關於愛，我是個小學生。

Should there be a Dr. Manhattan, he would command fairly nicely at least over the following three catagories: 1. corporal toughness, 2. manifold adeptness and erudition, and, most importantly, 3. explicit calling.

Would I like to be Dr. Manhattan, I would very much like to be the integrator complaxia inclusive of a handful of Kanezawa Hiroichi, Iho Kyotsuku in terms of the first, some small sips from Pete Sapadin, Ernie Els, Alexander Weissenberg, Emmanuel Kant, James Joyce, Ellen White, Lev Tolstoi, eight lions during Tang-song period to the second, and, lastly but the most magnificently, an understandable but deeply-hidden, then self-aroused, spontaneous willness to the mandatory, compulsory, and glorious mission for Him, which is the manifest of salvation worldwide in the near future, rather eminent.

And this emergency is likely one of the very reasons why I suddenly awake agape, stunned, and dumb-founded to realize that I had better hurry stopping spending the sprees of an easy-going rogue wandering aroung the park without making myself prepared to harvest I was and am to be assigned by Him. What a shame that would be to witness my own neglects as numerous potential Eden clients from my acquaintances and relatives, even from my buddies in the old times, burned ruthlessly in the roaring blaze of the sulpher lakes! Still, how much bereavement and remorse I would take with me to have my confession in front of Him! I would ask for it myself if I were to be as stagnant as a drowsy tramp as I am now. A sinner may be, let this no hinder.

Another incentive poking me in the ribs was the decisive resignation of Clark Kent as a jounalist in Earth Journal. Not his tiredness of being a nice yes-man without appearant resolution and charisma of leadership, which I regard as even a merit of his, nor his lack of wisdom to generate expediencies to the occasion, still not the stuttering styles he talks when encountering hot chicks and grilling supervisors that dissuaded me successfully from begging along street as a hobo, but a very simple and clear evidence that's been keeping striking and torturing both of us right from we were aware of the social interaction shaped by those 'humans' that are stubbornly estranged from Him from aged ancient times till now, namely, not until we are tough shall we deserve our rights to be 'audible' or 'legible' by others, where we would like to pass on the good news to them, through which they could retain what they're supposed to be granted by Him, though neither they nor we are worth this.

Toughness in general may not the best way to be His salesperson, yet it is the most efficient, at least what I'm for certain so far. Quick, efficient, and bountiful, a win-win bargain proper. So I said to myself, 'why not?'. How much time is there still left? For many, this may be their last chance, or even may be the world's last chance. An aimless life is a living death. Thanks to the tertiery trilogy April, 2010, ensuing June, 2008, Jan, 2009, I do believe this time ain't in vain and I am no longer deadened, nor I will feel lonely for being along with the bewildering Prada the high-heeler, whom He sent to me as a kind, sweet, loving, and timely morning call.