignored. The hole widens to receive its prey. You can only pray that this is just a dream. And it happen. The hole grows into a giantic monster and tears its prey apart. Right in front of your eyes. The person you care.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-5669680472523991168?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5669680472523991168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5669680472523991168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/07/misunderstood.html' title='Misunderstood'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-1308731598059018164</id><published>2007-07-05T18:26:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-17T10:13:46.675+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Satan's Attack</title><content type='html'>What a day. Superman was out doing sales. All of a sudden many orders came in. He went to the suppliers to get the goods. Then he realised he didn't bring his cheque book and our bank account didn't have any money left. He called me to put more cashe into the bank. But I was already at Chung Cheng High School, waiting for Emo Ming to finish school. I rushed to the bank, and realised that I forgot to bring my wallet out. Bad. But God saves the day! I still got S$240 cash in my backup wallet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evil devil!&lt;br /&gt;You are not going to win this battle.&lt;br /&gt;For Jesus has won the medal.&lt;br /&gt;My life from you He wrestle.&lt;br /&gt;In His hand I shall prosper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just happen to think of it. Genius de leh! =p&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-1308731598059018164?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/1308731598059018164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/1308731598059018164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/07/satans-attack.html' title='Satan&apos;s Attack'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-7333010586360612882</id><published>2007-07-04T17:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-10T19:08:19.813+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My 'Off' Day</title><content type='html'>I was supposed to wake up at 9 am to go Big Bird's house to learn how to make a blog and visit the gym with Sponge Box. Overslept untill 11 am. Woke up by Superman's call. He told me he just clinched a deal. Totally caught by surprise because I thought we are not starting business so soon. Really 'Superman' de leh... faster than the speed of light. Then Toilet's mum called me. Bad news. Son didn't take physics test. Now he have to stay back in school for extra revision for two weeks. We already warned him that his care'less'ness will get him into trouble. Sigh. Whatever. I drove to Big Cow's house. First thing that met my face: Big Bird's poo smell. He just finished his business. What a way to start my day. Big Bird taught me how to make a database. Complicated stuff. I wondered how I am going to make my own blog one day. Then Superman called me again to ask whether I can meet him to look at the fresh-from-the-oven invoice. I met him at the swimming pool before driving the brothers to Orchard Road. Big Bird was going to watch the movie Transformers with Elmo and Lian. I didn't talked to Elmo. 'Heart' problem. Sponge Box and I then went to the hair salon he often frequent. I got my hair dyed ash color and styled. Cool. Sponge Box waited 3 hours for me. The hair stylist cheated our feelings. Said it would take 1 and a half hours only. We met up with Big Bird and Lian after their movie. Elmo was gone for good. Big Bird could feel that his countenance was weird. I felt that all the time. Lian left us before we went Zara to buy T-shirts. I bought a one with musical notes on it. We then flew to Suntec City. Sponge Box insisted on squeezing with us in the front. He sat in the middle with his leg wide opened and the clutch dangerous sticking towards his 'down under'. He hated gear 2, 4 and reverse if you know what I mean. He said the worst thing was when the car is stationary, the clutch vibrated violently. Funny. I went for the choir IC meeting. Sharing session. Holy Spirit moves. So touch. My head hurts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-7333010586360612882?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/7333010586360612882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/7333010586360612882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/06/my-holiday.html' title='My &apos;Off&apos; Day'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-5311183648749271929</id><published>2007-07-02T13:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-05T18:14:48.565+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Business Plan!</title><content type='html'>I need to know how to make a website. Seriously. Got an idea. It will be good. Something I owe personally. No partners this time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-5311183648749271929?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5311183648749271929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5311183648749271929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/07/another-business-plan.html' title='Another Business Plan!'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-4495978482723566572</id><published>2007-07-02T13:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-17T10:14:49.972+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Antioxidants</title><content type='html'>What a morning! Surprise that I actually did quite a number of things at a go. First thing in the moring I went to the dentist at Alexandra Hospital. Chosen a light blue color for my braces. Even the wire is light blue this time. Funny. Tighter this time. Really 'Batman' (painful sia giddit giddit). Still glad. Hope to get it done with once and for all. Then drive down to Queensway Shopping Centre. Realise most shops were closed. I ate fried rice for breakfast while driving. Drive down to Starhub Centre at Cuppage Road to collect materials for my fourth semester in MEd course. Final destination... Parkmall! Met up with my businees partner in Nu Skin Jo. Took my antioxidant scan for the second time. My previous score is 20,000. Guess what is my score this time... 40,000! Double. Surprise. Consider I haven't took it twice a day like I need to. Took the pills once a day only. No time to eat. Last month was a hectic month. My harvest month for tuition. School holidays. Who hates it more than me. But I look to the reward of the harvest. Good harvest. Wanna know how much. Dream on. Ha. Share with you if you ask.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-4495978482723566572?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4495978482723566572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4495978482723566572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/07/antioxidants.html' title='Antioxidants'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-3462588977333632595</id><published>2007-06-30T13:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-05T18:44:33.546+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Die Hard</title><content type='html'>Watched Die Hard 4.0 with my choir friends. The movie started at 12 30 am leh. I'm really gonna die hard big time. Not enough sleep. After the movie, we planned to go supper. Lost. Walk in and out of carpark. The atmos in the carpark was damn weird. Like Tomb Raider. After a long walk, the ladies found the exit... surprisingly (sexist! =p) Newton Food Centre. Chat till 4 am plus. Got to know Jimmy and Basil. Jimmy is 25 years old too! Excited. I seldom see people of my age nowadays. I want to know what people my age are doing. He works for Spring Singapore. Talked to me about government grants for small start-up businesses. Could be an opportunity for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-3462588977333632595?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/3462588977333632595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/3462588977333632595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/06/die-hard.html' title='Die Hard'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-4931836374558644139</id><published>2007-06-29T23:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T09:24:15.029+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bao Today</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RrdEka4pzoI/AAAAAAAAADM/QIAlQ6hh27U/s1600-h/bao.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095616895875927682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RrdEka4pzoI/AAAAAAAAADM/QIAlQ6hh27U/s400/bao.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A very cheesy signboard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-4931836374558644139?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4931836374558644139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/4931836374558644139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/08/bao-today.html' title='Bao Today'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RrdEka4pzoI/AAAAAAAAADM/QIAlQ6hh27U/s72-c/bao.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-1527889547699431124</id><published>2007-06-27T01:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-02T13:24:40.197+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Soul Is Willing, But The Body Is Weak!</title><content type='html'>I felt that I almost died today. I was teaching Bernie halfway when I suddenly felt exhausted. A pain in the neck. Dizzy. Nauseous. Headache. I endured until the end of tuition. I drove home immediately. I sms Nat that I would be late before I took a short nap. I was woken up by Nat's call. She told me not to come and rest at home. So nice of her. She got Chemistry examination the next day. I was about to doze off when Emo Ming called. She went on and on about something but I couldn't really listen as I was about to die. Hung up. Slept.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-1527889547699431124?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/1527889547699431124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/1527889547699431124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/06/soul-is-willing-but-body-is-weak.html' title='The Soul Is Willing, But The Body Is Weak!'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-5946676657697088293</id><published>2007-06-15T01:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T23:30:26.134+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Is This My Limit?</title><content type='html'>Stress. Tuition from 9 am to 12 pm. Vocal IC practice on Tuesday. Choir practice on Wednesday and Saturday. Choir on Saturday and Sunday. Service on Saturday. Cell group meeting on Sunday. Two business plans to write and two businesses to kickstart. One assignment to complete. Got new business ideas to try out. No time to go work out. No time for friends. No time for family. Belle just ask me whether I want to serve in the Chinese church. Stress.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-5946676657697088293?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5946676657697088293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5946676657697088293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/06/is-this-my-limit.html' title='Is This My Limit?'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-7079391830924229835</id><published>2007-06-14T02:24:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-11T10:13:17.412+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Am A Choir Vocal IC!</title><content type='html'>I have heard people said that to me a lot of times. Perhaps too many times. I realise it is more than a comment. It is a reminder. Or more like a warning. It was as though God wants me to get it right into my soul. I can feel adrenaline pumped into my body and my body growing exponentially.God is trying to induce and hasten my growth. My heart feels so painful , yet you can feel the presence of God so tangibly. It is as though God is holding me by the hand and leading me through a roller coaster ride. A dangerous one. It was after Guppy 'misbehaved'. He did what he was not supposed to be doing. I never thought of stopping him and allow him him do wat he wants. He behaved as though it was right for him to do it. Then he sat down. Maybe someone asked him to. Anyone but me. Invincible told me that I should learn to take control during vocal practice because I am a choir vocal IC. I should not let anyone take over my job. Especially when people can't do the job. I am a choir vocal IC.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-7079391830924229835?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/7079391830924229835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/7079391830924229835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/06/i-am-choir-ic.html' title='I Am A Choir Vocal IC!'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-493063189675282533</id><published>2007-06-14T02:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T01:17:45.327+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Overjoyed</title><content type='html'>I just met Superman to discuss our business plan. He decided to call the company Overjoyed. Typical of him to come up with this name. We also met up with this guy who supplies wood.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-493063189675282533?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/493063189675282533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/493063189675282533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/06/overjoyed.html' title='Overjoyed'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-5285248452017955316</id><published>2007-06-14T02:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T01:15:09.858+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Go^2d Idea</title><content type='html'>I just got another business idea... colored wax! I once went to a hair salon in Kuala Lumper. The hair stylist applied a kind of wax with color on my hair. I wonder whether the choir members will need it every service... $$$!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-5285248452017955316?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5285248452017955316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5285248452017955316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/06/another-go2d-idea.html' title='Another Go^2d Idea'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-7600705286348022168</id><published>2007-06-14T02:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T09:24:15.337+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday To Me =)</title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080802807319237042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RoKjO-gSEbI/AAAAAAAAACc/h2Y4IRHKPNM/s400/Fish+%26+Co.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080801875311333778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RoKiYugSEZI/AAAAAAAAACM/aUvkztVYk2A/s400/power+rangers.JPG" border="0" /&gt; Today turned out to be one of the best days of my life! The Chung Cheng kids gave me a little birthday surpise. Rubber Biakky came early for tuition (surprisingly). Dying Ant and Weeping Mann came late for their tuition. Then they suddenly appeared with a birthday cake! Emo Ming came along with them. After eating the cake, we decided to end tuition (as though we started it in the first place =p). Emo Ming craved for Fish &amp; Co... my favourite restaurtant! This is the third time I ate at Fish &amp;amp; Co on my birthday! We went to the one at Vivo City. After the dinner, we watch the movie Blades of Glory. Damn humorous. To think that I actually understood all the jokes and almost thought that I laughed the most in the cinema. Meanwhile I found a giant size popcorn and wanted to show Emo Ming. But the popcorn suddenly broke up and fell all over her body! She thought that I was throwing popcorn at her and started a mini popcorn war with me. After the movie, we went to pick up my pickup (rhyme leh giddit giddit). As usual, I couldn't remember where it was! So we searched the carpark for 15 minutes before Dying Ant spotted it first! I drove them to Suntec City, where we went shopping. I bought a nice Lawman V-neck T-shirt for myself as part of my choir uniform. Then I walked into New Urban Male and saw my cell group helper Maybelline (maybe it's Maybelline giddit giddit) and my ex-cell members Perlie and Benjamin Song! What a surpise! I told them I was out with my students. Then Rubber Biakky walked in and I introduced her to them. I saw the suspicious look on Maybelline's face and quickly added that there are two more behind her. Immediately her facial expression returned to normal. I knew her too well =p 8 pm. Time for choir IC practice. I tried my best to keep my spirits up as I learned the songs. Mum gave me a call and told me that she, Dad and brothers were waiting for me to come home for BBQ. Just when I thought the practice was over, the rest of my choir friends suddenly appeared with a birthday cake! What a surprise! There were so many of them! I didn't expect them to make the effort to come... they waited for my practice to end! They also bought me literally a box of presents (or choir uniform =p). For only six months of friendship, they had done so much for me. I cannot believe that this is happening to me. I can only say God is the answer!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-7600705286348022168?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/7600705286348022168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/7600705286348022168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/06/happy-birthday-to-me-part-2.html' title='Happy Birthday To Me =)'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RoKjO-gSEbI/AAAAAAAAACc/h2Y4IRHKPNM/s72-c/Fish+%26+Co.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-574551710979197309</id><published>2007-06-12T01:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-27T01:55:53.472+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday To Me =(</title><content type='html'>Today is my birthday. I have already planned to eat at Fish &amp;amp; Co, watch a movie and then go shopping for clothes with the Chung Cheng kids. I asked Smart Alec whether he can help me attend it, but he has to work. I have to go. Damn sad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-574551710979197309?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/574551710979197309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/574551710979197309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/06/happy-birthday-to-me.html' title='Happy Birthday To Me =('/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-7632668803024103832</id><published>2007-06-09T23:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-11T10:16:22.786+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Assignments</title><content type='html'>I realised that my assignments have an interesting coincidence. After I got into a partnership with Elmo and Lian, my first assignment is to write about the merits and demerits on partnerships. Next, I became a choir vocal IC in church when it was in the midst of change and problem solving. My fourth assignment was on change management and policy making. When I joined Nu Skin Enterprises as a distributor, my fifth assignment came, and it was about sustainability and the triple bottom line. Recently, Superman asked me to join his business venture and my sixth assignment is about making a business plan. I think God is helping me with my studies!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-7632668803024103832?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/7632668803024103832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/7632668803024103832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/06/assignments.html' title='Assignments'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-6305351247944918817</id><published>2007-06-09T00:53:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-10T18:10:20.908+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sponge Box's Birthday</title><content type='html'>Sponge Box's birthday. KBox at Ceineleisure. Great night. Sleep half an hour in the room. Never sleep for the rest of the night. Went tuition. Automatic shutdown of brain system. Damn tired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-6305351247944918817?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6305351247944918817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6305351247944918817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/06/jeremys-birthday.html' title='Sponge Box&apos;s Birthday'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-5277371802806598564</id><published>2007-06-07T01:11:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-11T10:18:21.985+08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Business</title><content type='html'>Superman asked me out for supper a few days ago. He intends to do business with me. I prayed the day before that I want to earn money outside my tuition. Is this God's will? We registered our business today. Fast right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-5277371802806598564?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5277371802806598564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5277371802806598564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/06/new-business.html' title='New Business'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-5332897693135124507</id><published>2007-06-05T14:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T09:24:15.642+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blur Dying Ant</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/Rmbmt2HiKnI/AAAAAAAAAB8/b9zYcF5wylk/s1600-h/blurdyane.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5072995705575058034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/Rmbmt2HiKnI/AAAAAAAAAB8/b9zYcF5wylk/s200/blurdyane.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was expecting Weeping Mann, Dying Ant and Rubber Biakky for tuition at my house today. I was worried that Dying Ant would lost her way because she is such a blur in the ass (just being lame... don't too much into it hor?! See her 'blur' picture!), so I sms her to confirm whether she can find her way to my house. Guess what? She said that she was in Jurong West MRT station! I was stunt. Jurong East! It is located like the other side of Singapore. I called immediately to ask what the **** (nothing vulgar... don't too much into it again hor?!) is she doing at Jurong East MRT station. She said that Weeping Mann told her that my house is in a condominium at Jurong East. Jurong West! Oh my God. I called her immediately to confirm her location. Jurong East! No kidding! She said she was going to take a cab to my house. I offered to pay for her cab fare and treat her cookies. After a while, Weeping Mann and Rubber Biakky reached my house. Guess who came along with them? Dying Ant! She was only acting! So turned out I was the stupid one. Cheat my feelings!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-5332897693135124507?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5332897693135124507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5332897693135124507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/06/dyane-blur.html' title='Blur Dying Ant'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/Rmbmt2HiKnI/AAAAAAAAAB8/b9zYcF5wylk/s72-c/blurdyane.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-5777272408460432183</id><published>2007-06-05T13:54:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-11T10:20:14.368+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Go^2d Idea</title><content type='html'>I woke up late for Emo Ming's tuition (again). It must be her fault. She is a leech and sucks out all my energy (just kidding?!). I slept at 3:30 am yesterday. I was reading about this couple on the newspaper who sets up a business based on their expertise. Then a question struck me: what is my expertise? I believe that God has placed all I need to suceed in life around me. All I need to do is to pray that I am able to see them and put them into good use. I asked myself what have I been doing for the past three years... making notes?! Maybe I can post my notes on the Internet and share what I know with other people. In this way I can increase traffic flow on my website and earn money out of advertisements!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-5777272408460432183?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5777272408460432183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5777272408460432183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/06/go2d-idea.html' title='A Go^2d Idea'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-7638678149786383844</id><published>2007-06-04T01:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T09:24:16.018+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Comforted</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RmMEQz_JfdI/AAAAAAAAAB0/OicPKiQtNTw/s1600-h/DSC09142.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071902292228799954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RmMEQz_JfdI/AAAAAAAAAB0/OicPKiQtNTw/s200/DSC09142.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was feeling better today. I have a feeling that someone is watching me. It was as though God sent an angel to assure me that I am not neglected. I wore my favourite Nike sports suit to service. Once again it didn't pass. I was expecting someone to tell me straight at my face. Low self-esteem. Maybe I really don't have any fashion sense. Today I learn what it means to be 'casual'. It means too simple or plain! I always thought that dressing up means wearing more clothes. Justin asked me to change into a blue t-shirt with nice design on the front, and also lent his silver necklace. I passed! I was dead shocked. A t-shirt and a necklace! That's all? This is one of the many times when I really tried hard to improve myself and then realised I am going in the opposite direction. I need to change my wardrobe again =p. The t-shirt is tight-fit and it starts to draw attention from some people who then commented that I have a good body build. Trust me... I am not a body builder! I used to be a fat pork. Then I burned the fats, leaving the muscles. Sounds too easy right! To think that I was often ridiculed at for being fat. I guess we will never know why God wants us to go through life until we experience it! The t-shirt made me feel a bit naked though. I never stand on stage with only a t-shirt. Not used to it. Idy asked Adam to lend me a black vest. The combination was great. I was feeling confident and good about myself. Most importantly I have done my best on stage and didn't pull my choir friends and church down. I also felt so pampered by my great choir friends who helped my styled my hair. James sprayed colors on my hair and 'baptised' it in gel and wax. Idy ironed my hair and 'baptised' it in moose. Keith and his gang stlyed my hair and 'baptised' in hair spray. Left many finger prints on my hair. If I am murdered today, these people will be the suspects. Cause of death: drowned in gel, wax, moose and hair spray. Lame.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-7638678149786383844?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/7638678149786383844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/7638678149786383844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/06/comforted.html' title='Comforted'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_D3mFqhVT7-Q/RmMEQz_JfdI/AAAAAAAAAB0/OicPKiQtNTw/s72-c/DSC09142.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-6405690160921595319</id><published>2007-06-02T19:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-04T02:50:10.214+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Defeated</title><content type='html'>I feel lousy today. Firstly, I think I am not a good tuition teacher. Most of my students scored badly like nobody's business. I feel I wasted my students' time and money. I always thought I am a good tutor. I have spent fours years of my life making notes, reading textbooks and getting examination papers for them. Now I realise all these doesn't work. More important is whether they place a value in what you teach. 2004 was a good year. None of my students scored lower than B3 for their 'O' level examinations. Anthony remembered me until now because I answered a question on relative velocity on the eve of his examination and it came out the next day. He got an A1. 2005 was a good year. Phay's physics grade improved from F9 to A2. He thanked me for helping him and even blamed himself for not working hard enough. He also apologised for disappointing me. Last year was the best. Gabriel got a book prize for his 'O' level chemistry examination. I felt so comforted when he told me that I was the best tutor he ever had. Natalie scored more than 90 % for both her chemistry and physics examinations, even though I taught her only for 6 lessons. This year, I think I need to change my teaching method, or change my job. Secondly, I feel so incompetent as a choir vocal IC. I was asked to lead warm up for the choir. I stunned. I don't know how to start. I was asked how to sing the new songs. I don't know how. I didn't come for the previous services. I was told to dress well for choir. Justin said that my dressing was too plain. Annabel said that it was too casual. I saw Alec and Victor, my fellow vocal ICs, walking around with responsibilities at hand. I stood on stage like any other choir member. I guess being a choir vocal IC is not just about being good at singing. I need to grow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-6405690160921595319?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6405690160921595319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6405690160921595319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/06/beaten.html' title='Defeated'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-5727028907151784437</id><published>2007-05-29T10:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-11T10:22:35.939+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Resource Management</title><content type='html'>Woken up by a phone call. Dawn, my unit coordinator, called me to submit my assignment cover sheet. My assignment was supposed to be submitted yesterday. I '出 pattern' + 'act blur' and submit it by email to Dawn this morning at 4 am instead. Although I always scream at my students not to procastinate and study early for their exams (Hui Ming get it get it?!), I always wait until the last minute (or maybe over the last minute!?) before I complete my assignments. You know wat? Although my students always call me an 'old freak' and say that we got generation gap (Leen Pork also say that ?!), I can understand when they say "we study best at the last moment". It seems that your hidden potential like creativity, intelligence and can-dun-sleep-for-days are unleashed during this period of time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-5727028907151784437?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5727028907151784437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/5727028907151784437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/05/resource-management.html' title='Resource Management'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-8162348998918139383</id><published>2007-05-27T21:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-02T23:05:06.485+08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Revelations</title><content type='html'>I received a new revelation during my cell group meeting. I need to start preparing for Emerge 2008. Vertical marathon, arm wrestling, preaching challenge, personal testimony, talentime. The key is to start my preparation now. Another revelation: once my businesses are up and running, I will use the extra time I have and return to my secondary school to preach to my juniors. The sermon shall be called The Real God. I will use my life story as an example to inspire these younger generations to live their life to the fullest, in accordance to God's perfect plan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-8162348998918139383?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8162348998918139383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/8162348998918139383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/05/new-revelations.html' title='New Revelations'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4042585224174041325.post-6821211688018763229</id><published>2007-05-26T22:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-04T02:48:38.547+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Testimony</title><content type='html'>I gave a testimony to the choir members about how God answered my prayers and raised me up to a choir vocal IC. It was five months ago in December. At that time, I knew I have a talent in singing. Talented does not mean gifted. I prayed to God that I want to use my talent to bless the people around me and also multiply it. Two weeks later, Silvia, my choir helper sent me a sms, informing me that the choir has organised a singing competition called TalentQuest! I was overjoyed because I didnt expect God to answer my prayers that quickly. I took part and won second place. Then Annabel asked the million dollar question: Do you want to serve the choir? I was dead worried that I couldn't focus on impacting the marketplace, but God told me that it was time to move from strength to strength. I can balance my work and ministry, through Christ who strengthens me! From then on my life is never the same. I become a vocal IC! I am taught how to read music notes and sing parts. I have to teach the tenors how to do all that too! I pray that I can be like Sofyan, the guy who won first place in TalentQuest. He is like the man with ten talents in the Bible, while I'm the one with only one. But I will not keep mine buried in the soil. I will multiply it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4042585224174041325-6821211688018763229?l=bb-ben.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6821211688018763229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4042585224174041325/posts/default/6821211688018763229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bb-ben.blogspot.com/2007/05/testimony.html' title='Testimony'/><author><name>Benjamin</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
