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.)
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Why is the sky blue?
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!
"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!
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Genesis 25:19 - 32:32
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.
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
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.
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.
Monday, December 07, 2009
Kings
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.
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
"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.
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.
Friday, December 04, 2009
Saying No
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.
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.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Breakwaters
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".
Monday, November 23, 2009
Cringe
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.
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.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Where do I go from here?
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 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
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Anti-Technology
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?
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...
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.
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.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Saturday, November 07, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
I feel nothing but disgust...
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.
What a truly contemptible state of affairs.
Now please excuse me as I walk away and not come back.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Resentment
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.
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.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Why is it my problem?
Why am I suppose to be responsible for other people's screwed-up lives when they can't even be bothered with trying?
Friday, October 09, 2009
Do I really have to?
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.
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.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Perfection
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.
- 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.
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
Fractured Fairy Snippets
In today's world, Snow White needs to accepted by Prince Charming before she can be added to his list of "friends".
Reminder
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.
Snow White, Facebook, all that glitters is not gold, dumb ass, syndicates.
I hope this reminder works.
Monday, September 07, 2009
Words
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.
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
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.
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.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Vege Tales
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?
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?
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
The mad boy's coming!
Hurray! Jamie's coming!
To Singapore to open 2 restaurants here.
Oh dear, is my admiration turning into obsession?
To Singapore to open 2 restaurants here.
Oh dear, is my admiration turning into obsession?
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Facebook Irritation
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.
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....
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....
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....
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.
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
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...
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...
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Shoulda Coulda Woulda
"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.
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!
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!
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!
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Ode to Ozymandias
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.
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....
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!
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
Jon and Kate may have their brood of 8, but I have my 12.
My twelve dark chocolatey babies.
Painstakingly conceived and created.
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.
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.
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.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Oh piss off!
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!
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!
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Fine China indeed
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.
And I wasn't even trying to juggle them. I, well, just broke them.
I am running out of cutlery.
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Bad food!
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
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?
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
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!
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?
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
PUI!
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."
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
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...
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!
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