Tuesday, November 09, 2004


Got a stop-press news today, one I have been expecting for the past couple of days. Great.

(Mind you, it's an ironic expression.)

I don't know what to do, whether to confess or not to. What am I supposed to do?! OK, to streamline the decision-making task (a term so overused during the past couple of hours), the options fall under three sections: (1) tell the boss (2) don't tell the boss (3) help the involved parties make an informed decision. There are actually two decisions to make; one is involving a choice of (1) and (2), the other is whether to carry out (3) at all. So far I have been an anonymous observer in this stage. From now on I will probably lose that 'privilege'.

Tell the boss involves a lot of secret-opening, probable backstabbing, yet will shed light on what some people need to know on a fundamental basis. This may result in some sort of information leak and, in the worst cases, gossiping. I don't want to ruin anybody's reputation. Yet, I do think the boss is a suitable person to sort this out (sorry!)

Don't tell the boss involves keeping my position as an anonymous observer. I may have done the wrong thing by not helping others make an informed decision: the boss, the parties and myself. This possess a potential problem exponential/compounding function similar to that of a compounding interest formula. The only difference: put something upwards of 80% as the interest rate in order to work out the future value, then plug on chance as a determinant variable. Great.

Help the involved party makes an informed decision. What can I do... other than pull out my Pandora's box of memories? It would certainly stir things up. There is a chance of me being seen as a busybody, but I don't care much about that. The stuff that I've been through is hell, I've spent so many litres of tears on it (plus a bout of panic attacks and several months of bitter-cold hostility), and I honestly don't think it's worth that much. I don't want those, especially this particular person, to play a Russian roulette go through all those. To be frank without being condemnful, pretty much most (if not all) of the revolver chambers are loaded with bullets. The chances are not too good.

I hope they know what they are getting into, I really do. What would He want me to do? I must be attentive and give my ears to listen.


Patience, after all, is worth its weight in platinum, gold and precious stones.

Shine, let them wonder what you've got
Let them wish that they were not
On the outside lookin' on
Shine, let it shine before all men
Let them see it once and then
Let them glorify the Lord.

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