Teh SRC

And so the MMU administration saw it fit to charge us more for the library and parking. People got pissed off. The SRC decided to do something about it. The called a president's council and came to the agreement that everyone is pissed off. So they are now signing a petition to get the charges removed or reduced.

This is a story about my confrontation with them. I went to the Voices booth today and I was just sitting around when some SRC dude stood up on the table and started calling ofr people's attention. There was a petition form on the table and a huge white cloth behind them full of signatures. They wanted more support. I walked up to one of them and asked them if they had an official explanation from the library for the increase. They said that the explanation was coming on Monday. So I asked them why they were demanding a reduction when they didn't even know why there is an increase in the first place. They said that they were just doing what the people wanted them to do.

I found it really interesting that none of them considered the concept of credibility. If you get a big petition and submit it without actually stating a reason for the protest besides greed, what do you expect the admin to do? Take you seriously? Money is scarce. Actual grounds for protest will appear if the library does not have a legitimate reason to raise the prices. When it is clearly established that they don't, then you have the ammunition to take the fight to them. Having 1000 signatures on a piece of paper only proves that the move is not popular, it doesn't prove that the move is unjustified.

I tried explaining it to them and they said that I don't understand their position. They need to act because people want them to. Mob mentality. Genius. They said that most people don't think like me. Most people don't think so much. If I had a dollar for every time someone told me that.....

I'm surprised that they even think that it will work at all. They have no legitimate grounds for argument and its not really that difficult to brush them off. Which makes me wonder if they are doing this just to show that they are doing something or if they really want to make a change.

Literary narcism

narcism

1.inordinate fascination with oneself; excessive self-love; vanity.

I do have a strange tendency to write posts that are very similar in nature to the posts of the past, and this is one of them. You won't find the old post on this blog. That was deleted some time ago, along with the rest of the blog.

Anyways, this post is about me. Me, the literary narcisist. Yes, I love my own writing, a little too much for comfort. I have this very disturbing tendency to go back to the stuff that I have written and reread them every so often. Not everything I write is considered worthy of a second reading, but the pieces I put effort into seem to draw me back again and again. Its like when you set out to building something and then bask in the glory of its completion.

In the past, I thought that it was just me trying to understand myself. I thought that I read my own work because they would help me figure out the motives behind my actions. I'm not so sure now. After reading again, I don't feel pensive and thoughtful. I just feel an immense sense of satisfaction.

I don't spend much time on front of the mirror, and I laugh quietly at those people who do. Which is why I feel that this is distressing enough to write about. Am I turning into something that I would hold in contempt if I were honest with myself?

Would I feel the same way if I weren't born in a country where people have a below average command of english and my writing would bore the pants off everyone who reads it? If english didn't define me in school, would I be in the same situation?

When I do read my own work, I always seemed surprised. At the end, I sometimes ask myself, "Wow. you wrote that?". I impress myself, and the very thought of that scares me.

Is it a bad thing? To me it is. Self obsessed people draw nothing but contempt from me, and if this problem were real, I'd be very uncomfortable with myself. In fact, I already am, and its bloody annoying.

Starcraft.

This is fiction based on the Starcraft world. I realize that I'm interpreting the relationship between two of the most iconic characters in the series, and there are probably some inconsistencies. Forgive me if I pissed you off with this story.

Raynor was quite hesitant in his steps, not knowing what to expect from walking through the dark corridors. Lights were flickering and automated doors were malfunctioning all over the place, closing half way, getting jammed, and then reopening again. The repetitive mechanical grinding of the gears would normally have been annoying, but now Raynor hardly noticed it. He clutched his weapon hard, his palms sweaty inside his combat suit. Never in his life had he ever set foot in a command centre that had been infested before. It looked on the inside exactly as it did on the outside, a seamless transition between metal and carapace noticeable all over the structure. The only difference was that the outside walls did not have the corpses of the command centre crew splattered all over them.

Given a choice, Raynor wouldn’t have gone in at all. Only a mad man would walk into a command centre after a Queen was done with it. But the condition that he suffered was a form of madness, if he were to be perfectly honest with himself. Poets and psychologists alike had likened his state of mind to insanity. The psychologists tended to prefer more clinical assessments of the situation, while the poets reveled in the unpredictability of it all. Ultimately, neither succeeded in completing the task they set out to do.

Raynor panned the light on his combat suit around, scanning the area for threats. The internal security systems on the command centre had been shredded by the Queen, and Raynor wondered if she had installed her own system of spines and needles in place of the machine gun and missile turrets. Apparently, she hadn’t.

Then he saw it. A silhouette of refracted light was standing there, quite motionless. He didn’t wait. A steady stream of gauss rifle bullets streamed out of his weapon. The silhouette wavered for a while, some parts showing the Zerg carapace that lay beneath but a moment later, it dove to the side and disappeared again.

“Not bad, Raynor. I didn’t expect you to be able to see me at all.”

Raynor spun about wildly, desperately following the sound of the voice, trying to find the source. “Well, its you after all. I don’t really need to see you to know that you are around.”

“Aww. That’s so sweet.” The voice was right behind him. Before he could turn, three blades slammed against his back. The impact of the blow knocked him forward, sending him sprawling across the metal floor. A typical marine would have been halved across the waist from that blow, but Raynor’s armour was tougher than usual. Being commander gave you that kind of privilege. His armour might have saved him this time, but Raynor knew that he couldn’t take too many hits. He didn’t have much time. He flipped open the console on his wrist, and pressed the blinking button within. A high pitched wail started screaming out of his wrist getting more piercing with each passing second. Just as the sound was about to leave the human audio frequency, a small shockwave burst from Raynor’s wrist. The electromagnetic pulse swept across the entire floor, blacking out the flickering lights that were not claimed by the Zerg infestation.

Picking himself up, Raynor looked around. His own lights were EMP shielded, so they still worked. She was standing in the middle of the room, a smug smile across her face. “EMP. Very smart, Raynor. Doesn’t change anything though.”

Kerrigan flexed her blades, waving them like a bird of prey stretching her muscles. “It’s a shame that I’m going to have to kill you. I’ve always liked you. There is something quite charming about you mercenary types.”

“Then don’t kill me. Come back with me. The medics on board the St. Claire will sort the infestation out.”

She laughed. It sounded exactly the same as her laugh when she was human. “You’re quite the romantic aren’t you, Raynor. Its done, love. I’m the Queen of Blades now, and I have a whole race worshipping me. If I had known the kind of power that awaited me, I would have given myself up to the Zerg long ago.”

“I don’t believe that. There is still some humanity left in you. I know that.”

Kerrigan rolled her eyes. “I buried the last of my humanity a long time ago Raynor. Being human sucks. Heck, even the sex is better with the Zerg.”

Raynor raised his evebrows, and then furrowed them, trying to imagine Kerrigan mating with any of the Zerg strains.

Kerrigan laughed again. “If you’re wondering, none of the Zerg that you kill have penises. I have my fun with the cerebrates. They might not be able to physically touch me, but when they get into my head, they sure know how to hit the spot.”

Raynor wanted to throw up at that point. But he kept talking. The diversion was working.

Suddenly, he flung a small canister at Kerrigan. It landed at her feet, and before she could respond, it exploded. Her plates of Zerg armour cracked, leaving her exposed to the blast. The force of the blast smashed her frame upwards towards the roof of the command centre. She came crashing back to the ground, bloodied and injured.

Raynor took his chance. In half a moment, he had covered the distance between himself and Kerrigan. He pressed his rifle on her temples and smiled. “Its too bad I have to kill you. I loved you, I think I still do. But what has to be done will be done.” He was about to pull the trigger but she suddenly disappeared. Her cloaking was working again.

Raynor fired anyway, but only hit the floor. She had rolled out of the way.

“Dammit.” Raynor cursed. He retreated, and stood with his back facing the wall. His lights swung wildly from left to right, desperately trying to find Kerrigan. He would never succeed.

He suddenly felt a stabbing pain in his abdomen. He looked down and saw his blood flowing freely, coating the invisible blade that was now buried into this stomach. The blade pulled free, only to come again from the top, piercing his shoulder plate and digging into his flesh. It sheared muscle and bone and finally reached his lungs. Raynor knew then that he was finished.

“You have been watching too many movies, Raynor. You should have killed me when you had the chance. You love drama too much for your own good. I’m sure the pause would have made the memory of killing me so much cooler, but cool only applies in Hollywood love.”

Kerrigan came back into view. Her face was two feet away from his, and for the first time since she was taken by the Zerg, Raynor could look into her eyes. He thought he saw a tear forming, but then he saw her smile. The cynical sneer would be the last thing that he saw before her blades smashed past his helmet glass and stabbed him in the eye.

An article on media censorship and racial relations

This article was sent to me by a friend. I realize that posting it here really is preaching to the choir, but its still a pretty good read.

http://malaysia-today.net/blog2006/reports.php?itemid=5390

Explanation.

Okay. Whatever I ranted about yesterday had been forming for some time now, and perhaps that wasn't the best representation of my thoughts. What I meant to talk about was the mismatch between human indulgence and saving the environment.

The typical human being leaves a pretty big footprint on the planet, and that is making the environment suffer. That fact is a given. But people are now identifying areas where we can cut down on our usage of resources and tax nature a little less. The Star seems to be trying pretty hard with their coverage of celebrity environmental efforts and that 'make a pledge' campaign they have been running. First of all, if you are going to make a pledge to help, make it count. If all you are going to do is promise not to smoke on Sundays, then don't bother. Save that SMS money to pay your future oncologist. Or if you decided to wash your jogging shoes less often. Congratulations. You just announced to the world that you are using one bucket of water less every two weeks. And pledging not to do something that even a retard would know is wrong is not much of a pledge. Promising to switch off the lights when you leave the room and to turn off the tap when you are done in the shower is lame. Quoting Chris Rock, its like being proud that you never went to jail. You're not supposed to. The whole pledge thing is a pretty cool idea seeing that people can pick up ideas from there, but spare us the insignificant glory seekers.

Back to the point. People are willing to do something for the environment, but there comes a point where they draw the line. I suspect this mismatch is going to be a bit of a problem in the future. Point in case. Jeremy Clarkson thinks that global warming is bullshit because he likes cars. If people were less critical about the effects of gas guzzlers like his Gallardo have on the environment, he wouldn't even have an opinion on global warming. Clarkson never claimed to be concerned about the environment. He is quite unapologetic about his love for fast cars with bad mileage, and while that isn't really something to be proud of, at least he isn't hypocritical. What I truly have a problem with is people who preach environmentalism and does little things to prove their commitment, but goes home and has dinner on a dinner table made out of Amazonian hardwood. Now, what Clarkson can do now is look at how the people who are accusing him of clubbing baby seals and point out the stuff that they are doing to damage the environment. Chances are, he'd find a bundle of them to pick on. Maybe they are golfers, or maybe they fly first class all the time.

Vegans love using the environment as a way to make people go vegetarian. They will point out that their lifestyle is so much better because their carbon footprint is smaller. Right.

I'm all for saving the environment, and I do think that little gestures that will accumulate and make a difference. Just stop taking moral high ground every time you do it and stop picking on little lifestyle changes that some people aren't ready to make. They might be doing something else that you're not that makes them even greener than you are.

Wanna go green? Stop gardening.

This is not a post born out of genuine concern for the environment. This is written because I'm annoyed by this needless chore called gardening. Yes, I'm a town boy. I don't like nature. I like earthworms best when I put them in a petri dish and observe them in a lab. I hate camping and jungle trekking. So sue me.

But seriously, the one thing that a lot of people tend to forget when they make recommendations for being more environmentally friendly is the fact that those perfectly manicured gardens that they keep is a menace to the environment. Yes, as hard as it is to believe, they are. To keep those fragile little plants alive, they are watered daily. Talk about wasting water. Forget about washing your shoes less often or taking shorter baths. Get rid of those bloody potted plants and you would have saved us a whole lot of water. Its particularly bad of you have a lawn, and have sprinklers to keep them alive. If you can plant a tree big enough to sustain itself on rainwater, then by all means, keep it. If not, dump it I say. Then you wouldn't have to have people like me weed or re-pot the damned thing. And don't get me started on the fertilizers and pesticides you need to keep those precious little flowers in bloom.

And while you're at it, you might as well get rid of another major annoyance. Golf courses. Gardens are bad, but golf courses are like cyanide to mother nature. So any rich prick who claims to be green (normally happens after they start some big corporate green campaign), but has a bunch of golf clubs along with a wardrobe full of checkered pants can suck my balls. Seriously, the amount of space that you take up just so you can have a nice way to seal your business deals is ridiculous. (And, yes, you guessed it. I hate golf)

Am I barking up the wrong tree? Maybe. I don't know how much water is used in an average household to water the plants and lawn. Maybe its quite insignificant. But its certainly one of the things that I'm perfectly willing to see being sacrificed to save the environment.

Bad and good news.

I just had a post about how the justice system of any democracy is so easily misinterpreted for whatever the rich and powerful feel like doing. Paris Hilton recently proved my point. She somehow convinced the sheriff in her jail that she had a medical condition and needed to go home. So instead of finishing her jail term, she was placed under house arrest for 40 of the 45 days she needed to be in jail. Evading a jail sentence eh? The sheriff in question is going to be held in contempt of the courts for allowing her to do that. But I suspect that for him its worth it. God only knows how much she paid him to let her go. The rest of the world is understandably outraged at this. What can we do? Best we can hope for is that the judge overseeing the case now will insist that she finishes her full sentence. In jail.

On a less depressing note, we now have a working model of wireless power transmission. Tesla's vision has finally come true. We have had charging pads where users just need to place their device on a pad to charge it without plugging it in. But this time, its power transmission over 2 meters. With an efficiency of 40 percent. Very exiting stuff, I must say.

Both articles are available on BBC. Check them out for more details.

The exorcism.

John pressed the buzzer in front of him and cracked his knuckles. He never really liked making house calls, but they paid well, and he needed the money. As much as he tried to control his spending, the cash never really seems to stay in his wallet for very long. Some indulgence will come along, and he would lose all his will to save. And now he was in debt again, for the umpteenth time in his life. All he wanted to do was get the job over with so that he could pay the bloody loan sharks.

He checked inside his coat, making sure that he had all the standard equipment. When he got the call, it sounded like a simple open and shut case. He would walk in, perform his usual hocus pocus and walk away a thousand dollars richer. Not bad for an hours effort. He just wished more of these cases existed.

John didn’t have particularly strong moral principles. He would have cheated his way out of trouble every time if it weren’t for the fact that he was constantly watched over. The irony of the situation was that most people would consider the forces that act as his conscience to be pagan gods that only cared for themselves. Most people considered his practices to be witchcraft and accused him of being an idol worshipper. He didn’t care. They didn’t know what he did, and they couldn’t even begin to understand the rules that he played by.

The door opened. “Ah, Mr. John, you’re here at last.” John raised his eyebrows. This kid hardly looked like someone who needed an exorcism. He was a picture of health, smiling at John as he held the door open. Normally, his clients would greet him with blood-shot eyes and sweat running down their face. They couldn’t walk properly, and sometimes couldn’t even talk properly. John hated those cases. They took him too long to figure out which method to use. “Something is wrong,” John told himself. He couldn’t possibly have the wrong house. The kid had identified him correctly. A trap, maybe? No. The demons he banished didn’t have a grudge against him. He was just doing his job, and they understood that. It was a kind of professional respect, if you will. Never mind his discomfort. He had a job to do.

John stepped into the house and set his briefcase down. “What seems to be the problem here, sir?” he asked.

“You’re an exorcist. What else would I have called you for?”.

“Well, you don’t look like you need my services. It really doesn’t look like anything is wrong at all”

“I don’t look it, but I feel it. I am being haunted.” His client clutched his chest, slightly to the left where his heart was.

“Okay. Can you tell me more about the nature of your visitations?” asked John.

“It normally comes at night, when I’m in bed. My mind tends to drift off into different directions, but I always see her face.”

“Her face? The demon is female then. Is she attractive?”

“Oh, yes. Very. I sometimes think that I’m in love with her”

John scratched his chin and pondered for a moment. A succubus? In this part of the world? There wasn’t quite enough of believers for them to exist in Asia. The sultry demonic seductress just wasn’t well known enough to exist around here.

What most people normally got wrong was the order in which these supernatural things happen. Conventional wisdom was that we believe in them because they exist, when in actual fact, they exist because we believe. People underestimated the power of their own minds. If no one ever though of the demons, they wouldn’t be around at all, but because people felt so strongly about their existence, they subconsciously willed the demons into being. Succubuses were part of Western folklore, and normally only materialized in the Western world. It didn’t make sense that one of them would be haunting his client.

“Let me take a look,” said John. He walked up to his client and placed his hand on the client’s forehead. Closing his eyes, he tried to feel for pulses of supernatural energy that would help him identify the demon in question. But he felt nothing. Frowning, he pushed even harder, straining hard to pick up some clue. Still nothing.

This didn’t make sense. Even the most elusive of demons couldn’t escape detection from him. Could he have met his match?

Then it dawned onto him. Smiling, he took his hand off his client’s forehead. “There is nothing I can do to help you, sir. Your problems have nothing to do with the supernatural or the netherworld. You don’t need an exorcist. You need a shrink.”

“What? What do you mean I need a shrink? I’m not crazy. I’m possessed.”

“Yes. You are quite possessed. But your kind of possession is quite common. In fact, you’re the first person I know who has called an exorcist to deal with the problem. Most people just kill or harm themselves.”

“I don’t follow,” said the client.

John sighed. “That demon that is haunting you. Is she familiar looking?”

“Yes”

“She is very attractive to you and you are in love with her? Is that correct?”

“Pretty much so. What are you getting at?”

“I suspect you know already. You don’t really want this demon to disappear now, do you? You can try to shoo it away all you want, but until you really find that you do not want her around, she is going to be there. Forever haunting you.”

“There is nothing I can do then? I’m doomed to sleepless nights for the rest of my life?”

“Not really. From experience, these hauntings don’t last forever. It takes a while, but it goes away eventually. Just don’t kill yourself. Its pathetic when that happens. I’m not an expert in the field, so I’ll keep my advice to this and only this. Good day to you sir.”

John walked out of the house, half amused at the whole scenario and half annoyed that he couldn’t charge the sorry sod for his counseling.