I don't like wars. If I can have my way, people would never fight.

Yet, I think US and Isreal's demand: disarmament of Hizbullah is completely unreasonable and unrealistic. How can peace be reached with an agreement that benefit one side in particular? In deed who in the right mind would give into such a condition? Didn't we learn from the world wars that peace can only be obtained through equalization of power? We need everyone with a balance of power, not Isreal with a better army then other countries in the middle east.

At the same time, I am not naive enough to believe an immediate cease fire suggested by the UN would solve all problems. Peace would resume for a few weeks, perhaps, but how long would it take until suicide bombing begins in Isreal again? A month? Two weeks? Especially considing the turn of event in the last few days, the radicals have a practically legitimate reason to suicide bomb Isreal to oblivian! It's human nature to desire revenge on acts they deem unjust.

In fact, the whole war really began with revenge didn't it? Lebanese hated Isrealites for occupying their home a few years ago. So they let the more radical fraction to mature and watch silently at those people suicide bomb Isreal. Isrealites hated Lebanese for the random killings on their streets. So when Lebanese decided to kidnapped a few Isreal soldiers and refused to return them, they just gave Isreal an awsome excuse to take revenge. And obviously, after so many kids got killed in yesterday's bombing...

A vicious cycle.

And really, I think they only way for this to ever end is if both party invovled agreed to disarm a bit and let a third party play referee. Of course, even that probably won't last, but at least we may see peace for a few nice years.

I have decided to start writing in topics (at least on some days), because that's what Henhen is doing.

I digress... today's topic is on why I keep coming back to type entries onto this page that I think no one reads.

As with many other subjects, there are many reasons to why I blog.

Here's the ugly though perfectly honest reason #1: I can't get myself to say everything I want to say in real life. There are barriers even between my best friends and me. I can't tell them everything. No, not everything. Many things, to some even most things, but not everything.

The internet does provide me with a sense, however false, of security, of confidentiality. I can type more freely on line because the web is such an impartial/detatched media. I always feel somewhat removed/detatched from real life when I type on the internet so I find I can also say more of what's in my mind, slight, but still more. Of course, I can't type everything I want to type on this page either becuase I fear those who knows me in real life may one day inadvertently find this page/or I unwittingly in a moment of mindlessness direct them to this page.

Now the question that may be on your mind is: So why the hell do you even bother publishing entries when you don't want your friends to read them?

The answer is simple: if I don't publish these entries then writing these entries would be just like talking to myself. As narcissistic as I may be, I think I have enough talk with myself after filing for 7 hours day. Even if no one reads these entries, at least I can have the illusion of actually expressing myself to another human being.

As for dangers of pouring my life into a blog... I have to admit, writing in a blog, and letting everyone reply at times it reminds me of Harry Potter book 2 where Ginny writes in the ominous diary that eats the ink of her words and spit out mysterious replies to her entries. Yet, I just can't see a way web predators people talk about can use what I type here to their advantage.

Let's see what people can tell by reading my entries: that I am a female who is periodically depressed about school, cynical about love though deep inside wish wholeheartedly that one day she can witness pure love untarnished by betrayals, unfaithfulness, lust, greed, lies and everything else that can tarnish love, directionless and confused about the future because she is not particularly good at anything, loves and hates her job and school at the same time, conservative and careful by nature about important decisions in life, but careless about things she deems useless/meaningless in the greater scheme of things, plague by guilt, though outwardly/vocally blames others for her mistake, secretly she attributes all mistakes to herself, very self-conscious.....

In other words, an extremely boring person.

Who some may say does not take enough chances in life, they are probably right. But living on the wild side would mean not being myself so can can I betray myself that way?

Am reading a short story book call Bloodletting and Miraclous Cures. It's a pretty good book, written by a Chinese guy call Vincent Lam. So far the only story I finished was How to Get into Medical School both parts.

My favorite part of the story so far is a scene Fitgerald imagined while waiting for Ming after breaking into her apartment a few hours after a successful intervew to get into UoT's Faculty of Medicine.

CHEN: So you're the loser who keeps hounding her. Get a life!
CHEN, who is secretly a kungfu master as well as a brilliant medical student, suddenly breaks the headlock, flips FITZGERALD on his back, and pins him to the ground with his legs while he calls the police using a tiny and very fashionable cellphone. With a quick flip of his knee, CHEN knocks FITZGERALD unconscious. FITZGERALD wakes up in prison, in a cell with three smiling, burly men.

Poor Fitzgerald, so innocent as to believe love can transcend cultures, distance, everything else, he makes me want to laugh, albeit rather cruelly...

Wait a minute, why the hack am I that cynical about love anyway? Where did by this skepticism come from if not from sour love - since I never experienced one nor did I witness one?

Sitting out door under the shade on a warm sunny day is fun.

That was what I discovered after a weekend at Alice Lake where other than some afternoon activities and eating all I did was sit. I am quite upset at the fact I have never realized that until now.

The weekend was rather enjoyable in my opinion. It totally beats five hours of non-stop filing. But then again, many things beats filing.

On friday night, after eating with K, J and V, walking around the mall with them, dealing with Vivien's abrupt tears, picking strawberries, I packed up for my trip. At around five thirty-ish I met A, J and A at church and joined the long week end rush hour to Alice Lake.

By the time we arrived it was past 8 so I didn't do much that night, just went down the the beach and looked at stars. I felt odd looking at stars. The knowledge that everything I saw are no more than projections of what they actually looked like millions of years ago always make me feel rather insignificant and small. It reminds me that I don't matter in the greater scheme of things.

On second day, I hiked up the Chief. I feel somewhat cheated now that I read about it on line. Those who have hiked the Chief before told us the hike up should only take 45min. Well what liars they were. I bet you they only said that to get the less athletic people (ie me) up the Chief with them. As you can see on that page I linked up it clearly said the hike should take 3 hours... that's double the time. On some other pages I have googled they even estimated 4 hours.

The view on top of the chief was truely spectacular, I have to admit, but then the trip up and down were truely hellish. Work and school had gotten me out of shape, and I know that for a fact because I almost fainted (everything turned so blissful black) less than 1/3 way up Grouse Grind because I tried to keep up with those more athletic than myself.

Well I learned my lesson and this time I took it slowly, stopping consistantly every once in a while.

To my pleasant delight, since others were also fooled into going up the cliff like me, this time I also have a whole bunch of out of shape people to rest with me. I did not need to fear falling/rolling down the mountain/losing my footing/tripping/fainting with no one around me to call 911 while crawling my way up to the top with my abundant imagination.

Obviously didn't do much after that. I was totally spent from the hike. Talked to the girls about guys in the tent on the first night and second night. The talks always amuse me. Estrogen overloaded environment is always... interesting. All that can result is an one hour + talk about guys guys guys guys guys guys guys..... etc. You get the idea.

On Sunday I the afternoon activity was swimming. I need a new swim suit. Something more... flattering? Perhaps. Definiately something newer. The elastic aged and consequently the whole suit seemed to be falling apart. Not to mention it was a sucky swim suit to begin with. The swimming in itself was good, I suppose. I felt odd swimming after not swimming for so long. The moment I got in the water my body moved on its own without my command. I felt nostalgic. Swimming was such a big part in my life for so long, getting in the water again made me remember what a big par of myself I have given up by quitting regardless of how gradual that process may be.

Nostagia aside though, the trip was still rather pleasant. I probably will go again next year, I think. Hope A will go again too. I think I feel more at peace when he is around.

For some odd reasons I got about 5 mosquito bites on my left leg but none on my right. 1 mosquito bites on each of my wrist and 4 on my back.