The Secret Secretary

I didn't get into this whole "smart phone" business until this past January. I gave it a try after my faithful  and tank-proof Nokia went M.I.A on my way home for Christmas. Ever since then, my phone is on me almost 24 hours a day... minus the time I spend in the shower.

One of the great features about smart phones is their Wifi capability. I'm sure this is a feature we've all appreciated at some point. For those of us who's made the leap of technology, WiFi, in a way, brings us to a new dimension when we are in need of a change in time and space; be it on a bus, a café, or at the airport as you ponder about how your life will unroll in the next lil while.

But, I like the Wifi feature for a completely different reason; it quietly records my life, where ever I go.

Every time I connect to a network, my phone makes a note of the network name. Scrolling through the list, I recalled the places I've been to. I put myself back in the times I've wanted to reach out to someone or something through the World Wide Web. From JP's hostel in Taipei, wpa.mcgill.ca at McGill, Athletic Lobby in Guelph, Megabus42450 somewhere between Toronto and Montreal... those places, those times...

As life continues on and more places I go, the number of "D-Links" and "FreePublicInternet" and "Starbucks WiFi" piles up and overlaps, and someday, I will no longer remember which name belongs where. I'll forget where "ICOFFE" is at, or whose apartment "BELL242" belongs to.

But my phone will.

One day, the little bars in the WiFi icon will light and tell me: I was here. And someday, it'll let me know I'm home before I realize it.

A Father-Son Rivalry

I recently did some counting, in the last 3 years, I've spent about 3 weeks at home with my family. Time has the sort of power to create distance between people. But ever since the beginning of summer, my father and I have gotten quite close. As I've written before, we'd go fishing almost every weekend and once in a while during the week, after we get off work. The fishing trips near and afar bonded us as father and son.

But something else came out of those good times - a rivalry. Dad and I have been competing to catch the biggest, rarest fish. The score goes back and forth, but on our last trip, which was the day before I departed for South-East Asia, I took the lead - I thought that sealed the deal, like scoring in the final period of Stanley Cup Game 7.

But apparently not.

Since then, mother has taken my place in the shot-gun seat of the car. They've been going to cottages and lakes as the Canadian summer rolls into autumn. Last weekend, I got an email with a photo attachment. With a single line, our rivalry renewed.

Nope. It doesn't end.

Next week I'll start my travels in Vietnam;
I've got some "catching" (up) to do ;)

Autumnic Romance

A blast from the past, here's my first piece of writing from 2008. Hong Kong is currently stuck in late summer. I miss Canadian autumn.

Littered with gold are the trails and roads… falling leaves, scattered bits, displays of nature’s flamboyancy, I silently observed as they are swept afloat by a light autumn breeze. As a whole, these piece together a picturesque scene, as though painted to the perfection on God’s canvas. Admiring nature's dazzling paint, as I strolled down the trail.

Pretty as it is, layers of golden leaves layered the bare ground, providing warmth to the cold earth, like the soft, tender blanket covering the sleeping child. Sights of such steer away any burden on the mind, so light, so peaceful. So tender, so lovingly…

It takes away the need to ask “when and where”, it takes away the answers to “what and why”, it takes away the meanings to all the numbers and figures, and it takes away the differences between “this and that”. No more worries, just let things be. On a larger scale, just how small we are?

In the midst of all that’s ahead, I stopped and lost in the Autumnic Romance; entrenched by its ultimate beauty that is simplistically pure, purely simplistic.

O let the tempest blow, drifting away are my spirit and soul...