Posts tagged with "Story"
STICKY POST
Wednesday, 28. February 2007, 11:17:05
Story, Play, China
Wednesday, 4. July 2007, 08:03:21
Thoughts, Story, Blogosphere
In a mass production factory, protested by their customers, the quality contoller is being punished by the administration for not letting the ill-quality products pass.
The ill-quality product has been guaranteed of its buyer, who considers only of the 'produce-of-the-factory' label but not its quality; or the buyers are actually paying to process their own product in return for a label.
Should we not see their petition as some kind of 'consumer rights protection'?
To put it to the court of arbitration, I solemnly suggest:
(a) the factor's board of directors who failed its quality controller, being guilty of not disclosing its 'unwritten rules', shall withdraw its 'punishment' on the QC and beg for a pardon;
(b) all petitioners shall either take or leave their product, as they have to honor their previous contract;
(c) the products in question, being idle in this case, have no say what so ever;
(d) considering there may have buyers who care also of their product's quality, to resolve this dilemma situation, at least two types of contract will have to be available in the future, before both parties enter into a processing agreement.
This argumentative case happened in China.
Further Reading:-
Harmony means everyone gets a passing grade (Danwei.org)
Friday, 25. May 2007, 18:09:48
Thoughts, Story, Relation
Eve got bored in the Garden of Eden. She was not quite of herself, in a superfluous territory that did not seem REAL to her. She felt isolated and desolate in a somewhere of nowhere.
She wanted to be advanced into the untouchables, preferred to get herself lost in the actuality and reality of life that were challenging, substantial, and would lead her to an unknown horizon, a new plain of living where nothing conformed to what she had been repeatedly experiencing in this paradisal "heaven-on-earth".
She loved Adam, deeply, perhaps more than she was loved. She was not sure if he loved her the way she did. But there was one thing she was sure of, their unity of love - REAL LOVE - would vanquish and triumph over anything that hindered their way to eternity.
Adam was passionate in his devotion to the pleasure of being with her. But she felt only being wanted, not loved - head to toe but without a sole, not with whole body and soul.
One day, Eve told Adam what she had been thinking lately and asked if he could take her to somewhere they could adventure into the unreachables, to know more of the unknown. Adam said he knew nowhere besides Eden and wondered if there was a place better than Eden.
'It's not a matter of good or bad. It's the course that matters,' she said. He found himself lost in the midst of the unrecognizable words she uttered. 'What course, good or bad?' he asked in puzzlement.
'Let's leave Eden, anywhere will do. I felt upset here. Every day is like a today. Let's experience something new, something different, TOGETHER. I can't do it without you. I don't want to do this without YOU.'
He was in some sort of perplexity, yet he felt being loved and wanted. His cognition on her multiplied. His own SELF rose, extended and magnified. She seemed like a MIRROR to him, reflecting something in the deepest side of his consciousness, the unknown soil of ignorance where it was cornered, buried waiting to be found, stimulated and enlightened.
'I wish I know some where besides Eden. I'll definitely be with you wherever you go. I remember our Father once told me not to try the forbidden fruit on the "Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil", otherwise we'll be expelled from Eden. Maybe that's a way out.' Adam seemed to have made up his mind.
They then shared the 'risk' - the Apples and soon were out of Eden, setting off for a new voyage of HUMAN exploration, without any regret.
Maybe there was not a serpent who seduced Eve to the apples, or there was no forbidden fruit of any sort at all, and it was just the manifestation of MEN's will which had subconsciously followed the directorship of our Almighty Father.
Maybe it was not a matter of "Disobedience and Expulsion", but rather "Curiosity and Advancement" which symbolized The Breakdown of MEN and The Rise of HU-MAN.
Maybe we Human were not borne by the Original Sin. The Judgement Day will just be the day when we are finally uniting ourselves as ONE.
Eden is dead, long live Eden.
Further Reading:
-
Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil - Wikipedia
-
In God, Distrust
-
God Is Not Great
- 易中天:上帝之谜——《上帝的预谋》
Thursday, 19. April 2007, 12:56:05
Relation, Story, Shanghai
A summer day was beginning to draw to a close. The sun had lost its warmth and was retreating to a far distance, yet increasing in size. It was a Sunday with barely any significance.
Two women in their late twenties were sitting outside a cafeteria which cornered at a crossroads. Low traffic flow had made the location a most pleasant escape at this time of the season. As the end of the afternoon approached, the descending sun was painting the early summer dusk into a romantic scene of unforgetfulness.
A heavy, copper-colored beam of light came in from the west, gilding the outline of Marianne's profile with red gold, and projecting on the wall beside in an abounding, ruddy illumination. At the other side, Fanny was watching with withholding impulsion.
'What?' Marianne recognized that she had been catching her with her eyes for some times. 'You look beautifully there.' Fanny was enjoying the moment, deeply.
'Don't you make a fool of me.' 'Why?' said Fanny, 'You are. And always will be, in my mind.'
'I've lost confidence in myself. Don't just bring it up for the sake of pleasing me. But I thank you, anyway.' Marianne shattered with a smile, naturally.
'You're always in a mix of diffidence and confidence. I just couldn't tell which is you. I love the feeling of cheering you on, though.'
'It really struck me. The downside of me always takes me over and sinks me into dark bewilderment. I must have a split personality. Don't you think so? But who doesn't? Do you?'
'I don't know. Do you find me that way too? Well, maybe that's why we can get acquaintance with each other this easily. We at least share this in common.' Fanny was defending.
'I think most people don't have a consistency in their personality, especially for some Zodiac. Scorpians in particular. You're a Scorpian, aren't you?'
'Yes, we both are. You know that.' A pause. Marianna let the conversation cool.
She had found Fanny acted a bit eccentric lately, yet pleasing. There were times when they talked about the subject of relationship, she used to dexterously flip to something else, sometimes quite awkward.
It actually was not Marianne's favorable subject of conversation, after she had split off with her boyfriend a month ago. She was glad that Fanny often came to her rescue whenever she needed it. Sometimes, voluntarily. It seemed that she was in possession of some kind of magic power that could heal wounds. She was happy to have her in company. And the feeling seemed to grow.
'Shall we go somewhere else, and carry on with the day,' she said with a tone of laziness.
'Isn't it too early for dinner?' Fanny was sniffing the air. She was very sensitive to scents, and swift in understanding them. 'I like it here. Only if you insist.' 'Not the least. I like it here too.' There was a pause.
'Shall we try something new after dinner?' suggested Fanny. 'What do you mean by NEW?' Marianne answered curiously. 'Have you ever been to a gay bar?' 'Never cross my mind with that idea. Have you?' Her curiosity grew.
The sun was yellow and low, sinking down, and in the sky floated a pale, ineffectual moon. The city slowly faded away, and lost her colors. Yet, her dynamism was accumulating.
Wednesday, 7. March 2007, 21:07:47
Story, Special Service, China
Saturday 1989.10.14 19:35
In the gloomy basement theatre of Hong Kong Art Centre, with rarely any backdrop or prop, two actors, one with long hairs and the other's snow-white, are formidably conveying their messages with overstated narratives and body movements.
They are encircled by about a hundred audience, among them sat Fang attentively. According to the synopsis written on the event handout, it is a synthetic drama by messing The Myth of Sysiphus up with Waiting for Godot, so to speak.
Fang sits with "long-hairs" and "white-hairs" in a bar on the other side of the waterfront boulevard not too far away from the Art Centre. They have been there for about an hour.
"We'll have a gathering tomorrow afternoon at Xinhua News Agent's Wanchai headquarter. We'll bring with us a paper coffin and will burn a paper man at the end." Long-hairs said.
"You have been organising events in a roll in the past few months. Do you think it make sense at all? What have you guys achieved?" asked Fang.
"They're some kind of performing arts." White-hairs said aimlessly.
"Actions are everything, Fang. We show also to our fellow citizens what they can do. Unlike in the mainland, at least we can do something here. Whatever it's going to be. We just can't sit and do nothing..."
"Somebody have to show their discontent about what had been done this June. Don't you think so?" White-hairs interrupted.
"You're probably right. Many may share your views, but not the actions. Are yours a bit too extreme?"
"Extreme actions have to be answered by extreme reactions. By the way, we've done nothing subversive, all abide by the law." Long-hairs said uncompromisingly.
Even if there is no real wind of change yet at least there is a noticeable breeze freshening up. Democracy by its very nature, is something that will take many years to root before it can flourish.
At about the turn of the millennium, Long-hairs has turned himself from a guerriller street fighter into a legislator voted by his fellow citizens. He has his hairs cut, but still stays uncompromising. White-hairs, with his hairs turning gradually black, remains an activist in drama performance and many other civic affairs.
Friday, 2. March 2007, 12:07:50
Story, Special Service, China
Friday 1989.10.13 20:45
Dining at "M at the Fringe", a newly opened restaurant in uphill Central runs by Michelle the Melbourne born William Angliss graduate who begins her adventures in the city as a chef, has prepared Fang with the spirit to explore more of the night at Lankwaifong. It is also a convenient spot to get to the Foreign Correspondents' Club, which lies just besides it in the same complex, where he could meet with old and new friends.
FCC is always full in this time of the day, weekends in particular. The key venue of the club is a pub, a place where intelligence and information are flowed across the bar top among lonely hearts from all over the world waiting to be verified, confirmed and articulated. It is a media arsenal encapsulated in a colonial building of the early century, standing by at all times to be ready for any virtual ammunition imports and exports.
Amidst flaming cigars and cologn, Fang finds his spot near the entrance with his double Black Label on the rocks. He returns nods to a couple of seem-to-be familiar faces while they are entering the joint, and blah-blahs with a few suit-wearing gents whom he knows a bit more of their background, either journalistic or diplomatic.
During the time he spent in the venue, he didn't notice that he had been watched and secretly photoed by a guy whom he returned a nod about an hour ago. It was something he coincidently found out a few years later.
Joined by two media friends, Fang proceeds with his usual schedule. After FCC, they embark on the island's first musical jazz bar at LKF, The Jazz Club.
Thursday, 1. March 2007, 18:28:57
Special Service, Story, China
Friday 1989.10.13 14:15
Fang is in the middle of wrapping up his article on the computer. It is about Hong Kong's trade and investment perspective with China for the coming year of 1990.
"Yvonne, is your printer free?"
He raises a little of his voice to his secretary whom he shares with another colleague in the research department.
"Yap", she said.
He hits the return key and says, "There it goes!"
Before leaving for a coffee at the pantry he reminds Yvonne, "Please send it to Donald after it's done. Dear." Donald is the Council's Chief Economist.
Yvonne is a graduate in secretary profession of the city's most saught-after vocational college. She is slim, blossom to her fullest extent, with a sexy voice like she is having a cold and would sneeze in any moment.
Fang invites her once in a while for a drink, or two.
Friday 1989.10.13 14:42
Fang is in Isabella's office sitting with her and his coffee. She is the manager of the China Desk. She married to a linguistics professor of the Chinese University of Hong Kong and is taking the job as a sightseeing opportunity to travel around China.
"How's the project going?" Fang said.
"Not much. Most businesses howaday are taking a wait-and-see attitude. Only if we come up with sometime pervasive and hit-to-the-core recommendations, otherwise they won't give a damn."
"We maybe able to invite a couple of division heads of the Ministry of Electronic Industry with technology transfer import quotas to attain a break-up section."
"If the business is real, we maybe able to recruite a few more to join the delegation. But don't aim too high." She said.
Obviously, the bait has missed the cunt and drooped straight down the stream with the hook.
It sounds like it is Fang's job to jet-up the number of heads of the visiting group, instead of hers.
"All right, we'll see."
The Hong Kong Trade Development Council is setting off to organize a trade delegation to attend a business conference in Beijing hosted by the Ministry of Foreign Economic Relations and Trade in early December. China is trying hard to tidy up her image to the world in face of the U.S. embargo.
Fang, the Council's economist of Asia, will accompany the delegation to Beijing.
Wednesday, 31. January 2007, 23:48:38
Story, Play, China
This is a circumstance of bewilderment where everyone is trying to move on or move out, a shattered organization attempting to rebuild itself physically and spiritually.
Head resting on his folded arms on the office table in front of him, Mister President is trying to bury his grief. The profession of psychological consultancy would be wipen out once and for all if he did succeed.
Grief is a kind of human feeling that can remould humanity and advance civilization and ultimately facilitate happiness, if it is being treated properly. One may consider this proposition as misleading relativism or bewitched dialectics. But, it works for Mister President.
He has just dismissed both the revolutionary and the philosopher as planned. The two have accomplished their mission and were compensated with the contracted reward and extra bonus.
Mister President's grief is not monetary, but fraternal.
Mister President believes in self-healing, bodily and organizationally. Inviting the revolutionary and the philosopher into his board is some sort of vaccine to prevent virus infection.
His board of directors is now becoming more united after endless rounds of debates and quarrels ignited by the two characters. At least he believes so. High body temperature is an indication of recovery in process.
After a long while, Mister President is back to himself again. He picks up the phone and dials his fiancee up. There is still a lot to be prepared for their wedding later this year.
"Honey, ....", Madam Harmon says at the other end of the wire.
Further Reading:
-
Search for "a harmonious society" at China Daily
- China's Harmony Renaissance (Update, 5 March, 2007)
Friday, 15. December 2006, 17:20:26
Story, Play, China
I've met with Mister President at a crossroads one late evening.
It's a misty night. I saw him staring at a crow who stayed tranquilly up on a lamppost and stared him back. The scene's like an expressionist painting on canvas - a black crow's witnessing a lonely soul who's saying a prayer in a gloomy pebble alley.
The bird has shit on him. I clearly saw a flake of succus lying on his right shoulder when I came close to him. I offered him my handkerchief. That's how we got to know each other.
He bought me some drinks that night in the city's red-light district. I introduced a couple of friends to him in return. They became very closely acquainted afterwards. Mister President told me sometime later that they have helped open his eyes.
That night, we talked causally outside a bar. People were pouring out from the inside spreading unevenly on the pedestrian walkway. We're in the middle of a collective ritual - warming concurrently the glass or bottle in our hands.
He told me he's stuck in a dilemma. He just couldn't simply replace all corrupted managers. Afterall, they've helped to optimize the business structure of his Corporation. They're important contributors to the group's prosperity, and still are.
However, structural change has given rise to new interest groups. There's no immediate steelyard to balance things out. He's desperate in need of innovative inputs as to create a new mechanism that could accommodate all sort of interests.
He complained that it's really difficult to run an enterprise during a transitional period.
I got nothing to offer him but listen. While we're running dry in our conversation, a friend joined in.
He's a revolutionary by profession. He's just back from Africa. He said that the working classes have lost their class consciousness. Most of them found to be materialists and conformists. Mister President was enlightened by his sermonette.
Later on, another friend inserted himself into the conversation. He's a French (or Algerian) philosophical activist or millitant philospher who strangled his wife to death not long ago. He wasn't tried and is still under psychological treatment.
I soon found myself wordless in the quartet and quietly pulled out. I've emptied my stomach besides the same lamppost before heading home.
About a month later, I heard that my two arm's length friends have joined Mister President's group as non-executive directors. They've made a lot of noise in the media.
Up till now, Mister President still owes me a handkerchief.
Tuesday, 7. November 2006, 11:56:17
Story, Play, China
'Decision on Strengthening the Financial Account of All Deapartments'
'Centralization of Department's Rights on New Subsidiary Formation'
'Decision on Formation of Workers Union for all Subsidiaries'
Mister President is going to publicize what have just been decided in order to please his employees, except his department heads. He takes no time to wait for his department heads' reflections on the Corporation's new resolution.
He anticipates that they will follow him with the decisions, afterall most of them are gotten promoted to their positions quite recently. It is the right moment to end the previous debate, he thinks. And, the time is always now.
He has scheduled this press conference long before he called for the extended board of directors' meeting. Even the resolution he just emails out to all heads of department after the meeting are in accord with his plan. It is not easy to get the concensus of his directors on all his prepared measures for strengthening his Corporation, but he did.
The talk with
Wang Wang several months ago has inspired him, and the department-wise outburst of the
TOP epidemic has reinforced his determination to make changes as to streamline the governance of his Corporation. He thinks what he did is right. He will go along the way to make everyone happy. If everyone is happy, he will be happy. Sharing is of utmost importance in life. God will help him out with this just course.
Mister President is on his way to the press conference, all alone with his Driver. He is happy with his Driver for the past four years. He has never let him down. He knows what he requires is the safest way to get to where he wants to go, but not the fastest.
However, there are events in the history of humanity that unexpected incident could change the subjectism of human kind, no matter how thoughful they are.
At a crossroads, the Driver follows the green light and drives carefully along. At the junction, a truck runs in full speed from their right hand side and hit their car at the rear. The car spins for a few rounds and tumbles like a turtle. At the same time, the truck brakes and decelerates to a complete stop about 100 metres on the left.
Mister President and his Driver lie side-by-side on two beds adjacent to each other in a room at the Corporate Hospital. The room is full of flowers.
On a card stuck to a bunch of lilies blossoming on a vase, wrote "May God Bless You! Get Well..." and undersigned 'A Department Head'.
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