<?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-20853652</id><updated>2011-04-22T04:50:38.623+08:00</updated><title type='text'>FrozenFire</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Ron</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14277103750013218619</uri><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>12</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20853652.post-115690268228917696</id><published>2006-08-30T09:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-02T20:13:58.453+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dedicaton to a teacher</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;This entry is dedicated to Mr. Lionel Humphreis. He taught me in both primary 5 and 6. He come from &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Scotland&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; in the 1960s and started teaching then. He is really tall, with wide shoulders, a typical European. With the build of a wrestler, he intimidated the most determined "outlaws" in our school. He used to be our DM. His enormous palm threatened to fracture our jaws if we behaved badly. That’s just the other side of him. He is an avid joker with a flare for making cartoons resembling us. His loud voice could be heard down the corridor. When he gets angry, the teacher in the next class used to come over and take a look. He also tells us that he goes to the physiatrist regularly. When he talks, spit often tends to accumulate at the corners of his mouth, though it never flies out. I remember during our primary 3 days, there was this boy who got caned. On the 2nd stroke, the cane snapped. It really got into me how strong this man is. He had also held special classes for the science “elites” in order for them to ace their PSLE. It really helps me, literally pushed me to another level. To show my appreciation, I got an A* for my preliminaries. But in the end, I just got an A for PSLE. No matter what marks I get for my studies, he had always supported me all the way. Not me only, but my classmates as well. Each of us in his class is given a nickname. Mine was “as thick as two planks” but it was proven wrong later. The most memorable thing that I remembered about him was that he lifted a boy off his feet because he repeatedly does not do his homework. Not that I am sadistic, it’s that he showed us that that’s what would happen to us if we misbehave. He was our badminton teacher as well; I was in the school team then. With a playful attitude, I was not the best player. He often scolds me for fooling around. But then, I did not heed his advices. But now, everything had change. I was not the lousy, foul attitude badminton player anymore nor was I the best. But at least, I learnt no to be proud. My studies isn’t anywhere near the very good mark. Mr. Humphreis might be anywhere in the world now, but the impact he made in me will follow me everywhere.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20853652-115690268228917696?l=iceypage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/feeds/115690268228917696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20853652&amp;postID=115690268228917696&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/115690268228917696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/115690268228917696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/2006/08/dedicaton-to-teacher.html' title='Dedicaton to a teacher'/><author><name>Ron</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14277103750013218619</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20853652.post-115321929350087045</id><published>2006-07-18T18:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-18T18:41:33.513+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Reflection</title><content type='html'>its been around 4 days after i came back frm obs camp.. amazingly, i found out much more things about myself than i ever expected..but one thing that surfaced was that i had seemed to have a short fuse recently..i got upset easily nowadays..just argued with Deli 2 days ago.. accusing him of being a total jerk.. my side of the story was tat he had lots of blister on his hands and although his front man was crying becuz of a bad abrasion, he did not attempt to help at all..i had to tow the boat along..so they were at least heading for the instructor's boat..he defended tat he had already paddled for a long distance n was really tired by then..and so the arguement went on and on..the relatively short temper i had dis few days..i didnt noe y..only after the obs, did me n her did tok quite often..i was still quite impatient..i knew tat nth will work out this way..another thing was tat i wanted to be alone most of the time..i didnt tok as much too..will dis ever stop?? its too unbearable for me..can juz something work well for once??..haixx&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20853652-115321929350087045?l=iceypage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/feeds/115321929350087045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20853652&amp;postID=115321929350087045&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/115321929350087045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/115321929350087045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/2006/07/reflection.html' title='Reflection'/><author><name>Ron</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14277103750013218619</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20853652.post-115172006061373984</id><published>2006-07-01T09:59:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-01T10:14:20.626+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry</title><content type='html'>Now i noe y everything had failed...i was juz too impatient..contradicting myself..i should hav know it will not work..yet, out of impluse.. i told u everything..juz when u r feeling nt too good..of cuz it didnt work..but u told me tat i could still talk to u...u didnt banned me frm doing tat...but i felt as if u did..it was even harder for me to look at u in the eye nowadays...so dis is juz the afterwake of wat had ended which might have turn better if i wasnt so impatient...it'll be impossible too forget u...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20853652-115172006061373984?l=iceypage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/feeds/115172006061373984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20853652&amp;postID=115172006061373984&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/115172006061373984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/115172006061373984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/2006/07/sorry.html' title='Sorry'/><author><name>Ron</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14277103750013218619</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20853652.post-114930077972466725</id><published>2006-06-03T09:57:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-06-14T03:08:43.220+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tribute to a friend</title><content type='html'>it didnt struck me tat i had noe u for almost a year...at first...lovely memories were made n remembered....the words u sae...were etched in my heart forever....i was afraid to lose you...but i noe i shouldnt....for fear leads to anger...anger leads to hatred....and hatred brings about suffering....i dun wan anione to suffer becoz of me...especially u...den when things got worst..i prepared myself...so dis was now when things had ended...it was juz so close n yet so far...the time when u left...the effect left a scar visible forever...the words got remembered forever...you had to leave me...i didnt react much...i noe dis words will cuz u a lot of pain and suffering...i'm sorry for all what i had done...but in thinking tat all hope has not been lost n in hope that we might be together again...pls remember...i'll be waiting for u...u had been a really good friend...farewell, my little princess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20853652-114930077972466725?l=iceypage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/feeds/114930077972466725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20853652&amp;postID=114930077972466725&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/114930077972466725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/114930077972466725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/2006/06/tribute-to-friend.html' title='Tribute to a friend'/><author><name>Ron</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14277103750013218619</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20853652.post-114454738894187275</id><published>2006-04-09T08:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-09T09:49:49.010+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happiness</title><content type='html'>At first, it was supposed to be a happy trip. But when our boat sank, the trip took an unhappy ending.&lt;br /&gt;            I had been swimming in the water for hours, it was cold and dark at night. The thought of being in a shark infested area did not raise my hoped of being rescued. My friend, Kyle, was missing. I had loss sight of him after the boat sank. Whether he came up to surface or not, I did not know. Cautiously, I swam towards a buoy some hundreds of meters away from me. I had watched the new movie “Finding Nemo” and there was the song that now keeps playing in my head. “ Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming….” It was stupid, I never liked that song, but it just continued on. Before I knew it, I had already reached the buoy. I clang on to it though it was slimy from the algae and I tried to climb up onto it. Finally, I was on top of the buoy and there, I fell unconscious.&lt;br /&gt;            Just a kilometer away, Kyle was helplessly thrashing around in the water. He did not know how to swim, but in these desperate times, he managed to make out some strokes that he had seen on television. He saw a sofa drifting by aimlessly and he grab onto it. After the boat sank, Kyle also had not seen Ron.&lt;br /&gt;            Suddenly, I was woken sharply. Someone was hitting me with a paddle.  I turned around and saw an old fisherman on his craft calling out to me. I managed to stand and make an effort to get into his boat. From there, he told me that he saw our boat going down last night, but was afraid to go out to sea at night. He tried to call the authorities, but the storm was interfering with the radio frequencies. He rowed the boat to the shore, and before long, I was on a stretcher on the way to the hospital.&lt;br /&gt;            Out at the sea, panic was beginning to set into Kyle. He had just realized that he might just float out into the middle of the Pacific Ocean. He just only hoped that Ron had been rescued and still remembers him. Kyle could do nothing and thus he just sat on the sofa, hoping that things would take a turn.&lt;br /&gt;            I blurted out that there was someone with me on the boat to the doctors around me, though one of them had already called the coast guard I did not feel that it was enough. Fortunately, I was only suffering from some bruises and cuts. That same day, I had made my way to the coast guard’s radio room, waiting for a sign that my friend was alive.&lt;br /&gt;            Unknown to Kyle, Ron had already called the coast guards and they are searching for him. He also didn’t know that he was only just two hundred meters away form an island. But the fog around him cuts off his visibility to below a hundred meters. Luckily a wayward wind cleared up the fog a bit and Kyle was able to see the lush forest island just to the side of him. He paddled with his hands and as incredible as it seemed, he managed to reach the island. There he lay on the sand too exhausted to do anything. This was his first hopeful moment after the boat sank.&lt;br /&gt;            The first sign of Kyle had already been found the coast guards found a lone sofa drifting in the sea next to an island, with some blood stains on it. They radioed the description of the sofa to the command center and there I confirmed that the sofa was ours and as I did not latch on to any sofa last night, I confirmed that the blood was Kyle’s.&lt;br /&gt;The coast guards landed on the island to search for Kyle if he did went up the shore, but that did not take long, they found him asleep on the shore with numerous cuts on his face.&lt;br /&gt;            When I first got the news, I did not believe it. It was incredible. None of us, not even Kyle’s parents expected him to be found alive. I jumped with joy and rushed to the dock where the coast guard vessel will be docking. The few minutes of waiting at the dock seem like days and then, the red vessel of the coast guard loomed into view. After the ship has docked, the sailors brought Kyle down in a stretcher, he was fine other than a few wounds that needed stitching. We bear hugged each other and cried openly, none of us had ever thought of the other alive and well. If this ending was not happy enough, Kyle’s ex-girlfriend was at the dock too, she had broken up with him months ago and had waited anxiously for Kyle at the dock too. From there, we sent Kyle to hospital to get his wounds done up, hoping that no more of this incident will be repeated.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20853652-114454738894187275?l=iceypage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/feeds/114454738894187275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20853652&amp;postID=114454738894187275&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/114454738894187275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/114454738894187275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/2006/04/happiness.html' title='Happiness'/><author><name>Ron</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14277103750013218619</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20853652.post-114170582650639695</id><published>2006-03-07T11:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-07T12:30:26.520+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tears</title><content type='html'>As the only child in the family, I do not understand why other children fight among themselves. I often pass it off as nonsensical bickering. But one night in June, my mother told me that I was going to have a kid brother in a few months time. This piece of good news did not hit me until the time my brother was born. I was only 7 then.&lt;br /&gt;            Six months later, my brother was born. That day happens to be my birthday too. As we were in the hospital that time, my parents did not celebrate my birthday. But that did not bother me, I knew that they will celebrate with me when we got home. Again that did not happen. We stayed beside my mother for the whole night. The next morning, my mother was due to be discharged from the hospital. My father drove us home. During the ride, my parents were discussing about the newborn. But not a word was mentioned about me. Then, it hit me that my parents are too busy care for me anymore, because of my just born kid brother. That thought was reinforced when my brother was discharged 2 days later. My parents had been so excited the day before and can not wait to drive over to the hospital and bring the infant home. Just as what I had expected, I was treated as non-existent.&lt;br /&gt;            One night, after tucking my brother into bed, my parents came over to me and my father said, “ You alright there, sonny? You seem to be very quite these few days.”. “ No, I am not. Why are you caring for that stupid little brother for the past few days? You even forgotten about my birthday!”. My parents were shocked for a moment, they just realize that my birthday had pass 5 days ago and they had done nothing about it. Then, my mother continued, “ We are sorry that we had forgotten about your birthday. But you shouldn’t use that word on your own brother.” That night, I had let the matter pass. But I can not sleep that night, I kept crying and crying, trying to convince myself that my parents do love me as well, but their actions was not supporting my views. I felt so miserable, never in my life had my parents not cared about me.&lt;br /&gt;            As my brother grew up, it then started to occur to me that my parents love both of us. My brother was totally different from me, I was studious but he was playful, always hanging out with his friends. My mother scolded him about always going out and not doing his homework. My brother would then complain loudly that she never scold me and that show that she biased against him. But I knew that my parents were never biased. Like what they had promised me, they bought me a large birthday present to show that they are sorry to have forgotten my birthday that year. I now knew that my parents would care as much for me as for my brother.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20853652-114170582650639695?l=iceypage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/feeds/114170582650639695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20853652&amp;postID=114170582650639695&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/114170582650639695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/114170582650639695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/2006/03/tears.html' title='Tears'/><author><name>Ron</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14277103750013218619</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20853652.post-114156493841226659</id><published>2006-03-05T21:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-09T11:39:56.516+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>oh my, another sundae. time pasts so fast. went to the wet market with my mum today. not much happen, but i saw suhui n her family passing by. later at 1600hrs, i went out again, though my tuition only start at 1830hrs. 1st i walked round the mall, saw nth much but a few kids enjoying themselves at the arcade. so i decided to go to the kfc restaurant for my dinner. to my surprise, meiyi n samantha were there as well. the former crept up on me n exclaimed a " excuse me". when i was queing up for my turn to order the food, it struck tat i havent ask if they wanted any thing. bu i erased tat thought when the 2 gurls came up to the counter. after getting our food, we sat down at a table and, well, we ate. for 10 mins, meiyi observed a young couple at the table nxt to ours. the girl was holding her book upside down for a full 10 mins w/o realising. when meiyi told us bout tat, she n samantha broke into fits of giggling, which i cant xplain y. we talked bout our class, n watever u can thing up of. Meiyi also tried to guess who m i admiring, but of cuz she didnt guess the correct one. time pass so fast tat it was already 1830hrs when i 1st realise. soon, unfortunately i had to leave the both of them and proceed on with my trip to the tuition center. if they were laughing non-stop aft i left, i didnt noe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20853652-114156493841226659?l=iceypage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/feeds/114156493841226659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20853652&amp;postID=114156493841226659&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/114156493841226659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/114156493841226659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/2006/03/oh-my-another-sundae.html' title=''/><author><name>Ron</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14277103750013218619</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20853652.post-114139354945625570</id><published>2006-03-03T21:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-05T09:44:16.196+08:00</updated><title type='text'>How i study</title><content type='html'>Maybe i try to reveal more about how i study. Numerous ppl had asked how i managed to ace my sciences. Heres how (it worked for me, but it might not worked for u):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- i dun memorise. lots of ppl had said that its almost impossible to do science w/o memorising. i try to get as much practise as possible. this 'll always imprint the formula or statement im my mind.&lt;br /&gt;- try not to ask too much y. as most of us noe, there r also laws in science which cannot be broken. so if u ask, " y is the newton's 3rd law of motion lik tat?" i wont be able to answer u, cuz u r questioning y cant it be the other way. n i noe tat asking y is sumtimes good.&lt;br /&gt;- get more supplement reading. u muz be able to read books tat has no pics for thousands of pages. many important facts are embedded inside these texts. n also try to read all kinds of books. many practical solutions to our daily problems can be found inside all kinds of books&lt;br /&gt;-also try not to bring in religious beliefs when doing science, cuz many claims r going to affect ur thinking and thus dull ur answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tats how i do science. it nthing much. dis 4  points do help me bring up my marks and quality in sciences. i hereby swear tat no secrets had been left behind. wether u want  to folo these guidelines, its up to u. its ur choice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20853652-114139354945625570?l=iceypage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/feeds/114139354945625570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20853652&amp;postID=114139354945625570&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/114139354945625570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/114139354945625570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/2006/03/how-i-study.html' title='How i study'/><author><name>Ron</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14277103750013218619</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20853652.post-114135213462816228</id><published>2006-03-03T09:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-03T21:28:35.710+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Flight</title><content type='html'>Flight, its what man wanted to have in the past. Though no natural flight was made by any man yet, they made planes that fly at mach 3 and planes that are bigger then football fields. Planes capable of tracking and shooting down 17 targets at a time was made and sold all over the world. The new Airbus A380 is able to carry up to 500 passengers at one time. Not all flights are by man. Some are natural. Birds evolving their aerodynamical shapes allow them to achieve higher speeds. But everything is not the same after 100 years, UAVs (unmanned aerial vehicles) are taking over manned flight. To me, flight is something that is very important. It allows us to soar like birds and take over a new arena. People were also created mobile airports that go any where as long as there is water. Aircraft carriers are busy little cities on their own. Up to 30 planes can be stashed below flight deck. They include fighters, example the F-16s, recons, the AWACS, and helicopters.&lt;br /&gt;Helicopters are aerial vehicles that fly on rotor blades rather than wings. This difference enables it to hover, take of and land vertically. This makes helicopters one of the most agile aerial vehicles in the world. Helicopters were first thought up of by Leonardo Da Vinci. The agility of helicopters allows them to do jobs that cannot be done using an aircraft.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flight often makes us think about planes and stuff like that, but does it struck us that escaping earth's gravity and inter planetary travel is also considered as flight? Once we had conquered the skies, we are making plans to travel to space. And on July 20, 1969 the first man stepped onto the moon. Ever since, we had sent hundreds of men and women into space. But our need for exploration had made us pay in a terrible price. On January 28, 1986 the booster engine of the shuttle Challenger failed and caused the shuttle to break apart taking the lives of all onboard. But then again, we picked ourselves up and more space missions were conducted. Unfortunately, we had to lose seven astronauts in the year 2003 in the shuttle Columbia. Despite all this tragedy, I’m sure that space exploration will still continue and in the future, man will extend his influences beyond Mars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So as we pursue our dream of flying, we should never forget all those test pilots, aircraft designers and astronauts. These are the people who paved the road for us the road of hope to survival.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20853652-114135213462816228?l=iceypage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/feeds/114135213462816228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20853652&amp;postID=114135213462816228&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/114135213462816228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/114135213462816228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/2006/03/flight.html' title='Flight'/><author><name>Ron</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14277103750013218619</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20853652.post-114006323065612048</id><published>2006-02-16T11:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-02-16T12:13:50.673+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Song</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;The word song made me think of people listening to mp3’s on their ipods and walking down Orchard road. I once seen a poster in the music the music room stating that if a person can talk, he or she can sing. To me, I believe that music sometimes to help us relax, had you ever try listening to those music we many had claimed that it will help to make you relax, after a fight with your sibling or parents? Do you really believe that such music can make you feel relax? I don't. I believe that relax is just a state of mind and it needs your cooperation to induce relaxation. It’s the same with hypnosis, lots of people think that whatever the patient do while he was in hypnosis, the patient was not conscious about it. In reality, the subject is fully conscious of what was happening around him. The subject would have to cooperate with the doctor to make things work.&lt;br /&gt;In the ancient times, songs were use to tell stories, of which some of them are what really happened in real life. Songs were also used to communicate information between some people. It can also be used to convey our feelings to those who listen to the song. So music can also be a way of communication.&lt;br /&gt;The science behind songs, music or melody is that they are cleverly placed sound waves. These sound waves change in such a way that we feel its relaxing, fast or slow. This effect is only present to humans. But some scientists believe that music enables some plants to grow faster. So it’s not necessary that I am correct.&lt;br /&gt;I do agree that I am very ignorant about songs, music and stuff like that. But that did not bother or affect me in any way. My parents had told me that it’s quite surprising that I act very differently to what teenagers are pictured as on televisions. Instead of MTVs and programs like that, I would rather watch documentaries. So maybe that’s why I am allowed more time to watch television than my sister, whom loves cartoons, and that time is very flexible. I could watch up to 4am during the holidays and up to 11pm on school days. Talking about television programs, ever wandered what kind of programs are never sold pirated? You should have guessed the answer is news and documentaries.&lt;br /&gt;After all this commenting on the word, I believe I have to end this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20853652-114006323065612048?l=iceypage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/feeds/114006323065612048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20853652&amp;postID=114006323065612048&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/114006323065612048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/114006323065612048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/2006/02/song.html' title='Song'/><author><name>Ron</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14277103750013218619</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20853652.post-113832953019743759</id><published>2006-01-27T09:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-28T12:17:27.313+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gracious</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Being gracious is not easy. Although Singapore wanted to be gracious, I doubt it would come off very well. It could be due to the arrogance in some youngsters. Being gracious, I believe, is being nice to someone. Last time, The Newspaper had conducted a test, one of their staff was going to "faint" on the walkway at Orchard road. But when the test was carried out, no Singaporean help the "fainted" man. It was a foreign couple who saw him and helps him up. But not all Singaporean are like that. Two women in their late thirties helped him up later in the next trial too. They even wanted to call the ambulance. But the staff explains to them what was really happening before the authorities were really called in. If Singaporean were really gracious, loads of people would have already helped him up instead of waiting 15 minutes before the foreign couple came over. Being gracious also meant being polite, even if we do not really converse with our neighbors or strangers, a warm smile would have easily been recognized as a friendly gesture. Sometimes graciousness cannot be always requested, the person might have had something bad happen to him. If everyone was to be gracious, this world would have been wonderful, no wars, no arguments. But this world just cannot be fully gracious; some people will oppose it, humans are like that. Although there’s very little negative side about being gracious, our level of graciousness is part of us, what make us unique. So if everyone was gracious, then there would be no difference, rebels in Afghanistan would be shaking hands with the coalition forces. To me, democracy is an act of not being gracious, though it was rightfully obtained. Why people wanted to be democratic? It’s because people do not trust each other. They wanted the country for themselves. Which I thought, was an act of selfishness. I am not going against any country or community. Everyone is actually gracious; it’s just that they sometimes do not show it. Graciousness can sometimes bring us good fortune. It helps us to strengthen friendships.&lt;br /&gt;Being gracious also means being civilized. When we are gracious, we show that we are educated, and not some blabbering band of baboons. It also makes people treat us with more respect. Being gracious to foreigners show that we are warm and welcoming instead of being a concrete jungle.  This factor might even increase the number of tourist coming to Singapore without the thought that we are arrogant and selfish.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20853652-113832953019743759?l=iceypage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/feeds/113832953019743759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20853652&amp;postID=113832953019743759&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/113832953019743759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/113832953019743759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/2006/01/gracious.html' title='Gracious'/><author><name>Ron</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14277103750013218619</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20853652.post-113711961024218092</id><published>2006-01-13T10:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-13T16:52:35.103+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Orange</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Orange, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;the color of oranges. Its made up of red and yellow.&lt;br /&gt;Its bright and outstanding, so lots of poisonous animals, especially marine sea slugs. They stood out like as sore thumb in the sandy sea floor.&lt;br /&gt;It is also seen often during the Chinese New Year festival season. Some flowers are&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt; orange &lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;too, but they are not necessary flowers of&lt;/span&gt; oranges&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;The fruit,&lt;/span&gt; orange&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;, has light orange flesh too. It is rich in citric acid and vitamin C. It is also one of the citrus fruits. Vitamin C helps to strengthen our immune system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Orange &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;is sometimes used in those light reflectors that the traffic police somtimes wear when the traffic light has broken down and he or she is directing the traffic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;Orange &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;color pencils is also considered one of the basic color. Any self-respecting color pencil manufacturers will have orange color pencils.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20853652-113711961024218092?l=iceypage.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/feeds/113711961024218092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20853652&amp;postID=113711961024218092&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/113711961024218092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20853652/posts/default/113711961024218092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://iceypage.blogspot.com/2006/01/orange.html' title='Orange'/><author><name>Ron</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14277103750013218619</uri><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><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
