blogs

I've come to a decision regarding my 2 blogs that I am currently maintaining. Or rather, a decision to not make a decision. Thats right, I will continue to maintain both blogs, the blogger one and the vox one. The posts will be roughly alternating between both blogs to give some semblance of maintenance.

I know people say that we should try not to be indecisive, and that its not good to drag your decisions till problems crop up, but hey, this isnt about deciding between two girls anyway, so who cares.

I will be trying to blog more of my sensitive posts in Vox, and the more mundane posts in blogger. If you want my vox address, look at the right side where it says "Clement's other blog".

Christmas Day

Christmas only serves to remind me how lonely I feel.

Christmas resolution: to not fall in love for the next 6 years.

My idea of a perfect Christmas Eve

Its the whole empty house all to myself, where the rest of my family went off to church after unsuccessfully badgering me for a few weeks to go. Naturally, I expect a few days of cold war again, as is always the case. Fits with the season I guess. Cold. Get it?

So yea, I figured I should take a break from my applications (oh those accursed forms!) and actually read a book or something. Pretty ambitious plans for a day I must say, except for one thing: I've read all my books thrice over and more, and I simply cant bear to read them again today, and definitely not the academic ones. So I jaunt off to the library after making sure that they have the book I wanted in the shelves by checking online, planning to spend the rest of the day finishing the novel.

Except that they dont have it, even though it says Not-on-Loan in the library catalog. Neat. So I came back home, and watched some dvds alone. I mean, with my headache which decided to pop in and say hi after a week's absence.

Seriously, with the empty house playing my typing sounds back at me, and the thoughts that I have trillions of things left undone, plans for the future, worries about the opposite sex, I think I'm cool. Fits in with the season again.

And I have absolutely no idea what to do. I mean short term wise, for the day. I cant play games on this computer, since its not mine, and I cant do work today, cos I dont feel like doing it. No books to read, no one to talk to, nothing to do.

It's times like this when you really feel you need a girlfriend --so you wouldnt be coped up at home reading my blog complaining about how lousy I feel. Sorry, perfect*. How perfect I feel.

offline

This is extremely fucked up. First my pc keeps dying, now my monitor went completely bonkers, near irreparable. I still need to do my applications for the overseas universities!! This is a conspiracy to keep me from going!! (by whom I dont know however, since I am the only one who uses my pc.)

I cant play games, I cant do stuff, cant go online for maybe a month or more, unless i use my sis's pc while she isnt looking, which is exactly what I am doing now. And I dont intend to buy a new monitor. Not going to feed more money into that poor excuse of a computer. Will buy a laptop when I am free. Fuck, needs more money again.

path of least resistance

It's very easy to just flow along the path of least resistance, and lead an easy life; relying on fortuitous events instead of actively creating luck for oneself. I wonder what my life would be like if I choose to just graduate with a Bachelor degree, and I certainly wonder what my life would be like if I choose to do further studies. What I do know is only that I rather dislike a non-academic life.

I have a friend who thinks that she probably doesnt want to rewind time even if given the choice to do so, and I kinda agree with her. Even if we can change past events, I'm not sure if we should do so. However much we might dislike our current situation, there is no telling that we might have hated any other possible alternatives.

Still have to write a statement of purpose for my overseas applications... Feels like hecking it already. Bleah.

sleep

My dad is an insomniac,

my mum is a very light sleeper.

No prize for guessing what I am like.


p.s. I have a new blog at Vox, where I havent posted anything substantial at yet. Will get around to it some day, and also decide how I am to manage these blogs. http://idarhl.vox.com/

webs

And suddenly the magic is gone -
henceforth, wouldn't be caught
so easily again.

Technology

Since I mentioned Douglas Adams in my previous post, I thought it would be cool to quote him again regarding what he has to say about technology, which I found to be awesomely witty and true to a large extent. 'Nuff said, enjoy.

"I've come up with a set of rules that describes our reactions to technologies:

"1. Anything that is in the world when you're born is normal and ordinary and is just a natural part of the way the world works.

"2. Anything that's invented between when you're fifteen and thirty-five is new and exciting and revolutionary and you can probably get a career in it.

"3. Anything invented after you're thirty-five is against the natural order of things."
-Adams, Douglas. The Salmon of Doubt.

weather

We don't like it when it rains: when the sky is overcast, dark with foreboding clouds, weeping raindrops as though crying; for it makes us sad. (Actually I don't dislike raining, but I needed to say this for dramatic effect.)

We don't like it when it's sunny: with the scalding sun bearing down on us, like a powerful drum keeping up a beat that our reluctant hearts are forced along unwillingly.

We hate it when it's cold: when the frosty air forces us to wrap ourselves in layers of stifling materials, the cold seeping into our bones, leeching the life from them, leaving us shivering and helpless. (Again, I actually love being cold, but I can't very well say that now.)

We definitely hate it when it's hot: the oppressing heat like a wet and dirty pillow pressing down on our mouths and noses, cooking the sticky sweat from every pore in our skin.

Well then, what about when it's not too hot, nor too cold; when the sun is shining from some unseen angle, the day bright but not blinding, with just a hint of rain on the way, and an occasional breeze from afar that smells of the sweet scent of fresh rain over some forest far away? Just like today, now.

Because when it seems so perfect, when the emotions are in perfect balance with one another, when the heart is at peace with the quiet universe itself, we are at a loss as to what we should feel. Thus we dislike it.

Humans are troublesome creatures, no?

Help

Latest update: problem gone away already, inexplicably. Hopefully it doesnt come back inexplicably again. thanks all who helped, and thanks all who missed me. Miss "anonymous" didnt get my thanks then. hahaaa.

I cant login to Windows Live Messenger, windows messenger, or msn web messenger! I keep getting this

error code: 80048820
extended error code: 80048439

Initially when I tried to troubleshoot, it diagnosed my computer as having some problems with the key ports (which I dont know what the heck that is) After 50tries, it no longer diagnose it with that problem anymore. BUT still cant connect! (I think it just got fed up with me so it stopped showing the error)

The thing is, its definitely not my connection problem since I can access web pages like how I am blogging now. It might be my connection settings though, and I have no idea how to fix it. help. I tried system restore to no avail.

Of course, it may be that MSN is simply down. I highly doubt that but I have no way of checking. On random, I decided to sms like 5friends on their msn status: one doesnt use msn, two are not at home, one decided not to login at all, and the last one didnt reply. =_=""

So help. Anyone. Short of suggesting that I reinstall windows or formatting my harddisk, I will readily take your suggestions.

If no one can help me here, then I wouldnt be able to login to msn for quite some time already. For some that may be good news though.

p.s. It would probably not be a good idea to wait for me to login to msn, then tell me your solution.

The courage to be wrong

Most feared is the man who seeks not to offend, who wants only to please, having no apparent voice of his own -- the deepest of all men with clay for heart.

By voicing your own mind, you in turn allow others to have their own voice; for none could disagree with someone who always agreed with them. Be afraid not to err, for we dare only speak with one who errs.

The one who fears admonition will not get it, but only because no one dare to admonish him. Only by seeking admonition, however, can one achieve communication.

No one likes to finally understand your heart, and find it but the shape of his grasp.

Because you dared not express what you really feel, others dare not express what they feel about what you really felt -- even if what you really felt is plain for all to see. Thus we only like the man who allows himself to be hated.

To go or not to go

The poll machine is broke, I think perhaps thats the reason why I havent been getting a lot of votes (another reason is that most people just couldnt be bothered with me, but that is too horrible to contemplate) so I removed the poll thingy. If you have any comments, you can freely do so below.

I am taking a poll, to see if I should go overseas for further studies immediately after graduation.

On the one hand, going overseas (America) immediately keeps the length of further studies down to the minimum, 5years. Thats a PhD with an intermediate Masters degree awarded. I dont like the Masters program at nu* too. If I do Masters here, I will have to do another 5years upon graduation of Masters too, 7years in total. Besides I have already applied for the Graduate Records Examinations which cost me $250+. Some of my profs and seniors have been encouraging me to go overseas instead of staying here. Going overseas should be fun too.

On the other hand, money is a huge factor. Despite what everybody seems to be claiming nowadays, I aint really merely saying that I am poor. My whole family isnt in good financial state, and we would have to really scrape to get the money to let me go overseas. One of my profs said its better to do MA here first, since that might enhance my chance of getting into a good uni for PhD. And its really scary to be going to a new land where everyone probably cant understand my accent (or bad english). Application forms are a headache to fill in, what with the letters of recommendation I need, masters proposal, interest statements, application fees, etc. And I might not really get into a very good US uni, though I dont know for sure.

So now what? To go or not to go? You decide. Actually, I will be doing the decision, but you can tell me what you think. Vote below, your vote will remain confidential (since I have no way of knowing who voted anyway). If you feel really strongly about me staying or leaving, you can even come back everyday to cast a second, third or fourth vote.

Earblock

We define ourselves by defining the things we dislike or hate.

There is no real reason why, why we chose to hate certain things other than we need to hate them to be. Or perhaps there is a reason.

There is what I would want to coin "earblock" -- we hear what we want to hear.

Verbal arguments go on forever; we never give enough credibility to what might constitute good proof, and emphasized fatal errors, making them up even if they arent there. Whatever aids our cause, is whatever that is understandable. Whatever not, absurd.

Even when reading, where we are trained to believe readily what the books say, we experience "mindblock" where things simply do not go in. In a milder form, we dont remember what we read even though we understood and disagreed. In a stronger form, we dont even understand, not because they are incomprehensible, but because we simply refuse to understand.

How are we to understand this "refusal"? It is not a refusal out of a committment to disagree, but simply because deep inside, we don't agree; there is something within ourselves that rebels against understanding it, almost as though understanding it is an offense to our very nature; that to understand we would no longer be us. That understanding itself is antithesis to the existence of our selves.

And how can the self wants the destruction of itself!?

Thus we seek our destruction with each advance in understanding. To survive, we need to delineate what we want to understand, what we hate and what we cannot possibly tolerate.

p.s. It is enough to skim through quickly what I wrote. If you get it, then you got it. For an example of the feeling of "refusal to understand", read Hegel or Heidegger.

Boston - Augustana

I'm rather surprised that lots of my friends have never heard of this song. It's very nice; I've always liked this kind of slow songs. What's more, I might be applying to some universities in the Boston area, so it's rather appropriate, though of cos, in the song it's the girl who's leaving for Boston.

In the light of the sun, is there anyone? Oh it has begun...
Oh dear you look so lost, eyes are red and tears are shed,
This world you must've crossed... you said...

You don't know me, you don't even care,
She said
You don't know me, you don't wear my chains...

Essential yet appealed, carry all your thoughts across
An open field,
When flowers gaze at you... they're not the only ones who cry
When they see you
You said...

You don't know me, you don't even care,
She said
You don't know me, you don't wear my chains...

She said I think I'll go to Boston...
I think I'll start a new life,
I think I'll start it over, where no one knows my name,
I'll get out of California, I'm tired of the weather,
I think I'll get a lover and fly em out to Spain...
I think I'll go to Boston,
I think that I'm just tired
I think I need a new town, to leave this all behind...
I think I need a sunrise, I'm tired of the sunset,
I hear it's nice in the Summer, some snow would be nice...
Boston... where no one knows my name...

Spam mail

I was going through my email today, then on an impulse, decided to have a look at the spam mail folder for the heck of it. The titles of the spam mail are largely uninteresting, "Re: this" or "Re:that", occasionally having rather clever titles like "urgent:" or "your email got bounced, etc." None were particularly attractive though; spammers arent very inventive I guess.

I remember in the past, there used to be some internet virus-ly thingy that propagates through spam mail. The attachment is named something like "I love you", or "secret admirer". Now that's what I call a good spam (though not good in the sense of being morally good; you get the idea). However staunch a spam fighter you are, you will feel an urge to open the email, open the attachment. Even if you deleted it eventually, there is still the lingering tinge, a slight tug at the heart: what if?

What if what? What if someone is really secretly admiring you and sent you an email of course! No matter how lowly your opinion of yourself you claim to have, deep down inside, you secretly think that you are the most adorable, most lovable person in the world, and it is weird that people havent been rushing to kiss your hands and gushing out their love for you. (They are shy, thats why.) Thats also why it isnt that unthinkable that some secret admirer could send you an email professing his/her love for you. In fact, its a miracle that your inbox hasnt been flooded by such mails in the first place!

Of course, if you are living in some places like Singapore, where everyone's name is along the lines of "Dao Nee" and "Dao Hui", and you get such an email from "Staccie Roberto" etc., you know immediately that its a hoax. Not to mention that you know your english is so poor that no foreigners with Caucasian-sounding names would ever take interest in you.

Yet two increasingly popular trends conspire to push the suspicion down to a minimum. More and more young people in Singapore are adopting English names like Kate, Leo, Kleith, etc., making emails from similar sounding names seem more possible and realistic. Whats more, spammers have begun to catch on that emails from people with First and Middle name in their Sender information rarely hit the jackpot: whats the chance that you really know someone who is named "Jack", and has also a middle name "Zetarine"?

Eventually you might get an email from a "Rachel", with a title of "Love letter", and it just happens that the cute girl in class/office, is also named Rachel, and has been casting flirty looks at you all week. It would be cruel indeed to delete the email without even opening it first! And if there is an attachment that says "my feelings for you", probably most hot-blooded males will hastily open the attachment without even noticing that it is a .exe file, or if they did, to the hell with it, we can always format the pc later!

It all depends on the name of the sender I am thinking. Some perfectly normal mails from perfectly normal friends can pass as spam if you are in that particular mood. Dont even bother to open their mail: its probably crap, and their attachments probably crap too.

Some mails however, are totally suspicious looking, with an attachment that says "thisisvirus.exe" and "I hate you" in the email main body, which most people would assure you that it would be perfectly potty to open such a mail, yet without hesistation you would open the attachment if it is from the right person. Or follow the link to some sites that are totally insecure and suspicious looking and probably have 50 keyloggers installed in your pc the minute you login.

Not that these considerations will stop you from opening such mails. Some mails just have to be opened, regardless of the consequences. The day when spammers can achieve a similar level of compulsion for the emails is the day when spam mail is going to destroy the whole world.

Creep - Radiohead

I wish I could claim that I wrote this, but no. It's just an insanely nice song that describes the feelings of being secretly in love perfectly well. (Of cos, certain Radiohead fan would slam me for an idiot for only noticing that they have such nice songs after sooo long, 13 years after the song was first released. But who cares about them. hahaaa)

When you were here before,
couldn't look you in the eye.
You're just like an angel,
your skin makes me cry.
You float like a feather,
in a beautiful world
I wish I was special,
you're so fucking special.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here.

I don't care if it hurts,
I want to have control.
I want a perfect body,
I want a perfect soul.
I want you to notice,
when I'm not around.
You're so fucking special,
I wish I was special.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?.
I don't belong here

She's running out the door,
she's running,
she run, run, run, run, run.

Whatever makes you happy,
whatever you want.
You're so fucking special,
I wish I was special,

but I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here,
I don't belong here.

Eyes

I'm not sure what happened just now, maybe I have been reading too much, maybe I am too heaty, just now a swath of my left eye's vision just simply vanished. It started with a small bright bar just across the direct vision where I cant see anything at all, then over the course of an hour, it grew to a broad sweeping that looks roughly like a pointed C, in bold and shining with bright nothingness. My left eye couldnt focus with my right eye, and it looked weird in the mirror. The frightening thing is, my right eye seem to have the same C, just very far off into the peripheral.

For an hour, the possibility of going blind is very huge. Fearsome thoughts of living the rest of my life out in complete darkness, of being jobless and unable to do philosophy, of faces I will never see, of things I will never see and do, all these flashed across my mind endlessly. It was a very dark hour indeed.

My vision cleared after that hour, after I drank lots of liquid my mum stuff onto me and constantly massaged the sides of my eye and resting them as much as I could.

I suppose my vision is back to normal now... but there is no telling when that may relapse, and take away my sight forever. When that happen, I wouldnt be able to blog about it, nor go on msn to inform anyone about it already.

Fifty Rules To Be A Real Man With An Oomph

Disclaimer: I didn't mean to repost my old posts, but since this one is rather incomplete, and I fully intend to complete it some time after my exams, I am transposing the old posts here, for some kind of continuity between the old posts and the rest of the rules yet to come. The rest of the sacred book, however, is misplaced somewhere in my frighteningly chaotic room, and because of the exams, I have no time to look for them, much less type them out. Meanwhile, this post serves as just a placeholder for the rest yet to come.

Some background information of FRTBARMWAO. FRTBARMWAO stands for "Fifty Rules To Be A Real Man With An Oomph", which is a Sacred Book owned by all true blooded men, given to them by their dads on their 2nd birthday in some obscure ritual.


The Sacred book of FRTBARMWAO


Rule One: NEVER TO LET ANY FEMALE SEE THIS BOOK. THEY MUST NOT EVEN BE AWARE OF ITS EXISTENCE. DO ANYTHING WITHIN YOUR POWER TO PREVENT SUCH FROM HAPPENING

Advice: The sacred book must never be shown to the females. In the case that you are a female, and are reading this, you are encouraged to stop immediately.

If you are still reading this, you have 3 seconds to surrender yourself.

If you are really still reading it, and didnt have any intention whatsoever to stop regardless of what it says here, serious actions would have to be taken against you.

In other words, we will try our best to ignore you.

Guys upon confrontation by the females regarding the Sacred book, you are encouraged to adopt either the "huh, what are you talking about?" attitude, or the offhand "hahaa, that guy is just talking rot" attitude. Most importantly assert that "I have never even heard of such a thing".

Rule Two: YOU MUST PROFESS TO LOVE SPORTS

Advice: You need to love a sport, any sport. Recommendations are soccer and basketball. Even if you do not like sports at all, you must tell everyone else that you do.

The reason for this is girls absolutely adore guys who professed to love sports. Guys who dont do so are wimps. You can only look macho if you like sports.

This also provide a convenient excuse to get away from the girls once in a while, like "I need to sleep in the other room tonight, 'cause I am watching soccer at 2am and I dun want to disturb you." whereupon you can peacefully sleep by yourself finally.

Rule Three: YOU ABSOLUTELY NEED A TAN

Advice: If you dun have a tan, you are just not man enough. Fair skinned is used to describe women, not men. If you are, unfortunately, that kind who dont get tanned no matter how hard you try, thats just too bad. However, you must persevere, and keep telling everyone you are doing your best to get a tan. The telling everybody part is especially important.

Rule Four: YOU NEED A SCAR

Advice: It doesnt matter how you got that scar, as long as you got one. The important thing is, the story behind the scar must be some cool and dangerous undertaking, like gang fight, or a slash from robbers, even if it is really not.

Position the scar somewhere prominent, so you can show the ladies conveniently; showing them your butt is definitely not cool.

Rule Five: VIOLENCE IS ALWAYS THE FIRST SOLUTION

Advice: In any situations, the first thing you should try is violence. If the TV is not working, give it a solid whack; if the other man behaves like a jerk, punch him before he can say anything. Many things in the world are masochistic; they need a good kick in the butt to get them functioning properly. Men are there to provide that violence, do not neglect your responsibility.

In the unlikely event that violence doesnt work, you should try to talk your way out. Talking is not as favoured as violence, but it does help sometimes. Suggested talk tactics are :"I was pretty sure he was asking for it, he knew it was coming anyway." or "My big brother is coming, you better stop hitting me now, else you are really going to hurt later."

Third way out is calling for help. This is emergency hotline, a true Man should Never call for help unless he is: 1. Dying. 2. A wimp. If the TV is spoilt, you make sure you die trying to fix it before allowing your wife to call the technician.

Rule Six: CODE WORD: SHIT AND WTF

Advice: The brotherhood have been known to be merciful, and in the event of serious problems, you can SOS for help by uttering the secret code word S.H.I.T. which stands for Somebody Help!! I'm in Trouble!!

Practice saying this really fast and in quick succession. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit.

Another member of the brotherhood upon hearing this secret codeword will respond accordingly, by saying WTF quickly and also in quick succession.

WTF stands for Wat-The Fish, and it is a highly kept secret, known to the secret order of Wat-The monks to be the name of the Sacred Fish, which is reputed to help men in a fix. By invoking the name of Wat-The Fish, a member of the brotherhood is calling blessings upon the man in distress, and at the same time authenticating his membership.

Practice saying this really fast too. WTF WTF WTF WTF WTF.

Rule Seven: YOU MUST LEARN TO PLAY AT LEAST ONE MUSICAL INSTRUMENT

Advice: This is the ultimate girls-drawer, the ultimate ladykilling stance. For best results, learn the saxophone. It absolutely bowls women over. Look at the word itself... sax sax sax... what does it remind you of? Trust me.

In the event you could not secure a saxaphone, or indeed learn to play one, have no fear. The brotherhood has a long standing secret pact with all the kindergardens across the country to teach the Recorder. With such a skill, you can proudly tell any girl who asked, or if they didnt, insist on telling them anyway, that you can play the recorder. Offer to play a song for them too.

Rule Eight: WHISTLE

Advice: Men are always busy. There are always countless meetings to rush to, or soccer matches you are late for. During such situations, it can be a lifesaver to know how to whistle.

Imagine in a hurry, and you need to pee, but the pee simply would not come out, cos you are too stressed and urgent to pee. It is a surprise at how much whistling at this point can do for you.

At normal times, you can use this skill to impress girls as well; whistling after a pretty looking girl will increase your chance of getting her phone number by 5 folds, as survey shows.

Recently, there emerged an unorthodox sect, an offshoot of the brotherhood; they stick 2 fingers into their mouth to whistle. Not a very wise move, considering how hard it would be to pee with one hand inside your mouth. Practically acrobatic if the 2 fingers have to come from both hands. Pretty disgusting as well.

Rule Nine: CRISIS

Advice: You need to get crazy once in a while, for the sake of being unpredictable if nothing else. Women love their men to be unpredictable at unpredictable times; being predictable makes life boring and generally everyone unhappy.

A good time time to do so would be when you are around 40, when you are conveniently forgiven for the so-called Mid Life Crisis. Do whatever, quit your job, get a fling, you shall be pardoned.

Rule Ten: GOLDEN RULE: NO BEATING OF WOMAN

Advice: No room for negotiations. No beating.

It is, of course, permitted to have one of those "fights" with your beloved half every once in a while (we have been told that such encounters help promote blood circulation and also ultimately improve relationships significantly, not to mention it providing the perfect excuse for some nastily sweet making up). However, these "fights" are to be only metaphorical for you , while it may or may not be literal for the females.

Under no circumstances you are to retaliate, even if a woman is clawing you repeatedly. The reason for that is it simply isn't the thing to hit a woman. Besides, other women who saw you being clawed might take pity on you, and hence spreading your reputation of being a real man. This is how charisma comes about.

However, there is one exception to this otherwise infallible rule: that is, unless a woman is repeatedly kicking some needless-to-mention extremely sensitive spot, with no intention of stopping whatsoever, and no sight of any potential female admirers in the immediate vicinity. In such extreme situation, the whole of the future and the dignity of the male genus is at stake; that would call for extreme measures. Then it is permitted to slap her foot away, to discourage her from further assaulting the dignity of the male genus (that is, if you can still move from being repeatedly kicked there).

Rule Eleven: NO SHOPPING WITH WOMEN

Advice: It is a taboo to be seen shopping with women, even your girlfriend, especially your wife. Shopping absolutely goes against the core tenets of the brotherhood. A true man should not be seen dead in a shop with a girl, especially if it is a lingerie shop.

Snipers from the brotherhood are positioned around all major shopping centers to take headshots at guys seen shopping with their girlfriends or wives.

No shopping.

Rule Twelve: YOU NEED MORE MUSCLES

Advice: You can never get enough of those stuff. You must train up more, to beef up and build up 'em meat, to prepare for the final test.

Gradually work up from lifting dumbbells to weight bars. When you can lift around 50kg, you are ready for the final test and will be given the go by the brotherhood to get married. Whereupon you can carry your bride into the marriage chamber.

The smarter guys out there would train all the way to 100kg to prepare for the unexpected load to avoid embarrassment on the day of marriage by dropping her. Girls have never been known to be honest about their true weight.

Rule Thirteen: SWEARING AND THE UNIVERSAL SIGN LANGUAGE

Advice: You need to learn this, it is the sole reason human as a species is able to survive and proliferate so well. Communication is the key: you absolutely need to learn to effectively and efficiently convey your delicate innermost feelings. An increasingly popularised word which would aid you in communication skills is the word "Fuck". Survey shows nearly 60% of the known world recognise this word for what it is, hence it is a very handy word to equip yourself with before going on an overseas trip.

Nothing can be as expressive as saying this word really fast and in quick succession. The facial expression comes naturally, so there is no need for practice, another good reason why you should learn it. Almost like an American Express Card.

However, in the event that the word "Fuck" doesnt work, there is a Universal sign language that would more than make up for it. In fact, studies have shown that ALL cultures across the globe recognise the ancient symbol, and it is highly likely that aliens, if there are any, would recognise it too.

The Universal Sign language is quite hard to transpose into words here, but it roughly involves a certain positioning of the middle finger. Very complex, but very useful and easy to learn.

The government of the Republic of Singapore has been kind enough to provide a full 2 year course on the art of swearing for all able bodied males. We wish to express our thanks here to the government which is so concerned about the well being of our males.

Rule Fourteen: REPERTOIRE OF GHOST STORIES

Advice: You must learn and memorise ghost stories, preferably those involving personal participation. A good setting for your ghostly encounters would be Pulau Tekong where men are supposedly there to train as soldiers, and supposedly to be severely haunted.

It must never be let out that most of the time in Tekong is spent making up ghost stories designed with the sole purpose of impressing the girls and making them cringe with fear.

Rule Fifteen: HIERARCHY WITHIN THE BROTHERHOOD MUST BE STRICTLY OBSERVED

Advice: Ranks within the brotherhood are subtly displayed, though strictly observed.

Hierarchy is determined by the chest measurements. In other words, the bigger pectoralis major you have, the higher ranking you are. Hence it is vital that every man carry about him a set of measuring tape, in event of dubious comparisons.

Upon meeting a higher ranking personnel within the brotherhood, one must show the proper respect and obeisance rightly due to him. Prostration should only be done in absence of females, and licking of superior's foot is highly encouraged.

Appeal against your rank can certainly be made, in which case biceps measurements are taken as a second hearing. A second appeal is discouraged, and should only be awarded in exceptional situations, whereupon taking of the third measurements should be adjourned to the Gents, and carefully taken.

Rule Sixteen: SUPPORT ALCOHOL

Advice: It is a well known fact that alcoholic drinks are disgusting, tasting nothing short of puke, and hangovers are about the worst thing next to hell you can experience.

However, it is still mandatory that you support alcoholic drinks, and maintain that you love them. The sole reason being it is the core business of the brotherhood, supporting 67% of the male species in alcoholic related businesses, as well as being the only venture that is profitable enough to form the main bulk of the brotherhood's budget.

We apologise for the piss-like taste of all the beers and volkas etc, and we assure you that we are trying our very best to improve the aftertaste as well. In the meantime, continue to visit pubs and buy lots of beers to fund our research. Treat your girl friends as well, they will eventually be convinced alcohol is actually nice to drink. The Power of Love.

Rule Seventeen: CURLY LEG HAIRS

Advice: The brotherhood has, through some highly reliable sources, gotten the information that all women have a secret fetish for curly leg hairs.

This phenomenon is currently unexplained for, but many psychologists tasked to work upon it have recently come up with the Unfulfilled Unconscious Theory which somewhat postulates the fact that women are forced to shave their own off, creates a powerful subconscious urge to admire it in the male-species.

Internally, the brotherhood feels that this is bullshit, but we paid a lot for those psychologists, and we are never going to admit we are paying for shit.

As every man knows, leg hairs grow straight. Whatever possessed those women to like curly ones is quite clearly not quite in the head. However, to indulge the wishes of our whimisical other half, all men are encouraged to perm their leg hairs.

Perm 'em curly, make them fluffy. Thats the way, boys. Go forth and make 'em ladies swoon.

For those who have minimum leg hairs, artificial inplants are available at specific hair care centres, where a series of packages are offered for those who need leg hair protection as well.

Rule Eighteen: THOU SHALL NOT TOUCH THINE FRIEND'S GIRL

Advice: We know some of you out there are ladykillers, womankillers, ahsohkillers watever, but remember this golden rule whenever you are out for the kill.

Even if your friend's girl is stunningly beautiful, or simply too disgusting to live, you Are Not Allowed to Touch Her.

OFF LIMITS. HANDS OFF. As the proverb goes: Let the man live his own choice. Even if you see that it is a horribly wrong one.

Rule Nineteen: DECEPTION ALWAYS WORK

Advice: This is quite stating the obvious, for deception is in our blood. But the true art of deception is worth pursuing, and the road to it is long and ardous.

Indeed, it is a highly regarded art that we men possess, and it has been known that even women enjoyed being cheated by men. In certain occasions, it is quite... unhealthy for the men to avoid deception.

Cases where she asked for your opinion on her latest buy, or the size of her waist, you know are treading on thin ice, and the man who value his life will do some careful intellectual deception.

Rule Twenty: YOU MUST HAVE A CAR

Advice: Every true man need to have a car. Before marriage, it serves the important function of ferrying your girl. After she is firmly in your hands, and signed the damnation bonds, the car can be used to ferry other girls.

Of course, other than that, it is quite essential in providing that object of jealousy for your wife. Women have been known to treasure their men if they seem worthy, and any men who cant afford to split their love between the wives and something else, is deemed unworthy.

As a result of which, you need to name your car "Wife", or "Honey", or any sick and disgusting name your wife would like to hear it used on her. Shower it with affection and love, and very soon your wife will be vying for your attention with it. Strange creatures women are, but we shall come to understand them better in the future, hopefully.

Rule Twenty-One: SEWING IS FROWNED UPON

Advice: Men who sew are wimps, under no circumstances are you to take up thread and needle and mend your clothes yourself.

You dun see Arnold lugging a sewing case around when he was in the jungles shooting 'em machine guns. You rip your clothes off when it has a tear; you look more macho that way, trust me.

Rule Twenty-Two: TABOO WORDS: "I LOVE YOU"

Advice: Any man caught saying those three words will immediately be stripped of his membership, which could be pretty painful to say the least, and denounced publicly.

The reasons of the brotherhood are not always given, suffice to say it has been a long standing tradition, and anyone caught flouting the rule will be heavily disciplined. (However, the arms of the brotherhood though long, are usually not as sharp and venomous as your girlfriend's fingernails. Men under severe torture, or tough enticing, if you should submit under the "cajoling", make sure you do not get caught. What goes unnoticed, might go unpunished.)

On the other hand, it is quite obvious that whenever a man glance surreptitiously to the left and right before whispering into his girlfriend's ear, he is uttering the taboo words for fear of discovery by the Brotherhood. As such, this behavior can be considered as proper incriminating evidence on the same status as publicly announcing those three words.

Rule Twenty-Three: SNAG ENMITY

Advice: The brotherhood has openly declared warfare upon the secret organisation of SNAG (Sensitive New Age Guys). For this reason, all men are required to express a universal hatred for all SNAGs, self-proclaimed or otherwise.

It has been known to the upper echelons of the brotherhood that this other organisation is gaining popularity rapidly, the result of which our customers will increasingly expect all men to behave as SNAGs.

This behavior is intolerable, especially when it is coming from our trusted customers whom we have been serving ever since Eve herself. We never heard her complain, do we?

We, thus, need to put our foot down firmly before the situation gets out of hand, and declare to the world that men shall remain callous and uncouth for eternity, to show them we have the sole proprietary on deciding the direction of our male species.

Rule Twenty-Four: THE ART OF SPITTING

Advice: It has been a long established myth, which generate fair amount of envious behaviours and some swoonings, that men carry the art of spitting from birth.

The truth is, the art of spitting is taught, and without proper tutelage, none can master the art of graceful spitting.

Women have been observed to spit like a child, dribbling all over their lips as they do so, hence their professed disgust over men's skill at it, when in fact they are simply jealous.

The art of spitting, which takes some practice, will hence be imparted here.

1. You need some spit. If you cant generate any, or for the really avid fans who run out of spit after like, the hundredth tries, you may use something small like the seed of a watermelon.

2. Position the seed, or spit, between your front 2 teeth, with the tip of your tongue directly behind it, exactly as if you are holding it hostage.

3. Suck it dry. You dun want to look like some young girl spitting and dribbling at the same time. The worst you can do is to have a long string of saliva connecting your mouth all the way to the spit 2 feet away. Plain disgusting.

4. With the tonguetip firmly in place, direct a strong jet of air between the roof of the mouth and the flat of the tongue to the hind of the seed/spit, to provide that propulsion needed to send it on its way.

With this set of instructions, never shall men be said to be without proper upbringing. Remember, spit excessively everywhere you go, demonstrate your competence for the world to see. Make them die of envy.

Rule Twenty-Five: "CANT-S" VS "DISLIKES"

Advice: It has never been within the dictionary of the brotherhood of such word as "cant". Never say you cant do something, anything. Always say you dislike doing it.

If you cant drink, say you hate drinking. (though the brotherhood will hunt you down for it)

If you cant drive, say you dislike driving.

If you cant repair something, say it is too troublesome to do it, and you are refusing to do it on principles.

Admitting you are a wimp, shows you are a wimp. So never admit it, even on pains of death. The same goes for admitting mistakes: you are wrong only if the other party is wrong first.

Rule Twenty-Six: Secret Membership in SNAG

Advice: You need to hide your sacred book of SNAG away carefully, and never be let known of your secret membership in it.

The practices of SNAG, though openly frowned upon, must have some charms to them, and it is imperious we learn something from the cult.

Wait patiently for the next installment of SNAG.

Rule Twenty Seven: DANCING

Advice: Another of the must learn skills that any true blooded man should possess.

It is a well known fact that women love to dance, and to exploit this weakness of theirs, men are encouraged to pick up dancing. Of course, we are not talking about just any kind of dance. It has to be one that involves lots of twirling around, and I don't mean twirling your fingers dumbass.

Learn only those dances that require you to twirl your partner around, in as many circles as possible. The idea is to get them giddy and breathless, literally sweeping them off their feet.

Should, however you use this canon to go learn other kinds of dance that dont involve twirling, rest assured you will be branded as a traitor for life.

Rule Twenty Eight: Sitting postures

Advice: To be a real man, it is mandatory to adopt the appropriate etiquette expected of us. Of utmost importance is how you sit. Bear in mind that this should apply to all situations without exceptions.

The key point here is to spread your legs wide as far as they would go, when sitting (it really doesnt make sense to be talking about standing here). The reason, which should be pretty obvious, is that only people of high standing can afford to take up a lot of physical space, and hence by spreading your legs open, you are assuming and asserting an air of authority which simply bowls everyone over.

It doesnt matter if your legs are the short, bandy kind. Just open them wide. You will see people walking wide of you when you do that, trust me.

Rule Twenty Nine: Swagger

Advice: In close connexion with the previous canon, naturally this is regarding the way you walk, or carry yourself.

In obvious relation, you need to swagger when walking, and the reason is quite the same as before: people who can afford to swagger usually are people of high importance. At this point you might try to point out that our prominent political figures like LKY, Koizumi etc. clearly don't swagger.

However, we assure you that they didnt swagger only because they are camera-shy. We have it on the best of authority that they certainly swagger off-screen. Afterall, they too have their own copies of FRTBARMWAO. (Though we had to translate a japanese version for japan. Troublesome ah)

Rule Thirty: CUT YOUR NAILS

Advice: For goodness' sake, cut your damn nails. The nails are there for a purpose, and it is to be cut!

The reason for that, is long nails properly belong on women. Now this may sound sexist, and though we are admittedly sexists, this is not a sexist reason. It just doesnt have a purpose for men to sport long nails.

For the females, however, is an entirely different story. Other than naturally looking good on them, the nails have this additional function of raking men with. To be raked by a woman's nails is a kind of honor, you might say. We have a technical term for it, quite sophisticated sounding in fact: Honor scars. If you think the name sucks, we suggest you keep that to yourself.

For men to possess long nails, however, serves no similar purposes at all! Surely you didnt think women would appreciate being raked by you?! As far as the Brotherhood's intel goes, scarring a woman's skin is tantamount to committing suicide: a rather slow and excruciating death.

Rule Thirty One: RAISE YOUR ARMS

Advice: It is quite well known that women need to shave their armpits, as sanctioned by society. Men however have no such restrictions.

Hence, go forth and expose your armpits whenever the chance present itself. Show off 'em hairy armpits, make the girls envious. If you are in a bus, clutch at the overhead railings instead of the seat bars; if you are in a seminar room, raise your arms all the way when answering a question. Grab at any chance to show off your assets.

It might help if you are the sort that perspire a lot, for your armpits will have this self-regulating mechanism for catching attention. Anyone within miles will surely notice your luxuriant crop of armpit hairs, if it has the "right aroma".

If you don't have such luck to be born with it, we recommend using our special odorant, available at all major stores of the Brotherhood.

Rule Thirty Two: CARRYING OF UMBRELLA

Advice: A REAL man should not be seen dead with an umbrella in the rain, unless he is (1) sheltering a girl, or (2) beating some guy up with it.

Usage of umbrella is a public admittance of weakness, showing the world that the male genus could not even tolerate mere droplets of water.

Under no circumstances, even where there are no girls in sight, may the guy secretly take out his umbrella to (1)shelter himself, (2) shelter another guy, even if it is raining hailstones.

Should you die braving the hailstorms, whilst having an umbrella somewhere in your bag, rest assured that we will make a martyr out of you.

Don't be afraid to die.

Rule Thirty Three: PART TIME FIELD RESEARCHER

Advice: Now, you know very well that the Brotherhood is pretty tight on funds. We absolutely couldnt afford to hire professional researchers, at least not officially (some of our brothers are notoriously difficult to badger into doing free research on behalf on the Brotherhood, not where their livelihood is concerned).

Therefore, every able-bodied male is expected to perform the duty of field researcher, in addition to his primary role which is... erm... forget it. Consider it as some sort of patriotism towards the Brotherhood.

The only data the Brotherhood need is, naturally, about women. We need to know everything about them, the vital statistics, their heights, the colour of their eyes etc. Anything that you can think of, anything you can gather, we want them!

Hence, consider it your duty to ogle at girls. Try to do it discreetly please, else we might be accused of being uncouth again. But in any case, data gathering takes precedence over all else. If situation demands you to publicly ogle at a particularly fine specimen, do it.

For the Brotherhood, any damages to one's personal reputation should be worth it.

Rule Thirty Four: EATING MANNERISMS

Advice: It shouldnt come as a surprise by now what we are going to advise on the issue of how to eat.

It is a strange, but true fact that girls are absolutely captivated by how men eat. And the more disgustingly you eat, the more captivated they are.

Perhaps it has something to do with evolution: the cavemen presumably ate in a pretty disgusting manner back then. It is a freak accident that successful hunters get to eat more, and hence get to display their disgusting eating ways more often. Unfortunately, females who are attracted to successful hunters, are stuck with disgusting eaters for the rest of their lives.

Natural selection filtered out those females who couldnt stand married to disgusting eaters; they starved to death a long time back with the sissy-diners. Now we are left only with females who absolutely love males who eat noisily and messily.

A sad fact, but one which demands that we adapt ourselves to it. Henceforth, eat as we are expected to.

Rule Thirty Five: HAIR AND DRESSING

Advice: You absolutely need to assume that rugged look. It is no longer in fashion to comb your hair to the exact precision of the hairline, nor to wear a suit everywhere you go (if it were even ever in fashion in the past).

Your hair should always look like you got up in a rush in the morning, and given the barest of a comb before dashing out of the house, and subsequently being caught in a crosswind, then a police crossfire, and tussled by the escaping thugs, but still managed to look ruggedly dashing. Your clothes should be in an equally sloppy state, always seemingly on the point of falling off your back, but never actually doing so.

All this may take some masterful arranging, and it is advisable that you wake up quite early to get everything in place. It is an art to wear your hair like a mess, albeit a dashing mess, and the art requires quite some effort that simply couldnt be skimped on.

Rule Thirty Six: YOU NEED TO BE MAD

Advice: This is not quite the same as the previous rule, Rule Nine: CRISIS. We have a perfectly practical reason for requiring this rule.

It is known that girls expect us to assert contradictory stuff. If they ask you if you love them or not, you are expected to say yes, but they wouldnt believe you. If you say no, they wouldnt believe you either.

If they ask you whether they are fat, they will also demand that you do not lie to them, but to tell them they are really fat, is equal to committing suicide.

If you reply "yes, you are fat" you will surely die.
If you reply "no, you are not fat" it means you are lying to them, and you will die for that too.

Since we have to reply "yes" and "no" simultaneously, commonsense tells us that the girls expect us to be quite irrational. Therefore we must live up to their expectations.


to be continued....

What's the point

As you cross your arms, hugging yourself to the cold, perhaps it's the rain outside, maybe it's the something you drink; that cold seeps through your shoes, invading your toes. It is as if you are frozen within a shell of yourself, a mere millimeters of ice crust, your fingers feel as though they are mildly wet, stiff and cold, your soul shivering within them, trying to escape from the cold. Where is the refuge to be sought in? As you dive in between your blankets, you realise that your blankets are cold, and to warm yourself, you have to warm the blankets first.

exams and papers

I'm screwed. Its the exam by the end of this month, and all I have been doing is playing games. In the past, I always start preparations 1 week before the mid term break, and do conscientious revising throughout the whole semester; this sem, I did nothing of that sort. I barely kept up the minimum needed to follow through in class. Screwed screwed. I dont want to fail my first honours semester >.<

Deleted all my games, and hopefully I wouldnt come online. In the past, I used to set myself the time limit of away from computer at 10pm, now I think I have to not come online at all, to make up for the late, late start.

Starry heavens

Sometimes, we feel too firmly grounded; pulled by the Earth's immense gravity, weighed down by thousands of meter of air above us, enclosed in some concrete flat rooted to the ground. You can jump no more than a few feet however hard you try, and you certainly couldnt fly. You can hardly get more depressed than staring at your earthbound feet.

Yet we forget the fact that the earth is just a free floating globe, traipsing its way around the sun in endless space. From above, we are on a glowing blue and green sphere, encircling a glittering star at a speed that would have our hair streaming past our face if it had been on a highway. And indeed, it is some sort of a highway that our vehicle, the earth, is on: the Milkyway.

Along with the earth, the sun encircle some unknown center of the galaxy, itself but a spark alongside the myriads of stars glowing beautifully on their journey spiralling towards the center of the galaxy.

This galaxy, from afar, is yet another point of light, like a star, flying beside the many thousands of galaxies, each outdoing the other in their brilliance; breathtaking patterns in the skies forming an immense picture of light.

And we are flying, amongst the stars -- the giants of light.

Understanding

We all like our friends to understand us; even more so, we like the one we love to understand us, perfectly, if possible. While probably not realizable in reality, since the only person who can understand you perfectly is probably only a photo-copied you, nonetheless it isn't unreasonable to hope for a person like that would eventually come along.

What isnt immediately obvious is that there is not just 1 kind of understanding, but in fact, at least 3 kinds of understanding. Particularly for the case of the one you love, you probably want just 1 kind of understanding, namely the last which I shall talk about. However, different people have different preferences, so it may be that your view might differ significantly from mine, or that what you like may instead be a mix of the 3 kinds of understandings too. Regardless, lets look at what kind of understandings there are.

Firstly, there is the Smart-understanding. This particular person in your group of friends is able to anticipate what you like, what you don't like, what you are going to say, purely from your body language and inferences from your past behavior. In fact, he does it so well that he seems to be you voicing your own opinions, just that you are hearing it from him.

Perhaps he isnt really trying, not like he is a stalker or something, or mind reader. It just is obvious to him what you are going to do, say etc. As well all other people he met: he just knows what they going to do. But he likes to anticipate your actions and words just because he likes you. Nothing particularly wrong with that: even smart people are entitled to love.

Second type: Familiarity-understanding. I am going to avoid calling this Stalker-understanding, cos it is not. Familiarity breeds understanding: long term exposure to anyone can eventually give you a pretty good understanding of him in terms of his thinking, habits, etc.

Third type: SameFrequency-understanding. It isnt really that rare, to come across someone who thinks in roughly the same way as you. Sometimes you have friends who have the same habits, or same likes/dislikes. Quite reasonable, therefore to expect someone who is really on the same wavelength as you. There isnt any thinking, or long term exposure to you: he/she just happened to voice the same opinions as you, want to do the same thing, laugh at the same jokes, finds something hilarious while no one else except you does.

Well of course, we arent talking about exactly the same likes and dislikes, habits etc. Quite impossible in fact, unless you are gay or lesbians, since male and females already have different biological habits. But the really fun stuff, the ones you really place a lot of importance in, are where you hope you have this appropriate amount of same wavelengthness.

Unlike me, some people may prefer a combination of type 2 and type 3 understanding; taking pains to understand someone else through long term exposure can be a form of love, a sign of commitment to the relationship. In fact, most arranged marriages started off from purely type 2, and worked out fine in the end. Personally, however, since I am a pretty lazy person, and quite a romantic at heart, I much prefer someone who has so coincidentally the same frequency as me, laugh and talk about the same stuff all without trying to.

damn creative

I ripped these from Serene's blog, when she explicitly said I couldn't do so. But hey, its funny. So sorry about that. heh.

Tired

So tired... of everyday.
Tired of having to wake up,
of breathing,
of drinking water,
of having to bathe,
of having to decide on breakfast,
of actually eating the breakfast,
of trudging to school,
of deciding on where to lunch,
what to lunch,
and of lunching itself.
Tired of having to trudge home again,
of eating dinner,
of having to bathe again,
of reading notes,
of eating supper,
of being online,
of deciding when to sleep,
of trying to put myself to sleep,
of sleeping itself,
of breathing while sleeping.

Hell

Living is a chore: the intense light hurts the eye; the incessant noise seiges the ear; the unending pain on the senses; the bland taste of food; the gnaw of hunger; the chore of inflating lungs; the thirst for water; the aimlessness of every day; the pointlessnesss of goals, ambitions; the fear of love; the worry about death; the hatred of sleep; the impossibility of staying clean; the inability to focus; the hunger for stimulations; the intense need for peace; the worry of heat; the terror of being cold.

What the...

Inextricable

Poor, poor, pathetic fools
mired in that Cycle,
beyond their comprehension
lulled by the promise of Warmth and Comfort
exchanged warmth and comfort in it's stead;
fools' gold for fools' gold.

Moan for them;
dead as they were,
the stillborns
entrapped in a snare;
offering their souls on the Altar
initiates of Deception, and
Victim

to the seductive goddess
on a Pedestal.

Stupor

We are in a stupor.

The greater part of the day is spent in a daze: we know not what we are doing. Looking back at the end of the day, we can only remember some of the more interesting bits. Looking inward to yourself, what exactly are you feeling now? Happiness? Or some sadness carried over from a previous episode? Or would most of us say, for most of the time, we dont really know what we are feeling at all?

That's why we are constantly searching for interesting bits of news, things to do, anything to wake us up from this stupor, if only momentarily.

That is also the reason why you are reading this at all: to see if there is anything interesting written here, something to pull your attention outwards forcefully, as though to remind yourself that you are alive.

And you cant help but admit, that you feel yourself intrigued by this idea that someone else could tell you about this mysterious and extremely interesting psychological fact about yourself which you yourself never suspected.

Maybe we should pause to reflect on this: are we really in a stupor? Are most of what we do and think, merely realization of the subconscious desire to pull us out of this void, this emptiness, this stupor?

Why could we be not, like the sky diver, having constantly experienced thrills, uncontroversially interesting events, yet still seek out even greater thrills, not for the need to release from this state of stupor, but for novelty and an even greater life? The maxim "Life could be better" need not be viewed in a depressing light, for it could mean that life can be an ever ascending roller coaster ride (and nevermind the sharp drop at the end).

But perhaps we should ask ourselves, the true arbiter of our feelings, even if we couldnt prove it: are our lives like that of the thrill seeker, or is it mostly nauseously filled with emptiness where we know not what to feel, to be sad or happy, or anything in between?

Then, as we ask that question, like a sudden chill that grips the heart, we cant help but being stunned at the same time by another "Why are we doing all these?"

And hurriedly, without admitting to ourselves that we had ever asked such a frivolous and inane question, pass over it, and bury the thought, along with its unborn answers, with important tasks like eating and doing homework. Just like how you will be forgetting about this post the minute you finished reading it, if you managed to.

Love of

At the risk of sounding extremely nerdy, I have decided to jot this down. Some people have, over the years, expressed to me their aversion to studying, how they could not wait to graduate and step into the working world, and how much they dread tests and assignments.

Not a few, have all but said explicitly, felt curiosity, as would be upon encountering a 2 headed snake, when they know I would very much prefer to be studying rather than working, and may even be studying for 7 more years after graduating.

Some even told me, that studying is not everything. That I will realise, upon graduation, Life is more than studying, and that I should do something I really like in the course of my studies, instead of just mindlessly slogging my way through with scant regard for my personal enjoyment.

What these people seem to assume, is that studying couldnt be an end in itself; that it is merely a tool to get what we want in life, but you couldnt be happy doing it; that we needed to do something else to keep our sanity in this tests- and assignments- filled lifestyle.

While I sincerely think the above advice might be true for them, I dont really agree that it is applicable to everyone. Just as beauty is in the eye of the beholder, there are a huge variety of things that a person might like.

Certainly a sense of sadness and pity (for me) would be conveyed when these people know that what I take to be enjoyment is precisely what they think we need some syrup to go down the throat with, but the opposite may be said of them: that it is sad, from my perspective, that these people are doing something they dislike immensely, yet are forced, by themselves no less, to endure.

I do not deny, however, that I dread doing tests and assignments too, or worse, the exams! But despite these, I know I love studying itself, even if I hate hitting the books as much as the next guy.

Once I do start reading though, particularly philosophy, there is a certain fire that runs through my veins, as though the words were leaping off the pages, and overwhelming my brain with rivulets of gold; concepts previously unknown to me slowly shining with a light as they flow into the existing runnels in my brain, harder ones ill-fitting until they carve out new runnels, like tributaries, all flowing into the source of knowledge.

My face would flush, my pen would start twirling to the hidden rhythm in the words, and my mind would wander in the fantasy world where concepts mingle and gave birth to newer ones. Whereupon I would break off from studying, to allow my mind to take a breather, and this is usually the time when I would blog about the newer, more interesting concepts which has nothing to do with philosophy.

There are only 2 events in the whole of my life's experience that would give me these feelings, and one of them is studying philosophy.

And now, you can officially call me a nerd huh. ;-p

Just some random thoughts

1. Maybe someday, we would be able to have some form of control over time. Like able to stop time for a short time, or at least slow it considerably, in a limited space. Then we would be able to have the best fridge in the world, one which doesnt need to operate with lowered temperature at all!

Anything you put in, close the door, and take out a week later, will be as fresh as the day, indeed the moment!, as you put it in. Ice cream can be stored in the same storage area as a hot cup of milo. They wouldnt have time to affect each other's temperature!

2. It is likely that there are people with telepathic abilities walking in our midst, some of them may even be our friends, those who have a special knack for holding in secrets (as unlikely that may seem).

Why then, these people can simply pick thoughts off our brains as easily as eavedropping on conversations, nah, easier! That is how cool. So I think, maybe, with the possibility of having these people around, we should all walk around thinking the following thought all the time in our brains:

Wow you have telepathic abilities! Can you teach me pleasssee?

Perhaps then, some telepathic person will pick that thought straight from our brains, and sensing our sincerity at the same time, volunteer to teach us how to be telepathic! That will be like how cool!

Wow you have telepathic abilities! Can you teach me pleasssee?
Wow you have telepathic abilities! Can you teach me pleasssee?
Wow you have telepathic abilities! Can you teach me pleasssee?
Wow you have telepathic abilities! Can you teach me pleasssee?
Wow you have telepathic abilities! Can you teach me pleasssee?
Wow you have telepathic abilities! Can you teach me pleasssee?
Wow you have telepathic abilities! Can you teach me pleasssee?
Wow you have telepathic abilities! Can you teach me pleasssee?
Wow you have telepathic abilities! Can you teach me pleasssee?
Wow you have telepathic abilities! Can you teach me pleasssee?
Wow you have telepathic abilities! Can you teach me pleasssee?

complaining

I've decided not to blog about how absurd life is anymore. For one, if Life is absurd, then anything we do in Life is absurd, including trying to prove that Life is absurd. Hence it was a meaningless exercise after all to blog about it. I dont really have any good arguments for it anyway, it just arose from a gut feeling in me that life is absurd. Besides, blogging about this is boring.

So there... no more such posts.

So I shall blog about other stuff then. For 3years, i have been holding this in, but now i no longer can. Yes, I am going to complain about my classmates, whom I have finally gotten extremely pissed off with.

Not anyone in particular though, just talking about generally what types of classmates piss me off.

Number 1 on my list: interrupters. We have a certain kind of people who like philosophy, and that usually include people who like to argue. Unfortunately, some people obviously think that the license to argue (which they dont have) gives them the license to interrupt the professors and the people they are arguing with.

And sometimes, they pause a while after interrupting, signifying an end of turn, and the professors spoke to answer, but they just snatch the floor back by talking over the professors after they formulated what they were going to say.

Its not that I have a grudge against them, since they never interrupted me (I didnt speak as much as you might think), but I just thought it rude of them to do so.

Number 2 on my list: People with fake accents. Philosophy, the field of debate proper. Obviously you need to have a good command of spoken english to debate properly (which I dont). But some people think they do, and they fake accent to do that. You can tell that its fake when they accentuated certain words at regular intervals in their speech, and when they used the same words again, it might not be accentuated at all, as though they forgot they have to "accent" it. I'd say, if you think your english doesnt sound nice, please dont speak, instead of trying to act angmoh.

Number 3 on my list: Well.. this is quite specific towards some guy, so its not as I said earlier on about not targetting anyone in particular. This guy grunts all the time. Not just unintentionally, like he might have some uncontrollable condition to grunt. He grunts in assent to everything the professors said. Every sentence. "mm mm."

And if he posed a question, and the professors are replying to his questions, he grunts even louder. To every sentence. You can drive a man crazy by grunting so much. Imagine how many sentences can be spoken in a minute. Around 40sentences. Imagine how many that is in a 3hours seminar. Especially when you have to sit next to him. I almost bit my tongue to commit suicide then and there.

Well, I am done ranting. Its no coincidence that none of my classmates have my blog adddress, so I am safe here. lol.

Life is absurd 2

I probably shouldnt have left the previous post hanging for so long as it is. It gives the impression that I have more of a compelling argument for the idea that Life is absurd than I can really lay claim to. In any case, my personal conclusion at the end of this all is not terribly pessimistic anyway, so don't start honing your knives already.

The previous post was more like an introduction and an overview of the entire thread I will be talking about. And the important thing now is to see exactly how absurd life is.

On the surface, it doesnt really seem absurd at all. Look at so many people still leading their lives perfectly fine: no one kneels over from wondering about life, certainly no one have any problem with the notion of living. But perhaps it would be more apparent if we ask more questions about what we do.

For starters: why do we eat? Obviously, the reason is because we hunger. To continue living on for another day, we eat. the same goes for breathing and drinking water, to continue living. Well, the second question now is why do we want to live another day? Presumably some people have a good idea what they are going to do tomorrow, and the day after, maybe even the week after too.

Now we ask again: why do you need to do that which you want to do? I can, for a convenient example, tell you what I want to do by the end of this workyear: I want to graduate from NUS. But whats the point of that? So that I can get a job with a degree? whats the point of getting a job? so that I can earn money to lead a better lifestyle? why do I want to lead a better lifestyle?

That last question is probably where most of us will stop confounded at. Some may go on to say they want to lead a better lifestyle because they feel happier that way. But there really isnt much more space to go beyond that answer. Who, for example, could answer the further question "Why do you want to feel happier?"

Psychologists may be able to do so, drawing on the pleasure centers of the brain as an ultimate explanation why humans generally tend to gravitate towards making themselves happy. But that doesnt sound to me a satisfying answer at all. If we resort to this answer, then all we are saying is that humans are pleasure seeking creatures who don't have any significant purposes in life. All we have are little purposes all ended in trying to satisfy our pleasure centers in our brains.

That brings me to the important bit. So Life is just about satisfying our pleasure centers? All this work to make life happen on this tiny planet called Earth, is just so that the lifeforms would have certain configurations of neurons fire off in certain patterns?

And in case you think there might be a greater purpose that you have been called to Life for, let us think about this scenario which a philosopher proposed. Suppose one day someone came to you and declare that he discovered the True Purpose in life. Suppose that what he said is indeed true and proven beyond any doubts. Suppose he says: "we are all made as food for this higher being. That is our true and ultimate Purpose in life."

Well, that just takes the biscuit doesnt it? Would you yell and scream for joy that you have found the true purpose in life, and feel overjoyed and overwhelmingly satisfied that you have fulfilled your true purpose in life when this higher being reaches out and pop you in its mouth? Would you identify with this Purpose at all? Does it matter a whit what this purpose is (remember it is really what you are given life for)?

So we either have a Purpose which we might not identify with, or we have next to no purpose other than stimulating our neurons to fire off in certain patterns. To a computer observing our antics on the surface of Earth, all this Lively activity is nothing more than a rather complex movement of chemicals and particles, sparking off one reaction after another in a continuous chain. The initial products are some chemicals. The final products are, too, merely some other chemicals. Life is but a colorful name for that complex chemical reaction which goal is to produce a new set of chemicals from the initial reactants.

And who cares about what really goes on in the meantime. Well, we do, some people think. We care about what really goes on in the meantime. But notice that just meant we are interested in overseeing which particular patterns we would like the neurons to fire off in. Why should we care at all, if not simply for the fact that we are physically wired to care without a good reason?

Life is absurd 1

There is a reason why I wrote a post on suicide earlier on. Many reasons actually, but 1 reason is to induce the fear of suicide in people who do read my blog (in case they feel suicidal after reading one of my lamer posts), the other is that I couldnt possibly write it after I wrote this post, for I would have no way of accounting why we should not simply kill ourselves if Life is absurd.

Fundamentally absurd in fact, not merely absurd. On the most superficial level, life is simply absurd if we realise that to live is to die, and happiness is necessary aftermath of sadness. Fundamentally, life is absurd because it is absurd to assign any purpose to life, in the same way as you can't assign purpose to a stone. I will talk about both.

Firstly, we need an idea of why life is absurd at all. The problem with this age, as I see it, is that too many people have their heads buried in their lives, their work, their studies, so entrenched and so engrossed- perhaps subconciously they too realised that life is essentially meaningless.

We are like the ostrich which buries its head in the sand - we refuse to see how meaningless our lives are, so utterly bleak and absurd, and maybe the sheer absurdity of it is why our minds refuse to countenance the very idea, for fear of going mad entirely or simply giving up in despair.

Every life begins with a fanfare: we receive every newborn with much celebration, smiles and hopes for its future. We hope that it would soon open its eyes, it would soon be able to walk, able to talk, able to write and read and go to school. We want it to grow up into the future. But why? Why do we want it to grow up?

Well, perhaps we find that taking care of a baby is a burden, and we want it to be independent of us. Maybe, and a lot of people would disagree thinking that raising a child when its still a baby is much easier than when its adolescent, but assuming thats true, it would seem that we should be pretty content when the baby is around 6 years of age. And we should get happier and happier that it grows older and older. But why? Do we in fact, get happier and happier that the baby grows up? For what reason if we do?

There seems to be no particular reason why we want the baby to grow up. And when the baby, now no longer appropriately called the baby, reached 40years of age, suddenly we turn our attention away, and instead of hoping that he will grow up, we hope instead that he would have a baby that would grow up.

Well, what happen to the man now? Do we stop hoping that he would grow older? Why do we stop doing so, if we ever do? Or do we in fact hope that he would continue to grow older and older?

So many questions, but all just laying the ground for this question: why do we celebrate life at all? What is so great about life? Is it advantageous to us that we live, or any other person for the matter? I cannot finish this post today, but I will leave you peeps with this excerpt written by the German philosopher Johann Gottlieb Fichte who described the meaninglessness of life aptly, and in an entirely more direct manner:

I should eat and drink, only in order to hunger and thirst again, and eat and drink, merely until the open grave under my feet swallows me up as a meal for the earth? Should I create more beings like myself, so that they can eat and drink and die, and so they can leave behind beings of their own, so that they can do the same as I have already done? What is the point of this continual, self-contained and ever-returning circle, this repetitive game that always starts again in the same way, in which everything is, in order to fade away, and fades away, only in order to return again as it was - this monster, continually devouring itself in order to reproduce itself, and reproduce itself, in order to devour itself?

u can tell i am bored huh.

Honorary Mosquito Captain: And so we are all gathered here today for your graduation briefing, whereupon Commencement, you are released into the wild, figuratively speaking, to begin your short but ardous career of sucking human blood. Any questions at this point of time?

Mosquito A: I don't remember having taking any courses on sucking blood, where did this graduation ceremony come from??

Mosquito B: I don't remember seeing you either... why are you the Honorary Mosquito Captain?

Capt: Trivial and pointless questions. Really, we mosquitoes should start using our puny brains and not asking silly questions like these, for fear of appearing vacuous.

Any more stupid questions? No? Then I shall start my briefing proper. As you are about to embark on your holy mission to suck human blood, there are a few points to note... Yes? You got a question to ask?

Mosquito C: Ya, why is sucking human blood a holy thing to do? You mean its like we have to perform some rituals prior to sticking our mouths into their skins? That would be sooooo troublesome...

Capt: No, no... Not holy in the sense that you must perform obscene rituals (Mosquito C: I didnt say obscene...), but in the sense that it is a mission given to us by God to save human lives from extinction, and indeed, make them better for it.

Mosquito A,B, and C: Wow....

Capt: The idea is that humans have too much blood. Any experienced mosquito could tell you noobies that if you puncture the skin of any human, their blood will spurt out uncontrollably. That is a sign of high blood pressure, the blood moving from a place of high pressure to low pressure, seeking release from the confines of the taut, high-tensioned skin.

As we all know, high blood pressure is not good for humans, so we are on this mission to help them release some of the pressure in their bodies. You guys have heard of leeches, I presume?

Mosquitoes: Ya. The worm-like bastards right?

Capt: Well, those bastards are our allies: together we form the Universal Blood Service, bound in the mission to relieve humans of their high-pressured blood. The problem is that the leeches are quite rural in nature, and they refuse to leave the forest to service the city-dwellers. So it is up to us mobile units to spread all over the world in aid of the needys.

Mosquitoes: ooooohhh...

Mosquito B: Wait a minute Capt. If our mission is so holy and important as you made it out to be, why do we see humans trying to kill us mosquitoes whenever we try to suck their blood? I mean, I certainly havent been trying yet, but my mother and my cousins and my aunt and grandmother etc., all have died trying. They wouldnt be killing us if we are helping them, would they?

Capt: Of course not. The humans are eternally grateful to us Blood Servicers, and they long to show it. I must say your family has an unfortunate streak of bad luck to be constantly, accidentally, being killed by humans. We must understand that humans, being humans, have human reflexes, and it is natural that they slap their arms and legs whenever they feel the itch. It is most unfortunate when the Blood Servicers are in the way and got squashed unintentionally. But that is okay, since we got so many of us anyway.

Mosquito C: But I heard them cursing and swearing vehemently after we bit them...

Capt: Alright, no more inane questions and smart-aleck remarks.

Back to the pointers I promised you people: as we all know, human blood is sour and quite salty, not tasty at all, as they might have been inclined to think (those egoistic fools). To make our job easier and altogether more palatable, literally speaking, there are certain prime areas we should target, where the blood is fresher, sweeter, and pose less occupational hazard to us blood servicers. Places like the human eyelids, the ear lobes, the elbows and kneecaps, the knuckles on their fingers and toes, are the parallel of fish cheeks: the tastiest part of a fish which anyone should go for...

Mosquito C: Excuse me, what is this "fish cheeks" you are talking about? Have any mosquito actually eaten any of it? I thought we can only siphon liquid?

Capt: Right, forgive my slip. And I was saying, before I was kindly interrupted by a rude cadet, we should always go for places like the eyelids and earlobes, them possessing the freshest supply of blood with minimum amount of cholesterol and cancer causing agents; and the bony areas like elbows and knuckles where the risk of being accidentally slapped is reduced to a minimum.

Second point, we have received reports of sick mosquitoes who went around sucking blood, thus infecting their patients with the disease they carry. The good news is that apparently the disease most commonly carried by these sick mosquitoes, dengue, is not fatal at all, in fact, have hardly any effect on us mosquitoes, and hence presumably, the humans too. The bad news is that the paranoid humans have apparently filed a complaint to our Supreme Commanders, requesting the removal of these infected, but harmless, mosquitoes from the task force. Thus all of you, prior to graduation, would be required to go through a health check, which would be tedious and pointless imo, but over which you have no choice over.

The details of the health check will be briefed to you by that nurse over there, and I've heard it is relatively simple, just requiring you to poke your mouth into a volunteer human and see if he gets infected. Or something like that. Quite easy I should think.

Well, thats all for today. Dismiss.

Suicide

We dont need official figures to know that suicide rates have gone up significantly since the 19th century. In fact, it is probably true that with a high level of education, a country is likely to have a high rate of suicide. I didnt devise that hypothesis, but it might be explicable in terms of human psyche.

What I think, though, is not so much that education indirectly, or directly, induce more people to consider suicide as a viable option, but the crucial factor lies in another vaguely related, altogther more widespread medium: the media.

In a way that resembles advertising, the media constantly portrays people committing suicide - to reflect the society the producers see maybe, to create dramatic endings maybe, for many reasons, some forgivable. What this amounts to is to create a acute awareness of a seemingly viable option on how to "lead one's life" if in a rather warped sense, when things get worse.

Of course, I am not accusing the media of first instilling the idea of suicide in people: most people would probably get the idea of suicide after the first death they witness, and there are countless of it, of animals dying, of relatives passing away etc. The media may have influenced a few kids to contemplate suicide, but that is probably only a fraction of the sea of people who actually were considering suicide.

The fault of media, as I see it, is the fact that media only portray the before and after decision to suicide, neglecting the middle segment, thus giving its audience the false impression that suicide is an easy and painless course of action to take.

It is natural, on the part of the producers, to cut down on the scenes leading up to any decision making on suicide: deciding on suicide is afterall, a boring thing on the surface to any observer. Moreover, they couldnt really capture the falling of bodies from great heights accurately, and the great anxiety suiciders feel at the moment of jumping/slitting their wrists, the tremendous fear while falling, the near overwhelming fear while in mid air of slamming into the hard ground, and the great pain that does issue from doing so at the end.

For viewers, and hence potential suiciders, the decisions to suicide only amounts to a few scenes: decide on committing suicide, standing on th edge of a building followed by a jump, and a scene cut, whereby the person is shown sprawling on the ground 30 stories down (in reality, most suiciders dont die that prettily either).

We add into the mix, the novelty of bungee jumping, thus giving people the illusion that the fear one experienced while in mid air isnt really that great, for thrill seekers do that all the time, and with relatively low casualties. Then, subconsciously they might think, the actual thing to fear during the whole process is merely the instant of slamming into ground, which isnt that great, for it is afterall, an instant only. Suicide becomes a quick and clean process of solving one's problems in life.

But what do we know about dying, really? Do we really die that fast? With great pain that the brain cant comprehend and thus shuts down the entire functioning of the body in an instant? What if we really couldnt die that fast? Maybe at the end of a fall, our limbs flew apart, our mouths refuse to work properly, but for a second or a minute, our brains continue to experience the immense agony of -censored- ?

Less vividly, we know that Time is relative. In a simple manner, time passes slower when you are doing things you dont enjoy, but faster when you are doing things you like. How far can we carry this notion? I like to run with it, and think about time while dying. No one would really like dying that much. Perhaps when one is dying, time stretches out for you: what seemed like a split-second to an observer may be an eternity of pain for you.

That may sound like some works of fiction, where everyone simply stops in time at the point of dying, forever in a state of limbo. The concept, however, isnt that elusive to grasp, for we know that advancing into Black Holes creates almost the same effect. While in the case of dying, I postulated the dying would experience a lengthening of time, for the case of black holes, it is the observer who have that experience.

Titbit: For a spaceship which is advancing directly into a black hole, the occupants will feel as normal as any regular person moving forward into their death - crushing death at the end of this one. For any observer, however, who is observing from quite a safe distance away, the spaceship would never reach the blackhole: it will first slow down, then stop entirely on the event horizon. For more on this, you should read it up on your own and not trust any of my details.

My conclusion is that, dying may not seem to be the quick, painless event that the media portrays, the illusion that it is may have encouraged more people to choose suicide as a viable option than we ever suspected.

Radio songs

If you are, like me, one who listen to the radio every now and then, then this might happen, or have happened to you before. Particularly if its a hits station like 987fm, where new songs are introduced almost every week, where the chances that you might like a song immediately is quite high, then this almost certainly will happen to you.

Some songs you take to it immediately, like love at first sight, this is love at first hearing. Some songs, however, doesnt sound impressive at all initially, but after a few weeks, or a few months later when you hear it again, it doesnt seem all that bad after all. Maybe it brought back memories when you first heard it, or maybe things do get better after you are accustomed to them, but in any case, you got to like them eventually.

At the point of loving the song, most people would have the urge to own it. Either they buy it in cd form, or they download it, legally or otherwise, then immediately play it ad infinitum. And as most people could attest to, playing a song too many times, favorite or not, is the best way to get sick of it fast. Appreciation for the song will drop; what had seem like a revolutionary new way of expressing your emotions now appear more cliche than not; doubts began playing in your mind whether the drums/etc. may have been rather jarring than in perfect harmony with the beats.

On the other hand, if it happens that, for some reason, you didnt get the song (you might have forgotten to download it, or the cd shop ran out of the copies etc), gradually you might get to like that elusive song more and more; like a perfect heaven forever out of reach, giving you a taste of it every now and then when you heard it over the radio; tantalising, rather than satisfying your desire for listening to it at whim, ad infinitum.

In the end, you would have gotten the song by whatever means, then you realise that perhaps if you have gotten it immediately initially, the level of appreciation for it would never have reached this high, and you would never have stayed so loyal to it for so long a time. And perhaps, because of this interim, your love for it would have grown to the point that no matter how many times you listen to it now, you would not get sick of it, as like you would if you had gotten it immediately.

Human psyche works in weird ways. Or at least, mine does.