DUH!

The Non-Prodigal Son

2012-01-09T14:22:00.001+08:00

We talk so much about the prodigal son, we forget about, erh, the other one whom I shall call the non-prodigal son.

I really don't get why the prodigal son is the hero of the story. (Don't tell me the Father in the story is the hero, when the story is title "THE Prodigal Son". If the Father is really the hero, the story will be called "The FATHER of the Prodigal Son" won't it?)

Anyway, I was saying, the Prodigal Son is the one who's selfish and mercenary and who gets to enjoy the good life. I'm sorry if he had found himself a good investment banker for his millions instead of being so stupid about his money, he wouldn't have gone home to daddy but continued to live it up!

So is the real moral of the story, take the money and remember to get a good investment banker? Because it seems that the prodigal son is the only gainer in the whole story, the rest are losers.

I know the Father in the story has been approved as THE type of father to be - forgiving, not giving up, willing to welcome back a disgraced son etc etc. But sometimes I wonder why his focus is on the "lost" son and not appreciating and treasuring what he has at home already. But pining for his lost son, is he losing the son that is not lost? What is propinquity without appreciation? Does absence make the heart grow fonder, and presence contempt? Why is he son at home penalised for staying at home while the son that leaves and comes back disgraced, rewarded?

For once, think about the non-prodigal son. His brother leaves and as the only other son he puts aside his dreams of travelling the world for stay at home and help his father. Yes, everything the father has belongs to him; he has no reason to be jealous. But he's working hard to save his father from the hard work and the grief of losing a son, and before he knows it, he's lost himself, sacrificed his dreams, his personality, his time, his future for the sake of the father.

At that time of course, he's just doing what he thinks and knows he should do, without considerations of remuneration and rewards, without begrudging the sacrifice. But compared to the reception and honour given to the lost brother, it suddenly occurs to him what is the freaking point? He might as well give in to all those irresponsible urges he's always wanting to pursue. After all, what's in it for him to stay at home and do all the work? A promise of a something something that is really not quite worth it? What's the use of having the father's house without a father in it?

If you ask me, the story of the Prodigal son is more than about the prodigal son, it's about how the 3 people in the story need to relate with and to each and one another and together. It's about each person and both persons and every person in that picture. You don't merely relate to one person; in your relating to that one, you're relating to everybody else as well. And by relating to everybody else, it makes for easier relating with that one.

Damn relationships are complex.

Do you know that feeling?

2012-01-09T11:39:00.005+08:00

You know that feeling you get when your favourite person promises you a special present. You get a feeling of immeasurable delight. You can't stop thinking about it day and night, and because it's from a favourite person, you're positive that it's going to be something you like and enjoy, not only because it's something from your favouritest person in the whole wide world, but because the person knows you and what you like.

You wait and wait for it, but it never comes, and you daren't ask about it because you don't want to seem mercenary or hard-up, and you're very sure there's a very good reason why the present didn't come as promise. After all, it's your favourite person, and you are of course if not your favourite person's favourite person, at least one of your favourite person's favourite persons. So you swallow your disappointment at not having received anything, because a secret part of you can't wait to find out and be delighted with what's been promised, but you reassure yourself that it's really the thought that counts.

You know that feeling you get when you can't wait to talk to one of your favouritest person about all the things that you've saved up to say and tell her person - about what happened last week, and about the funny dream you just had about the person, to get advice about what's happening in the office, and to see what the person thinks about this movie you've just watched. But you wait and wait and the call never came. And you wait and wait some more and you wonder whether to go to sleep or to wait for the call. In that late hour, your imagination gets the better of you and you go wild with horrific imaginings of an open manhole or motorcycle accident, and you can't get to sleep because you're worried and disappointed, all at the same time. And you fall asleep praying, as long as the person is safe, it's no big deal about the missed appointment. Anyhow, you're very sure there's a very good reason why the call didn't come, and you're sure you're still one of your favourite's persons favourite persons.

You know that feeling you get when you're hoping to see your erh person online at some point in your day, just to say "Hi" and what's new and how's the family doing?.Unfortunately due to whatever reasons which you're unaware of, there's no appearance of the person on your IM. Before settling down for the night, you just log in again to see whether you can try to catch a few minutes if the person's online, before you go to sleep. Or it's ok, you can always delay your bedtime for a couple of minutes surely.

You know the feeling you get when a person who purports to be a friend but who brings along all the by-products of a erh non-friend, suspicion, doubt, distrust, disappointment? You know that nagging feeling that doesn't goaway for a long long time, of constant disappointment, hoping for a miracle ofa sign, of a hope, of some kind of semblance of life in this hopeless heap ofexpired due dates and casual engagements and meaningless talk, but expectingand preparing for, well, nothing to happen. What a long-winded, exhausting andtiring process, just for "nothing".

You know the feeling you get when you start wondering and entertaining doubts about a person whom you think, but you're not sure, has your interests at heart. You start wondering why all that energy andinvestment and frustration over this little nett negative exercise of makingfriends? It doesn't make any sense, mathematical or otherwise. If I'm notgetting anything out of this exercise, but instead reaping negativity whileinvesting into it, then it surely is a failed venture isn't it? Whilst a Returnon Investment is not necessary, but it will be nice to not get frustration anddisappointment out of it.

You know that feeling you get when you're trying to disengage yourself from over-high expectations from a person you happen to know. It isn't fair surely to impose your expectations on other people, it's even less fair to take out your accumulated disappointments which have turned into real anger and disgust on this person whom you happen to know. After all,who asked you to invent imaginary friends?

Do you know that feeling?

How about if you multiply that feeling by, 2, by 5, by 10? Do you know THAT feeling?

Now what?

2011-09-19T15:47:00.000+08:00

Alright I admit that I need to grow up.

I've given up my stubborn illusions about my current state, and admit that I act and behave like a big overgrown and spoilt baby.

Having said that, now what? How do I start growing up?

So Wrong, So Right

2011-09-19T14:07:00.004+08:00

There is something so wrong with me, or something so right with me. Either way, it means trouble for the world. Funnily, it also means the world is trouble.

If I'm as wrong as I think and know that I am, that means Me, unleashed and on a rampage, means trouble on so many levels for the rest of the world. Sticks and bones I may not wield, but words, contrary to popular belief can hurt so much. Unleashed, unfettered, and deranged, I use all the wrong wors to say the wrong things, at all the wrong moments to effect a destruction that has all the elements of an emotional and relational doomsday. I am have the equivalent mighty destructiveness of a Decepticon, but a lot less cool, and a lot more deadly. If I'm considered alright by normal standards and everyone out there is every bit as deranged as I am and even more, then it won't be along before we all blow each other up and leave mindless, soulless dust where we used to inhabit.

Either way, it seems we are all in a lot of trouble.

Damn these people

2011-09-19T13:42:00.000+08:00

Am I the only one who feels afraid?

Everywhere I turn I seem to see self-assured and confident people going about their way with such purpose and confidence. They look like they're going places and they look like they know exactly how to get to the place that they want to go, no sweat, easy peasy.

They look like they have a check-list and timeline all planned out, checking milestones on their to-do list, and nodding assuredly, murmuring to themselves, "1 down, only xx more to go."

They know all the right answers to all the questions, and all the right things to say and the right times to say it - with the right tone and the right words with just the correct amount of jest.

Their effort seems effortless; they take 5 minutes to learn what the rest of us can't even begin to wrap our brains around. They are socially adept, and loved by all, even by the toothy security guard who speaks Martian. (These people will somehow be able to speak an alien language that nobody even knew existed.)

They work hard and play hard, surviving on merely fresh air and water; they don't eat or drink unhealthy food, in fact, they cook and pack their own food.

They work, play, cook, personally change the diapers of their half-a-dozen model-looking offsprings, and manage to there's-never-enought-time-we-just-have-to-make-time to go to the gym.

I hate these insufferable people for making it look so easy something that is so damn hard.

In fact, these wonder people can save the world with a snap of their perfect fingers. Why drag me and my ineptness, inaptitude and my reluctance to do non-Zynga work into the picture?

Now leave me and my grumpy lazy ass alone.

"Are you ok?"

2011-09-16T13:07:00.000+08:00

"Are you ok?"

Am I ok?

My knee-jerk response is, I'm not sure whether I'm ok. What on earth does "feeling ok" feels like? If "feeling ok" is what I think it feels like to feel ok, then I'm not ok.

In fact, I've never been ok. Ok, maybe once in that rare perfect moment that almost never happens, when the moment is perfect, you feel perfect on the inside and on the outside, you feel like things could not be better and there's nothing absolutely else you want, or nowhere else you'd rather b, or no else else you'd rather be, and no other food/drink/weather/location you'd rather be doing/feeling/thinking/touching.

Who in hell ever feels ok? There's always something wrong, something lacking, something that's missing, that's lacking, a worry that's nagging you, a something you've forgotten, a niggling at the back of your mind, something you're kicking yourself for doing or saying and something you're kicking yourself for not doing and saying.

It's always never ok.

So I'm not ok.

Honourable Relationships

2011-09-16T13:06:00.002+08:00

Rare is a connection between two people filled with mutual respect without mutual suspicion.

More often than not, when 2 people get together to do something together, there's wariness and defensive on both sides to ensure the self-preservation of each one against the other.

Even when a certain trust has been established, most partnerships are fraught with the mine fields of having two distinct personalities, styles, values and beliefs, characters find a common understanding amidst an intimate working relationship. Indeed, rare is the relationship that most will consider ideal, that of complementary-ness, they are almost able to function as a single whole, so in tune are they to each other they function as an ambidextrous entity. And yet there is the inimitable and what I'll deem the perfect and divine partnership where two people, put together are able to multiple their own as well as each other's capabilities, skills and talents so the sum of the 2 parts is more than greater than the multiplication of the 2 parts even.

Now that is what I call divine.

Words

2011-09-15T18:15:00.000+08:00

If I'm too far away to touch you, maybe my words can....

Write, damn it, write!

2011-09-15T17:50:00.003+08:00

I'm not a writer. I never was, I'm not one now, and I never will be one.

So that settles it. I'm not a writer, I don't want to be a writer, and I'm not trying to be a writer, never mind how much I like reading; that's a totally separate thing altogether.

But I want to be able to write. Because I need to be able to write in order to give shape and depth to the spontaneous and uncatchable thoughts which are frequently the off-tangent offshoots of normal thoughts.

I need to be able to write to capture some of that, what I call for a lack of a better word, "seed thoughts"; thoughts that may be seeds that have the potential to blossom or grow, possibly into a fruitful apple tree which others will enjoy feeding off, or maybe even grow into a Venus fly trap or a foul-smelling plant, there's really no telling.

But like I said, there's really no telling, as to what may come off of those seed thoughts. Some of them may turn up to be the start of some stupendously brilliant or new project, idea or whatever, who's to say.

I need to be able to write because otherwise I have no way of further developing a body to that seed thought. My mind is so pathetically fleeting and uselessly flimsy and flippant that it can't hold possibilities or potentialities or eventualities, much less hold water. So I need to force, make, train, discipline myself to give form and shape to tentative initials.

I need to write, to face my fears. For the longest time I've always been reluctant to relinquish power, because knowledge is power, in my writings and I don't want people to know me better than I know myself. Funnily, it's this same self-absorption that is preventing me from seeing that people already know what I am and they actually know me more than I know myself. I've been so intent on hiding that I've become less than subtle in my attempts to hide you see. (That's how not to play hide-and-seek.) The irony is that my own actions are causing the very reactions and repercussions that is my greatest fear. Irony? Or maybe more stupidity. Anyway, it's become embarrassingly ludicrous. The only to restore balance is to upset the very apple cart that I'm trying to keep balanced. Don't ask me the rationale behind it at this point of time; I don't know what is the logic, but I just know I need to upset the ridiculous house of cards that I've managed to build. As to what happens next, well we'll see.

I write for the sake of trying to do something I know I cannot do, just because I'm allow to.

I write because I refuse to believe that i cannot write, even if I think I cannot, and others agree too.

I need to write to force myself to do something I don't like doing, because I have to start doing things I don't like doing.

I need to write. And I need to stat writing now. Uncensored, uninterrupted, unedited. Uncouth, unsavoury, unleashed.

I need to write. For the sake of staying living and staying alive. For the sake of not cutting myself off at the cusp of something possible, some future, something, anything.

I need to just do something with the only thing which I now know I must do, and can do.

I need to write, damn it.

Strange Bed-Fellow

2011-09-15T16:55:00.000+08:00

I've been living with someone new.

For the last few months, my new companion has been quietly keeping me company. Whether asleep or awake, I feel a hovering presence and know I'm never far from his gaze.

Even during my most private or vulnerable moments, when I thought nobody else was watching , the presence of my bedfellow lies strangely heavy on my senses.

In the evenings, in order to avoid his insiduous attentions, I potter around the room - picking things up, adjusting my make-up, picking my clothes for the next day, trying out a new hairstyle, reading a book, watching TV, and scurrying to bed while his back is still turned. Despite that, in the moments when my mind and body relaxes and eases itself, slipping through the veil between wakefulness and sleep, he's the last thing to leave me.

There's no avoiding him in the mornings, his presence even intrudes on my awakening. He coolly allows his presence to seep into your sub-consciouness and then as your body starts to respond to him, he consumes your body soul and spirit with an almost shockingly suddeness and intensity that can be almost terrifying.

Fear, is a strange and unpleasant bed fellow.

I've not been able to get rid of him for the last few months. Sometimes when I think I'm rid of him I wake up to find his increased presence in the morning or suddenly appearing at a peaceful moment, leaving me in tenterhooks and constant dread of a re-appearance.

I want to get rid of my bed-fellow.

Poked by Nostalgia in the eye

2011-09-14T16:17:00.002+08:00

Invoking memories is like eating dodgy food. The food in question looks and smells dodgy, and something at the back of your mind screams "Noooooo!" and the same something tells you you're going to be feeling so sorry and regretful and sick and stupid in a couple of hours time, but you eat it anyway.

And true enough, not too long later, you find yourself feeling sorry and regretful and sick and stupid, whilst hanging over the edge of a toilet bowl.

Dumb asses. Sorry. Well, I didn't mean you, I meant me.

Seriously, why do we put ourselves through this nostalgic merry-go-around?

To be fair to myself, I didn't drudge all all those best-to-be-forgotten memories myself; somebody else brought them up during the course of conversation, and as a polite person, I had to sit and listen and REMEMBER! What was I to do, how on earth do I stop the spontaneous popping-up of images in my mind as he persuaded them out of hiding by his talking?! What chance did I have?

And so they materialised in my mind and whispered in my ear and tickled my fancy and my imaginations. I was stoked by Perhaps and Maybe and What-If and got lost in a world that is not my own for a while.

At first they slide easily into your conscious mind as you savour the flavours of memories at their beginnings - of new experiences, people experimentations, exploratory conversations, furtive looks, fresh sounds, tentative touches. The initial thrill of remembered memories soon slide further into the unfolding of grotesque revelations. If you don't stop there, you slide further into the abyss of the churning up of all related and associated memories invoked to feed the nostalgia which has since transformed into a monster hungry to be fed emotions and memories that soon leaves one shrieking and moaning with the horror of unwanted memories. 

And before you know it, memories come in an upwash and you hurl memory after memory which were suppose to be deeply buried and forgotten. And you find yourself feeling sorry and regretful and sick and stupid.

And there my analogy runs out. 

Note to self

2011-08-01T10:55:00.000+08:00

I must make certain the following of any friend who I recommends for a job.

- That they don't tell lies/exaggerate about their previous work experience. Making a presentation in front of CEOs does NOT equal having trained CEOs. Or maybe their english not good, so they can't tell the difference. - That they don't tell more lies to invoke sympathy and even more lies to get out of doing things. And worse still, not keep up with the lies they tell and expose their lying asses. I laugh at them, these people who try to be clever but show themselves up. How dumb can one get.- That they don't resign over the phone. Or by email either. It reeks of unprofessionalism and shows them to be the boor they are.
Which then begs the question, what am I doing with friends like that?

The Journey

2011-07-22T11:40:00.003+08:00

"Focus on the journey, not the destination. Joy is found not in finishing an activity but doing it."

Well, whoever who said the above is an idiot and probably spent all his life not finishing anything. Whoever starts something to not finish it is one who is goal-less and without vision or objectives, not to mention having too much time on his hands to waste.

Me, I plan to reach my destination, as quickly as I can, because I do what I do for the sake of the betterment of humanity and the world we live in. I'm going to be pretty pissed off if all the time, energies and effort spent ends nowhere and the world is as screwed up as it was before I started. Then I say, jolly well don't even bother to start and just go live on an island somewhere.

The point is to focus on the end-point damn it. Because if it's a worthy and worthwhile enough a destination, then the pain and struggles of the journeying becomes worthwhile despite the seemingly endlessness of it, and the joy of reaching the destination becomes all the sweeter because of the journey.

For someone who doesn't know what goes into fighting towards a vision, I say go stuff yourself into the toilet. Mental fortitude is a pre-requisite as you shuttle between ecstacy, stress and "things I should have done differently" as you make decisions involving thousands of dollars. Emotional resilience is what helps you withstand feelings of self-doubt and inadequancy and periods of deep darkness before the light appears at the end of the tunnel.

It's a tough journey, and if not for the destination in mind, I'll through the "journey" and whoever said that stupid quote out of the window. Seriously.

What's wrong with everybody?

2011-07-07T13:42:00.003+08:00

I'm really angry at the world right now and I don't want to have anything to do with it. I need to be proven wrong, that the world is not the crap that it looks, smells and tastes like, and there is some good in some of the people in some of the world after all, and that mankind is not full of manipulators and smooth-talkers and liars and PR talkers who of course are deluded into thinking that they're something better than what they really are, and to add to it, make every effort to try to convince everybody around them to buy into that delusion as well.

What's wrong with everybody?

What's wrong with me? Some people see dead people, others see unicorns, I see through the humbug and the delusions that people choose to gift-wrap themselves with. And it's an uncomfortable feeling, not to mention frustrating, to see so much about people and to have to deal with the fact that, hey, everybody is a bit of a liar/cheat/manipulator/exaggerator, that everybody is to a certain extent insincere/selfish/self-centered/obsessed with money.

It made me sad, but now it's making me angry, angry that people have chose the easier way than to do the right thing.

A patient visited a doctor and told him, "Doctor, every thing I touch on my body hurts. My head hurts, my knee hurts, my chest hurts, my ear hurts, my nose hurts" to which the doctor replied, "You've broken your finger."

Maybe it's true. The world we know today is not more hateful and dishonest than it was yesterday; it was always this way. Long ago in Genesis, Cain killed his brother; it is still going on today. The only thing that's hurting itself, and to no good end is the broken finger. The broken finger will continue to hurt, its poking and probing having no effect and impact whatsoever.

I don't want to suffer; it's really not worth it, feeling so much crap and bewailing the current state of the world and society. The last time I felt like this, I managed to numb myself. This time it's harder and it's worse, what worked before won't work this time. I need to effectively sever the issue at its roots or it will come back to haunt me again. I can't stick my head in a hole and ignore the rest of the world, and I don't want to end up hating people; I need a real solution. I need to learn tolerance and patience and all that crap to stop me from judging everybody so quickly and easily. Even if they're really scumbags and dastards, I refuse to sink to their level.

The Incredible Hulk

2011-07-07T11:56:00.002+08:00

I feel like the Incredible Hulk nowadays, consumed by angst and frustrations and rage that is only contained by indulging in escapist activities like reading and watching TV and sleeping. If my mind is left alone with nothing to do, it goes on a mental rampage thrashing houses and banishing people to outer space.

I'm tired of people, tired of their egoistic and inflated sense of self importance thinking they're God's gift to mankind, tired of their senseless nice-sounding talk which is empty and devoid of meaning and sincerity, tired of their constant complaining and criticism in the guise of old-age wisdom and sense, tired of cheap talk and worthless promises. I'm just tired of it all and wish these people will all go away. The worse thing is, it's become a way in which the world works - over-promising and under-delivering, all in the name of "marketing yourself".

I'm no saint by no means, but I think I at least don't hide behind a wall of drivel. I say what I mean, and I mean what I say. I don't make things sound better than they really are, and I certainly fulfill what I say I'll do. Somehow, it seems to be the norm now to be a talker, never mind sincere or not, hiding behind a bunch of high rhetoric and highfalutin.

Bah!

R.E.S.P.E.C.T

2010-07-08T10:10:00.001+08:00

I've just realised how hard I find it working for and with, and even associating with people I don't respect.

And it sometimes happens that I may lose that respect in the middle of a conversation. A bit awkward that, but it does happen. And then I find myself pulling the brakes on myself right in the middle of that interaction, and I start mentally rolling my eyes and smiling amused sardonic smiles to myself.

I really must try harder to be less of a snob that way.

Scent versus Sweet Talk

2010-06-28T14:19:00.000+08:00

Perfume is like flattery.

If too much of it is used, it overpowers and even causes the person whom it was intended to impress, to feel more sickened than anything else.

If wielded skillfully and with sincerity, it makes the interaction between two people that little bit more enjoyable and interesting.

But even in the absence of both, relationships and friendships can still flourish and bloom and grow beautiful.

Whilst sweet to smell, I still really hate perfume - using and smelling it. To me, it is an unnecessary and unpleasant assailment of my senses. It is a distraction and a smoke screen and a deliberate attempt to try to make me like the person faster and better. I like to take my time, and try to avoid people who focusses too much on scent or sweet talk.

Snow Globe Religion

2010-05-12T13:52:00.000+08:00

When I was a little girl and those snow globe thingeys were all the rage for giving as presents to people we don't really know nor care very much about, the very young and very sacrilegious me used to think I was like the snowman/reindeer/santa in the snow globe and God, or at least the god who owns the snow globe within which I was residing, was the one shaking the snow globe to make things like snowflakes or jobs and weekends and stuff happen around me. So there was this world of 'gods', who all with their personal snow globes of people and things and stuff and what happens to the people in the different globes really depends on what their god/owner is like.

If I were a god with my very own personal snow globe for example, I'll probably be calling forth earthquakes and volcanic eruptions and exploding suns and moons and planets every five minutes just for the heck of it, and because I'm evil and whimsical and bored. Some more humane and kinder god-person might call down showers of rose petals upon their inhabitants and populate their snow globe with pixies and fairies. (Lewis Carroll would probably have lots of cats with big wide smiles in his snow globe.)

My faithful Snow Globe believers haven't sacrificed virgin young men and chocolate cake to me the whole of this week. I think I'm going to send some monster to eat them up later.

Critical Thinking

2010-04-19T01:09:00.000+08:00

In my pursuit of intellectual honesty, I must first make an attempt to think critically (or critically think?).

Gather complete information, and from more than one source.
Understand and define terms (make others define terms, too).
Question the methods by which results were derived.
Question the conclusion. Do the facts support it? Is there evidence of bias? Remember, correlation does not equal causation.
Uncover assumptions and biases.
Question the source of information.
Don’t expect all the answers.
Examine the big picture.
Look for multiple cause and effect.
Watch for thought stopping sensationalism.
Understand your own biases and values.

From Human Biology: Health, Homeostasis, and The Environment, 3rd Edition, by Daniel D. Chiras

Watch out world! I might just become smart!

Miss Un-Congeniality

2010-04-19T00:55:00.000+08:00

I've ceased trying to be congenial. I've decided it's not worth the effort, to agree with what I don't agree with, complaisant about things that don't make sense to me, obliging about doing things that don't add any value. I refuse to be Miss Congeniality for the sake of being popular and well-liked. Because it breeds a sense in people of they being able to get away with things they shouldn't be allowed to get away with, in my opinion, just because I am good-natured and easy-going.

So, no more going to places I don't want to go, doing things I don't want to do, saying "it's alright" when it's not alright. Just to be slightly more benevolent though, I'll give people three strikes before I threw them out.

Intellectual honesty

2010-04-18T01:04:00.000+08:00

I chanced upon this phrase "intelletual honesty" while reading, of all things, a movie review, and was immediately capttivated by a word whose meaning I have absolutely no inkling of. I like "intellectual" and "honesty" as concepts on their own, and I figured that with the two combined together into a separate and absolutely different thing altogether, although I had no idea what it was yet, I liked it already.

Intellectual honesty apparently is an attribute of a good argument. It requires one to be always, constantly and relentlessly questioning's one own assumptions. It requries totally honesty and admitting the weaknesses behind one's arguments, and answering questionings of our beliefs and assumptions without waffling and hiding behind a concoction of truisms and argument fallacies, as well as taking umbrage and offense at every little thing that doesn't agree with one's presuppositions.

Much as I like to believe in the damn thing, complete intellectual honesty can hardly exists since one can hardly entirely master one's own presuppositions. Even if that's possible, we can hardly even be aware of all our presuppositions; we usually overrate our estimations of ourselves don't we?

Still, I like the idea of being intellectually honest. I may not have the intellectual capacity to cogitate and reason and rationalise rigorously and relentlessly, but it is still something I want to work towards. Because I don't think intellectual honesty is an indulgence. It is necessary in one's search for honest truth.

Hair!

2010-04-17T18:38:00.000+08:00

Glee's Hairography episode had all its members, guys included, don long-hair wigs and wiggle their heads to a mash up of Hair, trying desperately to make their hair look sexier than a rival club's hair. There are some things that just cannot be borrowed, and that is somebody else's hair personality. Anyway, they failed miserably. Of course. Not to mention looking hideous in all that hair. Give me Puck's mohawk any day man!

Which brings me to the next point of, what's with this hair competition that's going on with the planet's women? Since when is long hair for a woman considered the be-all and end-all of all things hair? It irritates me to no end, hearing normally sane and sensible women over-react whine about "should I cut my hair", and going all envious and jealous over a friend's daring attempt to cut off her long hair and emerging with a darling chic bob, and then finally sighing and worrying that she won't look half as good with her hair short.

Hair grows! It's not the end of the world for goodness sakes! Why have today's women become all neurotic about hair, and finding their identity and solace in hiding their lack of personality in their so-shiny-and-so-long-it-can-be-used-to-strangle-people hair?

I am going to bring a big scissors with me everywhere I go so that the next time I hear anybody go, "Oh I wish I had the guts to cut my hair short like yours!", I'm going to grant them their wish one way or the other - gut them with the scissor or cut off all their way. I can't wait!

Two Weeks

2010-04-16T18:53:00.000+08:00

I can't face reality, which is that I have only 2 weeks left to be in full possession of my own time before I relinquish all that to a crazy corporate job. It's funny how I am suddenly feeling pressed for time, to do all the things I would never be able to do once I start work. And all of that I have to squeeze into a 2-week timeframe whilst I had one and a half years to do that previously. I'm just mad it seems.

So now I have a list of at least 10 things I was suppose to try to bake/grill/fry/cook/whatever and at least 5 movies I want to watch including Martin Scorsese's Shutter Island (I still can't pronounce his name!) and Youth in Revolt and Ice Kacang Puppy Love. I'm trying to see whether I can squeeze in 2 dishes and 2 movies a day, which will come up to 28 dishes and movies before work starts. Now where am I going to find 28 movies worth watching?

So many things to do...

2010-04-14T23:12:00.000+08:00

I've been blogging more recently because more things have been happening recently. By "things", I mean activities that I have to do, and I am not necessarily saying that events that are interesting or memorable or worthwhile or meaningful have taken place. The only reason that I am making that fine distinction is my personal observation that I seems to be able to blog more easily about things rather than interesting, memorable, worthwhile and meaningful events. Funny isn't it. Immortalising banal commonplace episodes instead of life-changing milestones. I really have my priorities mixed up don't I?

Anyway, back to blogging about the things I have to do now that I have found gainful employment and interestingly, they all involve grooming-ish stuff. I now have to do the stuff to project a front that is absolutely not me - the sophisticate and capable career woman mien. (Ha!) So I have to do something to my hair, remove all my eyebrows, and buy all the gunk that is required to look 'presentable' - namely, mascara, foundation, blemish coverage stuff, eyeliner, eye shadow, lipstick, blusher, I just need every damn thing they have on the market for the big debut. (Pffftt!). I also have to buy real shoes. (Damn them shoes! I'm going to miss going around shoeless!) I probably also need clothes, the starched and prim and proper kind. No more loose comfy cottony clothes that feels as if one's not wearing anything. Oh, I need to get a proper alarm clock to, to make sure I get up in time for work.

I am getting more depressed by the minute writing this. Now excuse me while I just go and bang my head on the wall a while.

Bleah

2010-04-14T00:21:00.000+08:00

New experiences are suppose to be something we anticipate eagerly for, look forward to, can't wait to happen, and other happy, excited, enthusiastic type feelings.

I know I'm suppose to be excited about a new job. And I normally would be. Even if it may be not what I really wanted in terms of the package and employment terms but still, a new job's a new job, and even with nothing to be excited about, money's always something to feel pleased about. But somehow, I'm not. Not thrilled, not pleased, no not even relieved. Just, not

What the heck's wrong with me? Well, I've got just about 2 weeks to find out. And after that, I'll probably be living the typical office rat lifestyle and once again wishing that I don't have to work like a slave.

Maybe it's such a permanent bug in me that I always want what I don't have?

Weirdo.

My Deserted Island

2010-04-09T16:20:00.001+08:00

There's a movie that's a little of what my secret dream is, which is to be marooned on a secret island. The only problem with 'Lost' is that, to make it more palatable for the mass audiences, it incorporates sex and murder and conspiracy theories and what not into it, just to confuse people into thinking they're having a good time watching people who are stuck on an island.

Of course, my deserted island story would have none of those things. All I need on a deserted island is myself, some really great books, internet connection perhaps, a wee thatched-roof open-aired cottage, and perhaps a boat or a plane at my beck and call. Because really, what else does one need really? (Oh, plus lots of cakes and chocolates.)

They say "no man is an island", and I used to believe that for a while too. But recently, I realize that every man is really alone, just that they surround themselves with work and people and things and activities to feel otherwise. Having someone to share your thoughts and your life and your bed and your long lonely nights with, that's really a bonus.

Oh I'm not being cynical about friendships and romances and relationships. All I'm saying is, if you have somebody, good for you. But my deserted island concept merely means that everybody has to be able to survive on a deserted island, on their own, even if nobody is willing you to accompany you to that deserted piece of land, a lonely spot of something, isolated and determined to make a point in the great big wide ocean of everybody else.

So what is your relationship with people? Can you not survive without them, or can you survive in spite of them, because you yourself are a self-contained and self-sustaining system of hopes and dreams, of integrity and values and standards, which you will stand by come hell or high water.

If you are that, congratulations. If you are able to maintain your standards, and still have friends, I congratulate you even further.

Casual Randomness

2010-03-14T01:19:00.000+08:00

After thinking it through, in a random, casual sort of way because that seems to be the only type of thinking my brain can manage nowadays, I decided that there is no one, absolutely nobody in my life right now that I think I can see and live with and be with 24x7.

Don't misunderstand me. I have lovely people in my life, whom I can't wait to meet up and shoot the breeze with, even in my current anti-social state of mind. Albeit a lesser number, which can be counted using one hand, but still, I'm no hostile hermit who shouts "go away go away" to the mere sign of approaching life. The only other problem is that, I don't think I can sustain a reciprocal level of interaction. It's not that I don't want to be constantly nice to people, but it's that, realistically speaking, it's just not sustainable.

I find myself behaving in a way that is sometimes quite different from the way I behave when I am alone and there is nobody around. (But then again, to be talking and gesturing enthusiastically to myself, I'm sure that' something nobdoy does.) But I do wonder whether the persona I'm projecting sometimes, is it really me, or am I hamming it up for the people around me. And if I am doing the latter, what is the reason I do that?

And at this point, my useless brain kind of hung and refuse to think anymore. I think I shall continue pursuing this casual, random line of thought another day.

The genius in all of us

2010-02-06T13:22:00.006+08:00

Creativity is elusive and tantalising. Damn its slipperiness!

Dare I go alooking for transcendence?

*Ozy, there's a mention of Tom Waits within Elizabeth Gilbert's speech. So you must watch this!

The gift of the human imagination

2010-02-06T13:10:00.003+08:00

When one wishes upon a star....

2010-02-06T12:56:00.001+08:00

There are wonderful people on this earth, who thinks so much more about other people than they do themselves.

One has only to hear the about the stories and lives of these incredibly extraordinary people to get out of that state of total ennui and absolute cynicism. The world has turned the right side up for me again. Hurray.

Letting go?

2010-01-07T15:04:00.000+08:00

Ok, now I am starting to feel silly about letting rip.

And it's not even half an hour since it happened.

Well, I guess it's no use crying over spilt milk. And I needed to get it off my chest. (Not that "getting it off the chest" is necessarily a legitimate and reasonable excuse for letting rip anyway.)

The worse thing of the aftermath is, to know what to do after letting rip at someone.

Letting go

2010-01-07T14:51:00.001+08:00

I let rip at, well, somebody today. Obviously I thought it was a good idea then, and I still think it's a good idea, post-rip, but maybe in about half an hour's time, after I've drank calming green tea and all that, I'll regret it. Can't tell at this point.

Conflict management. I think I'm very bad at that. Sometimes I'm able to "swallow" things and move on. Other times, like this one, I exploded after having been pissed off too many times, and every time I was pissed off, I told myself, "It's ok. It's no big deal. Don't pay any attention to it." So I really thought it was inconsequential until today's outburst showed that I was more affected than I thought.

Like what Gar says, I guess it's better to deal with things as they come along instead of accumulating everything into one giant outburst. But sometimes it seems so trivial a matter, or I don't even know it's a big deal to me until a straw comes along and break my back. Some people, I can afford to let go, but others I'm loath to find them absent. I've yet to find a good way to deal with, well, stuff. I think I really need to do something about this.

I really don't like getting angry. It's an awful waste of time.

It's been a pleasure...

2010-01-06T15:57:00.005+08:00

The new year's barely started and already it's started to surprise me.

Out of a clear blue sky, a friend suddenly asked me out. Even though we hadn't talked for at least 10 years, and even though we barely knew each other 10 years ago, I decided, even in my anti-social hibernation mode, to make the effort to reciprocate and have a meal with her. Sincerity does count for something to me, in this narcisstic world we live in. And to have an almost stranger make the appointment, I am, to risk sounding conceited, pleased with the effort.

Going off tangent, maybe I should elaborate on this "feeling pleased" theme.

I've come to a point where I don't need constant reassuring that I'm doing the right thing, but through common sense, greater objectivity (than before), and clear-sighted friends around me who will not hesitate to tell me I'm wrong, I am now able do the things I do and say the things I say without feeling apologetic about it.

And I'm unapologetic about saying that I feel "pleased" with my friend's effort, at the risk of sounding conceited, or at the risk of sounding like people have to do things to gain my favour. Because the people who know me well will know otherwise. And those who don't know me, well, it's hardly worth the while to explain myself to you isn't it?

Feeling pleasure when it comes to friendships is an almost un-heard of emotion. People feel love for their friends, they feel sentimental about them during special occasions. When things turn sour, they feel disappointment, or if things go really badly, they feel betrayed which may or may not then turn to hatred.

But yet have I heard anybody express pleasure at seeing their friends, or even at the mere thought of them. And because I've cut down my socialising a fair bit, just because I haven't been working the whole of last year and am still looking for a job, and attempting to cut down my activities to either the inexpensive or those that are free, the people I have left around me have been bringing me even greater delight. Even more so because they've shown respect for a situation which I sometimes find discouraging, understanding my change of habits and lifestyles as I try to cut back on the unnecessary, and even finding ways and means to accomodate. All the things that they've done in putting me above themselves during this period and even bending over backwards sometimes, I find pleasure in them.

And the even greater thing about it is, I am so comfortable with these people that I no longer feel bad about having caused them inconvenience and sacrifice the past year. I know them to be unmecenary and uncalculative, and not forever counting who owes who favours after each deed. And I'm not ungrateful; I will let them enjoy the pleasure of being connected to me, and they do find pleasure, I hope, in my friendship. (This whole sentence sounds so wrong but who cares!)

It's so easy to find pleasure in friends like this. And for strangers who make such an effort to connect, this shows the signs of a possibly pleasurable friendship, and so I will respond with all the sincerity and friendliness I possess.

And my friends, it's really been a pleasure. And it's going to continue being a pleasure I'm sure.

Happy New Year

2010-01-03T00:26:00.000+08:00

Every year around this time, I post about my resolutions for the new year, meandering on and on about the things I'm determined to achieve in the new year, the better person I'm going to become etc etc etc. Well, there is going to be none of those this year. For what is the point of new resolutions for the old life. So, this year, I'm going to get myself a new life instead. That makes more sense doesn't it?

Happy new year everybody!

Happy 2010!

Sherlock Holmes

2009-12-30T01:27:00.000+08:00

What went through my mind while watching Sherlock Holmes...

- Why was Sherlock Holmes running through the streets? Oh it's to get to the place where they were performing the rituals cum murder faster. So how come he can run faster than a horse?
- London sure looks depressing.
- Boy those chips look great! Now I feel like Fish and Chips!
- Nice bathtub
- Is this all really necessary? (I found myself thinking this quite a couple of times during the movie.)

Why is the sky blue?

2009-12-30T01:02:00.006+08:00

My friend asked her 8-year-old son why was the sky blue. She actually meant the question to be a research project that he could embark on, but little did she expect his reply.

"The sky is blue, the same colour as the sea, because the sea and sky were originally the same [firmament], and God drew a line across the middle and the bottom half was the sea and the top half was the sky. So they're both blue."

My friend and I stared at the boy in amazement. I thought it was a very reasonable and brilliant explanation of the Bible, and something I could never have come up with.

The brilliance of kids nowadays. I wish I was born in the 00s instead of the 70s. Damn!

Genesis 25:19 - 32:32

2009-12-29T16:24:00.004+08:00

The Life of Jacob

Jacob was born determined. He was determined to wring all that he can out of life and what life has to offer him. He was determined to be a success. Even as early as a foetus in his mother's womb, he was already fighting with his twin brother for more of what his mother has - her life, her blood, her attention. Even entering the world, he fought hard to be first, and even when he couldn't be first-born, he came out into the light of the world fast and grasping, holding on to his brother's heel, determined to waste no time in catching up with his brother. Even his name Jacob meant "Supplanter", which means he is to substitute, and to displace; he means to be his brother.

Unlike his lively dashing brother, who was loved by his Father for being a man of the outdoors and for being a skilled hunter to boot, Jacob was a plain and quiet man who spent most of his time in the tents with his mother. He was the favourite with Rebekah, but what use was his Mother's favour since it's his brother his Father favours.

Esau was arrogant and proud, of his skill, his daring, his power. He was a selfish barbarous brute, a man of animal passions. He willingly gave up his birthright as first-born son to exchange it for a bowl of stew, so gluttonous and gross was he. In his uncontrolled lust and need for instant gratifications, he took for himself women from amongst the people he was living, from outside his family, bringing anguish and grief to his parent by his wild living.

Issac grew old and he knew his days were nearly over, he could barely even see now. It was time to transfer the blessings and the call of God upon his life to his children. I never understood why the need for duplicity, why the need for deceit, but Rebekah tricked her husband into improperly blessing Jacob with the the first-born's blessing.

Was it because of what God said to her when Esau and Jacob were still babies in her womb, but struggling together, that the younger would serve the older that she took it upon herself to "help" God in His plans? Perhaps some of Jacob's cunning and slyness were a result of his relationship with his mother who taught him how to manipulate, connive, to trick? Oh did she serve him a wrong turn by teaching him all those things that would have defined him then and forever as a conniver, a trickster? A mother wishes only the best for her children, but sometimes, mothers do more wrong than good for their children when they teach their child to conspire and to scheme to overcome their natural weaknesses, to constantly be in conflict with the brother. A mild and gentle man child may turn schemer if he is constantly thinking that this is the only way he can win, to get his father's attention, to get what he deserves.

Poor poor Jacob. The insecurities, and the anguish that he must have gone through. And the idea that he was misunderstood and unwanted by man and by God, and that the only way he can even get what he deserved was through trickery and contrivance. All that he ever got out of life so far, he got by contrivance - the birth-right stolen by his brother during a weak and vulnerable moment, the blessing of the first-born that he stole from his father by pretending to be something and someone else. When oh when will he get something he could call his own? When oh when will it be his time?

Driven from his home by his brother's murderous anger, just when he thought he was at the lowest point of his life, he met the God of his Father and Grandfather for the very first time; he realised that he's not alone, but a omnipotent and loving Being stood watching over him, and the blessing of the Almighty was far greater and superior to even the blessing of the First-Born. Now, not only he was blessed but his numerous descendants were to be blessed as well, and not only will they be blessed, but through them, the families of the whole earth will be blessed. No longer a blessing for a single person, but one who extended to the offspring, the offspring's offspring, and all who were connected and related to Jacob's descendants. At that point, Jacob knew that he didn't have to try and to scheme so hard anymore; he had someone who would be with him, who would take care of the clothes and food he needed. He could now afford to be generous, and loosen his tight-fistedness, he swore to give back to God 10% of all that God gives him. He also set up a altar to commerate his first encounter with God; before this point in his life, there was nothing worth remembering or commemorating. This was the beginning of the rest of his life.

Things started to look up after that. It could be because he has left the shelteredness of his home. Or it could even be that dream he had when it seemed that he met God. (Dreams always become less substantial with the passing of time.) He'd met the girl of his dreams and was working hard every day to win her love. The end of the seven long years drew near, it was almost time for him to be finally married to his lady love, Rachel. God has been kind to him, giving him clothes to wear and food to eat, even though his Uncle was a miserly slave-driver who grudged him his salaries. But it was still good, if he hadn't left his home, he wouldn't have met Rachel, so something good did come out of something bad.

Just when he thought the One Up There was in on His throne and everything was working out, he woke up the next morning of his wedding and found, not Rachel, but her sister lying there. Rage filled him all the more as he felt his impotence and powerlessness in the situation, he realised that the world was punishing honesty and integrity. It was his hard work that helped his Uncle to grow rich with possessions, cattle and sheep, but instead of being grateful, Laban was seeking to exploit him even further, so there seemed no point in doing the right thing?

Interestingly, it was God who showed Jacob how to counteract his Uncle's deviousness. He showed Jacob in a dream how to breed streaked, speckled and spotted cattle in a supernatural way. Because Laban played dirty on his promise to Jacob and separated the cattle so that they would not produce streaked, speckled and spotted kid which he promised Jacob he could have. So maybe there's a way after all to counteract the devious machinations of what most people thinks as shrewdness and smartness but which I define as pure dishonesty. So maybe there's something about being friends with One who can teach you to do good things and still win!

So now, with Laban beat and ousted, and with many streaked, speckled and spotted cattle and sheep, Jacob set off with everything and everybody, to go home. Many years ago, when first encountering God, he vowed to God saying if He would allow him to go home in peace, despite his brother's murderous hate for him, he would acknowledge his father's God to be his God. (I find that a thoroughly sensible thing to do; find God for yourself, and not think of Him based on somebody else's experiences or rhetoric. You'll find yourself silly and embarrassed if you profess either one of the two opinions, just based on hearsay, but without personal intimate knowledge and research I say.)

But Jacob was afraid, very afraid. Despite God showing him His armies alongside him, he was too unfamiliar with the supernatural and the divine to believe what his eyes show in the alternative world of God and angels, he just knew he was very afraid of his brother. The fear and awe he felt for his brother through those growing-up years had not abated at all. He was still the scrawny weak Jacob of old, growing up with Esau and envying his brother's strength and power, and his older-brother status. Nothing had changed, never mind what success he had achieve. With the birth-right and the first-born blessing and all that wealth, the wives he married, the sons he had spawned, he still remained as what he was all along - the Jacob who was always playing second-fiddle to Esau. There did not seem to be any use in having tried so hard; having came this far, and having came back full circle, back where he was from.

He sent all his servants and possessions ahead of him, putting distance between himself and his Nemesis, to appease him, to buy time, to perhaps gain his favour so he would not kill Jacob. It had finally come down to this, the showdown between the 2 brothers.

In a desperate bid for help, he stayed alone to meet with God. A Man came and wrestled with him. Jacob fought, like how he fought in Rachel's womb, like how he fought to be strong and manly just like his brother, lie how he fought for his father's affection, like how he fought for Rachel, like how he fought to not let the people and the world around him cheat him of what he thought he deserved and belonged to him; Jacob fought with all that he had; he would not let go until the Man blessed him, with what he wanted and desired, so that he would no longer have to fight. So that he would no longer be a supplanter, a schemer, a trickster, a swindler; he never liked being those, but he had to be those, for the sake of his future. But what future was there awaiting him if Esau did not let him live? There was no scheming his way out of this now.

Finally, the Man said, and I will para-phrase what I think He said.
"You have contended and have power with God and men and have prevailed. Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel. You are no longer a Supplanter, but one who has Contended with God. You have met your Nemesis and overcomed him. Your Nemesis is not your brother; it is you. You have fought with yourself, and you have won and overcomed your old nature. You are no longer the person you were before, the one you hated and despised in spite and despite of yourself. You wanted to be blessed, but not through trickery and contrivance, but you had no choice, or so you thought. But know now that you are blessed, because I said so. There's no need to fight anymore."

And from that day onwards, Jacob limped when he walked. His life was now in the Man's hands, there was no need for him to run or fight anymore. The Man was in charge now. And he will make sure Jacob no longer has to run or fight for his survival.

The Challenge

2009-12-29T11:29:00.001+08:00

The latest is, Ozymandias and I have undertaken to read the Bible together. So if I tend to be slightly Biblical in my postings, you all know why.

Ozymandias seems to have taken a slightly more humourous view of the Bible. As for me, I'm hoping to develop a deeper understanding of the people within its pages as well as of the Being who inspired the most popular Book of all time.

Kings

2009-12-07T18:52:00.004+08:00

Kings is an American television drama series loosely based on the Biblical story of King David, but set in a kingdom that culturally and technologically resembles the modern day United States. It is also one of the better drama series I have seen for a long time; it doesn't insult its viewers with a formulaic story-line crammed with as much drama, intrigue and politics as the story can hold. But the tightly-paced writing unveils the people behind who make the intrigue and politics and espoinage.

I also find interesting the show's protrayal of the King Saul equivalent - the monarch King Silas and the world's most powerful man, a man highly noble yet at the same time deeply flawed. He would not hesitate to leave the woman and the son he loves for the sake of power; yet at the same time, he would not pardon the murderous crimes of the doctor whom is helping to keep his sick son alive. He says, "I am Justice, impartial, not blind."

The protaganist of the show Captain David Shepherd, who is suppose to be the King David who slays the fearsome Goliath, is played to perfection as one who is so humanly weak and yet so kingly in his bearing and principles. Threatened with the death of his brother into betraying the King, he chooses at high cost to himself to serve the one whom he has sworn to serve.

Greatness, is after all not only for those destined to be great. To be great, one simply just has to put the truly grand, truly remarkable things above one's wretchedness, coarseness and commonness. That is what distinguishes those who are great from the rest of the plebeians of the human race.

Love at First Sight

2009-12-07T16:22:00.011+08:00

"Love at first Sight" by Wislawa Szymborska
Translated from Polish by Walter Whipple

Both are convinced
that a sudden urge of emotion bound them together.
Beautiful is such a certainty,
but uncertainty is more beautiful.

Because they didn't know each other earlier, they suppose that
nothing was happening between them.
What of the streets, stairways and corridors
where they could have passed each other long ago?

I'd like to ask them
whether they remember-- perhaps in a revolving door
ever being face to face?
an "excuse me" in a crowd
or a voice "wrong number" in the receiver.

But I know their answer:
no, they don't remember.
They'd be greatly astonished
to learn that for a long time
chance had been playing with them.

Not yet wholly ready
to transform into fate for them
it approached them, then backed off,
stood in their way
and, suppressing a giggle,
jumped to the side. There were signs, signals:
but what of it if they were illegible.

Perhaps three years ago,
or last Tuesday
did a certain leaflet fly
from shoulder to shoulder?
There was something lost and picked up.
Who knows but what it was a ball
in the bushes of childhood.

There were doorknobs and bells
on which earlier
touch piled on touch.
Bags beside each other in the luggage room.
Perhaps they had the same dream on a certain night,
suddenly erased after waking.

Every beginning
is but a continuation,
and the book of events
is never more than half open.

The opening verse was quoted in a movie that was showing on the telly on Sunday night. I've watched the movie two or three times before, but I still can't help but watch it to the end; it's such an amazing movie.

Jimmy is such a talented story-teller and writing, and this movie adaptation of his illustrated book was brilliantly done I thought. I don't usually like movie adaptations of the my favourite books but this was amazingly well-done. Even though they didn't follow the book version wholesale for the sake of cinematic story-telling effect, the additions made were in the spirit of the original story, and so well-weaved I don't think the fans of the book, like me, took any offense at the creative license taken. The music especially set the mood for this whimsical, almost fantastical story-line, drawing me so deep into the movie I returned to reality with a most severe jerk after when the credits started to roll.

I don't believe in the concept of Chance, and I didn't take very much to the movie's idea that Chance makes puppets of us, and that one is subjected to the whims and fancies of a very capricious Chance. But I do believe that there are people out there we are destined to meet, and we haven't met them because the time isn't right yet. And sometimes, these people are just so near, and yet they are so far away because we haven't recognised their value and their worth and their importance in our lives yet.

There's also the possibility of course, that we've met these people, and assuming there is really such a thing as Capricious Chance, that Chance didn't allow us to recognise our Destiny.

Saying No

2009-12-04T12:49:00.000+08:00

I just turned down a job offer. And although I have extremely valid reasons for rejecting the offer, I still can't help feeling a little broken up about it.

Somehow, when one has been in a state of, for lack of a better word, feeling left wanting, there's this tendency to just grab or jump onto the next thing that comes along, even if it's a low-paying job with low returns on one's hard work.

I've seen that happen with other people when it comes other things like partners as well; going out with the most unsuitable and inappropriate type of people, and those on the sidelines thinking, "What is she/he thinking? Can't he/she tell that the person they're dating is a nasty piece of work/gold-digger/whore/asshole/hooligan/fill-in-the-blanks-yourself?". It's not really their fault that they do these things you know; they really can't see it.

So how does one not fall into doing that? It's so easy to lose sight of things when circumstances, situations or just life starts to overwhelm one.

I don't know.

"I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do."

Isn't it sad that this is the fate of many, doing the things that they wouldn't have wanted to do if only they had a little more clarity, a little more objectivity.

Just a little bit more to breaking free.

Breakwaters

2009-11-27T01:32:00.007+08:00

Breakwaters are structures constructed on coasts to reduce the intensity of wave action on the coastlines.

A breakwater is not a beautiful sculpture or structure; it is merely a functional one, ignoble stone structures with no aesthetics to command anybody's approval, merely fulfilling its function of guarding the coast against being eaten away by the sea. The breakwater - stalwart, isolated -the solitary line of defence against the wind and the waves and all the destructive power of the unleashed elements, sea pitting its strength against the land.

What solitary things breakwaters are. Alone, and doing the thankless unglamorous task of standing guard over land, protecting it from the sea. People speak admiringly of the great and the beautiful structures - the unparalleled Great Wall of China, the dazzling tombs of Egypt, the quixotic Tower of Pisa. But nobody speaks of the functional, plain, clumsy breakwater. Because it is neither great or seductive or exciting; it just does what it's built to do.

Not too long ago, I had a dream, and the image of a breakwater arose in my mind, uninvoked. I have run out of words to describe it, but to express it baldly, the breakwater, though small, was holding at bay the terribly destructive power of waves that threaten to engulf the land hiding behind the stone structure; the winds were strong and aroused the waves to great fury, but the breakwater stood its ground, undaunted and indomitable. A puny man-made structure made out stone, against the great wild elements. It seemed like an unfair fight, but when the wind and the waves had done its worst and subsided in its fury, the diminutive structure still stood, unyielded.

I was astonished at the hardiness of this crumbling structure, but I realised that although on the verge of collapse, after having received such a battering, the stones almost disintegrating, but I knew that the strength of the structure lay not only in its tip which lay above the sand, but in its deep-rooted foundations in the sand. And no matter how punishing the assaults and buffeting, the little structure can withstand them all.

I woke up with a question ringing in my ears, "Is that breakwater, you?". I was afraid, perhaps "afraid" is not a good word, but I felt a sense of wonderment in my dread. Being like a breakwater, requires a strength, a toughness, a fastness; the thought almost terrifies me as I think about the super human kind of capacity it would take for a person to be able to stand resolute, faithful and unwavering in the destructiveness of the life and the world that we know. The breakwater is the sole protection of the weak and the unable and the fragile. Maybe I am what I am, and I am strong-willed and physically strong, and there is a reason why I need to be strong, because the weak needs a breakwater to fend off the worse of the elements.

Maybe. I am so afraid of this "maybe".

Cringe

2009-11-23T15:06:00.004+08:00

No thanks to Dumb Ass, I was reading through some of my old posts, way back from 2005 (such a looong time ago!), and it all seemed like such a different day and age, and even coming from an entirely different person!

Some of them were really cringe-worthy in terms of what I wrote about, and how I wrote, and how naive and ridiculous I was, just 5 years ago. But the surprising thing is, so much had change since then. Life has changed dramatically since then - the change is only obvious when one compares life in 2005 and the same in 2009, and I almost didn't recognise myself. It was such a different type of life, the lifestyle I was living, the types of friends I had, the things that I was concerned with. Not that it's good now and bad before, or vice versa, it's just, well, different. And the person I am now, and the person I was before, well, I'm just different. Not better, not worse, just different.

I'm not necessarily better now than before, neither am I worse off. It's just phases of life one has to go through I think, and in each slice of life, the focus, the values, the lifestyles all reflect different parts of that life cycle. I can't look back at myself in my 20s and bemoan my guilelessness, my naivety, my happy-go-luckiness then, because it's not a bad thing, it's just what I was at that point in my life.

I used to have this habit I think, when looking back on the year during Christmas time, to talk about the should-have-beens and the could-have-beens and do the oh-how-i-wished-i-had-done-it-differently-stupid-me. It was that desire to have every minute of my life perfect I think, to have the perfect job, perfect friends, perfect boyfriend and that refusal to have anything inperfect or ugly or embarrassing mar my life. But I suppose now, I am starting to accept that life is made up of the good, the bad, and ugly, and I have to learn to take it as it comes, and not take inperfect things as a personal affront. Life is just, well, life. It comes as it comes. There's a randomness about the universe in the sense that it doesn't care whether you're rich or intelligent or powerful or famous; when things happen, it just happens, regardless or who the heck you are.

Life is not fair. Who do we think that we are that life has to be fair, just for us? Why do we deserve money, a nice life, wonderful friends more than the other person does? It's a sense of the world owing us a living and expecting the world to revolve around us that we expect people to be nicer to us than they are to the other person.

Having said all that, it doesn't mean I don't believe in God but believe that the universe is random and what happens to our life depends on pur chance; it also doesn't mean that we should be fatalists in our thinking. I was merely making the point that life, and the people around us, doesn't owe us a damn thing, so stop expecting the world to pander to your wants and needs and stop complaining that "life is not fair". (I am talking to myself really.)

So if I haven't accomplished anything worth mentioning this year, well, at least I am starting to understand where I stand in the bigger scheme of things, at least I hope so. The road is further than I thought it was, and I'm further from my goal than I originally thought I was, having previously assumed and presumed that I had journeyed further than I had these past few years. And although the thought of having to traverse such a great distance does scare me, I guess I'll just work at taking it a step at a time, and start relying on pure hard word rather than thinking that I deserve to be given a break and have it easier.

All this is extremely uninteresting to read and all very difficult to understand. But I guess this is what I am at the moment - uninteresting and slightly confused, trying to figure things out. And even if it is uninteresting and boring, I still don't mind posting; this post might just prove to be quite pivotal and important when I look back at what I was before in 2019.

Where do I go from here?

2009-11-19T20:21:00.002+08:00

A song from Pocahontas

The earth is cold, the fields are bare
The branches fold against the wind that's everywhere
The birds move on so they survive
When snow so deep the bears all sleep to keep themselves alive
They do what they must for now and trust in their plan
If I trust in mine somehow I might find who I am

But where do I go from here
So many voices ringing in my ears
Which is the voice that I was meant to hear
How will I know
Where do I go.. from here?

So how do I know whether I'm a branch, a bird or a bear?
The branch recognises that it must submit to the harshness of the winter in order to survive and to bloom again the next spring, and it ceases in its strugglings and quietly dies.
The birds know to fly south, away from the cold and the snow and the winter, to a warmer place where they flourish and grow, until it's time to return.
The bears know their destiny is to stay on, no matter how deep the cold, because if it tries to go anywhere else it will die.
What if, the bird chooses to stay, and the bear to go, because they didn't know any better?

My world has changed and so have I
I've learnt to choose and even learn to say goodbye
The path ahead so hard to see
It winds and bends but where it ends depends on only me
In my heart I don't feel part of so much I've know
Now it seems it's time to start a new life on my own

But where do I go from here?
So many voices ringing in my ear
Which is the voice that I was meant to hear
How will I know
Where do I go... from here?

The Case of A Mistaken Identity

2009-11-19T15:08:00.006+08:00

The post title sounds quite promising doesn't it? Sounding almost like a Agatha Christie who-dun-it classic. If only this post was as entertaining....

Incidentally, a mistaken identity, is the one thing that Bomba the Jungle Boy, a caterpillar, the Ugly Duckling, and Giselle of the Enchanted movie have in common.

Bomba, the Jungle Boy thought he was an animal and belonged in the jungle.
The Ugly Ducking thought it was a duck.
The caterpillar thought it was destined its whole life to crawl on its many legs.
Giselle thought she only had the chops to be a two-dimensional fairy-tale princess.

But we all know how all the stories of the different personalities end don't we?

Bomba was really human in his make-up and needed to go back to where he really belonged.
The Ugly Ducking was no duck; it was a beautiful swan.
The caterpillar had to submit to its personal metarmorphosis, to a butterfly.
And Giselle was more than a beautiful princess; she had brains and soul and heart and the creativity to be a fashion designer.

There's always the possibility of a beautiful ending to every story of a mistaken identity. In the midst of all that confusion and loss that comes with finding out one is not really who one thinks, and to all that trouble of having to re-define and re-discover oneself, and the pain and struggle of change and growth, I guess we can always take comfort that the end result of the transformation would always come as a wonderful and worthwhile surprise.

Anti-Technology

2009-11-18T19:10:00.009+08:00

When job hunting, I realised that more and more companies are looking for marketing people to specifically market to and on the latest things in technology, namely things like Facebook, viral marketing stuff on Youtube and what not, using Twitter and the gadzillion other online new-fangled things that I am not aware of.

To me, the Anti-Technology person, this will be a job from hell. I hate Facebook, and the only reason why I use it to to be a voyeur of other people's Facebook lives, and to un-tag photos of me that are uploaded on Facebook. (I really don't understand why people must tag me to their photos, but it would be rude to ask them to stop assuming that I want my photos seen by the entire world, so I must forever hold my peace regarding this.)

I refuse to tweet, even though some have almost gone down on their knees to persuade me to start tweeting. But I refused to have my thoughts confined to 14 letters because I know that is what will happen to my brain once I start tweeting; I will start thinking in terms of "tweets" instead of sentences, like I've started to expree myself and my life in terms of MSN display names!

Is it only me or is this level of technology really quite scary, the way they're so drastically changing how people live their lives, how people spell and think, and how people are losing the ability to think in long sentences?

Apparently I disapprove of gambling...

2009-11-18T14:10:00.011+08:00

I do not approve of gambling. But I can't remember why exactly.

There was quite a furor when the Singapore government announced that they were going to build 2 casinos. There were petitions against it, forums bustling with indignant and vehement cries of protest, religious groups moaning "what is the world coming to?".

Personally I didn't like the idea of building the casinos either. But it was more from a dislike of encouraging greater tourism in a place which I already considered over-crowded than a disapproval of the apparently inmoral sport, which many have claimed gambling is.

But now, with the 2 casinos quite nearly finished, and having personally gotten to know people who enjoy playing poker, I think I need to re-think what exactly it is about gambling that I have against really; because I can't for the life of me remember.

Some say gambling, or the sport that is highly dependant on luck, is an immoral game. But from what I've heard, gambling actually depends more on skills than on luck. In fact, gambling is a sport based on probability and odds and evens, and what not, and is actually Maths in action. So it is a highly intellectual game. And if we're really against games of chance so to speak, perhaps we ought to get rid of things like horse-racing, lucky draws, and the lottery as well; or are these supposedly less 'evil' than gambling at casinos. And if they are, can somebody tell me why?

"Gambling is addictive and destroys families." Well I think many things destroy families - extra-marital affairs, the laws that allow for divorce, spousal violence etc. So why is gambling the 'poster boy' for family break-ups then? Gambling is addictive, undeniably, but so are computer games, over-eating and gluttony, smoking, and potato chips. Anything that is addictive has the potential to destroy a person's body and mind, as well as the potential to affect the people related and connected to the addicted person. Over-eating and smoking causes heart problems and may result in death. And I would think a dead person would affect a person as much as, if not more than a person who's alive but addicted to gambling wouldn't it?

So why on earth is gambling "wrong" or "bad'? If we are against gambling, surely we should be against anything that is addictive, that are games of chance, but why do we attack gambling but allow the rest to be named as lesser evils? It's a cop-out isn't it, this society that we live in. We condemn some things but encourage other things, merely by the basis of what suits our agenda best. That, I would think, is a fair greater evil than gambling can ever be, because it seeps into one's heart and soul and mind, and convinces that one is right, just because one says so.

Well since the society we live in is so hypocritical about such things, I don't see any point in standing up to a system that is amoral and value-neutral anyway. In fact, why doesn't everybody just do what they want, that seems to be the way things are nowadays. Wars are start for fun and without basis, innocent people are bombed and terrorized by some person's arbitrary morals and values that says "killing is divine". We live in a world that has no absolutes, where people can do anything they want to do, just as long as they can spin a PR-sounding spiel to fool the fools of the world. But this, is a whole new topic altogether that I shall address in a separate post.

Nostalgia

2009-11-13T00:16:00.000+08:00

There are some people I really miss.

What is the reason...

2009-11-07T12:28:00.000+08:00

...why you wake up in the morning every day?

I feel nothing but disgust...

2009-10-30T20:51:00.002+08:00

In this world, it seems, the one who make the most noise, wins.

What a truly contemptible state of affairs.

Now please excuse me as I walk away and not come back.

Resentment

2009-10-17T12:37:00.002+08:00

Resentment brews, like a cup of coffee.

From a percolator, a drop and then two and three and four, into a crucible collecting all that dark bitterness.

Drinking it, the inky darkness pervades your entirety, from the soles of your feet into the heart and permeating the nervous system and the brain.

Why is it my problem?

2009-10-10T14:57:00.001+08:00

Why am I suppose to be responsible for other people's screwed-up lives when they can't even be bothered with trying?

Do I really have to?

2009-10-09T16:39:00.005+08:00

A) Wash the dishes
I've a good mind to just buy paper plates and eat off them and thrash them straight away. But then again, I'll be accused of being un-green, which is what, blue? Or how about wating off leaves, or out of the cooking pot? Or do I really have to cook? I think I'll just hire someone to cook and wash the dishes after that. Hey, I think that's called "going to a restaurant". But I don't like having to dress up and go to a restaurant! And anyway, I won't be able to since I don't want to do D and E.

B) Exercise
And the answer is Yes. Because my clothes don't fit. But hey, if I don't wear clothes, then I don't have to do D and E, which is a plus point.

C) Blog
Now if they only install one of those voice recognition software in these things. When will technology be able to find solutions for my sloppy living habits? What's the use of finding cures to nose bleed when I still have to use my fingers to type! Get on with it already!

And no, this is not "blogging", this is "complaining"!

D) Do the laundry
Laundry goes really well with "This is the song that never ends. It just goes on and on my friend..." because THERE ARE ALWAYS CLOTHES WAITING TO BE WASHED! What's the deal with it anyway. I really recommend going all natural so you save water and detergent and energy and the ozone layer's going to love you. Now if they only build apartment blocks that are more than a arm's length apart....

E) Iron the clothes
I'm still waiting for creased fashion to be "in". When when WHEN?!

F) Be nice
I'll be nice now, but I'm not going to be nice after I die. So be warned. "Being nice" is too tiring. So that's why I'm sticking with people with whom I'm allowed to be rude with and to call names like "dumb ass" and "ooi"; as well as other rude things like "go away" and "don't be stupid". It just makes life easier and I don't have to worry about "hurting people's feelings" and "offending their (paper-thing) sensitivities". Life's too complicated as it is, with A, B, C, D and E. So go away already!

G) Stay away from......
Sweets, cheesecake, ice-cream, fried potatoes, salty buttered popcorn, tiramisu, brownies, mad men, stupid men, too-young men, jealous girlfriends, cookies, lasagne, pizza, cream soups, curry, pancakes, full cream milk, burgers, thick juicy steaks, ozymandias' scrabble game, tortillas etc etc etc.

YES.

Otherwise, it's like loosing the equivalent number of calories as a needle in a haystack.

And that's also why I find it hard to be F; no sugar.

Perfection

2009-09-11T12:19:00.002+08:00

I am quite near perfection. I can

- Make a gobsmacking tiramisu, and all without using any of those measuring thingeys
- Mastered the Homer "Woohoo!"
- Concoct the perfect cup of instant coffee
- Maintain zen-like calm when it comes to dumb asses, so I don't wish upon them horrible things like falling into drains and having their underpants stolen anymore.

Now it only leaves me to learn to write with both hands, ride the bicycle without injuring other people and to do a handstand.

Fractured Fairy Snippets

2009-09-08T01:27:00.002+08:00

In today's world, Snow White needs to accepted by Prince Charming before she can be added to his list of "friends".

Reminder

2009-09-08T01:02:00.002+08:00

I've just had a gem of an idea for a fractured fairy tale, and I'd better jot it down before I forget!

Snow White, Facebook, all that glitters is not gold, dumb ass, syndicates.

I hope this reminder works.

Words

2009-09-07T23:36:00.030+08:00

There has been much debate and proffered opinions about Singapore's single ruling party, the People's Action Party or PAP for short, ever since goodness knows when. I am not even going to attempt to talk about politics here; it's beyond my teeny brain. As with all controversial topics however, people (people as in people, don't ask me who!) always like to write books about these topics because there will always be suckers out there who will pay a good buck to get involved with such things. "Men in White - The Untold Story of Singapore's Ruling Political Party" is, as it succinctly explains in its title, a supposed no-holds-barred report on PAP's history as a ruling party, which means all the political stuff people in politics do to stay in politics. I used the word "supposed" because I haven't read the book, and even if I have read the book, I would have no idea how true it was and how credible its credible sources are, but let's not quibble about the book now because that is not the point of it.

Whatever the book is, there were excerpts of the book in the national newspapers, probably because the authors of the book were senior journalists with the paper. (I know, it gets confusing, all this relational links; book written by members of an organisation which is connected to the people it is writing about. It's all undeniably suspect, but I digress. I must stop this bad habit of digressing.) In this one extract, it recounted an incident whereby the then PM Lee Kuan Yew delivered a public speech in 1988 about his successor Goh Chok Tong, saying that he thought Mr Goh tried too much to please everybody. Lee also described Goh as being too "wooden" before a mass audience and unable to express passionately and vehemently his feelings and opinions before the people as he would as successfully in a face-to-face encounter. There was of course a brouhaha about the openly-made statement, both in 1988 as well as upon retrospect, when Lee admitted that his was a gambit to provoke Goh to action to better himself, to test his successor's reaction to such a situation, as well as it being the responsible and needful thing to do as a Prime Minister for his people. I also say, it helped improved Goh's popularity ratings tremendously, in the composed and contrite manner he responded to the barb, and as well as ensuring the populace be more than extra forgiving towards Goh's apparently lacklustre and modest demeanour in comparison to his outstanding and brilliant predecessor. It was the ultimate coup de theatre me thinks! Lee, in closing that coup de theatre, in a later speech commended him for being "his own man", speaking up and not being a floor mat, and urged everybody to give him their support. He also mentioned that he told Goh, 'Look, you may not be a natural speaker but you've got to start learning, because you can't be a leader when you can't communicate.' And that my dear friends, is what I really wanted to talk about.

I am undeniably a rebel at heart, but I am finding myself more and more the un-rebel the older I get. Don't get me wrong, the desire to just screw the world and get on with it is still there. I still hate phonies and snobs; I can spot plastic smiles and cloying compliments a mile off; I refuse to do any form of grovelling or sucking-up and inflating of any human's egos, great boss or not; I hate people who inflate their words to form nice-sounding speeches which don't say or mean anything at all. Yet, I am starting to think that perhaps I am approaching everything the wrong way round.

Phonies and fakies who make nice, sweet speeches are disgusting, no doubt about that, but why am I allowing them to make me someone who refuses to say "nice, sweet speeches"? This refusal to be associated with such people, I seem to be carrying it a bit too far. Now, because I'm such a stubborn idiot, I'm misrepresenting myself and all that is good inside me, and not allowing people to get near me because my mouth stinks, figuratively of course, and I'm saying everything that is opposite to "nice" and "sweet" just because. And thinking they can by telepathy or some super power, understand how very sincere and generous and warm my non-speaking heart is. What a dumb ass! So what I'm doing is driving nice people away, right into the arms of these phonies and fakies. I think they call this "achieving the wrong ends", or in other words, stupidity.

But it is going to be hard, to learn to speak up and speak tactfully and graciously, when one is not used to it. But I've to start learning. Just like Goh. Well, at least I'm don't have to do a Prime Minister.

Laundry Day

2009-09-07T16:04:00.009+08:00

I think people should be allowed to walk around without clothes. Just because I don't like doing the laundry. That is, I don't mind stuffing things into the washing machine and into the dryer, especially since I like peering into the little "port hole" the washing machine has and seeing a whirl of colours go round and round and round and round, but ironing is such a chore!

Laundry can be fun sometimes, because you never know what you're gonna get. There are occasions I open the dryer and out comes confetti or a string of what-not, and then I realised I've left tissue paper somewhere in some pockets, and they've all decided to mutate into this interesting mess. Other stuff that've gone on a spin include; pens, coins, sweets, keys. Pens, coins and keys make for a very musical dryer spin, especially if there're at least a handful of them in there. Sweets dissolve in water and leave an interesting shade of purple, bright pink, electric blue or whatever shade of colour your candy is on your clothes. The effect can be quite psychedelic if you do it right.

Then there's this thing I call "the Laundry Multiplier Effect". Never heard of it? It simply means, the longer you leave your laundry un-folded, un-ironed, the bigger the pile grows, because clothes mate and have babies. I assure you, you will find things you never expect to find in your pile of laundry which you've been procrastinating over ironing for so long.

And you know the clothes that so-called requires no ironing. Well, they're all LIARS! If I were living in America, I'd have sued their non-ironing asses!

I know my machine can take a load of 5kg. But how on earth am I suppose to know what 5kg of clothes feel like? Oh and I suppose washing machines are about as weight conscious as the rest of us, and the Heidi Klum look is very in with washing machines right now? "Oh, I feel so fat today. I really need to stop taking so much towels which absorb so much water, making me feel heavy and clumsy". And that's why every washing machine insists on having that metallic sheen which was made popular by the Ariston Secrets fashion show. Maybe every piece of clothing should come with a label stating their weight, when dry or when fat, so I can figure out exactly how many of those I can put into the washing machine. Well, I suppose what results from an overweight washing machine is funky smelling clothes, and that's why I've been smelling strange lately.

I hate to think of the laundry involved when I start wearing clothes again. I'm right now wearing as little clothes as I can, dispensing with the unnecessary with the pithiest of excuses. Like "Who needs a bra when it's so hot!", or "Who needs socks when I can wrap my feet in newspapers.". And my favourite, "Away with clothes! Let's just use paint, and they wash off so easily!".

~o is going to buy stocks in paint companies.

Vege Tales

2009-08-30T00:38:00.004+08:00

It's been almost 2 months since I started trying to eat more vegetables, and I'm proud to say that it's working! Although admitably, I did fall off the bandwagon, major fell off the wagon a couple of times, but I've taken to eating a lot more vegetables nowadays. And quite liking it too!

More than trying to do difficult things, which is really quite my habit, it's also a permanent way of life that I want to adopt, to eat more healthily and liking eating healthily instead of doing it just for weight loss or control or just because I have to. So finally I am starting to enjoy eating green things.
I know I broke my promise to give weekly updates of the food I eat, with pictures and all, but so what. Haha. There's nothing you can do about it. I'm afraid you'll just have to put up with my lying tendencies as well as my tendency to be unreasonably arrogant. Fine, break up with me, see if I care!

Anyway, being the lazy and lousy cook that I am, I started with cooking lots of vegetable soups, since my stir fries always end up, well, weird, and I'm not exactly very fond of raw vegetables. Luckily for me, and obviously, since I'm such a smart girl, my stir fries are now quite tasty, so there's the option of stir-frying a couple of different types of vegetables for dinner while lunch's usually something really simple like porridge or a tuna sandwich or something.

So now, my plan is for world domination, the vegetable world that is. I plan to try every single type of vegetable I can lay my hands on, yes, even the weird ones. I've tried boxthorn and spinach and cabbage and what western cooks call 'bok choy'. I've yet to try things like asparagus and aubergines. And although I'd really like to try some of Nigella or Jamie's recipes, but I'm not even sure where I can find their version of spinach and water-cress. Sure we have things with the same name, but I don't think they're the same, plus I can't imagine eating them raw.

Sad to say though, I have yet to enjoy the benefits that supposedly come with eating more healthily, like weight loss and bee-yoo-tee-ful skin and the likes of that. Why why WHY?! When will I be slim and beautiful? What does it feel like to be slim and beautiful, oh, and voluptous? Will I ever find out the feeling? Maybe the former two, possibly, but the latter will have to remain a mere dream. *Sigh*

What will be really fun will be to go to somewhere else where they have things like courgettes and zuchinnis and rhuburb, which will be the other side of the world. I keep seeing them being used in recipe shows but I can't get my hands on them. Grrrr....

If, and when, I ever get a garden like Jamie's, I'm going to plant vegetables. Won't that be fun?! ANd interesting to boot, considering I can't quite differentiate my green leafy vegetables much, relying on labels or people to tell me what they are. I might just pull up poison ivy instead of rocket leaves for dinner from my own garden. I can just see the headline now, "Stupid person poisons herself".

Does it make you feel stupid, to be reading the blog of a person who ain't that bright? Well, I assure you that my intelligence is by no means a reflection of yours.

So what shall my next challenge be? Any ideas anybody?

The mad boy's coming!

2009-08-26T16:03:00.001+08:00

Hurray! Jamie's coming!

To Singapore to open 2 restaurants here.

Oh dear, is my admiration turning into obsession?

Facebook Irritation

2009-08-25T23:35:00.002+08:00

I am irritated by Facebook.

I am irritated by people posting stupid updates. I am irritated by people informing people of their sleeping habits via status updates. Like I care what time you wake up and go to sleep. IF YOU DON'T HAVE ANYTHING WORTH SAYING, THEN DON'T SAY IT! And I loathe people who use their Facebook status as a means to an end; because finally what they want is attention.

And then there are stupid people who spend all their time playing games, and then they are too stupid to remember their live stories are posted on the Wall for all to see, and they pretend they were too busy to do whatever it is they were suppose to do, like feed their kid.

And why post bible verses on your status? DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE WHAT GOD SAID TO YOU? And what you want to say to God for that matter?

I hate it when people tag me in their photos. Hey, taking photographs is one thing, but showing them to the whole world, is another! Hey, I may not be famous, but I value my privacy just the same. It may be unreasonable of me, but I just don't like being tagged in photos, for people I don't like to see! So now, my photos are only for ME to see. (I'm obviously selfish!)

Well obviously, I'm grumpy and grouchy and just hating Facebook. To make me feel better, you could play Scrabble with me. Either that, or post loads of stuff up to feed my greedy voyeuristic tendencies. That's what Facebook is after all, a voyeur's idea of heaven. And that's all Facebook is good for.

Mad about the boy....

2009-08-25T23:03:00.002+08:00

Jamie Oliver is my favourite chef.

Not that he is particularly handsome, although there is a boyish charm to him.

As a chef, he's probably quite good though not quite brilliant yet.

Maybe it's because cooking is not his only passion; he seems to quite like people too. It may be just a marketing concept, showing him cooking dinners for loads of people at his home. But undeniably, he's quite the people's chef. He seems to enjoy cooking not only for its own sake, but cooking in relation to people, and life, and family, and learning, and health.

Cooking for him is a way to be healthy and happy, so he goes to schools and tries to persuade them to cook healthier school dinners. Cooking is a way of life, so he teaches people how to cook and persuades them to change their ideas about food. For some, cooking is the way, and perhaps the only way, to get out of life's rut.

That's what I find admirable about him, his life is more than mere cooking. There's no one more boring than one with a single passion; he becomes boring and single-dimensional, unable to enjoy anything else that life has to offer.

So, that's why I'm mad about the boy....

About writing....

2009-08-25T20:46:00.004+08:00

Lately, I've been feeling that I should write more. Somehow the amount of activity going on in my head has been multiplying exponentially rather than atrophying into nothingness, amazingly, considering I've been pretty much the non-thinker recently, feeding on nothing very much else other than Bill Bryson and the telly, both of which are, although hugely entertaining, not exactly the last word in rocket science and innovative think-tanking.

Added to that, Blogger has been annoyingly annoying recently, showing me incomplete web pages where inspirational and pretty ones, encouraging me to spew out my guts in blog-postinging about events that are totally random OR embarassing OR meaninglesss, should have been. And now, I have to leave my post in This stupid Font instead of my favourite Verdana font, which besides being more aesthetically pleasing, is also more befitting of my, erh, bigness, in both personalities and size.

It just sucks doesn't it?

Back to my original intent.... Writing was never, is now not, and I doubt will ever be my forte. I've had people come up to me to tell me how well I write and all that, but I usually beg to differ. There's nothing in my writing that spells genius. There're no words in there that the typical 10-year old can't spell. I pretty much start all my sentences the same way, so where's the sentence structuring ingenuity for you. I get punctuationally lost in any sentence longer than two dozen words, and I can't talk about deep philosophical insightful things that cause ephiphanies in my readers. Heck, I even mix up my metaphors sometimes! And a English professor would tell anyone that I never properly present my arguments, if there are any of them at all in my essays; I meander in my presentations, and I have a certain habit of ending the essay talking about something not even remotely to what my original intention of writing was! Plus, I'm usually grammatically incorrect.

There you have it! I am considered a writer by no definition at all. In other words, nobody in their right minds will say I can write. And that's what I think too. Really.

And another thing that I've never confessed to anyone before. I struggle when I have to write. Oh, rubbishy things like these don't count of course. But if made to write anything else that has to be remotely intellegent at all, I am suddenly sized up, like limp lettuce in ice-cold water, with anxiety and writer's block and perspiration and wide-eye mania, and not presenting a very writer-like appearance at all.

Of course, Irony, with a capital "I" you noticed, will have it that I've always dreamt of being a writer, ever since I was a kid. But of course I knew that was highly improbable, but I wanted to be a writer like other kids wanted to be astronauts and doctors and supermen and fashion models, and back in the days when they were a little stupid, an air hostess, although God knows why anybody would think being an air stewardess was at all glamourous or fashionable an aspiration!

See, I'm meandering from my point again. Which is, to make things a little easier for me now, I no longer aspire to be a writer, I just write, whatever comes into my head, which, being of a rubbishy turn, is usually rubbish. But the truth of the matter is, I like rubbish, so I don't mind writing rubbish. Oh alright, it's true that I can afford to be a little less rubbishy sometimes, and not to always be so lame, but on the whole, it's of an acceptable level, of garbage-sity I mean.

And the only reason why I want to keep on writing is because there's so much crap where that came from; it doesn't ever seem to stop. And having friends who frequently ask me to stop talking nonsense or don't pick up their phones (all the time), it's hardly fair to me if I'm not allowed to air my bimbotic vacuous meaningless drivel in some form or other is it? So I write, or alternatively, I sometimes release it in the form of air/gas.

But I do get a little concerned sometimes, as to whether this blog is the best place to air my view. While I don't really mind constructive criticisms, I do take umbrage at constructive criticisms. Confused? Well, don't be. Just think of it this way, if you are trying to pass off obnoxious narrow-minded opinions in the guise of constructive criticisms, just because you don't agree with me, then I will take umbrage at that. What's wrong with just admitting you're obnoxious and narrow-minded? Just as long as your criticisms are fundamentally constructive, as opposed to destructive, then you're welcome to say your piece. And just as long as I don't have to agree with you, to save your feelings.

Meander meander meander. Don't I remind you of the Ganges river?

I do have to think of new and better ways to spread the word really. Especially since I've recently taken to not talking so much. Which is another post altogether. But in short, another new thing that I have taken up, on top of eating vegetables and writing more, is to talk less. I am determined to say everything only once per person. Anything more than that is a waste of my energy as well as causing a bigger carbon footprint.

Isn't this a long blog? Well, it isn't really. If you take out the non-relevant parts, you'd have realised I'd said nothing very substantial at all. But I'm really hoping that you're either to stupid to realise that, or you're entertained to object to this rather ridiculous post.

Stupid Blogspot

2009-08-25T00:43:00.004+08:00

I haven't been blogging because Blogspot's been screwy!

Now I have so much pent-up crap it's not even funny.

Oh blah, I'm sleepy now. I think I'll start tomorrow. Assuming everything's alright again.

Well, we'll see...

Shoulda Coulda Woulda

2009-07-15T18:41:00.002+08:00

"Shoulda Coulda Woulda" by Beverly Knight was my favourite song once upon a time. Or maybe it wasn't my favourite song in the sense that I loved it and wanted to listen to it all the time. But it was indeed in my head all the time, becaue it was echoing what I was going through at that point of time in my life then, and all the different choices that I was faced with every single minute of every day during that period.

Well, time passed and today, I've almost forgotten what the song sounds like now. For one, it's dated and nobody would listen to it now. Another thing is, it really is quite a crap song, and nobody worth their salt would even really vouch for it. Even I am embarassed to admit that it suddenly popped into my head as I was re-doing, for the #$^&*#$( millionth time, my damn CV.

While doing, or re-doing my CV is a hateful thing in itself, it's not that which bugs me as much as, well something else. While I would tell Oz that I have a plan for what I want to do next, and I really do have a plan, kind of, it's only honest to admit that I do have doubts about the "plan" sometimes.

For starters, I can't even articulate what the plan is and how do I even go about starting it. It is also the most difficult project that I have embarked on, to date, and I'm not even sure I'm capable of doing it. And as I reflect upon all the impossibilities, I catch myself going, "Damn! Am I sure I want to do this, or should I just abandon ship and catch the next boat that comes along, which looks very much like, ahoy, a yacht!"

And then I catch myself starting to hum "And I wonder wonder wonder what I'm gonna do, cos 'shoulda woulda coulda' are the last words of a fool".

Yes, so although sometimes I am sure of what I want to do (I'm particularly good at pretending to be sure, especially when Oz asks "Are you sure?"), at most other times I think myself a fool.

I seriously hate this!

2009-07-15T15:17:00.002+08:00

I seriously hate updating my CV!

As in really really really hating it.

Which reminds me, I owe Ozy my CV.

Which means I need to keep my promise and just do the DAMN THING!

ARGH!

Ode to Ozymandias

2009-07-14T12:27:00.012+08:00

This friendship I have with Ozymandias, if I have to find some way to describe it, I will have to use the analogy of a trip to the zoo.

It's always terribly exciting to go on a trip to the Zoo, no matter how many times you've been there, there's always something you didn't get to see the last time you were there and you want to see this time round. And no matter how many times you've been there, there's always something new to see. There're always new experiences - new sights, sounds, smells, and erh, tastes?

He's also an animal, an animal quite unknown yet to man. More like a menage of a animals rolled into one actually. He's as tall as a giraffe with the head of a dishevelled lion, the wits of a wolf (a nice one), the heart of a nice kitten, the dress sense of a flamingo, the muscles of a gorilla, and the taste-buds of, erh, of an animal who seems to enjoy lots of oatmeal, mushrooms, and tuna, as well as the entertaining-ness of a parrot-chimpanzee act, and me suspects the backside of a red baboon too!

Well, if he's an animal, he would be the reason why I visit the zoo. Heck I'd visit the zoo even if he's the ONLY animal at the zoo, until they start charging entrance fees that is.

At 2am....

2009-07-14T01:43:00.002+08:00

I am feeling so un-sleepy right now, it is not funny!

Will I even be able to fall asleep tonight?

All I am sure of right now is, I will need a helluva pick-me-up to get me bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow.

Damn damn DAMN!

Me and my, erh, twelve

2009-07-14T00:32:00.000+08:00

Jon and Kate may have their brood of 8, but I have my 12.

My twelve dark chocolatey babies.

Painstakingly conceived and created.

My babies just out of the oven, cooling on a muffin tray.

My, erh, 11 babies. I ate one, to make sure it was edible.

From the looks of it, with my fairness, my mate would have to have been a really dark chocolate-y, erh, person. I'm not sure whether there's even a simple convenient way to describe dark chocolate-y people, so I'll just leave them described as such - dark, chocolate-y people. Just to assure people that I don't mean this in any derogatory manner, let me just describe myself as a milky tea person - not quite brown, more beige-y white.

As you can tell, my attempts at making my food look delicious quite literally suck. I think the muffins would have looked just as "delicious", I really mean, just as unappetising even if they were blue in colour, just like this.

How the picture turned out, after my attempt to make my muffins look nicer, by fiddling with the flash thingey. I'm not sure what I finally did do to the camera.

Oh piss off!

2009-07-13T23:40:00.005+08:00

I'm annoyed.

Incredibly annoyed.

At myself.

I'm a bit like that nursery rhyme character who's "very bad" whenever the fancy takes him, or "very very good" when the occasion calls for it. Well, for today, I'm very very bad.

I didn't rip anybody's head off, or gorged on chocolates and ice-cream all day. Nothing of that sort at all. What I can safely say though is that today was a complete waste of time, and I felt like a complete waste of person, whose absence won't be very much felt in the bigger scheme of things.

It is hard though to be continually self-motivated in the absence of salary or a promotion to work towards, the ogre to look over your shoulder, and an omniscient and omnipotent presence that is the CEO, usually stationed and located in another country, pithily inspiring you with his nonsensical townhall messages. It sounds ridiculous I know, but I seem to be missing all that stuff that I used to make fun of before - a salary, an organisational structure, bureaucracy and red-tape. All that stuff, funnily, I've realised made me feel sort of important about myself before, just because I had a budget sheet to hand up or a presentation to present or something similarly important-sounding, and while I don't miss all that, erh, stuff, I do miss feeling important.

Oh don't get me wrong. I do enjoy not working and having my own time to work on my own projects and all that, but the absence of ridiculous and arbitrary timelines, which were very prevalent before, made everything seem, well, "procrastinable" if there's such a word. It's so easy to put things off and say, oh I'll do it tomorrow. There're loads of stuff I could do, lots of great stuff, that I always wanted to do but "never had the time". Well, I have the time now, so why aren't I doing it?

I'm so annoying sometimes. And it bugs me so much, I want to watch TV and forget about annoying me. Which makes it all the more worse of course.

So now I've resorted to ranting online. And I'm wondering how much of that my ardent fans can take, and seriously, I'm even boring myself. "Enough already!"

Damn it, I need a major spanking!

My current love

2009-07-13T23:31:00.003+08:00

Green, round, prickly and difficult to hug. But I'm in love anyway, so in love....

Fine China indeed

2009-07-12T01:09:00.003+08:00

For the record, I broke a glass jug and 2 ceramic bowls today.

And I wasn't even trying to juggle them. I, well, just broke them.

I am running out of cutlery.

Bad food!

2009-07-09T21:14:00.007+08:00

THIS, THIS, this is the thing that made me go off my sort-of-vegan diet! My neighbour made extra for me, and I couldn't very well say no, and it would be a sad waste to throw it away. Not that I particularly liked it anyway. Because if it looks quite of dubious, it's because it is! (It's also because of my poor photography skills as well. Looking at it does make me feel sick too.)

It was the blandest chicken curry I had ever tasted; instead of coconut milk, my neighbour used Coffee Mate (Yes! The powdered milk stuff that they put in instant coffees!)

All I can say is, what a perfectly good waste of a good healthy appetite.

Fridge-o-meter

2009-07-09T21:09:00.002+08:00

Jamie Oliver is about a full head shorter than his fridge. Michael Smith is extremely tall; he's taller than his fridge and a couple of inches short off the top of his door frame. Nigella Lawson is three-quarters the height of her fridge (and almost as broad, a double-door fride mind you!).

My fridge is about a head and a shade taller than me, which makes me about Jamie's height. (Width-wise, I'm half my fridge size, which happens to be a double-door one by the way, which means I'm STILL smaller than Nigella, but it doesn't mean I can start eating like she does.

How tall are you fridge-wise?

Food fad

2009-07-09T21:06:00.003+08:00

First it was celery, then it was green, red, yellow and orange peppers.

Now, it's the pumpkin (the green one not the orange one)!

Real tea, from a tea pot!

2009-07-09T20:27:00.002+08:00

In my current, well, meatless state, which has resulted in my brain going slight strange, I have gone out and bought myself a tea-pot, and with a milk jar to boot. It's a teeny one which will barely hold 2 cups of tea. I nearly wanted to get myself a sugar bowl as well, but the thought of having to ladle out sugar into the sugar bowl, I changed my mind!

So there you have it! A tea pot and a milk jar, for a lady to drink her tea from! A pot of tea anyone?

PUI!

2009-07-08T01:22:00.002+08:00

I've just found out, that I've been accused of not being nice to some stupid attention-starved overgrown over-sized bimbo.

Just because she has this unreasonable desire to be well-liked and popular, so I have to pretend to be a nice person?

Well, I'm NOT a nice person. She's more than welcome to get lost.

"Oh, my face is stuck in this I-Hate-Your-Guts expression. There's no solution save for plastic surgery."

Sort-of-Vegan Diet Update #1

2009-07-08T01:10:00.003+08:00

The Sort-of-Vegan Diet has been going pretty well considering, with one or two lapeses here and there, but nothing very serious. I've been incredibly proud of the way I have managed to abstain from the meat dishes, as long as there are vegetarian or fish alternatives. Only on two occasions have I found myself with no alternatives at all, so I had no choice but to eat what there was. But two mere occasions within a space of almost a week now, hey it's all good!

The only thing I haven't done is to be updating pictures of my food, which is entirely NOT my fault! I tried uploading a picture the other day, but no matter how many times I tried, it just didn't work, and I haven't tried since then. If it still doesn't work the next time I try, then all I can say is, "TOO BAD!". What else do you expect from me?

It is fun vegetable shopping and trying to think of new ways to cook vegetables. All the cooking I'd done previously entailed a meat of some sort most of the time, so this is all quite new. So today, I went supermarket shopping and bought...

2 packages of home-grown organic mushrooms The lady who cooked on the spot made it look so easy. I sure hope I can replicate her methods cos it was quite yummy.
1 Japanese pumpkin. Yes you read right. It's ONE WHOLE pumpkin I bought and not just a slice of it. I have to find out new ways of cooking it.
Japanese Endame beans
1 Hawaiian papaya I would have bought more if it was less expensive.
4 packs of milk to last me a mere 2 weeks
2 ears of sweet corn for me to eat steamed, kernel by kernel. I was eyeing the Japanese ones, but they cost S$8 freaking dollars for ONE EAR!

Well, I just hope the freaking Photo Upload function works pretty soon, or it won't be my fault, you potentially missing all that sexy food porn!

Why am I so difficult?

2009-07-04T22:23:00.002+08:00

I seem to like doing difficult things.

In college, I wrangled with the administration and finally the headmaster to let me take 4 level subjects although it was "discouraged", so people could "focus on getting distinctions for 3 core subjects". It ended up with me having to go for extra classes just so my schedule could fit in that extra course. I didn't get a distinction for it of course, course that "extra" was Physics, and although I liked finding out how things worked, I can't calculate how they work.

In university, I took on extra courses in another faculty, in History and Literature, for the heck of it, even though they didn't give me any extra credits when I graduated. I also took a course which I knew I didn't have the aptitude for, but just so I could stimulate the lacking parts of my brain. I scraped through the course as I knew I would.

When I was working, I stood up for some timid little girl who couldn't stand up for herself, and nearly ended up in a fight with the pervert who was harrassing her. She subsequently withdraw her charges because she was too scared, of course, and I never saw her again after that because she left the company. But then again, I won't be surprised if she continues to draw attention with her "oh please help me" demeanour, and then backing off again because she got more attention than she bargained for.

There are numerous other stories of how I seemed to enjoy making things difficult for myself, and then getting nothing out of it in the process, or even getting into the trouble some of the times, but it hasn't seemed to stop me somehow. I seem to still continue making the decisions to embark on difficult projects.

The next difficult thing I may be doing could be co-working on a project with a certain person whom, to put it mildly, has never been one who is easy to work with, even at the best of times. I do wonder, and wonder often, whether I should even consider something so foolhardy. But at the back of my mind, there seems to be a quiet certainty that I will most probably agree to it, should it start to take off.

And if it does take off, it's going to be a hell of a ride I can assure you.

Somebody tell me why I'm doing this again?

Disclaimer!

2009-07-04T00:55:00.001+08:00

NOT that I exactly hate talking to my friends!

Neither are they irritating and sickening and loathsome!

It's just that I just don't feel like talking that's all. Plus everybody's busy and stuff.

Is it old age you think?!

Green green stuff....

2009-07-03T00:22:00.002+08:00

Thursday
- Cabbage soup with carrots, celery, corn and fish balls. I ate the corn kernel by kernel; that was kind of fun.
- Stir-fry green marrow with dried shrimps and carrots

Maybe I should take some pictures next time; otherwise readers will be so bored. Heck, even I'm bored blogging about this!

Speechless

2009-07-03T00:19:00.001+08:00

I'm in no mood to blog actually. At this point, words have become irritating and sickening to me. I'm even loath to talk to my best friends very much, which is very very VERY strange, considering what a chatterbox I am.

But since I promised updates on my diet, I'll be good and adhere to my promise.

Bah!

Smiley the Centipede!

2009-07-01T17:15:00.003+08:00

Smiley the Centipede is very sad, because she is the shortest centipede amongst all her friends; she has only 3,479 pairs of feet. Her friends Whine-y and Complain-A-Lot have a lot of pairs of legs than she has. Although she knows she should be happy for her friends, that they have so many pairs of legs, she is still a bit jealous.

“Why is it that Whine-y and Temper-Temper have more legs than me. It’s not fair. Whine-y is always complaining about things; she complains about school, she complains she doesn’t have enough toys, she complains she doesn’t want to eat vegetables, and yet she's got a whopping 12,984 feet. Temper-Temper is always shouting at people, especially when he doesn’t get what he wants. When he is in a temper, he yells and kicks everybody around him. My ears hurt because of him, and he kicked me too. And he's got as many legs as Whine-y. But what about me? I try to be good and patient, but it doesn't pay.

Smiley was very sad, and for once, become un-smiley.

Still, Smiley the Centipede continued to try to be good, to smile and be patient. Not one word of complaint nor any show of bad temper came out from Smiley's mouth. One morning, when he was putting on his shoes to go to school, he realised that 367 shoes were missing! “Mum! I can’t find my shoes. Did you see them? Can you help me please?”

Mum and Smiley looked everywhere but they couldn’t find the missing shoes. “Why Smiley!”, Mum said, “I believe you’ve grown longer!”. We’ll have to go shoe shopping after school today.

But no matter how many times they went shopping, Smiley still kept having missing shoes every morning. On most days, he went to school with shoeless feet, which felt weird, and his friends laughed at him.

One day, Teacher told the class, “I need somebody to help me put these decorations on the ceiling, who’s the tallest centipede here?” And guess who’s name everybody shouted? “SMILEY!” everybody shouted, “Smiley is the longest centipede in the class.” Lo and behold, it was true, Smiley was the longest centipede, even longer than Whine-y and Temper-Temper. In fact, Temper-Temper had become shorter, because he stamped his feet so much his feet were broken. And Whine-y spent so much time complaining, he didn’t exercise, so his feet became weak and he couldn’t walk.

“Oh wow!”, Smiley thought. "Good things do happen to good people after all. Life is fair."

THE END

Calling it...

2009-07-01T03:49:00.003+08:00

I'm calling it, as in, really calling it...

I've decided to announce this so I'll really get hell from all my ardent fans should I at any point in time renegade on my online promise.

Do I really want to do this, me thinks...Anyway, here goes it.

I have decided to well, not exactly turn vegan, but certainly turn more attention to less meaty side of the food chain from, hmm, let's see, next week onwards? Oh what the heck, let's make it tomorrow.

It's not that I'm exactly the carnivore as in I do eat substantial amounts of the vegetable-y varieties in every meal (except breakfast of course!), but I will have to admit that an absent pig/cow/chicken/duck does make me ostensibly less enthusiastic about my food.

While I'm not exactly turning my back firmly on my friends - pig, cow, goat, etc, it can only serve as a side and not the main dish. And while I have control over what I cook for myself and what I order when I eat out, I have no control over what is cooked when I get invited for dinner, so in such extenuating circumstances, it won't be my fault if I partake gratefully on my above mentioned friends.

But, as much as possible, I shall use mostly vegetables, roots, fruit and herbs in my cooking, and meat only to add flavour and taste or as a granish.

I shall continue to eat, erh, animal-related products like eggs and cheese and stuff, just not the red bloody stuff. And, fish is not included in this exercise!

For three months.

To make everything legit, I shall write a dialy (NO!), weekly or so account of how I fare throughout the period, in my Sort-Of-Vegan diet, and I promise to be very very honest. Just to make sure nobody else has unrealistic expectations of me, let me make it clear that I have very low expectations of myself and expect to fall off the wagon almost ALL THE TIME!

(I'm wondering whether to set a forfeit for myself or am I just mindlessly shooting myself, no, shooting a cannon ball, through my foot.)

Ah well, wish me luck somebody, lots of luck.

H1N1 Fashion

2009-07-01T03:38:00.002+08:00

With the swine flu rampant and a worldwide state of pandemia declared, what is the fashion world's response? For how does one stay trend-setting and the sophisticate while wearing a face mask I ask you? Its greenish hue, at least for the ones I bought, clashes with my zebra print Verge outfit, and making me look, well, green at the same time. (Plus I have no matching eyeshadow in the same shade of green which is a cross between snot green and phelgm yellow.) Its wove mesh material is hardly stuff that bling bling's made of. And needless to say the straps to fasten the mask, it really just messes up my Sex in the City coiffure.

I say, fashion can go to the pigs for all I care.

It's my life

2009-06-16T01:19:00.006+08:00

I am out of a job.

I am broke.

My nails are grubby and horrid and I desperately need a manicure and a pedicure.

My face is like sandpaper, my eye-bags the size of samsonites, and my eyebrows hairy and unplucked.

The last time I saw a movie was months ago; heck, the last time I even went into a mall was months ago! I can't even remember when was the last time I stepped into an air-conditioned restaurant with actual service people.

It was a long time ago that I last saw my friends, probably when dinosaurs roamed the earth.

Since I haven't been going out much, it means I haven't been combing my hair much either. I still take a shower every day though, just in case you were wondering, but it's only because it's so hot.

My life sounds like it needs improving doesn't it? Well, I guess it does. But interestingly, despite it all, I am happy, and engulfed by an incredible sense of well-being.

How do I know I am enjoying life?

I can't stop smiling to myself.

I have loads to talk about even with nothing much happening to me, so much so I have conversations on MSN with friends who aren't even online!

I have a more-than-healthy sense of humour. I counted 7 chuckles and a snort today, and I can only afford the time to count chuckles and giggles only because I don't have a job.

I am still looking forward to waking up every morning, and especially waking up to breakfast. I think I'm going to have a ham and cheese sandwich for breakfast tomorrow.

I am definitely looking forward to friends mailing me 10 dollar notes about reading this post. I don't think I'll get more than 15 dollars and a 50 pence stamp though.

Another Cooking Snippet

2009-06-12T16:38:00.003+08:00

While performing the time-consuming and extremely troublesome task of peeling shallots, I started to understand how men feel with regards to their women.....

Small. Time-consuming and attention-demanding with their many layers just to unveil. It takes so much just to get to the nub of it, although it is undeniably flavourful and fragrant.

I hate peeling shallots! I think I need a man to help me peel them; they may just understand the mightly shallot better, as a man.

For Hire!

2009-06-12T16:32:00.003+08:00

Now I REALLY want to get a job!

I think I'm suffering from "Chicken Coop" syndrome.

They say working is tough, but I say staying at home is tougher.

Because it requires real dedication and discipline and passion and self-motivation and time management, not the pseudo-type we usually see in most offices, to try to impress the bosses.

Because one can't skive at home, with every minute a waste of an alternative opportunity.

Because one is at work 24 x 7, whether as a work-from-home person or a home-maker.

Because people who work at home don't have a whole hour for lunch, or to do whatever one wises.

And lastly, because I just want to get out of the house!

So who wants to hire me?!

My name is O and I'm an alcoholic...

2009-06-11T22:39:00.004+08:00

If ever I take to drink, it will be because of my stupid attempts to try to teach dumb children.

I'm wondering whether the children born after me, and that will be 1977, have somehow lost the ability to THINK, or whether I was THAT dumb when I was young, and now I am suffering retribution for having driven my teachers up the wall with my stupidity.

But seriously, I cannot imagine myself not even having the ability to synthesize information according to the question posed, nor the common sense to do my Maths problems in handwriting big and clear enough for me to differentiate between an "a" and a "9"! (They do look pretty similar don't they? YES, ESPECIALLY IF I CHOOSE TO SQUEEZE EVERYTHING I WRITE INTO THE SMALLEST AVAILABLE SPACE FOR FEAR OF WASTING PAPER!)

And tell me, how can a student who's set to do his GCSE O Levels this year, not even able to do SIMULTANEOUS EQUATIONS for freaks' sake! I repeat, SIMULTANEOUS EQUATIONS! How did he ever even get to this stage, when he doesn't know how to do BASIC ALGEBRA!

And BRACKETS! Brackets freaking mean something in Maths! They're not FOR FUN!

And who says the best way to write a composition is to MEMORISE MODEL ESSAYS AND SPEW THE WORDS OUT ON A PIECE OF PAPER DURING THE EXAM, JUST BECAUSE THE TOPIC LOOKS SIMILAR, BUT MAY REQUIRE YOU TO TALK ABOUT SOMETHING VERY DIFFERENT FROM THE ESSAY YOU MEMORISED?!

I'm not even half done ranting. But I'm thirsty. I'll have another crate of beer if you please.

Death

2009-06-06T01:13:00.004+08:00

I hate death. With a vengence.

Not because I'm afraid of it; it is no mystery nor is it an unknown.

Death is simply, the absence of life.

And that's why I hate it so much, because it robs and takes away life, vivacity, passion and all that which makes it worthwhile.

Even the worst of illnesses, or poverty, or bad car crashes can only take away some health, mulnutrition, or a part of your body; but life and soul and verve still efferverses through the pain, the sufferings, the lack of a body part. There is still life, spirit, vibrancy bubbling through, coming out of every pore, every laugh, every smile, every twinkle of the eye. There is still a reason to rejoice, and to celebrate, as long there is still a spark left.

But along comes death and takes it all away, leaving only darkness, silence, oblivion.

Cooking Snippet #n

2009-06-03T15:17:00.002+08:00

I just tried making fried rice, the simplest of all Chinese dishes. But it was really bad.

I suck! Big time.

But I ate it anyway. I was hungry and there was nothing else to eat.

Haha.

But oh I just learnt from Nigella how to make pancakes. I'll make you some next time Ozy, blueberry syrup and all!

Wanted: A Body

2009-06-03T14:29:00.010+08:00

These are some things that hold true for me.

- It's never my intention to be an insufferable bitch.
- I don't like feeling angry.
- I really don't like fights either.

So can somebody explain to me why I am in this situation where I am feeling so angry I could literally hurl and even though I really don't like it and I tell myself to cool down and try to be objective about things (whatever that might mean), what I really want to be is to be yelling what I really think, all rude things of course.

It's well and good to tell me I should cool down blah blah blah. I know that, and I've tried to, but it didn't work. I've tried watching TV and reading to distract myself, going to sleep in the hope that I'd feel better after waking up the other side of the bed as Ozymandias suggested. But they all didn't work.

And of course there's the possible collateral damage, that even though I try not to bring the lousy mood I'm in along to the next person, the next person usually does get some of the crap, on account of me being jumpier than a grasshopper on a trampoline.

Usually, when I'm in "one of those moods", I usually go away by myself until I'm better so that poor innocent passer-bys, like Ozymandias, won't get the tailend of a possibly vicious and sarcastic tornado.

But at the same time, what I really need is someone to distract me from all that, with possibly a discussion about his screenplay or an invitation to go be a busybody at that person's wedding, or a mention of my favourite food. That usually helps me put aside the problem, until it surfaces its ugly head again, like the monster under my bed, which visits every once in a while.

But what I really wish is for someone whom I know I can be honestly confess that I have something on my hands I can't deal with, and to possibly just let me rant until my head clears. Or better still, tell me what the heck is my problem because I sure as hell don't know. But the honest and real response of most people, not that I do blame them because it's not fun spending time with a sarcastic bitch, would usually be "Please take your problem and go somewhere else with it". And I usually try to. Really! But I couldn't find anywhere else to go with it this time round.

So, does anybody know someone who is for hire and charges a reasonable rate per hour?

PS And NO Ozymandias, this is NOT about YOU either! I'm just quoting your very quote-worthy conversations.

Negative Expectations

2009-06-03T02:41:00.014+08:00

Wee insists there's no such thing as negative expectations, but after thinking about it long and hard, I must still insist that there is such a thing. Let me try to explain the concept of negative expectations to the uninitiated....

Once upon a time, many eons ago, I went out with a friend and his girlfriend. Being a very understanding person, I was already prepping myself for well, a non-enjoyable time with two people who only had eyes for each other and no one else, and feeling like the unwanted third wheel. Well, I ended up not only NOT enjoying myself, but I was bored to tears a well as being made to feel more than unwanted; I was made to feel invisible. Having set out with zero expectations, I realised less than zero, I realised negative expectations, with the outing turning out worse than I'd foreseen.

Ladies and gentlemen, you've been officially introduced to the concept of negative expectations, when you not only expect nothing, you expect to suffer.

I have a friend, whom I'm going to name A so as not to reveal the sex or the name of the person, so I don't have to answer any questions from people thinking, whether correctly or incorrectly, "O's talking about me!". (Aren't I the clever one?)

Before I start on my tirade, I'm just going to make a point which some may find un-necessary, that the point about friendship is that the people in it get something out of it, whether it's emotional support or a sympathetic ear or good advice or maybe even cold hard cash; but whatever it is, friendship's suppose to be a symbiotic relationship in which all parties win.

Where was I? Oh yes, I've come to a point in my, erh, relationship with A when I've come to expect nothing from her/him/it. And yet everytime, I find a new low in the relationship. It reached zero some time ago and ever since then it's been going to new heights of negative. And every time I thought I've reached new depths, something comes up and I find out my expectations are still too high. It's currently at negative 2 million 45 thousand 3 hundred and 6 by the way.

So now I'm wondering. Do I...
(A) watch the relationship dither to new depths, and see when and how it finally bottoms out?
(B) reset to zero and give it a new start, wipe the slate clean and all?
(C) or, bale out immediately and leave a mere shell of a person to pander to its/her/his never-ending need for attention and more attention?

Anyway, in the meantime, I'm tired of being good and reasonable and conciliatory; I just want to be unreasonable and tell A what I really think of him/her/it. I know this sounds childish, but while I may be good on the outside, but I'm really rebelling on the inside. So there!

Cooking Snippet I-Lost-Count

2009-06-02T18:22:00.001+08:00

I've been chopping and dicing non-stop the whole day, for at least 5 hours. And my right arm and wrist is aching for all that knife work.

Ouch.

I never knew cooking was such hard work.

Cooking Snippet #3

2009-05-18T23:13:00.004+08:00

The cooking craze comes and goes.

On some days, I whip up 3 meals plus dessert and stuff to give away to people besides. On other days, I would rather live off biscuits than lift a finger to do anything in the form of cooking. Like today.

It is proven, I am definitely no "oh-cooking-is-so-therepuetic-and-lovely" Nigella or "cooking-is-my-life" Jamie Oliver. I am just "someone who's tired of doing the washing up and would rather eat things off a paper plate so I don't have to deal with soap and water" me.

Cooking Snippet #2

2009-05-16T21:56:00.002+08:00

I like knives and anything to do with them - chopping, dicing, slicing, skinning, poking, hole-ing, beheading, disembowelling, severing.

Now who wants to be my friend?!

Cooking Snippet #1

2009-05-16T20:20:00.003+08:00

I always feel bad about cutting off mushroom stems (removed because they're too hard to be eaten, even after cooking); it's like removing the mushrooms' penises. And trust me, some of the teeny mushrooms have huge, erh, stems.

PS Oh, this post is dedicated to The Mushroom Punisher.

King of Pop!

2009-03-17T20:34:00.003+08:00

The only reason why I want to see Michael Jackson in his concert is because I want to see his face.

Maybe it'll go POP!

Haha!

Wise Man

2009-03-16T23:39:00.002+08:00

A wise man, and no I have no idea what his name is, once said.

"To be persuasive we must be believable;
To be believable we must be credible;
To be credible we must be truth."

And I guess in order to be truthful, we should really stop finding excuses for the things we know we shouldn't be doing.

Teaching English is damn bloody difficult!

2009-02-28T17:19:00.004+08:00

Especially since I only know what's a noun, verb, adjective, and very little much else!

How do I explain..

..the presence of present tense and past tense in a single sentence?
..the usage of a hypen/semi-colon/inverted commas, when I don't really know myself?
..why the most boring of passages are used for the GCSE Ordinary Levels English Paper?
..the importance of summarizing? ("Summarizing is very important because it helps you identify pertinent and salient points of what the tester wants from you, much like picking out the chicken bones out of a stew!")
.. the difference between present, past, past continuous, present continuous, ever-present ongoing, past continuous present passive, passive ongoing present past continuous tense? WHAT THE HELL ARE ALL THOSE ANYWAY?!