Just sharing a story I saw on the Web…

So this guy, Patrick Moberg, from New York, spots the girl of his dreams while waiting for a subway; love at first sight if you will. He’s 21 and a designer for Vimeo (a startup, think Youtube in high-res). Said guy quickly makes a sketch of her and posts it up on www.nygirlofmydreams.com. Can you guess the ending?..

Yes! Word gets around, even in crusty New York, and he finds the girl. She was Camille Hayton, an Australian interning in the city. An update on the site read:

FOUND HER!

A friend of hers came across the site, recognized the description, and sent me an email. We’ve been put in touch with one another and we’ll see what happens!

But there’re endings, and there’re endings. Real life ones. www.nygirlofmydreams.com was updated a few months later with a wistful farewell:

Here’s where it gets tricky… In our best interest, there will be no more updates to this website. Unlike all the romantic comedies and bad pop songs, you’ll have to make up your own ending for this.

Not good enough for the noseys around though, and the real ending was indeed dug up by an Australian magazine. They broke up after two months.

I think each person would take away something different from the tale. Is it the journey or the destination? :). In Camille’s words:

I wanted to give it a go, so I wouldn’t later wonder, ‘What if, what if?’

Popularity: 31% [?]

Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.”This may be the best four minutes and twenty-eight seconds of your week.”, said the entry at Boing Boing. Well it’s only two days into it, but I’ve a pretty good feeling it will be.It’s basically a goofy dance done by Matt, “a 31-year-old deadbeat from Connecticut” - done in countries all over the world, most times with sporting locals. There’s really something magical about the whole thing.

From Matt’s site:

A few months into his trip, a travel buddy gave Matt an idea. They were standing around taking pictures in Hanoi, and his friend said “Hey, why don’t you stand over there and do that dance. I’ll record it.” He was referring to a particular dance Matt does. It’s actually the only dance Matt does. He does it badly. Anyway, this turned out to be a very good idea.

A couple years later, someone found the video online and passed it to someone else, who passed it to someone else, and so on. Now Matt is quasi-famous as “That guy who dances on the internet. No, not that guy. The other one. No, not him either. I’ll send you the link. It’s funny.”

The response to the first video brought Matt to the attention of the nice people at Stride gum. They asked Matt if he’d be interested in taking another trip around the world to make a new video. Matt asked if they’d be paying for it. They said yes. Matt thought this sounded like another very good idea.

…

Things settled down again, and then in 2007 Matt went back to Stride with another idea. He realized his bad dancing wasn’t actually all that interesting, and that other people were much better at being bad at it. He showed them his inbox, which, as a result of his semi-famousness, was overflowing with emails from all over the planet. He told them he wanted to travel around the world one more time and invite the people who’d written him to come out and dance too.

After you watch this I’m betting your first thought will be “Damn ima quit my job now!”.

And if you wondering, no Malaysia isn’t one of the countries he visited :((. Singapore’s in there somewhere though.

Popularity: 52% [?]

Last week’s TIME had an article about the diary of Rutka Laskier, a Polish Jew whose diary had been found and kept by a friend for 60 years. It outlines four months in 1943, before Rutka and her family were sent to Auschwitz and killed.

If you’ve read the diary of Anne Frank, you’ll find haunting parallels between their lives: the innocence, the despair, the first glimpses of romance.

People were thirsty, and there was not a single drop of water around … Then … it started pouring. The rain didn’t stop. At 3 o’clock Kuczynsky arrived and the selection started. “1″ meant returning home, “1a” meant going to labor, which was even worse than deportation, “2″ meant going for further inspection, and “3″ meant deportation, in other words, death.

Then I saw what disaster meant. We reported for selection at 4 o’clock. Mom, Dad and my little brother were sent to group 1, and I was sent to 1a. I walked as if I were stunned … The weirdest thing was that we didn’t cry at all, AT ALL … Later on, I saw many more disasters. I can’t put it in words. Little children were lying on the wet grass, the storm raging above our heads. The policemen beat them ferociously and also shot them.

I sat there until 1 o’clock at night. Then I ran away. My heart pounded. I jumped out of a window from the first floor of a small building, and nothing happened to me. Only my lips were bitten so bad that they bled … When I was already on the street, I ran into someone “in uniform,” and I felt that I couldn’t take it anymore. My head was spinning. I was pretty sure he was going to beat me … but apparently he was drunk and didn’t see the “yellow star,” and he let me go.

Around me it was dark like in a closed cabin. From time to time flashes of lightning lightened the sky … and it thundered. The journey that normally takes me half an hour I did in 10 minutes. Everybody was at home except Grandma, whom Dad released and brought home the next day …

Oh, I forgot the most important thing. I saw how a soldier tore a baby, who was only a few months old, out of its mother’s hands and bashed his head against an electric pylon. The baby’s brain splashed on the wood. The mother went crazy.

I am writing this as if nothing has happened. As if I were in an army experienced in cruelty. But I’m young, I’m 14, and I haven’t seen much in my life, and I’m already so indifferent. Now I am terrified when I see “uniforms.” I’m turning into an animal waiting to die …

Now to everyday matters: Janek came by this afternoon. We had to sit in the kitchen … I told him that I had given away all my photographs. He got very upset. We were joking around; we spoke about “Nica and the gang.” While we were talking he suddenly blurted out he’d like it very much if he could kiss me. I said “maybe” and continued the conversation. He was a bit confused; he thought I was Tusia or Hala Zelinger. I would have allowed [myself] to be kissed only by the person I loved, and I feel indifferent towards him.

Then Dad sent me to deal with something. I had to leave. Janek accompanied me. While going downstairs I asked him, is kissing such a pleasant thing? And then I told him that I had already kissed before, what a taste it has (that’s completely true). He burst out laughing. (He has a nice laugh, I must admit.) He said he was curious too. Maybe, but I won’t let him kiss me. I’m afraid it would destroy something beautiful, pure … I’m also afraid that I’ll be very disappointed.

Ahmadinejad should get a copy of her diary.

Six million Jews died in the Holocaust, a testament to how much ideology can shape humans. How could there have been soldiers willing enough to carry out those orders? It might be a bit twisted, but I’m glad to see the human race has come far enough that the thousands who have died in Iraq have a much louder voice. I hope that there will never again come a day where we lose sight of our conscience or take lightly a human life.

Popularity: 58% [?]

Just sharing a story that I’d read some time back but got Dugg today:
24 years on - The man who saved millions of lives (Another version here, or the wiki entry)

The uplifting part about the story is how a military officer refused to follow protocol, because it would have resulted in a war costing millions of lives. The sad part is how it was precisely this which caused him to be shunned and considered an unreliable military officer, eventually having a nervous breakdown and living the rest of his life in poverty.

Popularity: 31% [?]