Of life, earthquakes, and the imagination

I'm currently in the final stage of the 36+ hours journey back home, tired but wide-awake at the same time. To all those in Kuching, will be seeing you guys very soon. =)

I've been following the earthquake in China as closely as I can. One of my best friends from Sewanee is from Chongqing, one of the affected cities, and she went back there just a couple of days ago. Just in time for the earthquake- what a stroke of luck, huh. =S She's an avid Facebook user but I haven't heard from her in a couple of days. Though that's probably not surprising- their internet's probably down. Still, I hope she's alright. =S (Update: She's fine, yay!)

Two stories I want to tell:

First is a recollection of a story Miss Mary Wee told us back in Form 2. I wonder how many of you guys still remember it.

Our teacher knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy who was extremely superstitious. One day, that guy went to a 'bomoh' and had his palm read/future told. "Bad news and worse news," the bomoh said. "The bad news is that you're going to die. The worse news is that it'll happen within ten days." So what does the guy do? Well, what would any guy do? He locks himself up at home for nine days, not venturing out or letting anybody in. On the tenth day he began to relax, thinking that the prophecy was a false alarm, so he grabs a newspaper and curls up in an armchair. Then the light bulb above him suddenly breaks loose from the ceiling and shatters on his head, killing him instantly.

A true story, according to my teacher. I remember her saying something like, "When your time's up, it's up, and nothing you do can change that." Funny how that works, isn't it?

Story 2 is taken from Sophie's World by Jostein Gaarder:

" 'Once upon a time there was a centipede that was amazingly good at dancing with all hundred legs. All the creatures of the forest gathered to watch every time the centipede danced, and they were all duly impressed by the exquisite dance. But there was one creature that didn't like the centipede- that was a tortoise.'

'It was probably just envious.'

'How can I get the centipede to stop dancing? thought the tortoise. He couldn't just say he didn't like the dance. Neither could he say he danced he danced better himself, that would obviously be untrue. So he devised a fiendish plan.'

'Let's hear it.'

'He sat down and wrote a letter to the centipede. "O incomparable centipede," he wrote, "I am a devoted admirer of your exquisite dancing. I must know how you go about it when you dance. Is it that you lift your left leg number 28 and then your right leg number 39? Or do you begin by lifting your right leg number 17 before you lift your left leg number 44? I await your answer in breathless anticipation. Yours truly, Tortoise."'

'How mean!'

'When the centipede read the letter, she immediately began to think about what she actually did when she danced. Which leg did she lift first? And which leg next? What do you think happened in the end?'

'The centipede never danced again?'

'That's exactly what happened. And that's the way it goes when imagination gets strangled by reasoned deliberation.'

'That was a sad story.' "


I dunno about that being a sad story, but it is definitely very cheem.