<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221</id><updated>2010-01-07T15:49:18.183+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dysfunctional Head Diary</title><subtitle type='html'>I love to read, travel and dream since I was a little child. Then they told me I dreamed to much and there must be something wrong with my head. But I continue to read, travel and dream. Now I'm going to write down all my dreams.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>329</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-7244423234006753879</id><published>2009-10-09T14:02:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-09T14:26:40.764+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Purpose of Education</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/Ss7VKDlMfZI/AAAAAAAAAxg/AcN3KgC4zlA/s1600-h/children.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 170px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390480172745784722" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/Ss7VKDlMfZI/AAAAAAAAAxg/AcN3KgC4zlA/s200/children.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I've just realized the real purpose of education -- to make things more complicated than necessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Just look at our primary school textbooks. There are tens, if not hundreds, of rules telling kids how to do simple arithmetic. And in language and literature, teachers could easily spend hours after hours of classroom time to analyse a just few paragraphs of so-called classical passage. If you ever walk into the educational section of a public library, you'll be totally amazed by the amount of useless research cover every aspects of teaching and learning. Do the teachers think if they have to make things so complicated so their job can be view by others as a profession or be more respected by parents and students alike? If that's the case, they would be deadly wrong. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-7244423234006753879?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/7244423234006753879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=7244423234006753879' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/7244423234006753879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/7244423234006753879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2009/10/purpose-of-education.html' title='The Purpose of Education'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/Ss7VKDlMfZI/AAAAAAAAAxg/AcN3KgC4zlA/s72-c/children.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-5381057102557795446</id><published>2009-09-15T17:22:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T17:40:33.505+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Looking Back at The Millennium Bug</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/Sq9fVmaY11I/AAAAAAAAAxY/1y1Q1HITq7Y/s1600-h/20080229_millennium-bug.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 167px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381624904424150866" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/Sq9fVmaY11I/AAAAAAAAAxY/1y1Q1HITq7Y/s200/20080229_millennium-bug.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It's the time of the year to trash old files and documents again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I found over 10 huge files containing all kinds of references, checklists, reports and all kinds of official documents related to the Year 2000 problem (also known as the Y2K problem, the millennium bug, the Y2K bug, or simply Y2K). In 1999, it was a notable problem for most companies who were afraid that the world would come to an end if nothing was done to prevent computer malfunctions as a result of abbreviating a four-digit year to two digits. So tones of documents were created, passed over and signed by dozens of people, so that the responsibilities could be share in case something bad actually happened. The silliest thing I ever did was that I even did a report on whether an electronic pencil sharpener could cause any danger to anybody in the office in Year 2000. Of course it didn't. Looking back at all the silliness and all the time wasted on the millennium bug reports, the only thing I could do now is to laugh at myself while I'm trashing the files. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-5381057102557795446?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/5381057102557795446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=5381057102557795446' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/5381057102557795446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/5381057102557795446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2009/09/looking-back-at-millennium-bug.html' title='Looking Back at The Millennium Bug'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/Sq9fVmaY11I/AAAAAAAAAxY/1y1Q1HITq7Y/s72-c/20080229_millennium-bug.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-1419535292110991406</id><published>2009-09-14T21:40:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T22:12:16.897+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Legislative Assembly of Macau Election 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/Sq5K_2qMK9I/AAAAAAAAAxQ/nd7WSeCvFus/s1600-h/dia.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 134px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381321065619008466" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/Sq5K_2qMK9I/AAAAAAAAAxQ/nd7WSeCvFus/s200/dia.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I really couldn't understand why any sane person living on this planet wanted to have anything to do with the Legislative Assembly elections to be held in Macau on September 20,2009. &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole process is absolutely meaningless. There are 27 seats in the Legislative Assembly, only 12 of which are elected by universal suffrage. The rest are arranged by the functional constituencies, and the voting process is eliminated completely for 2009 under the new election laws when the number of candidates is the same as the number of seats available. The rest of the seats are appointed by the Chief Executive. The math is fairly simple. No matter who you elected, he or she is not going to make a difference as a lawmaker, as the friends of the Chief Executive already made up the majority of the seats. That's why I could never understand why the noisy promotion trucks with the loudest speakers out there kept driving around every corner of streets. Why people were handing out political booklets when nobody was reading them. I couldn't understand why people spend millions trying to earn a seat. I couldn't understand why people even bothered to vote. There are still six days left. I just hope that this silliness could end soon and the streets of Macau could be quite again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-1419535292110991406?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/1419535292110991406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=1419535292110991406' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/1419535292110991406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/1419535292110991406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2009/09/legislative-assembly-of-macau-election.html' title='The Legislative Assembly of Macau Election 2009'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/Sq5K_2qMK9I/AAAAAAAAAxQ/nd7WSeCvFus/s72-c/dia.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-7890384627418428430</id><published>2009-04-10T17:31:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T00:25:45.531+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pleasant Goat and Big Big Wolf</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/Sd8S_M1YoJI/AAAAAAAAAwo/HAagrn19QB0/s1600-h/283193_1123.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322994161561411730" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/Sd8S_M1YoJI/AAAAAAAAAwo/HAagrn19QB0/s200/283193_1123.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I've been watching lots of cartoons lately. Actually it's the same cartoon belonging to the same series - the &lt;em&gt;Pleasant Goat and Big Big Wolf&lt;/em&gt; series created by Creative Power Entertaining. The plot was simple, somewhat naive and sometimes downright silly. However, I really enjoyed every episode of it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-7890384627418428430?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/7890384627418428430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=7890384627418428430' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/7890384627418428430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/7890384627418428430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2009/04/pleasant-goat-and-big-big-wolf.html' title='Pleasant Goat and Big Big Wolf'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/Sd8S_M1YoJI/AAAAAAAAAwo/HAagrn19QB0/s72-c/283193_1123.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-9172226999111875750</id><published>2009-02-12T16:32:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T16:57:57.846+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Addicted to Pet Society</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SZPimhhs6gI/AAAAAAAAAwg/Fk-mgpSpX8M/s1600-h/pet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 156px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301830337807837698" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SZPimhhs6gI/AAAAAAAAAwg/Fk-mgpSpX8M/s200/pet.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I've been addicted to an online game called &lt;em&gt;Pet Society&lt;/em&gt; for the past two weeks. It's a simple game created by Playfish, a social games company that creates games for people to play together. Founded in October 2007 by casual and mobile games veterans, Playfish is combining the best elements of casual games, social networks, MMOGs and virtual worlds to create entirely new, more social ways of enjoying great games together. In the world of &lt;em&gt;Pet Society&lt;/em&gt; I can play games, decorate your house and even bring gifts for my friends when I visit them. I can enjoy many different games and activities in &lt;em&gt;Pet Society&lt;/em&gt;, playing football or catch a frisbee, jumping with skipping rope or going on treasure hunts for coins in the city. I can take part in contests against other pets at the Pet Stadium. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I get a chance for lucky draw when I visit the site through Facebook for virtual money. In &lt;em&gt;Pet Society&lt;/em&gt; I can spend the virtual money to customise my pet any way I want through colors, clothes and fun items like watches and jewellery. I can also decorate my pet's house with furniture and even show off the various trophies I have won in the mini-games. I have been spending over an hour on this game during the past two weeks. I don't know when this addition is going to end, so I can have more time left on more meaningful or constructive stuff. I guess once in a while, you got to spend your time on some meaningless things such as Pet Society. That's part of life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-9172226999111875750?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/9172226999111875750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=9172226999111875750' title='100 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/9172226999111875750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/9172226999111875750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2009/02/addicted-to-pet-society.html' title='Addicted to Pet Society'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SZPimhhs6gI/AAAAAAAAAwg/Fk-mgpSpX8M/s72-c/pet.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>100</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-8806648269242277291</id><published>2009-01-30T14:25:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T01:09:52.123+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Recession Survival Kit</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/Sd9zvw49k8I/AAAAAAAAAww/d-18PGWUcyU/s1600-h/recession.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 174px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323100548990079938" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/Sd9zvw49k8I/AAAAAAAAAww/d-18PGWUcyU/s200/recession.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;How to survive the current economic recession? Here are my tips:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;1. Cut down transportation costs: In Macau, you can always use the ferry terminal and the barrier gate as transit points and take the free casino shuttle buses to any destination. It's absolute free.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;2. Get all the perks from corporations: Large corporations often give out fantastic perks to lure your business. But you can always out-smart them. You can apply all the credit cards in Macau and get the department store coupons and gifts. As long as you don't miss your payment deadline, they won't be making any money off you. You can also use the casino cards to get free ferry tickets to Hong Kong. But remember, you don't have to gamble just because you have the card. Gamblers always loss.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;3. Shop at last minute: Supermarkets often mark down bread, dairy products and other fresh food stuff a couple days before the expiry date. This is an excellent opportunity to shop. My friend working at the health department told me that the actual date for the food to turn bad is actually weeks after the expiry date. So that means you can eat perfectly safe food at much lower price.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;4. Go green: When you're saving money, don't think as if you don't have any money to spend, think as if you're helping to save the environment. I'm not eating sirloin not because I'm poor, but because eating vegetables produces less carbon dioxide and is better for the environment. I'm not buying designer clothes not because my wallet is empty, but because I can help to reduce waste by wearing the old clothes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;5. Stay connected: Go to the library to read the newspapers and magazines, and community centers use the Internet. You can stay connected to the world without spending a penny.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Have a drink: Go to the a nearby casino for free coffee, tea and mineral water when you're thirsty. Don't buy the expensive bottled water at convenience stores.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Enjoy free entertainment: There are always free high quality performances at the Macau Art Festival, Macau Music festival, Macau Fringe Festival and other art performances and exhibitions sponsored by the government. You may have to queue up for a couple of hours to get the tickets. But it's free, and it's serious art. So it's definitely worth every minute of your time staying in the queue.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Public health care at it's best: Don't visit private physicians who may charge you a fortune. You can get free services at public clinics and hospital as long as you claim that you don't have any money to pay and your dying. This is the hidden secret: the doctors at public institutions won't take the risk of journalists waiting in front of their cars and ask them why some poor citizen of Macau were left dead in the cold. They have a budget set aside for people who won't pay. Now you know it. Use it well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Be faithful and practice safe sex. Go back to your wife and girlfriend. Prostitutes costs too much. Definitely a no-no during the recession. Always use a condom, as kids cost lots of money. They are the major source of poverty in underdeveloped countries. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;10. Live an affordable luxury lifestyle: You can't let your lifestyle and standard of living appear to have made any obvious changes. This will keep your cheered up and maintain a positive attitude for the rest of the recession. You can always wear a Zara instead of Armani when your income was down. Nobody would notice any difference from the outside. By the way, counterfeit Louis Vuitton is readily available just across the border. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-8806648269242277291?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/8806648269242277291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=8806648269242277291' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/8806648269242277291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/8806648269242277291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2009/01/recession-survival-kit.html' title='The Recession Survival Kit'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/Sd9zvw49k8I/AAAAAAAAAww/d-18PGWUcyU/s72-c/recession.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-475245148397192794</id><published>2009-01-29T14:23:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T15:00:59.550+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Say No to Kung Hei Fat Choi</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SYFO8TAOC7I/AAAAAAAAAwY/KZPF40D3tbU/s1600-h/2623670041_d4fe6347c1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296601434564725682" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SYFO8TAOC7I/AAAAAAAAAwY/KZPF40D3tbU/s200/2623670041_d4fe6347c1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It's the Chinese New Year - the Year of the Ox. Just like mainland China and Hong Kong, the most common greetings overheard during the holiday seasons in Macau is &lt;em&gt;Kung Hei Fat Choi&lt;/em&gt;. Although the English media often loosely translate this line into "congratulations and be prosperous" or "wish you a prosperous new year", the true and original meaning of this line is actually "wish you get rich". Maybe this is just another symbolization of how the ideas of capitalism and consumerism had taken over socialist ideals dominating mainland China or traditional values dating back Confucius years or thousands of years of Chinese history, but the over-emphasis on material goods and money made me feel uncomfortable every time I heard someone taking a narrow-minded approach and materialistic view on life. If the Chinese or China as a nation put so much emphasis on craving for material things, the people will never be satisfied by the desire for material comfort, greed and crossing substance, money-centered view gradually became the dominant voice in society, gradually values, ethics and concerns for the well-being of others had taken a minimalist value in our society. I just hope more Chinese people can realize that a common greeting such as &lt;em&gt;Kung Hei Fat Choi&lt;/em&gt; is not the best greetings available out there, and it expressed to a sickened over-emphasis over money, and within the next few years, I can hear much better greeting words than this selfish expression dominating in an acquisitive society. For me, even a simple "have a nice day" is better than &lt;em&gt;Kung Hei Fat Choi&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-475245148397192794?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/475245148397192794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=475245148397192794' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/475245148397192794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/475245148397192794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2009/01/say-no-to-kung-hei-fat-choi.html' title='Say No to Kung Hei Fat Choi'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SYFO8TAOC7I/AAAAAAAAAwY/KZPF40D3tbU/s72-c/2623670041_d4fe6347c1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-1476058183449233091</id><published>2009-01-23T13:56:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T14:08:37.704+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blue Pen and Black Pen</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SXledKnVvQI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IhVIjxd8kuM/s1600-h/blue-black-ink-pen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 102px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294366692109303042" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SXledKnVvQI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IhVIjxd8kuM/s200/blue-black-ink-pen.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Just had lunch with someone working at an office 5 minutes away from my office. Someone from my office said he had to refill dozens of forms this morning because his boss told him that all official data must be filled in with blue pen instead of black pen. Our guest from another office was totally shocked when he heard this. He told us that his boss has issued a memorandum to all staff telling them that all official documents must be written and signed by black pen, otherwise the data would be invalid. Nobody at the table could figure out any logical reason for putting so much emphasis on the color of pen people use at work, and how the seemingly absolute standard at each organizations was formed, and why some people at the top at the organization put such a strong emphasis on something considered totally irrelevant in the eyes of others. What a strange little world we all live in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-1476058183449233091?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/1476058183449233091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=1476058183449233091' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/1476058183449233091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/1476058183449233091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2009/01/blue-pen-and-black-pen.html' title='Blue Pen and Black Pen'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SXledKnVvQI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/IhVIjxd8kuM/s72-c/blue-black-ink-pen.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-5489229970708584126</id><published>2009-01-17T00:09:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-17T00:20:39.556+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Uncle</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SXCycfdEMOI/AAAAAAAAAv0/JOxYDBQ6G5Y/s1600-h/kmin-piano_keys.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291925764709822690" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SXCycfdEMOI/AAAAAAAAAv0/JOxYDBQ6G5Y/s200/kmin-piano_keys.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My uncle passed away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The relationship between my uncle and I has never been very close. My father left his hometown to attend university, and had never stayed in his birthplace for more than a week after that. In all these years, I met my uncle in less than ten occasions. Our families took a short trip together. We went to his home during the Chinese New Year holiday on a couple of occasions. And he traveled to Macau during his vacations on another couple of occasions. Besides that, I couldn't even remember when and where I had met him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most memorable image of my uncle is the family photo my father put on his desk. That photo was taken right before he left home for university. They were 18 and 15 respectively. When I was still in school, I took postcards or letters written by my father to the post office and mailed them to my uncle every two or three months. And every two or three months, I found postcard or letters written by my uncle in our mailbox and took them to my father. When letters were replaced by telephones, my father would pass the telephone to me and asked me to say happy New Year or happy birthday to my uncle. I had nothing more to say after those phrases. But he was always repeating the embarrassing thing I did as a baby boy. I didn't remember any of those and wasn't thrilled of being constantly reminded of that either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My father and my uncle look like identical twins. However, I really couldn't find anything else that suggested that they share the same genes. My father went to university, got white-collared jobs in major cities across China before settling down in Macau. My uncle never finished high school and spent the rest of his life in the countryside he was born. While my father is immensely patriotic and always in touch with current events and in support of the government and political leaders, my uncle acquired most of his happiness like the rest of the men in the village, through alcohol and tobacco.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes my father would tell him to drink less alcohol and smoke fewer cigarettes, and he would ask my father what’s the point of living on this earth if a person was not allowed to enjoy life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My father often tell us that Mao Zedong's new China allowed poor kids like him to attend university free of charge. Otherwise he would not be able to achieve his Chinese dream of a comfortable middle-class lifestyle. My uncle blamed the rule of providing only one free education quote to each family by the communist regime took away his opportunities and hope. Given his talent for music, maybe he could become an instructor at a music school or even a professional musician at an orchestra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took him to a Lang Lang concert in Macau a few years ago. He later told me that it was the best moment of his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My uncle was always telling my father to give me more music education. He was deeply disappointed when he heard that I still couldn't read the musical notes. He was much more passionate about music than his routine day job at a money-losing state factory in the village. Unlike my father, who doesn't even have a CD player at home, my uncle played at least five instruments, and was considered an expert in certain kinds of Chinese folk music. He composed a few songs. But they were never published.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My father believed in hard work and nothing else. My uncle is superstitious and dreams of winning the lottery every day. At the end, he did win the lottery, sort of. After he retired from the job he always hated, he made a small fortune by giving private music lessons to the rich kids in the village. The jackpot came when the abandoned family farm land was taken away by the government to make room for highways, somebody sued collectively and he was rewarded a lot of money in compensation. He built a four-storey house for himself as reward. Although it was in a remote village in rural China, the breathtaking scenery surrounding the place made me feel like he was living in paradise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Less than a year after he moved into his new home, the bottle and the nicotine had finally taken its toll. I visited him in the hospital during his final weeks. Once again, I couldn't find the right words to say. He told me how much fun he had with me when he visited my family in Macau - the food, the sightseeing, the concert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could hardly hold back my tears.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-5489229970708584126?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/5489229970708584126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=5489229970708584126' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/5489229970708584126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/5489229970708584126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-uncle.html' title='My Uncle'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SXCycfdEMOI/AAAAAAAAAv0/JOxYDBQ6G5Y/s72-c/kmin-piano_keys.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-8762435658402993325</id><published>2008-12-10T16:25:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T17:02:35.303+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Looking Back at The Year of 2008</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/ST99OJnxrCI/AAAAAAAAAvI/-mqJy9dKW0k/s1600-h/2008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 132px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278074970355903522" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/ST99OJnxrCI/AAAAAAAAAvI/-mqJy9dKW0k/s200/2008.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It's time to take a look at the year of 2008.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Money: 2008 is definitely not a good year for investors. I was lucky enough to exchange most of my security holdings and mutual funds for cash in the summer of 2008 and avoided huge potential losses. However, I still lose over 100,000 in my pension fund, as most of its holdings were European and North American financial institutions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Health: I'm generally in good health for the year of 2008. The teeth problems were all fixed after a few trips to the dentist. I was able to exercise more regularly. However, I'm still slightly overweight, mostly due to the failure to resist fine food and snacks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Career: Static. Considering the insecurities being felt at the tourism and service industries, I felt lucky to still hold this steady and reliable flow of income. The workload isn't very heavy and I got to spend more time with my family. I made at least a couple of enemies at the office and also at least half a dozen friends this year without trying to upset or please anyone on purpose. It's hard to please everyone. Right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Travel: The opportunity to attend the opening ceremony of Beijing Olympics 2008 was the experience of a lifetime. The summer flowers in Hokkaido, cruising in South China Sea, sunset in Xiamen, and numerous trips to Guangdong province and Hong Kong widened my perspectives on life. Through Couchsurfing.com, I was able to meet travelers from Italy, Turkey, the U.S. and the U.K. and experience cultures right here in Macau. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love: Despite occasional quarrels, the relationship has been quite good. Love and affection is as strong as it had always been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lifestyle: I bought wardrobe from French Connection U.K., Columbia, Marks &amp;amp; Spencer, Zara, Uniqlo, Muji, Armani Exchange and Adidas this year. I also bought a Ceska Zbrojovka 75 Standard and a Nintendo Wii as toys. Concerts of Aaron Kwok, Rene Liu, Emil Chau, Jay Chou and José Carreras brought me quite a few memorable evenings.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Summary: 2008 is OK. I'm looking forward to a better 2009. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-8762435658402993325?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/8762435658402993325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=8762435658402993325' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/8762435658402993325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/8762435658402993325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2008/12/looking-back-at-year-of-2008.html' title='Looking Back at The Year of 2008'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/ST99OJnxrCI/AAAAAAAAAvI/-mqJy9dKW0k/s72-c/2008.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-3974154635234622672</id><published>2008-12-09T10:08:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T10:12:07.074+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ugly Chinese Tourists</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/ST3TcarOvqI/AAAAAAAAAvA/kAuYhdP7qH0/s1600-h/%E5%9C%96%E5%83%8F001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277606823498530466" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/ST3TcarOvqI/AAAAAAAAAvA/kAuYhdP7qH0/s200/%E5%9C%96%E5%83%8F001.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I went to a Cantonese restaurant for a family gathering on Sunday morning. Four or five middle-aged tourists came in and sat on the table right next to us. They sat down, ordered expensive dishes such as abalone and shark’s fin and Boudreaux wine and enough Dim Sum to feed an army. They bragged about their adventure at casinos, night clubs and luxury shops with a voice louder than The Three Tenors. When they finally left the restaurant with a table full of food and no tips, others at the restaurant looked at each other and felt a sign of relief. When I first heard that the National Tourism Administration of China actually launched an educational program urging Chinese tourists to behave more civilized while traveling outside the border, I thought it's just a joke. After experiencing the astonishing behaviors by Chinese tourists, I'm in full support of this educational program. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-3974154635234622672?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/3974154635234622672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=3974154635234622672' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/3974154635234622672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/3974154635234622672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2008/12/ugly-chinese-tourists.html' title='The Ugly Chinese Tourists'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/ST3TcarOvqI/AAAAAAAAAvA/kAuYhdP7qH0/s72-c/%E5%9C%96%E5%83%8F001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-625032237548809982</id><published>2008-12-03T09:25:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T09:31:38.958+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Smile In The Sky</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/STXhFCyTptI/AAAAAAAAAu4/k1DN2r2KSRI/s1600-h/%E5%9C%96%E5%83%8F006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 120px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 160px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275370015297873618" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/STXhFCyTptI/AAAAAAAAAu4/k1DN2r2KSRI/s200/%E5%9C%96%E5%83%8F006.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After a satisfying dinner, I walked to the balcony and looked up the sky. Suddenly I saw something quite strange, as if the autumn sky was smiling at me. I wiped my glasses. Yes, what I just saw was true. Two stars and the half moon formed the shape of a smiley face right above my head, as if it's a happy face. It really cheered up the rest of my evening. Or maybe when you are happy mood, everything around you will also share the happiness with you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-625032237548809982?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/625032237548809982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=625032237548809982' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/625032237548809982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/625032237548809982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2008/12/smile-in-sky.html' title='A Smile In The Sky'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/STXhFCyTptI/AAAAAAAAAu4/k1DN2r2KSRI/s72-c/%E5%9C%96%E5%83%8F006.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-6219590588903427852</id><published>2008-12-02T09:28:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T10:03:53.186+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Birdcage Over My Head</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/STSRm88ybVI/AAAAAAAAAuw/wKz8XgMM5Yk/s1600-h/%E5%9C%96%E5%83%8F017.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275001161939840338" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/STSRm88ybVI/AAAAAAAAAuw/wKz8XgMM5Yk/s200/%E5%9C%96%E5%83%8F017.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I went into an ordinary noodle shop in the alley for a quick snack. When I finished the bowl of noodles and looked up the ceiling and saw lights surrounded with traditional Chinese birdcages. I've seen similar stuff at up-scale store such as &lt;em&gt;DelayNoMore&lt;/em&gt; selling for over $1,000 each. Then I asked the shop owner where did she bought these lights. She told me that she picked up these abandoned birdcages on the street and thought it's cute to use them to cover the lights. I told her that I felt great just by looking at the ceiling, and her creative mind had really cheered my day and her talent had successfully turned her noodle shop into the mecca of contemporary design. She was so pleased with my words, and gave me a $2 discount on my noodles.   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-6219590588903427852?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/6219590588903427852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=6219590588903427852' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/6219590588903427852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/6219590588903427852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2008/12/birdcage-over-my-head.html' title='Birdcage Over My Head'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/STSRm88ybVI/AAAAAAAAAuw/wKz8XgMM5Yk/s72-c/%E5%9C%96%E5%83%8F017.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-7048115236502887866</id><published>2008-11-18T11:51:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T11:54:25.613+08:00</updated><title type='text'>In Memory of Michael Crichton</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SSI79uY3YRI/AAAAAAAAAuo/JBWFzzcb0bc/s1600-h/crichton.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 163px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269840445587284242" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SSI79uY3YRI/AAAAAAAAAuo/JBWFzzcb0bc/s200/crichton.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Michael Crichton, one of my favorite authors, passed away unexpectedly on Tuesday, November 4, 2008.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first ever article I read was a short article called &lt;em&gt;Panic in the Sheets&lt;/em&gt;, originally published in the December 1991 issue of &lt;em&gt;Playboy Magazine&lt;/em&gt;. I was in the last year of getting my undergraduate degree, and homosexuality, dating and AIDS were the theme of the majority of social studies papers during that period. This particular article by Michael Crichton stood out from the rest of crowd by putting forward a clear challenge on the conventional wisdom on homosexuality, dating and AIDS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the following years, as I move from one set of office routine to another set of office routine in peruse of a larger paycheck, the untouchable wilderness and inspirational adventures in &lt;em&gt;The Andromeda Strain&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;Congo&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;Sphere&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;Jurassic Park&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;Rising Sun&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;The Lost World&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;Prey&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;State of Fear&lt;/em&gt; kept my sanity at night after day after day of senseless paper-shuffling during the day. With his MD received from Harvard Medical School, he challenged my conventional beliefs on a wide range of scientific and social issues, and led me to walk through another process of self-discovery with each of his books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His death means a lot more than the death of a popular writer. It's like I've lost an old friend. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-7048115236502887866?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/7048115236502887866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=7048115236502887866' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/7048115236502887866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/7048115236502887866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2008/11/in-memory-of-michael-crichton.html' title='In Memory of Michael Crichton'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SSI79uY3YRI/AAAAAAAAAuo/JBWFzzcb0bc/s72-c/crichton.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-1572715012754902218</id><published>2008-11-12T15:08:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T15:52:02.773+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Professional Audience in Macau?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SRqCeUKF46I/AAAAAAAAAuY/vPXN9cjY4-c/s1600-h/%E5%9C%96%E5%83%8F022.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267666171481940898" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SRqCeUKF46I/AAAAAAAAAuY/vPXN9cjY4-c/s200/%E5%9C%96%E5%83%8F022.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;In certain places in mainland China, when the local government organized official activities such as sports games, cultural activities, they would hire extras to sit in the stands so the show would look good on television and left a good impression to their superiors, although everbody knows that the activity they organized was a complete failure. Hence came the term "professional audience" by Chinese journalists. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Although I had never heard of the term "professional audience" being used in Macau, something quite strange was spotted at &lt;em&gt;Il Trittico&lt;/em&gt;, a collection of one-act operas, &lt;em&gt;Il Tabarro&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;Suor Angelica&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;Gianni Schicchi&lt;/em&gt;, by Giacomo Puccini. Five minutes before the start of the opera by the renowned Italian composer on October 31, only about one-third of the seats were occupied at the auditorium of the Macau Cultural Center. Then a group of teenagers rushed in right before the curtain was lifted. This group of casually dressed audience formed a strong contrast with the rest of the formally dressed audience, since most of them soon fall sleep on their seats 15 minutes into the performance. Some children or first-time opera goer left during the first intermission, however, nobody from this group of dedicated sleepers chose to leave. Finally, the show ended. While I was leaving the Macau Cultural Center, I overheard one of the teenager whispering to his companion, "Don't leave! We haven't collected our pay yet." Then I saw something very strange. Hundreds of teenagers who had been sleeping for three hours during the opera formed a straight line right outside the Macau Cultural Center. Five minutes later, a couple of people came, checked their identification card against a list, and handed each of them an unmarked envelope. "Let's go get some beer," was what I heard from a teenager who took his envelope. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;As a long-time opera lover who stood in line since 7 o'clock in the morning and paid hard-earned cash for my tickets, I really couldn't believe what I saw was really happening. How could anyone at the Macau Cultural Institute justify wasting taxpayers' money to hire the professional audience into the auditorium such that they could still proclaim that their unpopular opera production was a success? They money should be spent on promoting classical music or other valuable art forms to the general public, not on hiring sleeping extras to fill in empty seats at the Macau International Music Festival. Not with my tax money! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-1572715012754902218?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/1572715012754902218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=1572715012754902218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/1572715012754902218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/1572715012754902218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2008/11/professional-audience-in-macau.html' title='Professional Audience in Macau?'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SRqCeUKF46I/AAAAAAAAAuY/vPXN9cjY4-c/s72-c/%E5%9C%96%E5%83%8F022.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-1305533314703545992</id><published>2008-11-04T14:59:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T15:45:37.221+08:00</updated><title type='text'>CM 43953 and CM 49335</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SQ_7oTaqyOI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/mG76CruErHA/s1600-h/%E5%9C%96%E5%83%8F029.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264703159244867810" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SQ_7oTaqyOI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/mG76CruErHA/s200/%E5%9C%96%E5%83%8F029.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I read a couple articles on how the human brain turns words into images and then into meanings. Studies had shown that people tend to read words in the form of a picture. If we could get the shape of a word right, most people could still get the meaning of the word, for example, we could get the meaning of the word &lt;em&gt;"boat"&lt;/em&gt; even if it's incorrectly spelled as &lt;em&gt;"baot"&lt;/em&gt;, especially when the word was placed in a sentence related to fishing or vacation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;However, something quite bizarre happened to me last Sunday. I drove my motorcycle to &lt;em&gt;Mercado de San Domingos&lt;/em&gt; to get some fresh vegetables and fruit. When I finished my shopping, I put the key into my motorcycle and tried to jump start the engine and go home. They key was in, but I couldn't turn it. I thought was that maybe some kids had put something into the lock. So I bent over and tried to blow the stuff out of the lock, if there was any. I tried again and it still didn't work. There were a couple other people on their motorcycles waiting to park in my parking space. I could feel the pressure from their eyes as if they were saying, "get the hell out of here, you stupid!" So I put the key in again and almost broke it into halves when turning it with all the energy and force I could find. My faces turned red and I was so mad with this stupid key that I must have swear to the machine. Then I realized that a small crowd had formed around me. I put up my hands as if I was about to surrender, and told the other girl on her motorcycle, "maybe you have to find another parking space, I couldn't start the engine." Just when I was about to call the mechanics at the garage, she said calmly, "why don't you try the other motorcycle?" She pointed to the motorcycle right next to mine. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;All of a sudden I felt like being stuck by lighting. I drove a Honda ZX with the license plate CM 43953 on it. And for the 10-minute or so, I had been trying to switch o KYMCO motorcycle with the license plate CM 49335 on it. Oh, my God! That has to be one of the stupidest thing I had ever done. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-1305533314703545992?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/1305533314703545992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=1305533314703545992' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/1305533314703545992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/1305533314703545992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2008/11/cm-43953-and-cm-49335.html' title='CM 43953 and CM 49335'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SQ_7oTaqyOI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/mG76CruErHA/s72-c/%E5%9C%96%E5%83%8F029.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-4584978005571144413</id><published>2008-10-26T23:03:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-26T23:06:12.913+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chinese Folk Music Concert at the 22nd Macau International Music Festival</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SQSHDM6FFSI/AAAAAAAAAuI/S65Bzmvm8LA/s1600-h/2008-10-20+03-38-56_0042_R.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261478753749767458" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SQSHDM6FFSI/AAAAAAAAAuI/S65Bzmvm8LA/s200/2008-10-20+03-38-56_0042_R.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On Sunday, October 26, 2008, four indigenous choral and dance groups from mainland China – Tu Brothers and Miao Sisters from Yichang in Hubei Province, Yuxi Nie'er Bamboo Music Ensemble of Yuxi City Cultural Center, The Dong Group from the Dimen Dong Cultural Eco-museum and the Miao Group Dou-Die-Dou-a – literally turned Mount Fortress from an idle structure into a dynamic world cultural heritage. Although I was on an emotional high note watching the beautiful girls from the Yuxi Nie'er Bamboo Music Ensemble and their sexy skirts during the first half of the performance, the primitive yet powerful Dong and Miao music during the second part of the performance truly touched my heart as they were incontrovertible faithful to their history, traditions and spirituality. The large lusheng (bamboo pipes more than 3 meters in length) proved to be a dazzling presence on stage, even when the performer accidentally hit the lighting draws a big round of applause. This definitely fits my definition of a great evening out – great music, culture at a historical monument, and free admission tickets. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-4584978005571144413?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/4584978005571144413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=4584978005571144413' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/4584978005571144413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/4584978005571144413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2008/10/chinese-folk-music-concert-at-22nd.html' title='Chinese Folk Music Concert at the 22nd Macau International Music Festival'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SQSHDM6FFSI/AAAAAAAAAuI/S65Bzmvm8LA/s72-c/2008-10-20+03-38-56_0042_R.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-5318501381567771801</id><published>2008-10-21T21:26:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T21:39:08.498+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Watching Fish at Hotel Lisboa Macau</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SP3bcGMF5KI/AAAAAAAAAuA/_ImVFxR8UVQ/s1600-h/IMGP2617_R.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; FLOAT: right; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259601215582758050" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SP3bcGMF5KI/AAAAAAAAAuA/_ImVFxR8UVQ/s200/IMGP2617_R.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I was strolling aimlessly during lunch hour - unwilling to rush back to work after stuffing my stomach with a cheap and tasteless lunch box. Then I stopped and accidentally found a newly installed large fish tank at the basement of Hotel Lisboa Macau. I was totally attracted by the beauty of the fishes. I was also impressed by the fact that it's free. I don't have to travel all the way to Ocean Park in Hong Kong and pay a few hundred dollars to look at fish tanks of similar quality. Although I had a rather dreadful morning, the colorful fishes really cheered up the rest of my afternoon. Another great place to kill of my excess boredom. Isn't that wonderful?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-5318501381567771801?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/5318501381567771801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=5318501381567771801' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/5318501381567771801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/5318501381567771801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2008/10/watching-fish-at-hotel-lisboa-macau.html' title='Watching Fish at Hotel Lisboa Macau'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SP3bcGMF5KI/AAAAAAAAAuA/_ImVFxR8UVQ/s72-c/IMGP2617_R.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-1020784466375323659</id><published>2008-10-16T21:27:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T21:30:15.848+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hilary Hahn and the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SPdBqdLBhWI/AAAAAAAAAiw/QtDujKWtqXU/s1600-h/hahn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; FLOAT: right; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257743287619519842" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SPdBqdLBhWI/AAAAAAAAAiw/QtDujKWtqXU/s200/hahn.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Grammy Award-winning violinist Hilary Hahn and the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra presented a powerful performance of Piotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky's &lt;em&gt;Violin Concerto in D major, op. 35&lt;/em&gt; at the XXII Macau International Music Festival on Tuesday, 14 October 2008. The movement on Hahn's passage was inspirational and as it gradually intensifies, reached just right balance of both harmony and thematic contrast between the soloist and the orchestra. When the music concludes with the powerful finale with which it began, everybody in the audience had turned himself/herself into indubitable fan of Hilary Hahn and Bramwell Tovey, conductor of the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra. Four encores at the end of the performance after rounds and rounds of applauses turned an extraordinary night of classical music into a lifetime experience. I'm just glad I was part of it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-1020784466375323659?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/1020784466375323659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=1020784466375323659' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/1020784466375323659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/1020784466375323659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2008/10/hilary-hahn-and-vancouver-symphony.html' title='Hilary Hahn and the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SPdBqdLBhWI/AAAAAAAAAiw/QtDujKWtqXU/s72-c/hahn.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-914781023867471564</id><published>2008-10-13T09:45:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-13T10:09:06.157+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Premarital Agreement</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SPKpBnqhyZI/AAAAAAAAAio/79aXuGuQaeY/s1600-h/agreement.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; FLOAT: right; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256449560387111314" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SPKpBnqhyZI/AAAAAAAAAio/79aXuGuQaeY/s200/agreement.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A female friend showed me a draft copy of a premarital agreement provided by her British boyfriend she met a couple months ago. This is the first time I had ever came across such kind of legal documents, and I was totally amazed by the complicity of this particular premarital agreement. This documents is almost 40 pages in length, covering over 700 clauses. Some of the terms simply couldn't ask any sane and normal to understand, here is one of the examples, "Neither parties will make any claim during the marriage to the property in the separate absolute beneficial ownership of the other and both parties agree to release all rights and/or not pursue claims in respect of any rights which either may acquire by reason of their marriage over the property of the other whether acquired before or after the marriage." I have no idea what it means. This guy owns one small house in Wales that does not worth much money, a few lots of UK bank securities, and almost nothing in savings accounts. I did some quick arithmetic in my head and concluded that his total assets was less than 1 million patacas, or around 6,000 pounds. And they are paying over 10,000 patacas in legal fees to get this premarital agreement done by the lawyers. She told me that her totally assets were of substantially higher value than his boyfriend, so she took his initiative to sign a premarital agreement as a joke and she was more than happy to sign this premarital agreement, given that she's not paying any of the legal fees. This will be his fourth and her third marriage and they are both in their 30's. That makes me wonder why they were taking such as casual attitude towards relationships and marriages while taking their personal financial issues so seriously. If they take their relationship just as serious as they look at the financial matters, we won't be having so many kids raised in single-parent families. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-914781023867471564?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/914781023867471564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=914781023867471564' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/914781023867471564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/914781023867471564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2008/10/premarital-agreement.html' title='Premarital Agreement'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SPKpBnqhyZI/AAAAAAAAAio/79aXuGuQaeY/s72-c/agreement.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-8368005857947892550</id><published>2008-10-12T18:22:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-12T18:26:23.644+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hac Sac Beach: Three Weeks after Typhoon Hagupit Hit Macau</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SPHQyG5hBCI/AAAAAAAAAig/rQXoYLAoAxA/s1600-h/IMGP2460_R.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; FLOAT: right; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256211799381967906" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SPHQyG5hBCI/AAAAAAAAAig/rQXoYLAoAxA/s200/IMGP2460_R.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-8368005857947892550?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/8368005857947892550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=8368005857947892550' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/8368005857947892550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/8368005857947892550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2008/10/hac-sac-beach-three-weeks-after-typhoon.html' title='Hac Sac Beach: Three Weeks after Typhoon Hagupit Hit Macau'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SPHQyG5hBCI/AAAAAAAAAig/rQXoYLAoAxA/s72-c/IMGP2460_R.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-7847084571392137805</id><published>2008-10-08T09:11:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T09:24:51.740+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Regret in My Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SOwLU2oB2fI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/z5JxhJ6oYJo/s1600-h/%E5%9C%96%E5%83%8F006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254587318123223538" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SOwLU2oB2fI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/z5JxhJ6oYJo/s200/%E5%9C%96%E5%83%8F006.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Trash pins on the streets of Macau were usually full of broken umbrellas after typhoons. In the aftermath of a series of typhoons in September, it's quite common to see broken umbrellas all over the place. Sometimes I almost picked up some of the umbrellas that were not completely broken. But I didn't. Within a few days, all the broken umbrellas were cleaned up by the municipal contractors. I also threw out a few of my own umbrellas damaged in typhoon yesterday. This morning, there is an advertisement posted by the StarWorld Hotel and Casino in local newspapers. It said people would bring a broken umbrella to the hotel and exchange for a new umbrella with their logo on it. I was so saddened by the news that my blood pressure almost went over the ceiling. The only thing I can say now is: "Life is full of regrets."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-7847084571392137805?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/7847084571392137805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=7847084571392137805' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/7847084571392137805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/7847084571392137805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2008/10/another-regret-in-my-life.html' title='Another Regret in My Life'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SOwLU2oB2fI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/z5JxhJ6oYJo/s72-c/%E5%9C%96%E5%83%8F006.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-2105913273983827299</id><published>2008-10-06T10:09:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T10:20:30.138+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Protest on Chinese National Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SOl1zXTtwqI/AAAAAAAAAiI/E1qu-cKLYTM/s1600-h/macau+protest+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253859965594878626" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SOl1zXTtwqI/AAAAAAAAAiI/E1qu-cKLYTM/s200/macau+protest+2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I saw a small group of protesters marching on October 1, the Chinese National Day. They claim to be unemployed local workers and demanded the government to reduce the number of foreign workers in Macau. With only 40 protesters and very little coverage from the press, they won't get much out of this except for sun tan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20469221-2105913273983827299?l=dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/feeds/2105913273983827299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20469221&amp;postID=2105913273983827299' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/2105913273983827299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20469221/posts/default/2105913273983827299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dysfunctionalhead.blogspot.com/2008/10/protest-on-chinese-national-day.html' title='Protest on Chinese National Day'/><author><name>Dysfunctional Head</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10643696310984736377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='18420074513006282013'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SOl1zXTtwqI/AAAAAAAAAiI/E1qu-cKLYTM/s72-c/macau+protest+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20469221.post-5417162429290586831</id><published>2008-09-30T09:50:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-30T09:52:39.401+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Coconut Ice Cream at Gold Luck Delicious Food</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t48tNj_e8NI/SOGGETWmPDI/AAAAAAAAAh4/CufLYkY22no/s1600-h/%E5%9C%96%E5%83%8F001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251626048963361842" style="FLOAT: right; 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