Haven't written anything for quite a few days and also have been living away from Internet for some time.  Not too bad indeed, had some good drinks (Cider is my new friend for bar time and now I am able to keep comfortable distance from Guinness since loads of people don't like it too much either) and watched some heart-breaking games, consuming a lot more than usual crisps and creamy soup and therefore expecting my weight gaining ambitions to move forward optimistically... Also went to swim with lovely Lillian yesterday, jealous of her smooth tender skin and had way lot more chatting in pool than swimming :-)

Well, what droves me come back to write here (taking off my precious lunch break time in office~~) was actually due to a question I was thinking about last night.

I happened to hear from friends that a guy here we all knew well of, actually who often hang out with us (the Chinese pals and gals in our programme, not me though), has been doing the cigarette smuggling from China to Northern Ireland and making big money out of it.  His relatives in China working closely with Customs Office and his student identification here provided best security for this illegal business and his personal safety from legal authorities on both sides.  He told us that recently one batch of cigarette was unfortunately caught by the Northern Ireland customs and police and caused some loss to him.  But because he was "smart" enough not to put his own name, of course he wouldn't have done things that silly for any successful illegal business, on any documents involved in the smuggling transactions, although he himself was indeed the first and also the only wholesaler of Chinese cigarette to resale to the retailers in Northern Ireland, there is no real danger for him to be traced by the local police.  (It is common sense that higher-level wholesalers often hide deeper than retailer and have way less chance to be exposed in market)

No question about the fact and this person.  But certainly I won't disclose more details here on this blog in any ways.

Now it is clear that indeed there is an acquaintance being a criminal close to us.  Nobody would argue I believe that smuggling is not a serious offence of laws, especially when the goods are cigarette.  (FYI. the price of cigarette in Northern Ireland local market is incredibly high, which I am actually very happy about.)  However, what will you do if you are under this circumstance?

What we should do and what we would do are often two different questions for most people in many cases, and I believe this is perhaps exactly one of them.  But isn't it disappointing and sad for anyone who have a clear awareness of the social responsibility or citizenship and also hold a upright expectation for a society of justice?

Would you report it to the authority in "sacrifice" of personal relationship and perhaps even worse, despite other friends' misunderstanding and mistrust of you in the future if they hear of the whole thing?  I believe most people would indeed face such challenges from others among them, that why you did this and what benefit you expect from the government for doing this, and certainly most people wouldn't do the same at all, and what they would do instead is perhaps keeping distance from those who do it and seeing them with a suspicious and even hostile look rather than giving them a credit for guarding social justice.

And among all the reasons backing up the "common choice", the most convincing one is perhaps, that who cares about someone else making money from smuggling (which even provide cheaper cigarette from China for those in need)!

Who cares?  The answer would involve economics and international politics as well.  I don't think many people would have the interest and patience to sit down and listen from the very bottom of the theories.  But isn't it at the same time necessary for a citizen to understand why some behaviours (murder or smuggling) are sentenced to be against the law for righteous reasons and how do they eventually harm the benefit of most people in this society?  If we call for people's critical thinking of the social issues and claim that we shall promote citizen's critical view of any authorities rather than blindly accepting them which ultimately lead to or reinforce dictatorship as apposed to democracy, we shall certainly promote people's understanding of what and why being illegal for good reasons, aren't we?

Then back to the individual, suppose, which might very possibly be true in fact I must say, that smuggling is indeed causing more harm than benefit to every one of us in society ultimately and therefore should be well justified illegal behaviour and serious crime, why do so many people instinctively choose to not care about it?

If the guy beside you is a murderer whom you just found out have killed a person in neighbourhood, despite he is an acquaintance of yours, you won't hesitate to report it to the local police at all, will you?  And I believe, knowing him well and realising a criminal is so close to you will even give you more encouragement, out of self-protection purpose, to report the case as soon as you can.

But why we choose different attitude toward a crime of murder and smuggling?  Why we have so many irrational stereotypes for social concepts like "crime"?

This guy is leaving UK for China in weeks.  The page of his personal story about committing offence of smuggling might be turned over permanently in week’s time.  But the question that I cast on myself and found among others in this society will forever be a question and haunting ourselves forever.  If a society is built up by everyone in it, there are some changes that must be made from every one themselvesin order to make any difference in the society.  Government has its responsibility to improve and promote people's understanding and awareness of the laws and regulations imposed upon them, meanwhile sometimes it's not really about the difficulty to understand, but about the willingness to face the dilemma and take position on a solid ground for the sake of righteousness and less "visible" benefit for self and others.

I broke down, out of no reason and all reasons.

Silence, unusual quietness, is often the start of my crash and collapse.

He sensed it.  Somehow strangely I did wish he hadn't, although usually when women were going through emotional fluctuation they subconsciously wished their men be sensible enough to notice and show caring.

I guess I was just afraid and unsure of how to explain and express myself once he asked and got ready to listen to me.

What's wrong with me, or just what indeed happened on me to pull me out of normal mood, that's exactly the question I couldn't even answer myself.

Just frustration, unnamed fear and endless why and what-ifs, all those things I felt necessary and proud to face and peel off from time to time inevitably at the same time tortured me and put me in despair where I all the time want to get out of.

I am a born dreamer, long ago we have recognised each other as and by being dreamer.  Dreams have driven me through thorny years and made them therefore meaningful and bearable; dreams also have harassed me in a way I occasionally doubted if I was just disturbed by illusions I took as truth.  Somehow here I am today, still a stubborn dreamer trekking towards warmth and light.

Honey dreams are our purpose of life, as you said, but don't let dreams take our life away.  Dreams are the goal that inspires us going on the way, but the goal itself is never as important as the way itself.  Know where the dreams are, then make out of it to get on the way.

Honey, you are no less a philosophical person as I am.  But you see how wonderful it is that we understand so naturally of our abstract languages, even both been spoken in our second language!

I lay in your arms and buried my face in your chest, sobbing as a child.  Honey I wet your shirt, and you said no worry that's why you had washed your other shirts.  At the moment none of us laughed for your joke, but sweetness in tears flooded over me like a joyful brook flowing through my field of heart.

Honey you said you were almost already sure you'd made a mistake for choosing to study mechanical engineering, you, someone so much into social sciences and such a free spirit full of creativity and sensitive in emotions as well as splendours in language.  But you just didn't see any other options therefore going for it.  You said you also had dreams and aspirations, but at the same time were very practical that you would take the route when there were not yet any visible paths towards your beautiful though ambiguous dreamed place.  Honey, I wouldn't say that I admire you, which sounded too awkward for people so dearly close, but you often had the magic to steal all the vocabulary and left only a few like "amazing", "unbelievable" or "gorgeous" in my mind for describing you.

My tears were salty and bitter.  Honey that's because the thought of our piece of history about being "us" in each other's life coming to a soon end was almost unbearably torturous and melancholy.  You see, being rational and conscious doesn't really help me, although maybe not to you, leading a better directed and secured life.  Instead, sometimes it so successfully deprived my chance of taking things easy and enjoying the real moment without intervention from the damned next day.

What will my tomorrow look like?  How do I wish it to be?  Honey, those are the questions only you yourself can answer, or not to answer at all.  My dearest, despite the fact it has always been, can you read my mind as well as you read my lips that somehow in my shapeless dream there is something I would love you to help contributing to and leading my wills and power to somewhere?  The direction is by no means fixed especially when talking about journey of lives, you know my dear, so naturally the participating force took our hands and indeed oriented our path like a magnet.

People are born unequal, I said to you.  Decision is not that easy to make, and harder to implement in the reality as a matter a fact than what you think and take for granted.

No, Honey, people are not born unequal, never ever born to be anything anybody, you were so asserted and responded me with your clear words and a deep look into my eyes.

Your eyes are blue, crystal blue, the colour of the lake in Swiss mountains covered by thick forests.  I won't forget this moment when you said your faithful no and your blue eyes melted the solid rock named sadness and pessimism in my heart.

Honey, dreamer, let's listen to a song together, you said, hand in pocket looking for your mp3 player.

Imagine?  I asked, but in fact I knew it wouldn't be a wrong name.  Honey, it's not just because I had good memories and remembered almost everything you once mentioned - you indeed quoted several sentences from the lyrics of Imagine days ago when we were talking about nationalism and I knew you loved it - but very truly because I could read your mind and we are so similar in nature that I would do the same thing at such a moment.

Music here comes; Joan Baez's calm but passionate voice rises as moon light spreading onto the skin of earth.

Imagine there's no heaven

It's easy if you try

No hell below us

Above us only sky

 Imagine all the people

Living for today

Ou ho ooh

Imagine there’s no country

It isn't hard to do

Nothing to kill or die for

And no religion too

 Imagine all the people

Living life in peace

Ou ho ooh

You may say I am a dreamer

But I am not the only one

I hope some day you'll join us

And the world will be one

Imagine no possession

I wonder if you can

No need for greed or hunger

A brotherhood of man

 Imagine all the people

Sharing all the world

Euh Hoo oh ho

You may say I am a dreamer

But I am not the only one

I hope some day you'll join us

And the world will live as one

Could any other words tell my dreams better than this?  Powerful is not all it's about that touches the bottom of our souls.  No religion, no illusion; No country, no nationalism; No grander cause, no prejudice; No the better, no authority; It’s all about sharing, peace and equality, all about what we are born to thirst for.  It's absolutely idealistic, but nothing about communism or not as many may too easily and quickly rush to the conclusion.  There are no practical and pragmatic dreams; after all, being aloft the rough reality is almost the ultimate purpose of holding a dream.  Keeping certain distance from the imperfection of existence is crucial for keeping the power of dreams.  Since distance is necessary, why not hold an idealistically better dream to bond us together and speak it aloud to make it heard by more?

You were singing with her, lips on my earlobe.  I felt your warm breath, your murmuring, and your heartbeats.

Honey, my silent sobbing ate my voice and short breaths killed my singing, but my tears floating down my face were accompanying each and every word of yours.

"I am not the only one... some day they'll join us"

"Honey, they will join us."  That's what you said by my ear then and there.  My dear, that short assertion will be with me for lifetime, and believe me or not, it's the most romantic statement I have ever heard.  It's the grandest love and faith in full strength.  It's our religion.

Honey, they will join us, join these two hearts singing in their tightest hug, however for nothing about lovers' intimacy, but the closeness of dreams.

Pink

"Dear Mr. President"
(feat. Indigo Girls)
http://www.radionewsamer ica.com/media/kynd/president.mp3

Dear Mr. President
Come take a walk with me
Let's pretend we're just two people and
You're not better than me
I'd like to ask you some questions if we can speak honestly

What do you feel when you see all the homeless on the street
Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep
What do you feel when you look in the mirror
Are you proud

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye
How do you walk with your head held high
Can you even look me in the eye
And tell me why

Dear Mr. President
Were you a lonely boy
Are you a lonely boy
Are you a lonely boy
How can you say
No child is left behind
We're not dumb and we're not blind
They're all sitting in your cells
While you pave the road to hell

What kind of father would take his own daughter's rights away
And what kind of father might hate his own daughter if she were gay
I can only imagine what the first lady has to say
You've come a long way from whiskey and cocaine

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye
How do you walk with your head held high
Can you even look me in the eye

Let me tell you bout hard work
Minimum wage with a baby on the way
Let me tell you bout hard work
Rebuilding your house after the bombs took them away
Let me tell you bout hard work
Building a bed out of a cardboard box
Let me tell you bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
You don't know nothing bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
Oh

How do you sleep at night
How do you walk with your head held high
Dear Mr. President
You'd never take a walk with me
Would you

[Lyrics triumph! Pink's voice is perfect for interpreting this powerful and thoughtful song too.]

[Sheryl]My yesterdays are all boxed up and neatly put away
But every now and then you come to mind
Cause you were always waiting to be picked to play the game
But when your name was called, you found a place to hide
When you knew that I was always on your side

[Sting]Well everything was easy then, so sweet and innocent
My demons and my angels reappeared
Leavin' only traces of the man you thought you'd be
Too afraid to hear the words I'd always feared
Leavin' you with only questions of these years

[Both]Is there someplace far away, someplace where all is clear
Easy to start over with the ones you hold so dear
[Sheryl]Or are you left to wonder, all alone, eternally
[Both]This isn't how it's really meant to be
No it isn't how it's really meant to be

[Sheryl]Well they say that love is in the air, but never is it clear,
How to pull it close and make it stay
Butterflies are free to fly, and so they fly away
[Both]And I'm left to carry on and wonder why
Even through it all, I'm always on your side

But is there someplace far away, someplace where all is clear
Easy to start over with the ones you hold so dear
[Sting]Or are we left to wonder, all alone, eternally
[Both]But is this how it's really meant to be
No is it how it's really meant to be

[Sting]Well they say that love is in the air,
[Sheryl] never is it clear
How to pull it close and make it stay
Butterflies are free to fly, why do they fly away
Leavin' me to carry on and wonder why
[Sting]Was it you that kept me wondering through this life
When you know that I was always
[both]On your side

[It doesn't really need anything more than Sheryl Crow and Sting coming together to sing a love song to melt your heart.]

Sandi Thom

I Wish I Was A Punk Rocker

Chorus
Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair
In 77 and 69 revolution was in the air
I was born too late to a world that doesn’t care
Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair

When the head of state didn’t play guitar,
Not everybody drove a car,
When music really mattered and radio was king,
When accountants didn’t have control
And the media couldn’t buy your soul
And computers were still scary and we didn’t know everything

Chorus

When popstars still remained a myth
And ignorance could still be bliss
And when God Save the Queen she turned a whiter shade of pale
When my mom and dad were in their teen
and anarchy was still a dream
and the only way to stay in touch was a letter in the mail

Chorus

When record shops were on top
and vinyl was all that they stocked
and the super ********* was still drifting out in space
kids were wearing hand me downs,
and playing games meant kick arounds
and footballers still had long hair and dirt across their face

Chorus

I was born too late to a world that doesn’t care
Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair 

[Oh her voice!  You can't even notice if there are music at the background at all, the singer makes a solo masterpiece.]

The first thing I was asked to do today after arriving in the office was, surprisingly, to try on the company uniform which from next Monday we will be required to wear every day!

Lying in the Debenham bag under my desk were black jacket and pants suit with white stretchy shirt, typical formal office outfit, brand-new with hangers and labels.

I tried them on immediately, the shirt fit perfectly well, especially around my waist.  Oh I was so happy for that - you should know how hard it is to find any top that can actually show my waist line in the shopping centres in city!  But the suit, just as expected, despite the chosen brand was called "petite", was just too "accommodating" for my body.  The image in the mirror was inevitably quite funny, and the size-8 pants provided suitable length but at least 2-inch bigger waist size (I could almost put it on without removing the buttons!).

Certainly I gotta ask for our kind Michelle to change for a smaller size, and as far as I can see my suit will have no "recycling value" at all because obviously nobody else can possibly fit into it!

But I am just happy for the uniform idea.  At least now I finally know exactly that size-8 outfit won't fit me at all but size-6 will do perfectly.  Indeed it further confirms that my effort of looking for nice cut dresses from non-designer's store here will mostly end hopelessly... Whatsoever, I don't have to worry about what to wear every weekday morning now, great!

New things in office today are not just the uniform in bag.  On my desk there are two photo frames now, with the happy faces of Krista's children.  Krista has been working as credit controller in this company for years and during her maternity leave from last November till last week several persons had been recruited on temporary basis to cover her post, and I am one among them.  What's different about me is that due to the rapid business expansion of our company recently, the financial director and controller decided to make this post a full-time job rather than the previous 20-hour per week kind.  As Krista has no intension to extent her working hours in the sacrifice of taking care of her newly-born baby, extension of my contract to share a working shift with Krista became the natural choice.  So here we are, Tuesday yesterday was Krista's first working day back from leave and I was instead enjoying a relaxing morning in bed and sheet.  So now I am working on the shared desk, to the left side of which is a photo of her two elder children, one boy and one girl both in primary school suits - with cute ties! - to the right is a close look of her newly born baby  in funny red baby shirt, staring at the camera with all the surprise and amazement to the whole world.  Cute cute cute!  I can't help looking at the photos every once in a while and even making a face in response to the staring baby face. Hey sweetheart, don't be frightened by the boring job in front of black computer desktop!  There are a lot more fun for you than this huge heavy machine out of your small frame!

We are doing the same job on the same desk, but somehow I am looking up to Krista's life.  She earns more than I do, fair and unfair, but more importantly her putting her angels' photos on desk top at the first day back in office, this all granted and deserved gesture is the thing I want the most to possess as she has already.