Siewology

Too much law really is a bad thing.

2009-01-21T16:41:00.000-08:00

Found this gem of an article on the Economist. I only put up the half that I found very interesting.

AMERICANS are still chuckling about the “pants suit”. A man—a judge, no less—sued his dry cleaners for $54m for allegedly losing his trousers. A sign at the shop promised “Satisfaction Guaranteed”. The plaintiff was not satisfied, so he cried fraud. He then used his highly trained legal brain to calculate the damages he was owed. He started with $1,500, a reasonable fine for consumer fraud. He multiplied it by 12, for the number of his complaints. Then by 1,200, for the number of days he was deprived of his trousers. And then by three, for the three owners of the dry-cleaning shop. After adding a bit more for mental anguish, the total came to $67m, but he kindly reduced it to $54m.

When the case was dismissed in 2007, many felt justice had prevailed. But the defendants had been put through purgatory and saddled with $100,000 in legal costs. They closed the shop and considered moving back to South Korea. The case illustrates “an important truth about human nature—that angry people can go nuts,” observes Philip Howard, a campaigner for legal reform. What was most shocking about the pants suit was not the idiotic claim, he says, “but that the case was allowed to go on for more than two years.” Some judges think even the nuttiest plaintiffs deserve their day in court. As the judge who let a woman sue McDonald’s for serving her the coffee with which she scalded herself put it: “Who am I to judge?”
Click here

The rule of law is a wonderful thing, as anyone who has visited countries ruled by the whims of the powerful can attest. But you can have too much of a wonderful thing. And America has far too much law, argues Mr Howard in a new book, “Life without Lawyers”. For nearly every problem, lawmakers and bureaucrats imagine that more detailed rules are the answer. But people need to exercise their common sense, too. Alas, the proliferation of rules is making that harder.

At a school in Florida, for example, a five-year-old girl decided to throw everyone’s books and pencils on the floor. Sent to the head teacher’s office, she continued to wreak havoc. Her teachers dared not restrain her physically. Instead, they summoned the police, who led her away in handcuffs, howling. The teachers acted as they did for fear of being sued. A teacher at a different school was sued for $20m for putting a hand on a rowdy child’s back to guide him out of the classroom. The school ended up settling for $90,000. Understandably, many schools ban teachers from touching pupils under any circumstances. In New York City, where more than 60 bureaucratic steps are required to suspend a pupil for more than five days, teachers are so frightened of violating pupils’ rights that they cannot keep order.

The relentless piling of law upon law—the federal register has 70,000 ever-changing pages—does not make for a more just society. When even the most trivial daily interactions are subject to detailed rules, individual judgment is stifled. When rule-makers seek to eliminate small risks, perverse consequences proliferate. Bureaucrats rip up climbing frames for fear that children may fall off and break a leg. So children stay indoors and get fat.

The direct costs of lawsuits are only one of the drawbacks of an over-legalistic society. Too many rules squeeze the joy out of life. Doctors who inflict dozens of unnecessary tests on patients to fend off lawsuits take less pride in their work. And although the legal system is supposed to be neutral, the scales are tilted in favour of whoever is in the wrong. Because the process is so expensive and juries are so unpredictable, blameless people often settle baseless claims to make them go away. The law is supposed to protect individuals from the state, but it often allows selfish individuals to harness the state’s power to settle private scores.

Something random I found. Smileworthy stuff..

2008-12-01T22:14:00.000-08:00

A woman has a close male friend. This means that he is probably interested in her, which is why he hangs around so much. She sees him strictly as a friend. This always starts out with, you're a great guy, but I don't like you in that way. This is roughly the equivalent for the guy of going to a job interview and the company saying, You have a great resume, you have all the qualifications we are looking for, but we're not going to hire you. We will, however, use your resume as the basis for comparison for all other applicants. But, we're going to hire somebody who is far less qualified and is probably an alcoholic. And if he doesn't work out, we'll hire somebody else, but still not you. In fact, we will never hire you. But we will call you from time to time to complain about the person that we hired.

I don't know what to call this.

2008-11-10T04:22:00.000-08:00

I’m aware that I haven’t updated in a long, long time. Not that there isn’t anything to write about, I just didn’t feel like writing. But today was a tipping point in my life, and I think it would be criminal if I didn’t write about it.

I’m not even sure where to begin or what I really want to write about, but I know that my state of mind at this very moment needs to be recorded in the servers of Google. I think I’m normally quite careful with what I put up here, disguising everything I write with a thick veil of mysticism. I don’t think it would be necessary today. I don’t think my regular readership stretches that far.

Sudden realizations that my things are not as they could optimally be seems to be some kind of permanent fixture in my life. I’ve had enough epiphanies to start questioning if they were really epiphanies to begin with. These things are supposed to be rare and life changing. If it happens too often, then I’m either ridiculously good at self reflection or the realizations that I have been having are much less epic than I seem to make them out to be.

Anyways, I don’t know how far this new one will go, but the last one brought about change that has held together quite well thus far. It’s been what, two years since I decided that blatant cynicism and constant caustic remarks to strangers don’t work in my favour? This new found vigour for all things seems to be a little harder to sustain, but I suspect it could be here to stay. It is somewhat ironic that the person who caused this second moment of realization is somewhat skeptical my ability to affect such change upon myself. I can still vividly remember the life drain out of me when I read the explanation to the speechlessness that I seemed to have caused. I was quiet for the evening, thinking and fretting. But I smile when I recall the follow up to the message that had made my guts sink. “Hoping for external factors to change you. That’s tough” or something along those lines. I almost replied, “Well, you’re an external factor, and I think you just changed me”. Perhaps she underestimated the kind of effect that she had on me. Perhaps I was the one to blow a seemingly innocuous spark into a solar flare. Whatever the reality of the situation, what has happened has happened, and I think I came out of it a better person. The results are yet to be seen, but for once, I have a sense of anticipation for life. All the clichéd lines that we hear from the likes of ‘Stranger than Fiction’ suddenly start to make a little more sense. I know I can. So why not?

Of course, like every other sticky situation of this nature, there will be issues unresolved. But in this case, I think they are petty. The big questions have already answered themselves, and although I would love to have a chat to satisfy my curiosity, I can live without having asked those questions.

Of course, there are regrets. Aren’t there always, eh? I wish I had told you how lovely you are without having minced my words. I wish that I had the courage to be a little more honest and not have played the game of cloak and dagger. I wish I told you how much I enjoyed your company and the conversations that we had.

But I suppose you always were the wiser one. The one with the clearer head to see what we had for what it really was, and to nip it at the bud. I could sense it too, but that voice was drowned out by a cacophony of lonely moans and curious squeals.
I really doubt you would read this, but I want you to know that I will always think of you as a friend. You make that part remarkably easy.

So there you have it. I give up. Probably should have a long time ago, but some blind sense of optimism and the aforementioned chorus of voices kept driving me on. I shall respect your broad and tactfully dropped hints and leave you at peace. And I wish you luck, not that you are going to need much of it. =)

2008-10-27T20:41:00.001-07:00

It was a long, ornately decorated table. Gold and purple tapestries hung magnificently along the walls of the room, giving the room the regal feel that it needed to exude. Each chair was elaborately decorated and matched the rest of the room. In fact, every bit of furniture or decoration in that chamber seemed to blend in with the room. Nothing seemed out of place.

The noisy chatter coming from the room was starting to get to me. I almost always enjoy the sessions that I have at the council of rulers, the operative word being almost. This was one of those exceptional days. The day had started pleasantly enough for me, but the sudden arrival of the Secretarial Minister happily chatting with the Aesthetics Minister about God knows what had soured my mood considerably.

Alicia saw right through my badly disguised frown and settled herself beside me. She put her hand on my arm and smiled that warm, knowing smile of hers. She knew what I was thinking. She was also telling me that I was an idiot.

Years of working with her has led us to be able to communicate without actually saying anything. We knew what the other was thinking, even if the thoughts were intentionally obscured. She was my dearest friend, and closest adviser, but we both knew that we were much too similar to be of much use counseling each other. Sometimes an alternate perspective is needed, and she couldn't provide one, since her perspective was almost always mine. But she knew me, and she could put things into perspective like no one can.

"You know you are wasting your time right?"Her question was cautious, probing.

"Yeah, I do."

Alicia sighed. "You're messed up you know. They are just good friends. They talk a lot to each other. They like each other's company. So what? Why are you so affected just seeing them?"

I stared at her. She stared straight back at me and then looked away, rolling her eyes.

"You don't know," she said. "Bloody brilliant. Of course you don't."

She kept talking. "Let me tell you why. You hate one of them. You like the other. People you like, you want to befriend. And knowing you, you like him enough to want exclusive rights. It doesn't work that way. And you know that. Thats why you're not saying anything about it. You'd be the laughing stock of the council. But its gnawing at you, eating at you everytime you see them share a joke or tell each other about whats bothering them. You want to end it, but you know its impossible. So you sit there, grit your teeth and be miserable."

"I'm not miserable," I retorted. She snorted and shook her head.

She leaned in close to me and said, "Let it go. Its not worth it."

Then she stood up, gave my shoulder a friendly squeeze and left me.

Meep

2008-10-27T10:28:00.000-07:00

Eddie Saguero glanced down at the controls that lay beneath his fingers, caressing them lightly. They glowed eerily in the darkness of his cockpit, the symbols of each button clearly visible. Eddie had done this so many times, it had become second nature to him, but this time, there was something different as he prepared to leave the hangar. He couldn't quite place it, but he knew that something wasn't quite right with the mission. Some people called it a warrior's instinct. Others dismissed it as superstition or a bad lunch that was back with a vengeance. It didn't really matter. Eddie wasn't in any position to be picky about the missions he had to run. The Clan raids had already taken a considerable toll on the Inner Sphere war effort. He was a soldier, an instrument of war. He received orders and executed them. It was't his place to ask questions or wonder what the point of all his missions were.

"When you're ready, Eddie,". The voice startled Eddie. He snapped out of his pensive stare at the console and moved to power up his 60 ton harbinger of death. Harbinger of death. At least thats the way he would like to call his mech to distract himself from the fact that the 90 ton machines that he might run into would turn his 'harbinger' to scrap metal quite easily. Still, nothing like a good dose of self delusion to get the spirits up before a mission.

Eddie powered up his mech and listened to the comforting sound of the fans of his fusion reactors starting to spin. His heads up display lit up immediately, and he heard the clinical, yet strangely seductive female voice of his on board computer running him through his system diagnostics.

"Nav Baker Three"

"Ambient tempetature, 24.49 degrees"

"Local time is seven five, three five, seven six, GST"

"All systems nominal"

On that cue, Eddie eased the throttle forward, making the mech take its first few tentative steps away from the support beams that surrounded it as it docked. The mech produced a resounding thump everytime it took a step, its metal legs hitting the concrete floor of the hangar with the same comfortingly familiar sound it always made. Eddie toyed with the torso controls a bit, turning to get a feel of the machine he was piloting. His eyes wandered over to the screen that showed his weapon statuses. They were highlighted in green, each of them showing a full stock of ammunition. He wondered inwardly if he had chosen the right armanent for his mission. He favoured energy weapons over everything else, which explained the extensive heat sinks on his mech. He knew that he would outlast most projectile or rocket oriented builds in a long fight, but wasn't quite sure if he could evade the onslaught long enough to take advantage of his relative independence from ammunition constraints. After all, he didn't have the most well armoured unit in the hangar.

As Eddie stepped out of the hangar, he hammered the throttle forward and made towards his nav point. The fine dust that his mech kicked up only served as a reminder of just how dry and hot this planet was, which in turn brought him back to questioning the wisdom of being dependent on beam weapons. He shrugged to himself. The choices had been made. Any cock-ups would be his to bear.

Passing the first nav point, nothing had yet happened. Not a life form in sight. Another boring patrol.

Then his sensors beeped. A red triangle showed up at the right of his radar. Eddie perked up.

"Control, I'm getting signs of an anamoly in sector seven. I'm moving to check it out," Eddie relayed speaking into the mike.

"Copy that Delta 3. Be careful out there," came the reply.

As he drew closer to the target, Eddie could see a crater smack in the middle of where he was headed for. A small, wispy slither of smoke rose out from the middle of the crater. Dust billowed around the blackened center, obscuring the line of sight through his cockpit. Eddie decided to draw closer, his thumb resting on the trigger of his primary weapons group.

Visibility was almost zero at this point. He turned of the image enhancement system, and everything went black. The contours of the hills before him were represented with coloured lines, as was the object that had made the crater. It was metallic, that much he knew. And very, very hot.

A million possibilities raced through his head. Was it a clan probe? Was it a scout? A single light mech sent to record data and clear the landing for a invading fleet? Blood rushed through his veins as his heart thumped.

Eddie drew closer and the image of the object got sharper. It had jagged edges and a fairly irregular shape. It certainly didn't look industrial, much less space age. He ran a quick scan on it when he got close enough. His computers beeped and whirred as the numbers where crunched.

The green fonts of his heads up display flashed "Object identified".

Below it, the results flashed. Meteorite. It was the most anti-climatic moment in his life. Eddie sighed.

In the monotony of the daily patrols, he sometimes wished that something will happen. But nothing ever did.

Of Epiphanies and a mid life crisis

2008-10-23T11:23:00.000-07:00

I think I probably call the tiniest of revelations epiphanies so I guess the word in itself tends to lose a bit of impact. But when you have an experience that leaves you brooding for a few hours, thinking, and then feeling like you just had a mid life crisis because nothing around you seems to matter very much, then I'd say its probably worth paying more than a little attention to it.

Now there is only the small matter of encapsuling the feeling and sustaining it, because if it does go away, then I suspect it will be next to impossible to recapture in the short term.

Feeling like shit, but knowing that you need to feel this way for your own good sucks.

Random post

2008-10-18T07:54:00.000-07:00

It was a strange feeling really. Not that he wasn't used to it, but most of the time it slid under the consciousness. It was covert, but always let him know that it was there. Naturally, he learned to ignore it, as he did so many other slightly unpleasant experiences that he encountered. And it never really pushed the issue. It was content being a needle in the side, constantly harassing him with a little prick here and there and waiting for his measured response that would inevitably come out of frustration.

But this time, it chose a very interesting time to surface. Its likely that its caused by the general disillusionment that he felt about the subject matter that lay before him. It happened when he stared at the clock in front of him and noted that he had plenty of time to complete the tasks that lay before him. His brain decided to take a short detour. Some might call him irresponsible for doing that. After all, the questions he was answering was part of the system that is supposedly his only purpose in life for the time being. Admittedly, he had stopped caring about his purpose a long time ago as the people who watched his slow but steady slide.

But I'm rambling. We're here to talk about recent history, not well established facts about our subject.

If he were to be perfectly honest with himself, he probably wanted it to happen. He doesn't really remember what happened actually, and what I write here is just based on a very clinical account of his version of the story. I suspect he was being quite honest though.

The amazing part about this situation is that he never goes into those really disturbing bouts of emotional upheaval that have become part and parcel of his life. I wonder if this is a unique case, or if he is actually changing.

It serves him quite well, this state of mind. Treating it like it was inconsequential does help him get on with things, but the inevitable doubts of whether he is trying hard enough surface. I've lost count of the number of times that I have seen him flinch when he hears Jason Mraz on the radio. I can hear him sigh, even if no one else can. I think he is heading in the right direction though. Nice good dose of confidence coupled with his usual sincerity by the truckloads. And for once, believing that it is not the end of the world if the next phase of life that he has hyped up to be a make or break doesn't work out.

I still cheer him on. Good luck mate.

Ohy, Ashley Cole. You bloody cunt faced git.

2008-10-14T11:08:00.000-07:00

Did you know that Ashley Cole has written a biography? Yep, he has joined the ranks of the hundreds of footballers that think that they have been misunderstood in some way and writing about it will somehow miraculously bring about comprehension of their side of the story.

Well, I normally wouldn't care what happens in the personal lives of footballers, but I just so happen to be linked to the review of the biography. Lets see what Ashley has to say.

"One day I was just chilling with my homies, when this geezer call Jose come round me manor giving it large, saying he wants me to go hang with the Chelsea massive. Well, at the time I has got the hump with Arsenal, right, cos that David Dein has just offered me a contract for 55 long uns a week when I is expecting 60, minimum. Don't get me wrong, blood, it's not about the money. I is an ordinary lad from an ordinary background, for me money ain't what I am in the game for. I'd play for nothing, any day of the week.

"Which is roughly what Arsenal is expecting me to do. 55 a week: it's a joke. This Dein is dissin me, right? He is well out of order. So I says to this Jose: 'what you got then?' And this bald geezer what is with him gets out this like humungous cheque book and I'm telling you, the moment he gets it out, I feels six foot tall. Which is just as well, as this Jose says he ain't interested in left backs what are midgets.

"Now, as I say, Ashley Cole is just an ordinary lad what has supported Arsenal all his life, and he plays for the love of the game, that is his only motivation. Money and that, that's for others to work on. So from there on in, I leave things to my team of six agents, five accountants, three lawyers and seven actuaries. Plus the bloke what advises on off-shore investments in Chilean bearer bonds and Argentine footballers [they tell me, at the last count, that Ashley Cole owns three of Carlos Tevez's toes].

"While they is chatting, I just gets on with being part of the best team England has sent to the World Cup in 40 years, full of world-class players in every position. And I tell you what, we is that close to winning the thing. In fact, we would have done if we hadn't lost to the team that lost to the team that lost in the final.

"After that, I gets married. And that's another thing that the media gets all wrong. People think that me and Cheryl is just interested in seeing our picture in the papers, but that's rubbish, we is not like that. For Ashley Cole and his missus, it's magazines or nothing.

"Eventually I sign for Chelsea. I have to pinch myself to believe it's happening to me, an ordinary kid from an ordinary north London family: almost winning the World Cup, marrying the girl of every bloke's dreams and then joining the club I've supported ever since I seen the size of Peter Kenyon's wad. And the best thing is, I can walk away from Arsenal with my head held high. For Ashley Cole it has never been about money. It's all about respeck, innit."

When I finished reading it, the only thing I was thinking was WTF was that? I know people always say that footballers are stupid, but that is just in a league of its own. Thats not even english that he is writing. What the fuck is up with the nigga talk? Since when does a rich ass spoilt brat qualify to use street talk like that? And the ego, dear god!

Oh, and check out his analysis of England's performance in the World Cup. They lost to the team that lost to the team that lost the final. And he calls that close to winning. How is being beaten in the quarters even considered close to winning? The statement is so delusional, I don't think I'd be able to come up with shit like that if I smoked a joint, did some blow and downed 3 graveyards in the same night.

Misguided, egoistic and stupid, Ashley Cole has just cemented himself as the stupidest footballer since George Best. I think its amazing to note that he is going to spend the rest of his life in a delusion about just how great his life is without ever realizing how much of the real world he has missed.

Dumbass.

How a debate is viewed.

2008-10-05T04:36:00.000-07:00

Obama is taking on McCain in what is likely to be the most important US election in recent memory, but strangely enough, a lot of the attention is centered around their running mates. And because I was bored and didn't want to study, I was reading a little on the debate that they had recently. I didn't watch the debate per se but the reactions to the debate are interestingly varied. Lets start with what is likely to be a clearly pro-McCain camp.

Dick Morris declared the debate a clear win for Palin. He was raving on and on about how in touch the Republican was with the people and how well she connected. I checked him out a little. Apparently he used to help Mr. Clinton, but later got disillusioned by both husband and wife. He even wrote a book to diss on Hilary's book. And while he makes a living from giving advice to politicians, his predictions on politics are famously off the mark. (According to him, we are supposed to be seeing Mrs Clinton take on Ms Rice in the 2008 presidential race. LOL) Plus, there is a youtube video of him insulting a co-anchor of a FOX program after the co-anchor started questioning his analysis of the debate.

Then there is the BBC. They called it a draw, which is the safest thing to say. But their take on it was a little different. According to their correspondent, both the running mates have a tendency of screwing up in public, and the fact that they both gave solid performances is an achievement for them both.

Finally, there is the debating world. Some of the best adjudicators in the world came together and blogged about the debate using the world's debating format and scoring system. They gave the debate to Biden in a 6-1 split. 2 of them decided that Biden hammered Palin. They gave a 12 point margin. Let me put that into perspective. If an adjudication core saw such a margin in any round of a tournament, they will assume that there is a mistake and call up the adjudicator that gave that score to make sure that the debate really was that one sided. Its a proper trashing, the kind you see when University of Sydney takes on a bunch of stammering non-english speakers and are in a particularly unforgiving mood. The other 4 gave clear wins to Biden and the one dissenting fellow said that Palin nicked it by the breadth of an Alaskan snowflake. http://electiondebates.wordpress.com/ for more information.

So the world of debating thinks that Biden pwned Palin. But thats just the world of debating, a somewhat ideal place where facts and logic matter more than they usually do in the real world. And more often than not, elections are won by emotion and empty rethoric which the McCain camp has by the gas guzzling truckloads. They have the gun-toting rednecks on their side, the kind of people who believe foreign policy involves negotiating with Canada and Mexico because everyone else is just too far away to matter. The kind that will actually buy Palin's line of how Alaska's proximity to Russia makes her a more competent person in dealing with Putin and his trigger happy regime. As hard as I find it to believe, Obama's calm and level headed approach to the problems that the US is facing is being described as a disadvantage for him.

Thanks to two terms that will immortalize Bush as the worst president that the US has ever seen, people have called this election unlosable for the Democrats. I don't have anything against the Republicans as a general group, but seeing how they managed to pick a Bush clone as their nominee, I certainly hope, for the sake of humanity that those people are right.

2008-10-04T06:22:00.000-07:00

English 101.

2008-10-02T19:49:00.000-07:00

People, the words extend and extent do not have the same meaning and cannot be used interchangeably.

extend - to stretch out; draw out to the full length: He extended the measuring tape as far as it would go.

extent - the space or degree to which a thing extends; length, area, volume, or scope: the extent of his lands; to be right to a certain extent.

I know I'm just being a stickler for rules here coz people who read the words in context will know what is being said, but its important. So please get it right.

Ktnxbai.

LOL!

2008-09-20T23:24:00.000-07:00

Don't watch if you are opposed to creative violence.

Political correctness. LOL.

2008-09-16T10:18:00.000-07:00

I like his sarcasm. Heh. There are good people in there after all.

Man in the mirror.

2008-09-15T03:57:00.000-07:00

Its a funny thing, these identity crises. Its like having a bunch of mirrors in front of you and each one shows you a different image. And you don't like any one of them. And you know that you shift from one image to the other.

Here is the tricky part. Image A hates image B. Image C hates image D. And as you shift from one persona to another, you think back to what you have done and you hate yourself. You tell yourself that it wasn't you. But 5 minutes later, you're back to thinking that whatever you did was the right thing to do. And you admonish yourself for ever doubting that. Making you hate yourself even more. Its what people who like big phrases like to call a vicious circle.

It must be nice to have little care about the ethics of things. To just do things and expect people to allow you to get away with it for one reason or another. To never have to hold yourself accountable because doing that is just 'so hard'. To be able to tell yourself that you have a problem, but you can't solve it because..... well because you just can't. To be able to shift from image to image and still remain blissfully ignorant of what you are doing.

I envy people with the capacity to self delude.

You tell me what to think of this.

2008-09-13T20:14:00.000-07:00

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/7613575.stm

Seriously?

Murder

2008-09-12T21:09:00.000-07:00

Arthur looked distinctly out of place in the market that he walked in. His dark clothing contrasted sharply with the gay surroundings of a bustling square. It was a wonder that he had not aroused any suspicion just yet, but that was probably because none of the guards expected any trouble. No one ever did in this part of the country. Especially not in the early summer when everyone was in high spirits. The village clowns were out entertaining the children with their decidedly idiotic antics while an elaborate stage showcased the latest work by the maddeningly emo writer, Jasper Erathor. Arthur could feel the jolly energy grate at his conscience like a spiked mace dragged across the back of a condemned criminal. But he had to contain himself. He would get the last laugh yet.

Slowly shuffling himself, he maneuvered so that he had a good view of the crowd. His arm shifted slowly, creeping towards his waist. His mind cleared in anticipation of the rapture that was in store for himself. The rise and fall of his chest steadied, his earlier agitation put behind him.

Then he exploded. In two quick strokes, he had drawn his weapon and sliced open the chest of the nearest person. Before the first scream could be heard, the curved blade had already slashed two more times, each one slicing deliciously into the flesh of the victims. Arthur was ruthless, and he was in his element. The people would pay for what they have done to him. Not even the knights will stand in his way.

The crowd understandably stampeded. They bowled each other over and trampled the ones unfortunate enough to slip as they ran. But the roads of the marketplace were narrow, and the exits, narrower still. The square was turning into a cauldron of insanity. Arthur knew that he had to bring some form of order to the chaos that was before him; the irony of the fact that he had started everything eluded him completely.

The methododical murder kept its pace until Arthur's eye caught a glimpse of a familiar face. Sprawled on the ground, and trying desperately to get back up again was a woman in a long skirt and jet black hair. She had a subtle tuft of brown hair at the front of her head, marking her as a sorceress. One gifted in the magics, who use it when necessary, but are completely unaware of their immense power. Arthur had long advocated the purging of these witches, but no one ever seemed to be agreeable to his cause. Even if they did see the threat, they were quick to change their minds the moment they made any attempt to destroy one of the sorceresses. He wasn't surprised.

Arthur paused for a while. He looked her in the eye and saw the terror that he inspired. But he also saw a grim determination to survive and a glazing over the eyes that normally marked a subconcious invocation of elemental magic. Grinning like the like a demon in hell's torture chambers, he flung one of his daggers at the woman. He could vaguely remember the face. He remembered that it had existed in a time when times were not quite as dark as they were for him now. It was in the distant past, a memory so clouded in conflicting emotion that everything seemed warped and unreal.

The dagger sunk itself into her eye, ending the threat that she posed. He felt a strange vindication, like he actually had done some kind of service to humanity. It was a strange sense of misplaced heroism, something that he rather enjoyed. For a while. Before long, his objective of systematic murder overruled everything else and his face went blank again.

And his blade kept singing the song of death.

Okay, the Premier League sucks

2008-09-03T07:11:00.000-07:00

I hate the people who just bought Manchester City. By extension, that means that I hate Man City now. Seriously, if you think Chelsea spending was bad, these Sheikhs will blow your mind.

I imagine that they will be spending in one season the same amount that Chelsea have spent over the entire Chelski era.

Its retarded, really. Rich man comes in and tells every club in the world - I want your best player. Here is his rated value, and an extra 20 million pounds just to help your decide. It is totally going to spoil everything that is fun about football. I swear, the season that Manchester City wins the premier league is the season I stop watching it. Bring on the La Liga.

Now will be the perfect time to introduce the foreign player cap. Do it next season as a big fuck you to all these rich bastards who think that a football league is their playground to have a bit of fun.

And the Brits are sitting there and taking it like a bunch of pussies. Man City fans parading in the streets in their Arab headwear. Well, fuck you, you bunch of sell-outs. Fuck you and your new Arab masters. Have fun being hypocrites, worshipping them on one hand and condemning their most fundamental idealogies on the other.

Hahaha! RPK got blocked.

2008-08-27T19:34:00.000-07:00

I used to think that the Badawi administration weren't afraid of a little royal pain in the ass (pun intended) called Raja Petra. Now I know that they really are shitting their pants.

They blocked his website. There was a directive to all local ISPs to do so. Of course, there will be the usual excuses about sedition and all, but seriously? Blatant censorship? I didn't think it would actually come to this.

I really, really had no idea that RPK was such an annoyance to the government. There is a line that you don't cross unless absolutely desperate. The backlashes from such a ban are obvious. I can almost see the BBC article now. And of course its going to affect our transparency rating. But like in Maslov's hierarchy of needs, survival always comes first. (Okay, I know food and sex comes before safety, but you get the idea). Upholding freedom of speech only makes sense if your ricebowl isn't threatened.

There are only two explanations to this.
1. The administration thinks its safety is threatened.
2. The painfully short sighted policies that have so far infested the lower levels of administration in this country have crept upwards and nested.

Yep, we have reached a new low. But hey, I don't even read RPK, so why do I care right? The government is just openly doing now what they have been sneakily doing since forever. Good on you Badawi! At least now you have the nuts to say, "Watch me do it! I am not ashamed or afraid!" Although following that up with, "What you going to do about it, punk?" might now be the best of ideas, given the current climate.

Bad move, guys. But who am I to say, eh? I'm just an apathetic and inconsistent blogger with a tiny readership and a very incomplete picture of the politics in this country.

Family guy?

2008-08-18T21:55:00.000-07:00

I hate this guy so much I feel like exploding. He embodies chaos, the thinking that you can get away with anything as long as your intentions are good. Or if you are completely oblivious to the evils of your actions. The "I don't think, I just do" kind of mentality. Essentially saying that its ok to act like a big baby even though you are 40 years old with kids. What makes its worse is that he is always forgiven no matter what he does. What the fuck is that about? People like him should be quartered, minced and fed to cockroaches.

I absolutely adore this kid. He has to be the cutest attempted dictator in the world. Mum walks up to new neighbour and introduces Stewie to the new guy on the block. Kid looks up at him and glares. "Bow before me!" You just have to love him.

How does one show have both the most despicable character in the history of cartoons and the most amusing little bugger ever?

Quiet contemplation.

2008-08-12T02:30:00.001-07:00

Lost in thought. Such a picture of peace, but you can somehow sense the turmoil within. Or is it just me?

The Shield.

2008-08-07T02:28:00.000-07:00

An old man with wire frame glasses sat at the desk, staring intently at the notes that lay before him. In one hand, he held his pencil which occasionally moved to scribble some little note on the already messy papers. In the other, he had the bottle of cheap alcohol that he always kept in in drawers. The air in the room was dank and moist. The only illumination came from a lamp on the desk he was working on. He seemed absorbed in his work, not noticing the distinct chill that the air had, nor the annoyingly persistent sounds of the dripping faucet in the attached bathroom. This was his world. The very place that gave birth to the scourge that I was here to destroy.

"Working late again, I see," I said.

He didn't reply. He just stared straight at his papers and kept mumbling under his breath. If he had heard me, he didn't show it. I repeated my statement.

"I heard you the first time. I merely assumed that my ignoring of your obvious observation would be ample evidence that I have nothing to say to you, nor am I remotely interested in what you may have to say to me," he replied.

"Charming as always, Arthur. You know, not everyone thinks that your smart mouth is cute. If you kept it clammed up a bit more, I suspect you would not have driven away those women that were insane enough to even give you half a chance."

"I am well aware of my alleged character deficiencies, Cassandra. Unless you are here to proposition me with a night of passion, I suggest you leave me to my work."

I smiled. "I don't think either one of us wants that, Arthur."

"Really? I always imagined you would look rather nice underneath me. Of course, you could go on top if that's what rocks your boat, but my imagination always puts you firmly between me and the poor creaking mattress."

"You know why I'm here, Arthur."

"Of course I do. And you already know what I'm going to say. You know your coming here is pointless, but you just had to go through the motions so you can tell yourself that you did something." He was facing me as he spoke now, his eyes staring straight at me as if he was trying to bore a hole in my skull with his gaze.

"You are going to help me Arthur."

"Am I? A bit presumptuous aren't you? Tell me, Cassandra. Why would I suddenly decide to do something that I have refused to do for the past 40 years? My conviction of the evils that lie outside are still as strong today as they have always been. I have no reason to listen to you."

I bit my lip. He was being a pain in the ass, as I knew he would be.

"And yet you are talking to me, Arthur. My presence here is still worthy of your attention. What do you think that means?" I retorted.

He chuckled. "Mind games! Lovely!"

There was a pause. "You think that I feel guilty about building that shield? You think that I have changed my mind?" He shook his head.

"You weren't even born when I drew up the designs. You have no idea," he continued.

"The necessity of the shield was brought into question even then Arthur. I've read the parliamentary transcripts. There were those that opposed you alarmist reaction to the 'evil' posed by the rest of the world." I wasn't about to let his squirm away.

"Alarmist? My observations were sound and if it weren't for your stupid press and their ridiculous spin, I'd still have a good number of people believing in the greater good of this shield. How do you think the city's prosperity from the past 20 or so years came about? You think we would have grown so well if we weren't so well isolated from the filth that live outside?" He was getting angry now.

"The filth you talk about seem to be doing pretty well themselves. I don't see why they would be holding us back," I said.

Another pause. "Look, Arthur. We are going to break the shield whether you like it or not. I'm just offering you the chance to help us minimize the casualties that will be incurred when we do it. The desire to break out is becoming overwhelming, and someone might just do something stupid. Like lob a nuke at the damn thing. You know what would happen if someone did that don't you? Do you want that kind of blood on your hands?"

I continued. "You built it a long time ago. It has long outlived its usefulness. Its a dangerous relic of an isolationist past. Let it go, Arthur. Help us bring it down."

I moved over to him and straddled his lap. Giving him a crooked smile, I whispered in his ear, "You know where to find me if you change your mind."

I probably left him in a pool of drool and I felt a bit dirty inside for doing what I just did. But it didn't matter. It was all for the greater good.

2008-08-04T20:40:00.000-07:00

What happens in my head.

2008-08-04T02:03:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm not exactly going to talk about everything that goes on in my head. No. That would be much too disturbing.

You know there are certain thoughts in your head that are just taboo. You know, stuff that is in your brain, but your consciousness will never acknowledge exists. Its a condition that I frequently call self delusion. I'm guilty of that to some extent, but thankfully not to the point where people around me get worried enough to want to forcibly snap me out of it.

Well, my brain has a very weird way of shutting out all these unpleasant thoughts. I think I'll call it the ninja reflex.

Everytime I come across something I don't want to think about anymore, I think of violent sword fights.

I know. Its ridiculous, and I have no explanation for it. When I drift off and suddenly arrive at the memory of some embarrassing moment that I have had in my life, my brain takes over and shows me scenes of sword fights. Its quite an international affair, really, so the ninja reflex might not be that appropriate a name. The blades come from all kinds of popular culture that we see. Japanese, old english, high fantasy. They are all there. No curved Arabian blades so far though.

I'm not sure what this means. I'm not even sure I care what it all means. It probably explains why my metaphorical fiction stories are so graphic and violent. Those stories normally provoke memory of unpleasant emotion and fear.

So yeah. I'm a sadistic little arse-head. So there.

Prostitution is legal in Malaysia.

2008-07-27T06:10:00.000-07:00

For all practical purposes at least. I suppose this discovery is one that came with a mixed bag of emotions. Mostly cynical vindication at the kind of hypocrisy that this stands for mixed with a tinge of surprise, mirth and a little bit of sadness.

Remember all those Hollywood cop movies where the hardest part about taking out organized crime is finding the locations? I used the believe that was partially the case in this country, but then I discovered the locations of all these 'hot-beds of crime' on the internet. Took me all but 5 minutes. Talk about being untouchable enough to flaunt your presence. Pft.

Makes me wonder about those vice-raid pictures I have been seeing all this while. I suppose those pimps forgot to pay their monthly dues. Heh.

Saya anti-rasuah my ass.

Please use Gtalk.

2008-07-25T09:06:00.000-07:00

Okay, I know a lot of you already use it, so this post is not directed to you.

But for those who don't, I'm begging of you, make the switch. Its not that hard. I think Gmail is the least invasive of all the email providers, (meaning they ask you the least questions). The process is fast and relatively painless.

If you need more reasons, gmail is run by google which stands for not being evil. Windows live messenger is run by Microsoft, the giant evil corporation that was slapped with a bunch of anti trust suits in Europe.

Gtalk is infinitely more stable, meaning it will be less likely to dc you in the middle of a conversation. So if you use ixora's line, you know what to do. (Hint hint) =P

GTalk's installer is really small, meaning it can be installed really quickly on any new computer, or freshly reformatted one. Windows live messenger is like 50 MB.

GTalk saves all your chats in your mailbox, meaning you can access it anytime.

Gmail owns hotmail in every aspect.

I can go on, but I really don't want to sound like a long winded google fanboy.

So switch already! Then I'd be able to talk to you people a lot easier. Oh and if you have Gtalk, but haven't added me, please do. blad3wing@gmail.com.

Ten jew berry mud.

I need help.

2008-07-24T00:48:00.000-07:00

If any of you happen to know anyone who studies geography, could you please give me a heads up? Actually, if you know anyone in public universities, it would be really nice if your could ask them if any of their friends study geography.

I'm badly in need of a consult for my FYP. Successful leads will earn dinner on me. =)

Thanks.

Some hippie article in some newspaper.

2008-07-20T00:54:00.000-07:00

Picture of a newspaper article condemning the Vietnam war.

Swearing in a newspaper. Didn't think I'd see the day. lol

Yes, a political debate happened in Malaysia. Guess what? I don't care.

2008-07-16T19:40:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I have gotten a good number of people getting excited over the debate that happened between Anwar and the information minister, and they were all somewhat puzzled by my lack of interest. And because I don't really see a reason to be surprised at all, I'm writing this.

What happened in the recent election wasn't a political tsunami to me. Sure, I got all excited over the results, but that was because I didn't think that something like that would happen. Once reality set in, however, the outlook changed somewhat for me. I see Malaysia going back to the way it was eventually.

Personally, the change that everyone is talking about is overhyped. The reason I say this is because all the avenues that allowed for Mahathir to rule the way he did still exist. They were not exercised this election around, for one reason for another, but I really see no reason why the oppression of the past will not return in the near future. (In about 2 years if you believe our holy leader)

My personal sentiments are not particularly patriotic, and thats because I'm pretty cynical about this. The odds don't look good for the pro-'competent democracy' camp.

And yes, I am getting very tired of all the mudslinging that has been going on. The conspiracy theories are all very interesting, but there is only so much of slander and name calling that I can take.

I suppose the difference between me and the rest of the Malaysian blogsphere is that I never really paid much interest to all this to begin with, so I have very little interest to lose.

Meh

2008-07-13T02:17:00.000-07:00

Castfire, you suck.

2008-07-09T09:39:00.000-07:00

Whoever you are, wherever you might be based. The fact that you have somehow gotten the escapist to show all its zero punctuation in your prissy format is really pissing me off.

Because 99% of the time it doesn't load. Yeah, sure, maybe I have some settings wrong. But if you player doesn't work on my browser, then it sucks. Because then it wouldn't work on many other browsers seeing that I don't go tweaking around with my settings and everything is basically on default.

I don't care if your's is faster or is more efficient or is sharper than the others. I hate it, coz it is broken.

Can't we just have things in youtube? God damn it.

Like a little boy.

2008-06-29T04:27:00.000-07:00

Thats me when they announced Diablo 3.

Blood haze on Centre Court

2008-06-23T11:15:00.000-07:00

I stared at the other end of the court, glancing at the icy composure of my opponent. He had good reason to be calm. He was two sets up and on his way to winning the third very comfortably. Shoulders slightly hunched, legs apart, he stood ready to return whatever I could throw at him. It was almost like he was challenging me to give him my best shot. I grasped the ball in my sweaty palm, trying to tame my nerves. I was serving to stay in the game, and I knew that I needed to come up with something special to get past the legend that stood before me.

But I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. It never is against him. Three before me had tried and failed spectacularly, every one of them sent home with their tails between their legs. And I wouldn’t even say that I’m particularly good at the game. I was fast becoming one of those Kournikovas. Plenty of potential, but never actually gets there. And it was pissing me off. The thought of what I would read in the tabloids tomorrow made me want to fling my racket at the unsuspecting cameraman that sat at the side of the court. I knew it wasn’t his fault, but he worked in the same newspapers as those nasty writers, and that made them accomplices.

I stared at the sky for a moment, as if hoping for diving intervention. As I leveled my gaze again, I saw it. The one thing that could rile me up like nothing else can. My grip on the ball and racket tightened reflexively, my fingernails digging into my palms. My breathing quickened and my pulse started racing. I didn’t really feel like playing anymore at that point, but I knew that I needed to see the match through. I wanted to throw up on the grass I was standing on. And any moment now, the umpire was going to ask me to get on with the game. Further delay would get me into a lot of trouble.

So I served. But this time, it was different. It was like all the passion and festering frustration that I felt for the figure that now sat in the stands was channeled into the ball. My opponent threw himself across the court, but to no avail. He didn’t have a chance. Ace.

I wasn’t thinking anymore. I just played. Shuffling across the baseline to the other side of the court, I tossed the ball. I could feel the ball bounce cleanly off the strings as my overhead swing made contact. Another screamer, but he was much too good to be aced twice in a row. He was at full stretch as he returned the service. Seeing my chance, I moved forward. The ball came back short and I smashed it into the ground, making sure it would second bounce somewhere in the spectator stands.

Thirty - love. The crowd was stirring a little. I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my chest. Without realizing it, I was gritting my teeth. I felt like I had a demon in me and I was having some kind of blood haze. A state that can only be corrected with liberal swathes of blood-letting. Whatever I saw just now was still there, unknowingly baiting me to new levels of aggression.

I didn't like what I was becoming, but I didn't really have a choice. Struggling to keep my composure, I sent another stinging serve across, leaving my opponent dumbfounded. I was back in it.

Now all I needed to do was not to kill him literally. And hope the bloodhaze passes before it causes any lasting damage.

Rumblings of doom.

2008-06-20T20:50:00.000-07:00

The grassland was a picture of peace, the rolling hills covered by soft tufts of green. A soft wind blew across the plains, scattering the dandelion seeds into a cloud of yellow. Jackson sighed. "The calm before the storm," he thought to himself. The day almost seemed too perfect to spoil, yet he knew it would be.

He shifted about in his suit of armour. The metal plates had served him well over the years, and despite the shining sheen having disappeared to be replaced by dents and scratches, he still wore them with pride. His shield was equally battered, the metal edges notched my the blows of war axes. Jackson took a deep breath and looked around him. His friends and blood brothers stood beside him, all similarly suited and armed, staring at the space ahead of them. No one said anything. There was no need to. They were all waiting.

A distant rumbling signalled the end of the wait. They all knew what the sound meant. The horde was approching. As they drew closer, the sound of the wardrums being beatenbecame clearer, the bloodcurling screams of their green skinned adverseries growing louder.

It wasn't the first time he found himself facing a sight so terrifying. He had fought battles before, and he knew what would entail this one. And while he had always faced such a situation with the grim determination of a patroit defending his home, it was different this time. The sounds of war were no longer a rallying cry for him. They sounded like a death knell. He could tell, just by hearing the sounds before a battle, if it would be won or lost. And he knew it would take a miracle of sorts for him to come out of this one triumphant.

The signs were there. His instincts had spoken.

And still, he refused to listen.

Don't want to think about it.

2008-06-17T10:03:00.000-07:00

I think I've just reached a new phase in life. One where I'm willing to let go. Control is nice, but its not always the best thing to try and do. Some situations really are like clay; the harder you grasp, the more of it slips out.

I'm not sure if I know what I'm doing. I don't normally sweep problems under the carpet. Not willingly, anyway. But even as I do that now, I don't really think I care that I'm breaking one of the most sacred of rules that I live by.

If its important enough, I normally grab the problem by the scruff of the neck and try and wrestle it into submission. My current response seems to be to let it be and go have tea while it resolves itself. Naturally, I'd butt in once in a while to steer it along. But I'm almost resigned to the idea that the problem is beyond me and trying is pointless. Its not only pointless, it will only make things worse.

I'm not used to doing this. The sense of helplessness is quite crippling. At least in the past I busied myself with throwing myself against an unmovable stone wall. Even if it didn't achieve anything, it gave me the illusion that I was doing something about the problem.

Now, I shrug at the stone wall, turn around and plant a tree or two. Ultimately, the latter is the more productive, but it sure is harder to do. The offending wall chews at my consciousness everytime I dig a hole or water a sapling.

I don't know what it is. Its not anger or annoyance or depression. Maybe its much worse. Maybe its defeatism.

Random fiction.

2008-06-11T23:55:00.000-07:00

The shouting from within the chamber was too much to bear for Snayph. He had to walk out; another minute of that rabble about the most inconsequential things would have snapped his nerve and driven him berserk. And that would have been really ugly. Flexing his considerable muscles, he strode towards the window. Unlatching the lock, he pushed it open, admitting the cool evening breeze. He could see most of the city from where he stood; such was the size and height of the building that he worked from. People feared his organization, and for good reason. They were the true Kings of Alanar, not Cedric III. Their military arm dwarfed the Alanarian defenders. They had superior numbers, better weapons, better training, and most importantly, better intelligence. That would be a given, since his organization started out as the espionage division of the government. Normally, spies content themselves with the trade of information. They uncover and sell secrets, make a nice tidy sum and then move on to the next juicy piece of news.

But Jackson Borelaran wasn't a typical spy. He had big ambitions, and the skill to back them up. With careful manipulation and a generous stroke of luck, Jackson turned the organization from a shadow at the mercy of the King to the shadow that had a dagger at the King's throat. But he remained true to the artform that brought him such power, and declined to take the throne for himself. He contented himself to rule from the behind the curtain, interfering only when he felt he needed to. He did however, surround himself with advisors, his shortcomings in administrative matters quite obvious to him. Those very advisors were bickering in his chamber now, not being able to decide if the city needs to do something about the rat infestation.

Snayph was no politician. In fact, he had a distinct distaste for politicians, believing them to be all talk and no action. He was born into a farm household that observed strict discipline and little room for negotiations. His father had taught him to respect authority, and those lessons served him well when he joined that shadow regime's training academy. He graduated a firm teacher favourite, earning praise and prophecies of greatness from those he had worked with. He quickly made it up the ranks till finally, he sat at the council as Jackson's strong arm.

He didn't know why he had been summoned to the council in the first place. He was only ever summoned when his presence was absolutely necessary. Today, they were talking about a rat problem, hardly the kind of situation that Snayph would consider a security crisis. So, in the confusion of all the shouting in the chamber, he slipped out to the relative quiet of the hall outside.

"You think I wouldn't notice you leave the room, Snayph?" The sudden emergence of a voice from behind him startled Snayph. He spun around to see the dimunitive figure of Jackson standing behind him. He was hunched as always, and walked with a funny gait. He had picked up that habit some years ago to lull his enemies into a false sense of security when facing him. The trickery served him well.

Blink

2008-06-08T19:25:00.000-07:00

1. A reflex of your eye to clear out dust particles and irritants that have settled on your cornea. Characterized by rapid opening and closing of eyelids.

2. A metaphor used to describe a very short period of time.

3. A term popularized by Blizzard to denote teleportation over short distances. First appeared in the Night Elf Warden. (I think)

4. A book about the 'power of thinking without thinking'. Provides insight to the human subconscious.

5. Shorthand for a very annoying piece of a Magic deck. Designed as a mostly defensive tool, it became one of the most annoying things that I came up against at the Magic Nationals.

This house believes that All-Asians motions pwned AUDC motions.

2008-05-19T19:08:00.000-07:00

I looked at the motions for both tournaments. The Asians motions were mostly brilliant. Nicely balanced, and potentially explosive motions. AUDC motions were dry, political, and symptomatic of the mindset that brought to the birth of the AUDC in the first place. They had 3 motions related to conditional aid. 3! Sure, they were to be debated under different contexts, but at least show some form of imagination. There is so much more to the art of argument than just world issues.

Here are a few of the Asians motions that actually got me wide eyed and wanting to debate.

THBT humanity will not reach the 22nd Century. Duh. Of course I'd love to debate this. I've been building the case file since I began forming logical thoughts.

THW not eat whales and sharks. How is that for a motion. I'd love to do this value judgment.

THBT standardized testing is the enemy of learning. Anti-establishment motion! And totally related to students at that!

TH prefers need based higher education scholarships to affirmative action in admissions. Malaysian university quota systems!

THW require all elementary and secondary schools to include debating in the curriculum. Need I say more?

The semifinal theme was Buddhism! Dude!

THBT the Dalai Lama uses his position for personal gain.
THBT all Buddhist orders should ordain woman as monks.
THBT non-violent Buddhist social movements do not lead to social change.

How cool is that? How many people know enough about Buddhism to debate? No one really cares about what Buddhism stands for, and it has never been a debate before. The second and third motion would require at least some basic understanding of the workings of Buddhism. Which is totally cool considering how everyone seems to need to have a basic understanding of Christianity and Islam in debates before this, but never about any other religion.

The south Asians seem to be having all the damn fun. =S

Sigh.

The male crisis.

2008-05-17T20:57:00.000-07:00

I have spent the greater part of my 'stare into space' time wondering if the male crisis actually exists or not, and I always find something better to do soon after. The question simmers until I come across something that will remind me of this nagging concern. Every so often, a social commentary piece will appear before me and ask me to wonder again.

Men like damsels in distress. They like to have a clearly defined role and to stick to it. I suppose when they swoop in to rescue a poor helpless waif from a burnt lightbulb, they feel needed and are imbued with some sense of purpose. Which explains why many women respond accordingly. But then again, the wave of feminism seems to have changed some of that, and strong independent women have come along and lived quite happily. To that, some men have responded, changing some old ways to fit with the new woman. But only some.

The problem with this situation is that the two scenarios are complete opposites of one another. And I have witnessed some clashes between the two and it can get quite ugly. And it has made it just that much harder for people to hook up. I suppose with the dissolving of social class barriers to marriage in most places around the world, something else will have to take its place.

Remember that typical single, but approaching 40 woman griping about how all the good men are either gay or married? Well, thats because their selection pool is the minority. I suspect there are more women happy to embrace the new empowered female identity than there are men willing to put up with it. There is now an inherent imbalance between the two. And old fashioned, archaic men who insist on having a subservient woman are making up for the deficit in the number of women in their pool by buying their brides from overseas. How better to control something than to be able to say that you own it? (by the merit of you having bought it).

Those are the extremes. Then there are those that straddle the fences. Some that have decided that they want the best of both worlds. And they change their mind all they time. Finding a level of independence that you are comfortable with and sticking to it is a perfectly reasonable way of straddling the line. But flip flopping from one end of the scale to the other is going to get you nowhere. You cannot be helpless and dependent one minute, and dominant and in total control the next. Thats like having a mild case of multiple personalities.

I touched something similar in my feminist's worst nightmare post. You simply cannot call yourself a feminist if you enjoy subjecting yourself to sexist ideas.

Admittedly, most people never actually 'think so much' about something as petty as this. But I think the problem is real. Realizing who you are, what you stand for, and what you want in life is more important than people are willing to admit.

Random rant.

2008-05-15T07:22:00.000-07:00

Okay, lets just get through the usual motions. I need to put up my usual disclaimers here. I'm not talking about anyone in particular, or any one experience in particular. This is a random rant brought on by what I suspect is a hormonal imbalance fueled by some insecurities and some disturbing revelations. So if you think I'm talking about you, I'm not. Don't perasaan.

For some reasons, there are activities that are considered universally enjoyable by humans, and young humans in their twenties in particular. So the general perception is that people who do not enjoy the same things that everyone else enjoys is a repressed loser. It is inconceivable for the majority that their favourite pastimes are not enjoyed by others.

I suppose its because the enjoyment of these activities is almost primeval. (no, I know what you are thinking. I'm not talking about sex) Since our primeval instincts are the ones that we can most readily identify with, it becomes almost blasphemous to live on the idea that there are some people out there whose neurons are networked in such a way that makes such experiences unpleasant instead of orgasmic. (Again, I'm not talking about sex. Its a figure of speech)

At this point, most of you are probably wishing that I get to the bloody point and say what I have to say. The funny thing is, I feel like I'm being bound by some literary chains that are telling me that my writing is probably going to alienate people from me. But then again, what I'm railing about all this while is so ingrained into the observable society that I'll probably be written off as a bitter loser who just doesn't get it. And as much as I would like to say that I do get it, no one will believe me, because the assumption is that, if I did understand, I wouldn't be writing this post in the first place. Confusing isn't it? Circular logic normally is.

Let me first introduce you to pet peeve number one. Alcohol. Actually, its more like getting high in general. I think this is where the problem is the worst. Sure, drinkers respect people who don't drink, but the respect comes from the assumption that there are external factors that are stopping the person from drinking. 'Religion says cannot' is a favourite, followed closely by 'parents won't approve'. Drinkers tend to assume that barring all repressive cultural influence, non-drinkers will be downing shots like there is no tomorrow. In a sense, non-drinkers are prudes. Its like how I tend to assume that given free will, Asian children will not allow their parents to dictate every aspect of their lives. I know its an unfair assumption to make, and in the same way, assuming that a non-drinker is lying when he or she says 'I don't like the feeling of getting high' is unfair. It won't stop them from thinking that though.

The same reasoning applies to clubbing. I have found people who genuinely dislike loud thumping music and flashing lights. And one common complaint that I have heard from them is that everyone else seems to think that they are losers with no life. Clubbers cannot even begin to understand why anyone would not want to sway rhythmically to catchy beats. (Yes, I'm trying very hard to be nice, as is evident in my choice of words). Again, in this case, people who don't subscribe to that school of thought are written off as pussies who don't dare give it a go. At risk of contextualizing this a little too much, I have tried it out. And I can conclude that it blows. Probably not as much as, say being held captive by a World War 2 Japanese general. But as something that I would willingly put myself through, it ranks pretty low.

Yes, I'm being judgmental, and a lot of you will be up in arms and pointing your fingers at someone else, trying very hard to convince yourself that you would never do such a thing. Here is the kicker : You Do. And it not a particularly bad thing, I do it too. I admitted one scenario in which I make liberal assumptions about the history and reasoning of an entire demographic group and come up with conclusions that are likely to be as untrue as they are unfair. If you think that you don't, thats because you have convinced yourself that you believe in the politically correct opinion. Thats lying to yourself.

And yes, I have just made many assumptions about you, dear readers. I am in actual fact, ranting about myself, which isn't really a smart thing to do and an even less smart thing to admit to doing. But I am having such a blast writing this very convoluted post.

And now I'm all out of ideas. So I bid you adieu.

Depressing truth - food being wasted

2008-05-08T04:31:00.000-07:00

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/7389351.stm

5500 chickens thrown away a day?

1.3 million pots of yogurt disposed of in a day?

That is just one country.

=(

Empowerment?

2008-05-07T05:25:00.000-07:00

Call me old fashioned, but I find the ideas of female empowerment to be a little strange. There are aspects of some feminist movements that don't really make any sense to me.

I forgot where I read it, but one article once claimed that women will only be truly empowered if they are truly equal to men. Meaning they get to do whatever men do, and not be judged for it. The more provocative of the ideas behind that theory is that women should be able sleep around, wear whatever they want, and feel good about doing it. In a very convoluted kind of way, it does make some sense. Not making assumptions about a person's morality and way of life based on their lifestyle choices is giving that person the benefit of the doubt. That entails a certain level of respect for that person's autonomy, and ultimately, a recognition of individuality.

So, some women have gone out of their way to prove that point. I'm not sure that I fully understand the point that they are trying to make, but it is something that I can let slide. The funny thing is, some people are using the same argument to justify TV shows in the US that are clearly demeaning to women.

I was reading this book recently (I forgot the title, I forgot the author) about the direction that the female consciousness was taking as a whole. The first chapter talked about this show called 'Girls gone Wild' that featured very happening girls flashing for the cameras, all in the name of getting the special GGW T-shirt and hat. The author visited the set and found the girls clamouring for a chance to show themselves off the the rest of the country. That show has achieved brand recognition, and everywhere the crew goes, the girls turn up in droves. One particularly attractive one masturbated for the camera.

When asked why they were doing this, the standard reply was, "Its just a little bit of fun". More articulate girls then justified the show by using the above argument of empowerment. They say that they are just doing as forward thinking feminism encourages them to.

There are important differences. Actually, there is one overwhelming obvious difference; the end goal. The feminists were doing this for themselves. They had sex because they wanted to have sex. They showed cleavage because it made them feel good. The intentions were selfish. It was me, me and me. Their ego was all that mattered.

The GGW girls are not doing it for their own pride now are they? They are doing it to please the guys, the kind of work that a stripper does. I don't have anything against stripping to make a living, but you can't exactly say that it is empowering now can you? How exactly is doing something that panders to the whims of others empowering? Unless you mean those manipulative housewives who manage to stroke their husbands ego, but have him by his balls at the same time. But thats a different scenario altogether.

Putting yourself in Hustler and Loaded, knowing full well what men are thinking when they see those pictures is not empowerment. Its neo-slavery.

This guy makes me feel lame.

2008-05-02T22:22:00.000-07:00

In a good way, of course. Strange how stimuli for me to do something with my life only seems to be coming to me as I approach my final year. Makes me a rue all the lost time.

Oh well, there is always the rest of my life. =)

It shouldn't matter.

2008-05-01T18:23:00.002-07:00

Breathe. Exhale. You'll be alright.

I thought I hated Chelsea.

2008-05-01T01:59:00.000-07:00

I did. I thought it was the club that I hated. But now I know that I hate only one person. Didier Drogba.

He is the very embodiment of all that is wrong with humanity. He is petty, vindicative and such a bitch that a teen queenbee will be hard pressed to out-bitch him. If it wasn't for his incredible skill with the football, I don't think anyone would even put up with him.

Micheal Ballack probably hates him. Referees probably hate him too. I mean when you get some really ostentatious, muscle bound giant in your face everytime you make a slightly debatable decision, I think you would get annoyed too.

Most of all, he is arrogant. He must have his way, or he will kick up a big fuss. It is the same kind of behaviour that we see on Super Sweet 16. If someone kills his football career, I'm sure he will be able to find work at some Ivorian soap opera. He is plenty talented in that area. Some argue that he has a right to be arrogant. That doesn't change the fact that he doesn't have to be. We generally don't see Ronaldo or Fabregas make a complete pain of themselves. I remember them because of their football. I remember Drogba because he makes himself such a pain in the neck.

He is one of those people that think his abilities should compensate for everything. Maybe to Chelsea, it does. As long as he keeps scoring, they will put up with his crap. But every neutral I know seems to think that Drogba can shove the football up his arse.

Benitez was an idiot for starting a war of words with him. Drogba isn't worth anyone's time, especially not a manager's. But I think that outburst only underlines the contempt that Rafa has for Drogba. I'm sure he wished he can say everything that I am writing here in a press conference and smile as every journalist in the room nods in recognition of the truth that no one says out in the open. But because he can't character assassinate Drogba the way that I am doing now, he does the next best thing. He attacks the footballer's character on pitch and calls him a cheat.

Chelsea isn't evil. There are plenty of good people there. On the surface, at least. But one Drogba is enough to turn the club into Satan's vessel.

Disebabkan setitik nira, rosak susu sebelanga. Perfect way to describe this.

My faithful friend.

2008-04-29T22:36:00.000-07:00

If there is a song that can make me feel for the singer, I think this has to be it. It starts slow, so you might want to wait a bit before you write it off. =)

Does America need a democracy?

2008-04-28T21:26:00.000-07:00

I find the principles of democracy strangely amusing now. I like the ideas, but there are bits about the world that point to democracy being sub-optimal as a form of governance.

I was forwarded this article in the Time magazine recently that discussed the Democratic party in-fighting that some analysts say are going to cost them the presidency. That may be true, but the bit about the article that really got me thinking was the part when they started looking into the tactics that both candidates employ.

Obama projects the calm, collected, and controlled persona. He avoids using negative campaigning and has an almost detached feel from the rest of the country. And apparently, its costing him dear. "In his 1991 book, The Reasoning Voter, political scientist Samuel Popkin argued that most people make their choice on the basis of "low-information signaling" — that is, stupid things like whether you know how to roll a bowling ball or wear an American-flag pin." Obama tried a different tactic. He tried to see the bigger picture and deal with the biggest problems that Americans are facing. But the Philadelphian people were not interested. Apparently, the debate that he was involved in recently "will go down in history for the relentless vulgarity of its questions". In short, the American public prefer having one of their own SUV-driving, big mac munching dude next door as their president.

But are they really making the right choice? I honestly don't think the average American understands the state of their country at the moment. And I also think that if they did understand, they would care a lot more about their national healthcare policy than flag pinning or bowling balls. But democracy works by giving the power to the people. My question is, what if the people don't know what they are doing?

I know that I am taking a very dangerous line here. I know that I have no right to tell a polygamist red neck how to live his life, or what to believe in, or who to vote for. Who is to say that my line of thinking is superior to their's? But I also know that there is an information imbalance in this case. Unless of course, the American people intentionally choose to not take the war in Iraq and their battered economy seriously, which is too weird to even contemplate.

In the end, this is how I see it. In America, the questions they should be asking are 'Can he help our economy?' or 'What does he want to do to our health system?' But the questions that they are instead asking are 'Does he like barbecued pork ribs?' and 'Does he own a pick up truck?'. It is pretty damn obvious to me that the first two questions are far more important, but for some reason, are brushed aside in favour of the third and forth ones. It is in their best interests for the people to vote based on the big issues, but they are choosing not to.

Can we still say that democracy represents the best interest of the people?

The 9 types of intelligence.

2008-04-22T22:49:00.000-07:00

While I don't consider Howard Gardner's theory to be totally accurate, it does make a certain amount of sense to me.

A quick Wiki of multiple intelligence theory tells us that Gardner believes that no one kind of intelligence is more important than the other. I find that belief a bit naive to be honest.

It might be an unnecessarily utilitarian way of looking at life, but having what it takes to carve out a living sure beats everything else. I would personally rank logical intelligence near the top simply because so many jobs in the world right now need exactly that.

But looking at the types of intelligence, I can't help but to think that one single type stands out well above the rest in terms of importance as a life survival tool - interpersonal intelligence. Remember how people always say that its not what you know anymore, its who you know? I think that nicely sums up why its so bloody important to have interpersonal intelligence. 'Young adults with this kind of intelligence are leaders among their peers, are good at communicating, and seem to understand others’ feelings and motives.' I got that from some random site. Screw the last two. Look at the first one. Want to enter the corporate world? Intend on getting far? If you don't have this form of intelligence, then don't count on it. Actually, I would go as far as to say that it extends to all professions. A char kuey tiow seller with good interpersonal skills build up customer rapport. The only time when this doesn't affect your career is if you really and truly work alone. Like as a lighthouse watchman or something. Even then, you are going to need that intelligence when you approach your boss for a raise. If you ever approach your boss for a raise...

And what would be the worst one to have career wise? I have to say intrapersonal intelligence. 'These young adults may be shy. They are very aware of their own feelings and are self-motivated.' Who needs self motivation when you can make people believe that you are already self motivated? Personally, I think that shyness is a death sentence in the world. People tend to view shy people and wonder what is going on in their minds, and constantly trying to guess if that person means harm. Shy people constantly avert people's gaze. Do people assume that the reluctance to make eye contact is due to shyness? I think most take it as a sign that the person is an egoistical prick. Isolation from the rest of humanity is something that no amount of gardening (naturalist intelligence), tennis aces (bodily kinesthetic intelligence), or best selling novels (linguistic intelligence) will be able to compensate for.

At this point, I would like to borrow a phrase used by my friend once. 'Socially retarded at every level'. Its a brutally honest quip that explains everything. It is a form of retardation, bad enough, in my opinion to warrant a certain amount of medical attention. I find it amusing how much we fight for equality at the workplace when this fairly obvious shortcoming is not accounted for. Maybe its hard to classify and hard to determine, but since when has something being hard to do ever been an excuse for not doing it? As of now, we only treat severe shyness. Unless its really bad, its not even recognized as a problem. Thats like saying that we will help people who have lost their leg, but those that have lost their foot don't need our help; they can deal with the problem on their own.

I know I'm not making any sense. I know that what I'm proposing is insane and even if it were possible, we are 20 years away from it. And even if we do come close, there would be protests from Scientologists and other mental purists. But I think its a problem, and its one worth solving.

Why does it have to be so hard?

2008-04-21T18:05:00.000-07:00

Why can't things be easier? Why does the obviously right thing to do have to feel so neutral, but the consistently, stupidly dodgy path raise my pulse everytime I think about it? Why did the stakes have to raised? I know I asked them to be raised, but still... Now there is so much to lose, and so much I could regret. I'm good at lying to myself, but I'm not that good.

I know what I need to do. I just need to start feeling what I need to do. But thats the really hard part. I can't make myself feel it. Not now at least. Maybe, if I actually had the opportunity to help it along. Sometimes it feels like the opportunity is always there. Sometimes it seems completely unfeasible, even to the most hardcore impulsive action-taker I know.

Gah!

Message to the universe : I know that you can do a lot worse, but, please, be kind to me... You know the way my mind works. You know that to most other people, it won't even be a problem. But its insanely confusing to me. Stop messing around with my head. I'd really appreciate it.

I wish I didn't have to be so cryptic writing this, but for my continued survival, I think I ought to.

Hats off to this guy. I think.

2008-04-15T19:51:00.000-07:00

This was forwarded to my inbox recently. Its a pretty old story, but its still freaking hilarious. And since I haven't updated in like forever, I decided that someone else's thoughts are better than no thoughts at all. I don't condone such behaviour though. =P

This is why women should not take men shopping against their will.

After Mr. And Mrs. Fennell retired, Mrs. Fennell insisted her Husband
accompany her on her trips to Wal-Mart.

Unfortunately, Mr. Fennell was like most men--he found shopping Boring
and preferred to get in and get out.

Equally unfortunately, Mrs. Fennell was like most women--she loved to
browse. One day Mrs. Fennell received the following letter from her
local Wal-Mart.

Dear Mrs. Fennell,

Over the past six months, Tom has been causing quite a commotion in our
store. We cannot tolerate this behavior and may be forced to ban both of
you from the store. Our complaints against him are listed below and are
documented by our video surveillance cameras.

1. June 15: Took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in people's
carts when they weren't looking.

2 July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5-minute
intervals.

3. July 7: Made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the
women's restroom.

4. July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in an official voice,
'Code 3 in Housewares. Get on it right away.'

5. August 4: Went to the Service Desk and tried to put a bag of M&M's on
layaway.

6. September 14: Moved a 'CAUTION - WET FLOOR' sign to a carpeted area.

7. September 15: Set up a tent in the camping department and told other
shoppers he'd invite them in if they would bring pillows and blankets
from the bedding department.

8. September 23: When a clerk asked if they could help him he began
crying and screamed, 'Why can't you people just leave me alone?'

9. October 4: Looked right into the security camera and used it as a
mirror while he picked his nose.

10. November 10: While handling guns in the hunting department, he asked
the clerk where the antidepressants were.

11. December 3: Darted around the store suspiciously while loudly
humming the 'Mission Impossible' theme.

12. December 6: In the auto department, he practiced his 'Madonna look'
by using different sizes of funnels.

13. December 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when people browsed
through, yelled 'PICK ME! PICK ME!'

14. December 21: When an announcement came over the loud speaker, he
assumed a fetal position and screamed 'OH NO! IT'S THOSE VOICES AGAIN!'

And last, but not least

15. December 23: Went into a fitting room, shut the door, waited awhile,
then yelled very loudly, 'Hey! There's no toilet paper in here!'

Regards,

Walmart

I can totally relate.

2008-03-31T03:40:00.001-07:00

Except for the making out with myself part, of course. But the dude who did this is a genius.

The Spiderwick Chronicles - Retold.

2008-03-18T22:15:00.000-07:00

Inspired by the Spiderwick Chronicles, this story has been through a number of incarnations. And each time I change it, it sounds less and less like the story that inspired it. Still, it was the Chronicles that kick started it. Many incarnations also means many hours spent. I certainly hope that the quality is proportionate to the effort spent. Enjoy. =)

It was a curiously bound book, wrapped in purple velvet with a gold spine, and gold flowers printed on the cover. It had nothing written on the cover, nothing to indicate what lay within. Around it was a matching ribbon, tied neatly into a bow, keeping the tome from being unintentionally opened. The little boy stared in wonder at the book that lay on the table; he had never seen anything quite as unusual. He was quite apprehensive about the book, the superstitions that seemed to govern the workings of all things strange were clanging the alarm bells in his head. He was drawn by the book, that much was apparent. Its flamboyant colour and intricate mural that decorated the cover appealed to him, for no particular reason he could think of. He was asking himself if he would ever find the courage to pick it up and open it.

It wasn’t exactly the first time he had found himself in such a dilemma. For so much of his life, the boy had let fear of the unknown control his conscience. It was only recently that the natural urge to explore his surroundings, that seemed to be inherent in every other child his age, took a hold of him and started his journey into the uncharted waters that he had once felt content to leave unvisited.

The tug of war still raged in his little head, but this time, as it had been in his recent history, curiosity had an inherent upper hand. The reassuringly cold tone that superstition used to take seemed to have lost their powers of persuasion. Finally, after two hours of deliberation, the boy made up his mind. He crept up carefully and silently towards the book, as if afraid of offending it by making sudden moves. When he stood within an arm’s length of it, he stopped and stared at it. It was even prettier up close than it had been from where he had been sitting. The boy began noticing little details that he never saw before. He decided that the book had to be special.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled at the ribbon. As the knot became undone, he heard a soft sigh, as if the book was talking to him. He stared at it. The book was alive. Or had he imagined the sound? Shrugging away his petty concerns, he slowly lifted the cover.

It was full of writing, complicated cursive written in compressed paragraphs. The boy had enough trouble reading in block letters, so neat lines of flowing writing looked like a messy jumble of random lines to him. He was intelligent enough to pick out certain words, and he began to piece together the story of the book a little at a time. He found the writing to be very melancholic, and most of the time, very evasive. He could never actually be sure about what he was reading, not knowing if his interpretation was accurate. Still, he persisted.

As he flipped the pages, he reached a sudden change of tone in the book. The writing became more pronounced and larger. At the end of the page was a large print warning :

‘Proceed no further. You will bring nothing but harm to yourself. I beg of you, dear reader. Put me down’

The boy froze. The message was clear enough, written in such a way that even one of his limited vocabulary could understand it. He read the message again. And again. And then he flipped the page and kept reading.

Some would call him stupid to defy such a clear warning. Others would applaud his tenacity, but ultimately conclude that he asked for the consequences that he would have to pay for. As he continued scanning, he felt himself lose control of his own conscience. His actions were no longer his own, yet it seemed like he had done everything by himself. He was in a haze, a dreamlike state from which he couldn’t snap out of.

As he continued, he felt a sudden stinging in his right arm. His first reaction was to retract his arm, but his body defied him. Another sharp spike of pain seared his arm, and he started screaming. There were no physical marks, just a continuous barrage of unadulterated torture.

`The open page of the book flipped itself, and from its glowing pages, rose a shining meat cleaver. Terror overwhelmed pain, but the boy still could not move voluntarily. The large knife turned around in the air and presented itself hilt first to the boy. He heard a sad whisper in his ear. ‘Cut yourself free, dear child. Remove that part which hurts you so.’

Frightened and confused, the boy sat there doing nothing. He suddenly realized that he had control of his left arm. He flailed about trying to release himself from the bond, but always found himself being drawn back in. The whispering continued, ‘Cut yourself free. Cut yourself…..’

“NO!”, cried the boy. He was still defiant, refusing to give in to the pain. There was something more than just himself in this chain of events, and he was determined to see it through. But the pain intensified, and more voices joined in, telling him to let go. Telling him to do what he needed to do.

He reached for the cleaver, willing himself to get it over with. But each time he drew close, something within himself stayed his hand and kept him from touching the weapon. Then it happened.

A white hot flash of pain burst through his arm, overwhelming his senses, very nearly driving him insane. Reality set in very quickly and in one swift motion, he severed his right arm at the elbow. The pain shifted at the moment of slashing. It was a thoroughly different kind of pain, but equally torturous. The fact that he now had regained control of his own body did little to dampen the burning.

He collapsed into a sobbing heap as to book snapped itself shut. The ribbons that had held it together did themselves back into a pretty knot.

The boy’s stubbornness had cost him. Again. He had left a piece of himself in the book, never to regain it.

Unless, one day, the book sees it fit for him to continue reading.

I haven't written a caustic rant in a while, and even I'm beginning to miss that part of me. With any luck, regular service shall return. =))

For the love of a project.

2008-03-13T12:23:00.000-07:00

He walked briskly, wanting to get the matter resolved quickly. His posh leather shoes fell silently on the soft carpet, making his heavy footstep sound a lot lighter than it actually was. The lack of exercise was beginning to show; he wasn't quite the compactly built person he used to be. He passed the abstract sculpture that stood in the middle of the waiting room as he walked. He never liked the sculpture. Too ostentatious and vulgar for his tastes. It actually looked like some ancient phallic symbol, which isn't exactly something you want as the focus of the waiting client's attention. But the boss liked it, so naturally, he kept his opinion to himself.

He turned into the brightly lit meeting room at the end of the hall and found Nathan sitting at the end of the conference table. He was staring at the mess of papers that lay before him, his mind quite obviously wandering. There was a look of defeat on his face, a look that he had carried a few times before. Only this time, it almost looked devoid of hope, as if he had lost one battle too many and he was going to leave everything to rot now. At the sound of the door opening, Nathan snapped out of his dreamlike state and sat up. "Micheal! Finally! A voice of reason!"

"What happened?", asked Micheal.

Nathan picked up a folder and flung it across the table. Micheal stopped it before it could fly off the edge and took a look at the cover. Across it, was emblazoned the insignia of Jetstar Enterprises.

"What about Jetstar Enterprises? I thought this was a work in progress. Under top administration instructions. One of the long term projects that our apparently brilliant CEO seems to think is a worthy investment," said Micheal.

"I looked at the books already. It doesn't look good. Percentage probability of actually hitting the target the the CEO has set is in the single digit zone. And even then thats after heavy investment and a long string of making the right calls. This is bloody insane!"

"Mate. This is investment banking. Its always crazy. I've seen projects with worst odds make it before."

"Yeah, but this is ridiculous. Even the upper management of their company has told me that they welcome the investment, but they can't provide any returns. He actually asked me to take our money elsewhere. They know that they can't deliver."

Micheal frowned. "They actually said that?"

"Yes! And our CEO's response was 'have faith, son'. God dammit, sometimes I feel like wringing his idealistic neck. This company is a no-go. Every manual on investment banking will tell us to stay away. I got consults from a few third party bankers. All of them gave negative appraisals. One actually pointed out that even if the company does post a genuine profit return, which it won't, the alliance is not likely to work. Two separate philosophies. I just don't know why our CEO loves this little project so much."

"There are some things you just cannot explain, Nathan. Just accept that."

"Don't you go pseudo-philosophical on me now! You know very well what this is costing the company. At first, I played along. It looked like a fantastic deal actually. I had a few doubts, but when I started to get to know the company, things started to look up. I was actually cautiously optimistic. Then I went to one of their meetings and they dropped this huge tangle of problems in front of me. And every subsequent meeting, the web gets more complicated. And here is the kicker! I can't untangle it. I'm not allowed to. Apparently, its all very complex and it will be a complete bother trying to explain the whole thing to me. We have to seriously cut back our involvement with this company. It could spell the end of our organization."

"Nathan, listen to me. You just came out of graduate school, and you have this very preformed idea on how the system works. I'm not saying its wrong. I'm saying that sometimes, things just don't work out the way you want them to. But we are a company with principles and values, and we will stick by them. Whatever the cost. If leadership wants to love its little project, then let them do it. There is more to life than making money. How you make it and who you make it with is important too."

"You're kidding right? Money is money! Its the same wherever it comes from. And besides, we can never provide them what they want. We don't have the ability. I've seen their journal online, and I know that we don't have the kind of understanding that their past backer used to have. Its heart-breaking, but so searingly true, that I can't ignore it. We can't compete. Time to cut our losses and move on."

"Dude. You have no idea what you are talking about. Maybe you will in the future. But let me give you a word of advice. Stop fighting it. I've given in to it, and everytime you storm into the CEO's room and you try to prove a point, he is just going to brush you off as the noob who doesn't get it. In a way, your apparent discontentment could be setting off alarms in Jetstar Enterprises. They are not going to storm off and refuse to cooperate because of you, but they are probably going to resist the ultimate aim of the company a lot more. We already have a whole bunch of things working against us. Don't make it any worse."

There was a tone of finality to the speech. Satisfied at making his point, Micheal turned and walked away.

/curl up and cry

/wake up to reality

/wallow in own insignificance

/scream

/emo

/repeat cycle

Teardrops on my guitar.

2008-03-04T20:09:00.000-08:00

I never make music endorsements in public, and for good reason. I don't really think that I have a right to do so. But this song....

There is just something about it. Its sad, but it makes me smile. (not in a cynical way, I know what you're thinking) I can't really say that I particularly relate to it; it is after all about a girl pining for her friend who is seeing someone else. And I can't really say that I play the guitar either. And its sappy and uses a lot of the usual love song lines that song producers seem to love recycling.

I suppose ultimately, it does tell a bit of a story, and I'm a sucker for that kind of thing. I still listen to Stand (Eminem) and my favourite song from Music and Lyrics is the one that the washed up pop star sang to win the girl back, not the main theme song that the movie revolved around. And as atheist as I am, I love Hallelujah, the soundtrack from Shrek sang by Rufus Wainwright.

One thing though. I had no idea what Taylor Swift looked like until I saw the video. I imagined it to be a melancholic brunette strumming a guitar while sitting on a stool under a spotlight looking sad. What I got was a blond bombshell in an evening gown singing on her bed hugging her guitar.

Dude.

I guess I don't see the song the same way as the music video director.

Feminists, may I introduce you to your worst nightmare.

2008-03-02T06:54:00.000-08:00

I wrote this post a long time ago, actually as a very immature response to emoness. But I guess the ghosts of the past have been mostly banished, I'll publish.

A bit strong, but then its just my opinion. And last I checked, a very unpopular one.

I seem to have built up quite a reputation of being a hater of all things related to Japanese culture. I've ranted about anime, the influx of Japanese music, and I've written an article about how the Japanese are just as guilty as the Americans when it comes to cultural imperialism. To be honest, most of my criticism of Japan in the past really did spawn from fear of the unknown. You know, the old saying 'What you don't understand, you fear'. I never did understand Japanese culture, probably because I hold much of oriental culture at contempt. But now, I'd rather just ignore that part of the world and let them do as they please. After all, they aren't doing any harm.

So, which part of Japanese culture is a danger to the feminist movement? One word. Kawaii. The most overused and popular of Japanese vocabulary exports. Anything positive is kawaii, much like how anything negative can be represented by fuck in the English language. The underlying causes behind the kawaii phenomenon is scary. Granted, the people who came up with these causes were just postulating. They are theories, which means they are not proven causes and are still very much open to debate. If I had a better understanding of the human mind, I would be able to come up with credible opinions of my own, but for now, I borrow from the pros.

There are links between kawaii and social acceptance. And the lolita culture. And submissiveness. And general helplessness. Its almost like anyone who wants to be kawaii wants to be the damsel in distress. The helpless little girl who needs a man to take care of everything. It just so happens that there are lots of men who like girls who turn to them for everything. Gives them a sense of control, massages their ego.

So any girl that sticks two fingers into the air and squeals 'kawaii', and then later in the day bunches the same hand into a fist and screams 'girl power' is essentially being hypocritical. To me, you can't be both. Pick one, and stick with it. I'm not saying that one side is better than the other. Each has its merits, and depending on what gives you fulfillment in life, choose.

Feminine feminists can exist. Kawaii feminists are just confused people.

I may have mentioned anime in the start, but this post has nothing to do with that. For the love of God, don't misinterpret this post.

I have a second blog.

2008-02-26T07:00:00.000-08:00

Yes, I do. It partially explains why I haven't really been posting as much here. Actually, thats just an excuse. I haven't been posting here because I honestly have nothing to post about. The ideas I have been getting are pretty offensive, and I rather keep them to myself. Or just share them with those whom I know will not flip. A public space just isn't the place to air those opinions.

But, the bit about the second blog is true. I didn't really have a choice. Its for a subject called Engineers and Society. Its rubbish. To me at least. Suddenly MMU notices that engineers are graduating with little or no knowledge about their surroundings and decides to do something about it. The result is this total retard of a subject.

And to make the engineers a little more outspoken, we have been required to blog. About the society. I don't know if you have seen the kind of people that populate the engineering faculty. If you do, then you will know that having an opinion is just something that they are not very good at. When all you do is study indisputable facts about our universe, you tend to get used to not arguing. So what we get is a big, drivelley pool of literary degenerati. The attempts at giving relationship tips are so bloody shallow, I really wanted to harm myself after reading the posts. Then there are the usual religious nutcases who want to talk about 'the greatest man who has ever lived' or 'why pork is haram'.

Some people have a problem with the system because it is more of a popularity contest than anything else. The more friends you have in class, the more stars you get on your articles, even if they may be close to being unreadable.

But my problem with the damn system is just the fact that it exposes the true extent of what engineers in MMU consider important and worth writing about. Its something I can live happily without ever knowing about. I don't want to know. It depresses me. And the worst part is I have to comment at least 3 times a week, which pretty much forces me to read the posts.

No escape. These lecturers think of everything.

Damn.

A silly little monologue.

2008-02-23T08:02:00.000-08:00

You know what your biggest problem is? You let life's little imperfections get to you. You make mountains out of bloody dung beetle nests.

You say it all the time. Life sucks, deal with it. Its about time you started living by it.

Let go. Move along. There are enough things going right to be happy about.

State of transition is an excuse and you know it. Everyone is in a state of transition. They may be less aware of it than you are, but it still doesn't mean that it isn't happening. Confusion is common. Depression will come and go. But you have to bounce back.

You have come a long way, friend. But the end is no where in sight. Just keep your head up and keep walking.

Against the odds.

2008-02-17T06:32:00.000-08:00

By request from her ladyship.

I'll be perfectly honest, I was actually dreading the thought of seeing that debate pan out. I've seen my fair share of one sided drubbings, and it could get ugly. I have seen just how crushing such defeats can be, just how demoralizing such demonstrations of ruthlessness can crush the spirit.

But I put up a brave front. When I saw the motion, my heart sank further. International relations. Probably the least forgiving of the themes that could have emerged for the round.

An hour and a half later, I was left feeling so proud of the products of our half assed academy that I wanted to hug them all. To say that they rose to the occasion would be an understatement. They were like 300 Spartans surrounded by the Persian army. They were like Stephen Chow in Kung Fu Hustle. Even after getting his head pummeled into the floor, he raised this small stick with the last ounce of his strength and tapped the greatest assassin in the world on the head.

It was, to me, one of the most inspiring 'never say die' moments I have seen. Others would have curled up into a ball and prayed for it to end quickly. They took the fight to their illustrious opponents and kept the facade till the very end.

The fairly spectacular fallout that happened after that was painful to watch, but they all bounced back admirably in the next round.

This is totally cheesy, but that really was one case of students teaching the mentor something.

Waking up II

2008-02-11T19:37:00.000-08:00

The wind blew gently into his face, occasionally throwing a stray blade of grass into his face. He sat on the soft ground, hugging his legs, his chin resting lazily on his knees. It was a beautiful morning, and he had a wonderful view of the sunrise. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, smiling as the scent of spring flowers wafted past him. Life was good, almost dreamlike.

He heard a squeak. He couldn't place it, but he knew what it meant. Springing to his feet, he started combing the hill, looking for its source. It could have come from anywhere in the grass, and as he searched, his desperation started growing.

The squeak started changing. It started becoming lower and lower, until it was soon more of a growl. At this point, the source has become quite visible. A great hulking mass of muscle and fur lay at the foot of the hill, curled up into a ball. It was breathing heavily, and steadily growing.

He rushed forward hoping to reach it before it became too late. As he ran, the beast unfurled itself revealing its claws and teeth. It still moved slowly, like a bear just coming out of hibernation. The growling was turning into roars, each one progressively louder.

He reached the growing monster and flung his arms around it in a bear hug. Surprised by the sudden intrusion into its leisurely awakening, the beast started trashing about in an effort to throw the offending creature off its back. The claws flailed about in random directions. But he hung on. He had to.

Pulling himself a little higher up the back, he wrapped his arms around it's neck. Feeling the small limbs wrapped around it's windpipe only served to make it feel even more vulnerable and prompted even more violence.

He stared whispering into the beast's ear. He has learned long ago that a soft, persuasive tone didn't work. It only antagonized the monster even more. The only thing that worked was an icy, emotionally detached appeal. A cold dose of logic and reasoning. The simple facts and nothing more.

It was taking longer than usual this time. The razor sharp teeth were slashing dangerously close to his face. Sometimes, they got close enough and they grazed him slightly. But that was enough to draw blood, and soon his face was a mess of nasty cuts. Soon he began to tire, his aching muscles begging him to let go. But he hung on, keeping his vice-like grip. He kept up the whispering, kept up the firm and gentle pressure to calm down.

It took what seemed like an eternity, but the persistence finally started to pay off. Slowly, but surely, the snapping and scratching abated. The monster started shrinking until it was back to its usual small self. He slumped to the ground, thoroughly exhausted. Every time he does it, it gets harder. One day, the beast will get the better of him, and all hell will break loose. He needed help, needed someone to help contain the monster.

He could only pray that the saviour will come soon.

Pretty fun stuff.

2008-02-06T05:50:00.000-08:00

I haven't been posting for some time, between my dad being discharged from the hospital, L!m's assignments and a final commentary piece for Model United Nations, I haven't really had the time.

The weekend spent in Singapore was what I would have called a complete experience. For me, it had everything. A sense of achievement, embarassment, elation, depression, the whole works. On the bright side, my team won best newspaper. And I had 2 articles published front page. And my editor really liked my analysis. So did the head of the press corps. I went from reporter on day one to analyst on day two. All in all, enough to make me wonder what I'm doing in engineering all over again. I became a mentor to a journalism student, which was a little weird to be honest.

Then there was the hour or so that I spent on the verge of tears. I still managed to churn out a decent article in that state, probably because I had all the ideas already preformed before I curled up into a small ball and started whimpering. I haven't felt that way in a while, the shortness of breath and actual physical suffocation still catches me off guard.

I had fairly high expectations for the Model UN and I would say that NTU has fulfilled them. I feel a sense of vindication, like I proved something to myself. I suppose you were right when you told me to go with what I felt was right for me, even if it seems like the encouragement served a secondary purpose. Whatever it is, I just hope I didn't cock up too badly. Sorry.

Near walk out.

2008-01-28T02:08:00.000-08:00

I actually felt this urge to walk out of class in the middle of a lecture today.

The lecturer was an old friend; if students and lecturers can be considered friends in MMU. Being a pal, he noticed someone he didn't recognize and asked the offending girl if she was part of the class. She replied no.

That was fine.

He said that he liked having non-registered students in his class. Especially if they were girls. Mechanical engineering joke. Little chuckles all over class.

Still fine.

Then he asked the guy sitting next to her, "Is she yours?"

I perked up.

Then he added, "Who does she belong to?"

Frown. I like that lecturer, I think he is one of the best the whole faculty has to offer. And I really didn't want to make a scene. But I couldn't deny that nagging sense of unease that I felt when he said that.

Sure, you might say that he was just joking about. Well, to me its not funny. I find it deeply insulting actually. Am I over-reacting? To most people around me, probably yes. But I live along very strange ideals that few bother to understand. In the name of tact, I play along. But as happy I am with where I am now, when things like this happen, I can't help but to feel that I was born on the wrong side of the world.

LOL.

2008-01-19T17:21:00.000-08:00

http://thestar.com.my/lifestyle/story.asp?file=/2008/1/20/lifefocus/20036279&sec=lifefocus

Pissed me off at first, but then I realized its quite funny. A good laugh, this opinion.

Pope versus potter.

2008-01-18T03:31:00.000-08:00

The church has never really been happy with Harry Potter and I always imagined that its because of all the hocus pocus involved and the number of children who actually believe it. That was until I read an article about a certain future pope being opposed to the stories because they blur the line between good and evil.

In all fairness, he didn't actually say exactly that. What he did was endorse a book Harry Potter- good or evil? by a German writer. That book claims that 'the Potter books corrupt the hearts of the young, preventing them from developing a properly ordered sense of good and evil, thus harming their relationship with God while that relationship is still in its infancy'.

That writer is either so smart she sees things that I cannot possibly see, or very, very naive. This is what I think of the world. Its a relentless sea of gray where we are all asked to make moral choices on a regular basis. There is no right or wrong; only what we perceive as right or wrong. Some people tell me that I have a fucked up moral compass. Some call me a heartless bastard incapable of pity. I don't really think I'm one.

I think that good and evil is a very lazy way to think of the world. It saves you the trouble of finding exactly where you stand on an issue because it narrows everything down to two options. Yes or no. Nothing in between. I used to think like that as a child, thanks to a steady diet of Enid Blyton and Disney. Debating beat those beliefs up pretty badly, and now, I still slightly resent the people who fed me stories that have very attractive and likable protagonists and butt ugly and repulsive antagonists. I can still feel the effects of those years of conditioning till now. I subconsciously expect every asshole I meet to be instantly unlikable and my subconscious takes a bit of a jolt when I find that nice people turning out to be dicks and bitches.

Sure, when we read a story, we want someone to cheer for. I'm not against that at all. All I'm saying is that a good dose of reality for children isn't really a bad thing. Every hero can have a dark side, just like how every villain can have a good side. Its never too early to realize this.

Harry Potter

2008-01-13T05:51:00.000-08:00

I : Welcome to another edition of Smalltalk, the show that hits all the small issues and hits them hard. We are joined today by a very special guest from the wizarding world, Mr. Rofelius Udder. With him, we will hopefully explore some of the more shocking things that seemed to be overlooked by the Ministry of Magic during their war with the one that may not be named. We will also take a look at wizarding language, and try to get some insight into spell wording. Mr. Rofelius, welcome to the show.

R : Thank you.

I : Let us first look at the war with Vol-

R : Argh!

I : Sorry. I thought the taboo would have been lifted a year after his death. Very well then, lets just call him V shall we?

R : V is fine. Thank you.

I : Right then. The war with V. What was your role in the war?

R : I was an Auror. It was a terrible job at that time. So many of my colleagues died.

I : Yes, yes. I suspect the Aurors are like muggle policemen then. In charge of law enforcement and the like. You are accustomed to muggle life, are you not, Mr. Rofelius? You know what policemen are?

R : Yes. I lived a muggle life before Hogwarts, much like Harry Potter. Yes, Aurors are very much like policemen. Under the jurisdiction of the Ministry.

I : I see. And what of the army? Or do the Aurors double up as that too? Because thats the impression that I got. They seemed to be doing work that is normally the domain of the army.

R : I suppose they do in that sense.

I : And if there is international conflict? A war between countries. Do the Aurors then pick up their wands and do battle just like any regular army?

Pause.

R : I suppose. I never really thought about it to be honest. I don't really think that the wizarding world gets into international conflicts.

I : Frown. The wizarding tournament points otherwise actually. Wizards seem very comfortable resolving their conflicts in spectacular shows of destruction. But I don't think this is getting anywhere. Next question. How is the Ministry's relationship with the Americans?

R : The Americans?

I : Yes. The people who look remarkably like us, except they insist on being as different as possible. Live across the ocean on a big piece of land, eating hamburgers and getting too fat to walk.

R : Ah. Yes. Them. They are our friends of course. Just like in the muggle world.

I : Really? And it never occurred to the Ministry to ask for help from the Americans or your neighbouring French when you had the most dangerous terrorist in the history of magic running riot in Britain?

R : I am not at liberty to answer that question.

I : I didn't think so. I suppose only Minister Rowling will be able to answer that. I just find it intriguing that in a world that seems so connected by magic, all the countries seem content leaving Britain to collapse to its knees, knowing full well that V is bent on global domination. I would have thought it was in their self interests to see V beaten.

Silence.

I : I see. No matter. I just have one last matter. It concerns the language of magic. Do other cultures have their own magic words?

R : I should think so.

I : But pronunciation is an important aspect of the spell is it not? So translating the spell into say.... Chinese would have it lose its effect then?

R : Squint. I suppose.....

I : Then all magic must come from England, America or Australia then. Pretty much every spell seems to be rooted in the English language. Expellimarius, Stupefy, Confundo, Crucio. All seem to have English root words don't they?

R : I'm not a history scholar. I wouldn't know.

I : In that case, non-English speaking wizarding communities have my sympathies. Why they wouldn't just learn English and make their lives easier is beyond me. Anyway, thats all we have time for today. Thank you Rofelius for your time today, although I must say, you weren't very much help at all. I'll try to get a more informed person on the show the next time.

Till then, goodbye.

I freaking hate that country.

2008-01-10T05:14:00.000-08:00

I can't think of any other title for this post, really. I could try naming it something more sensitive and then proceed to talk about how bloody scary this few days have been for me, but that really wouldn't be much fun now would it? (Damn, I'm starting to sound like yahtzee)

Anyways, this time, it really is the last straw. I'm sorry if you come from there, but the doctors in your country are useless. Even your specialists seem to have less medical training than a five year old waving a pink plastic stethoscope around. I will never forget the day that your doctors told my dad he needed an operation when all he needed were a few pills and a few lozenges. It seems like the only person who can get decent healthcare in your festering pus-pit of a country is your ex-president who seems to be more resilient than a cockroach.

This time, you people almost killed my dad. I'm not exaggerating. If he had waited another day for your bloody specialist to turn up, he wouldn't have come back in a wheelchair. He would be back in a coffin. As it is, I think that we got lucky. I have never seen him that way, and I never want to ever again.

Sure, there are lots of parties to blame. Sure, blaming an entire country for the failings of a few who were supposed to provide the very basic medical services is a simplistic and very unfair way of looking at the situation. But I'm pissed. One too many times, I say. I can only forgive so many times, and this time the transgression has taken a step too far.

I have never really liked the country, save for one little trip to the education capital. Most of the time, I reach the KLIA with a feeling of relief, as if I have returned to civilization. I don't expect I'll return willingly there.

Waking up

2007-12-24T06:13:00.000-08:00

It was a brightly lit room, with florescent lights lining the sides of all the metallic walls. In the middle of the circular chamber was a high chair surrounded by flashing control buttons. The place had a very sterile feel, and endless sea of aluminum punctuated with an occasional flashing red button.

One of the many doors let out a quiet hiss as it opened, and in strode a tall, chisel jawed man. He had a purposeful demeanour about him, eyes sharp in a no-nonsense way. His strides were quick and long, but as the approached the centre of the room, he started slowing down. He stared at the creature occupying the high seat and sighed.

"Every bloody morning, he takes the seat first. Stupid dick," he muttered under his breath.

On the receiving end of the scathing attack was a fat boy with a rat's nest for a head of hair. He wore a black T-shirt with the words 'I am emo' and had a perpetually glazed look in his eye as if he was high on blow. His chubby fingers danced absently over the controls, occasionally poking one of them. No one really knew if his actions were of his own volition or just another random response. If he heard the comment, he didn't show any response.

The doors opened again, and in strode a rather small fellow. He wore a brightly coloured tie-dye shirt and tattered jeans, and walked as if someone had taken to his testicles with a cricket bat. When he saw the fat kid in the seat, he sighed and turned to leave.

But before he could step out, the tall man spoke.

"Annoying bugger isn't he. Ever since he moved in, he's been hogging the controls at the start of the day. Hell, I can't even remember the day I started at the helm."

Facing the tall man, the flamboyant dude snorted. "You don't say."

"Oh, I guess its worse for you Impulse. Your size does make it a little hard for you to jostle your way in. But you have to say don't you, that ever since this kid came about we've been a lot worse off. I dare say that I'd win the approval of everyone should it go to vote, me against him."

"I'm sure you would, Confidence, but you know very well it would change nothing. He will still be there every morning, leaving whenever he feels like it."

"Can't he see that no one likes him? And that he is doing us all a lot of harm."

"Actually, I wouldn't say that everyone has a problem with him. Have you seen how Logic and him get along? Everytime Logic walks in and sees him, he thinks that there is a problem. You know, sullen looking Goth kid who looks like he could use a week in rehab? The problem starts when Logic starts spouting solutions. Those two cannot work together. Remember last week? I got dragged into that as well, and it turned out to be a bit of a mess. Especially when Anger stepped in."

"Yea. I remember that. You know, Anger is very useful sometimes, but I really hate it when he turns on us. He seems to have a bit of a tiff with you doesn't he Impulse?"

"Don't remind me. I still get aches in the places that he broke my bones the last time. But even he is no match for that kid. No one knows how he does it, but when you can turn the whole room black and start shooting lightning bolts out of nowhere, people stop messing with you."

"Yea, but it doesn't stop Anger trying though. Always leaves the room in a bloody mess after they fight."

There was a moment of silence at that point, both the men staring at the child in the chair.

Confidence tried what he tried every morning. "Excuse me, would you mind moving aside and letting someone else pilot for a moment?"he asked.

His reply was a dry crackling in the air as sparks started bursting around the kid.

"Okay. Okay. Just asking. I'll leave you alone." The two of them turned to leave the room.

As the walked down the corridor, they met Wit. "Hey guys! Same story again this morning?"

Confidence answered. "Yes, same thing again. No one seems to be able to dislodge Loneliness at the start of the day."

The world is doomed.

2007-12-23T08:28:00.000-08:00

Every so often, you come across things that you wish you never knew existed. It could be some form of evil. Or stupidity. Or something else equally depressing.

And you wonder how things like this can exist? What kind of cruel twist of fate put them on Earth? To read work that is bad is one thing. To read stuff that is so shallow and yet at the same time, blindly narcissistic is depressing on a whole new level.

It can actually sap your will to live. It makes you want to shoot yourself.

Sigh. Why la?

Movie critics.

2007-12-15T08:09:00.000-08:00

Seriously now, I'm starting to get a little annoyed with them. I understand that they are paid for their reviews and therefore are expected to give a good one. I know that comparative analysis is inevitable when reviewing movies, and having read the book that spawned most of the movies, most reviewers use their prior experience reading the book and compare it with the movie.

Almost always, the movie ends up taking a beating. I have two examples. The Golden Compass was written based on the book Northern Lights, and the one review I have read has slammed the director for 'destroying one of the best pieces of child fiction ever written'. I know how he feels. I believe him when he said that the movie had been dumbed down by Hollywood. The generally happy, cheery feel to the movie doesn't quite capture a sense of epicness the way a dark tale spun around a properly scary Magisterium would. And not having happy endings is never an option with Hollywood, but it is in the world of books. So I guess for a sense of realism and immersability, book audiences will always be expecting something more than the usual children's fare.

I am Legend suffers from the same fate. The context of the title has been completely turned around, and now I actually find myself wanting to read the book, even if it is 50 year old science fiction. The movie is so much simpler than the book, but the idea in the book is just so bloody brilliant, I am actually a little upset that the producers didn't try to make it work on screen.

This is where my rant comes in. These movie reviewers are so used to a fare of intelligent story telling that everything else seems to suck in comparison. Most people I know found the Golden Compass to be a good movie. I didn't like it for the way the director made the movie or for the way the special effects were done. I loved it for the concept. I loved the idea of a nation of warrior polar bears and of a world that operates using a completely different set of rules of the universe. I'm sure the book did all that better, but it doesn't change the fact that the unacquainted will still be rightly impressed.

What I'm trying to say is very simple. If movie reviewers were wine tasters, they are only catering to the connoisseurs, the elitist bastards that uncork a bottle and sniff at the wine before pouring it in a glass and swirling it gently to oxygenate the bloody alcohol. Very few of their readers are that kind of people. We are social drinkers, happy we're even drinking wine at all. So fuck the flavour of the bloody thing, as long as it hasn't turned to bloody vinegar (which means very bad movie, like anything with Britney Spears or Madonna in it) then we would happily wolf it down and ask for a refill.

Social responsibility.

2007-12-14T09:13:00.000-08:00

I'm sometimes too generous with my opinions. I try to justify that by telling myself that I'm making a positive change, but I can't help but to wonder just how positive is positive. If I hadn't been such a nihilist in the past, I might have spread more gloom over the future. That would have been bad.

Having long talks with people has me asking if spreading the ideas that I have cultivated is really something that I should be doing at all. I mean, its instinctive, but I can at least try an put a cap to it.

Am I doing a service to society or am I spreading misguided half truths? I am fairly certain that I will find the ideas that I hold now to be quite childish and naive in the future, the same way I find the world view I had five years ago to be badly lacking proper perspective.

I know of people who think that I am better off not expressing anything at all. Those are the people who also have a tendency to try and sway others to their philosophies as well, so I'm not surprised at that kind of view. We sometimes hold diametrically opposed viewpoints.

But good thing or not, I do seem to have a lot of faith in my stands, however flawed they may be. With these kinds of posts, I might seem riddled with self doubt, but thats just the checks and balances that keep me somewhat rooted.

So I'll keep preaching.

Whats with Lim Kit Siang?

2007-12-09T04:07:00.000-08:00

I don't know the full details of what he actually says, but that man sound to me like a bloody loose cannon. He seems to oppose for the sake of opposing, even if there really are little grounds to pick a fight. Provoking the BN MPs seems to be some past time that he enjoys very much.

Apparently, he called somebody a goblok in Parliament the other day. His defense was that he meant 'go blog', meaning that he was telling that person to start blogging. I'm sure there are contexts in which that phrase can make sense, but I am very skeptical that Kit Siang wasn't out to cause trouble.

I've seen his antics in parliament as well, and they aren't what I would call civilized. I mean, the BN backbenchers are a bunch of uncouth monkeys, but that doesn't mean that the opposition lender needs to stoop to their level to engage with them. I actually pity the speaker of the parliament. He always seems helpless in those situations, his repeated pleas for everyone to sit down and calm down are always ignored. Its like he's scared of the MPs or something. How is a mediator supposed to do his job when he has no power?

Watching the way Kit Siang handle situations has substantially eroded the credibility that he has with me. It makes me question the questions that he raises and every allegation that he makes is greeted with a healthy dose mistrust. I actually wonder why he is still opposition leader because I seriously doubt DAP is that devoid of talent. Maybe its one of those 'old farts that refuse to let go' problems that seem to plague other political parties.

Kiam Siap.

2007-12-08T05:36:00.000-08:00

The Chinese are scrooges. Thats the stereotype that has been perpetuated for generations, and I was a little skeptical about it. I figured times have changed, and so have people. Working has just shown me that old habits really do die hard.

For the first few weeks of work, I was content with taking orders and punching them in. Until the store manager decided that we need to make more money and told us all to push the average purchase of each customer up. There are a number of ways to do this, of which the easiest is to suggest extra cheese. Then we could ask if they would like some fries or some more bread or ice cream for dessert. RM15 per customer is supposed to be the target.

It was only when I made a conscious effort to see if I can sell more did I notice who were the people that usually do the buying. Customers coming in are split pretty even between the Chinese and the Malays. Indians show up only occasionally. Of the groups, this is how I would rank their tight-fistedness. The freest spenders are the middle easterners, (who thanks to MMU show up in respectable numbers) followed by the Malays, Indians and then the Chinese.

The middle easterners are not really open to suggestions. They typically know exactly what they want, and will order a lot of it. Screw combo meals, its ala carte all the way. And I never have to ask if they want extra cheese. They will ask for it right after making a pizza selection.

The Malays on the other hand, always seem to be looking for a good time and are normally quite happy to follow you as you lead them around the menu. "Nak extra cheese tak?" A lot of the time, the answer is "Boleh lah". They are also more likely to pander to their kid's request for a milkshake which would add substantially to the bill.

Now when I ask if a Chinese family if they want extra cheese, the person with the menu normally furrows his/her eyebrows and look at the rest of the family. The whole clan will then come to the conclusion that the extra expense is unnecessary and will politely decline. The Chinese are also much more likely to try and make the set meals work for them, adjusting preferences and decisions so that they may save RM14.50. And when I walk away from a table with a order for one set, and nothing else to go with it, you can bet that it was a Chinese family.

I think all this scrooginess is in the Chinese blood. Its been passed down from generations ago, and I think the position that the Chinese have in the economy right now can be credited to the kedekutness that they show. Its not really a bad thing actually. I think I have a bit of that streak as well. =)

Am I just being too cynical?

2007-12-06T01:34:00.000-08:00

I'm a bit annoyed right now because I just sacrificed one mark from my tennis subject. I missed out on that one attendance credit because I was trying to explain what I thought to the Soka Gakkai people in the CLC on Wednesday.

They were there collecting signatures to petition the Malaysian Government to do its part in nuclear non-proliferation. I'm all for nuclear non-proliferation, but I didn't sign the damned thing.

I'm not too clear as to why myself. It could be the religious tangent that these people were taking. They seemed completely convinced that peace on this planet can be achieved if we just believed very, very hard that it can be. If we can get humans to think peace first when they are faced with any conflict, then we will not have wars. I like the concept, but I just find it a little bit flimsy.

I argued long and hard that humanity is programmed to serve itself first, then look at lofty ideals. Find some food, don't get killed, get married. All those always take priority over the principle of non-violence. At least thats how I see the world. In response, I was shown the greatness of Ghandi and Nelson Mendela. When I asked the dude I was talking to if he actually believed that it was Ghandi's non-violent protests that put the British in the mood to be charitable to the Indian people and to give them the independence that they want, he actually gave me a solid yes.

I should have wised up at that point and just thanked him and walked away. It really is quite pointless trying to engage him when we disagree on such a fundamental level about human nature. But I kept going on.

I might have offended him a bit when I told him that I thought the entire exhibition made a mockery of an actual peace process. I thought it made a mockery of humanity, for them to assume that something can be achieved if we repeatedly tell people the same intangible moral principle. Any solution that isn't rooted in the basest urges of humanity is doomed to fail. There is always a reason, and if we can understand the reasons behind the actions that lead to conflict, then we can try to stop it degenerating into violence. Admittedly, my take on it is just as intangible, but I concede that every conflict is different. To propose a blanket solution that will bring world peace is just something that I expect to hear from a beauty pageant contestant.

At least I did tell him that I was going to be honest, and wasn't trying to offend him before I actually said all that. Being a good, but perhaps slightly confused Buddhist, he kept a perfectly straight face.

But they really did make me wonder for a moment if such blind faith in the natural goodness of humanity can actually work out. I've certainly seen stranger things happen.

I'm still a bit sore about that mark lost though. =P

Movies...

2007-11-29T05:22:00.001-08:00

I'm not a movie buff, and I only ever go watch them if it seems to be a convenient thing for me to do. I never actually go out of my way to go to the cinema, which means that I'm normally quite behind when it comes to whats hot in movieland at the moment.

But in the past three weeks, I have watched Lions for Lambs, Hitman, and the Kingdom, in that order. That is courtesy of MBO cinemas having those movies at very convenient times for me and my classmates (a little free time vacuum for most of us, an exceedingly rare phenomenon.) I still haven't watched Beowulf, but I got a very stern warning from my brother that its the single worst movie he has ever watched in his life. Apparently, the story is dumb, the physics illogical to the point of unbearablility and the entire movie is filled with little scenes that have absolutely nothing to do with the plot. The movie's only saving grace, which is apparently the gore, couldn't quite compensate for the incredible stupidness of everything else. Thats what my brother said. I haven't watched it, so I don't know. But if I'm honest, I have to admit that I'm pretty apprehensive about Beowulf now. (Even if I get to see Angelina Jolie and a naked succubus.)

But back to the main issue, the movies that I have watched. I'll give you the bad news first. Hitman sucked. I never played the game, but I always found the concept to be exceedingly cool. A mute, merciless killer who strikes and no ones is none the wiser until he's safely immersing himself in a jacuzzi after extraction. But the movie completely betrayed agent 47 (I think that was his number) He becomes a gung ho, trigger happy, not particularly witty and bald version of Jason Bourne. Its hard not to make comparisons of the two movies, especially when the scene where the Hitman proves his observational powers to his pantyless pretend girlfriend is a blatant rip off from the first Bourne movie. The Hitman is supposed to sneak, poison, trick and strangle his way to mission objectives. He does not walk into a room full of gangsters and let rip with two sub-machine guns. The real Hitman would have found that approach vulgar. Even for an action movie, its weak. But then again, I have been spoilt not too long ago by the Bourne Ultimatum (which I think is one of the best movies this year, hence the constant comparison). So here is a warning. If you loved Hitman as a game, and would like to be spared the agony of watching him turn into a pussified, gunslinging man who is betrayed by his own agency for no reason other than to satisfy some Russian president, then stay away from the movie. Go rewatch Nacho Libre or something.

Now I have two more movies to talk about, both of which I have to admit I liked very much. The latest one I saw was the Kingdom, which is about terrorists in Saudi Arabia blowing Americans up. The FBI rightly gets pissed off, but because the American government is so buddy buddy with the Saudis, they can't get a team onto Ground Zero to do investigations. What follows is the usual story about a particularly ballsy FBI agent who blackmails his way into Saudi Arabia, solves the case, and puts him and his entire team in the line of fire. What particularly unnerved me about this movie is the fact that I actually felt pissed off when I saw the Muslim extremist give his inflammatory speech. Suddenly, my dim view of religion got even dimmer. Its all nice and good for the moderate Muslims to denounce the terrorists and loudly proclaim that the terrorists have no right to call themselves Muslims. It doesn't change the fact that they do call themselves Muslims and their murder is derived from the very same book that the moderates get their values from. I'm sure that there is nothing wrong with the teachings in the book, as everyone of the faith will proclaim. But over the many years that civilization has existed religion has time and again proven that its not something that the human race is ready for. I don't think that the fact that some people can take the text in a non-murderous and non-bigoted way can be used an excuse for the continued preaching of it.

I was throughly depressed at the end of the movie, even if I didn't really show it. The stark truthfulness of the entire movie reminded me of how fucked up this world really is. The ending definitely left an impression. The same promise made by the FBI agent and the dying terrorist cell leader, "we will kill them all". The message couldn't be clearer. The senseless killing will not stop until either side is wiped out. And some people actually argue that cultural relativism is actually a good thing. /wrist

Right, on to Lions for Lambs. (If you have read this far and still remain vaguely interested in what I have to say then, thank you.) =P. This movie has three stories running parallel. There is one part with a reporter being given a scoop on a new American initiative in Afghanistan by the Senator who is running the whole operation. The other is about a disillusioned political science student who called in to see his professor. And the third is about two American soldiers that are stuck in the Afghan mountains, awaiting rescue. I found the first two deeply entertaining, the third to be some kind of compulsory action sequence that movie makers seem obliged to do.

The first scenario was sparring by a liberal (the reporter) versus a war hawk (the senator) on the issues on global terror and the war in the Middle East. I actually found both sides well represented, although I generally tilt towards the anti-war hippie camp. I found the
Senator's arguments compelling, and I think that movie did a lot to help me understand his side of the story, and the reasons behind all the war mongering.

But it was the second scene that struck a chord. A professor sees a bright student lose interest, and decides to intervene. The student is adamant that the world is fucked up, and not worth saving, so he might as well go and live his own comfy life in the corporate world instead of making the change that he feels needs to be made. The situation really is deja vu. It wasn't so long ago that a very cynical me sat before a particularly well read and optimistic old fart and trashed out the issue with him. That ended with him declaring that I'm there is little hope left for me and that he is saddened that a person that has reached my level of reasoning should choose a path of doom and gloom. (At least thats how I saw it). Well times have changed, and I've grown up a bit, so I'm actually not naive enough to authoritatively predict doomsday within the next generation. So if a right cause comes along, I might actually do something. (maybe the fight against domestic violence, but AWAM seems to ignore my attempts to contact them.)

Still, that movie gives me the sense that I'm not alone in my disillusionment. It says loud and clear to me that just because no one else seems to care or even seems bothered to know, it doesn't mean that you should be like that too.

So, yes. If you have time and cash to spare, do watch the two movies. But don't blame me if you don't like them. I do have really weird tastes.

Emboldened Malaysians.

2007-11-25T08:24:00.000-08:00

Wow. Another rally? That whole Bersih thing seems to have given Malaysians some serious balls. I must say, I found this rally to be really amusing. Asking the Queen of England for help to sue the British government is plainly ridiculous. But thats also missing the point of the petition. The aim of the rally was to make some noise, and it sure did. I had never even heard of Hindraf before this. As a publicity stunt, it was bloody brilliant.

But to me, it serves another purpose. It further shows the levels of intolerance that our government has for any opposition to their stand. The violent response shown will only make the international community who might have been skeptical about all the reports of Malaysia not really being democratic after all believe all the stories circulating around the internet.

Confirming the stories of your opponents is not very smart. But I can't even begin to imagine what the government is doing. Everything they do flies in the face of logic, and I can't honestly say that my evaluation and my game plan would work any better for them. Because I don't know what their agenda is. I can't call them dumb, because they might see things that I don't see....

Oh well...

I wonder...

2007-11-24T04:21:00.000-08:00

A couple of years back, the Black Eyed Peas hit the scene. Everyone was introduced to 'Where is the love' and for a while, I actually listened along happily. Then they started showing what they were really about. Completely meaningless lyrics sung to catchy tunes. Reminds me of the joke that Chris Rock told about rap music. Women who love rap music don't care about the lyrics. For them, if the beat is right, they will dance all night.

Black eyed peas lyrics makes me want to put an ice pick through my skull. The problem is, I also notice that there are other artistes that sing stuff just as dumb as they do, but I don't feel any murderous impulse when I hear them. Snoop dog, 50 cent, and to a lesser extent, Sean Paul, they all rely on the beat and the cool factor to sell. But I don't hate them. In fact, I actually like some of their music. Okay, maybe not Snoop Dog, but the rest are passable.

Here is a line from Timbaland and Keri Hilson - They way I are

I'm about to strip and I'm well equipped
Can you handle me the way you are?

Blatant references to things impolite. Things that will make most people cringe in everyday conversation. Yet, I love this song.

And for some comparison here is the song by one of the BEP members gone solo.

If the girl real pretty,
Nine times out of ten,
She pretty like her mama.

And if her mama real ugly,
I guarantee ya she gon’ be ugly like her mama.

Everytime I hear this, I change the station.

I wonder what the difference really is. It can't be the complete disregard for general politeness and gender political correctness. Snoop dog is as misogynistic as rappers get, and yet I don't hate his music enough to avoid it.

It can't be the stupidity of the lyrics either, because I've heard lyrics just as stupid, and had no problems with it. Hey Ya by Outkast is a perfect example of this. Lend me some sugar, I am your neighbour? Shake it like a polariod picture? It doesn't get any more senseless than that, yet I have no problems with that song.

Then I thought maybe it was because I had a problem with Fergie being a sellout to the whole female gender, making me have a problem with her, and by extension, the people associated with her. I mean, she did introduce us all to her humps, her lovely lady lumps. But the pussycat dolls ask you to 'loosen up their buttons', females acting totally trampily. Yet I don't really have a bone to pick with the dolls.

As of now, I'm content to leave it as 'I just have a problem with you, never mind why'. But I'm still pretty damned curious as to why. Any ideas?

Goodbye England.

2007-11-21T18:30:00.000-08:00

The score says it all. England 2 - 3 Croatia.

When it all started, England looked like a shoo-in to the finals in 2008. A string of screw ups later, they have been dumped out of the competition.

I'm not whooping in joy at the English failure. But I don't mourn for them either. I think that they are the most overrated team in the world, partly because their league is marketed so well.

They lost to both Russia and Croatia. Both teams have players that I can't even name. Yet they beat a team whose players I can easily identify. If that isn't proof of overhype, I don't know what is.

The pundits are harsh, especially the English ones. Every last one of them has declared the English team undeserving of a spot at Euro 2008.

For me, all this means is that the likes of Lampard, Gerrard, Wright Phillips, Rooney and Beckham are not as good as the football pages and EPL pundits would like to paint them to be.

Tired at wrong times of the day.

2007-11-21T06:54:00.000-08:00

Work is annoying. But interesting. And somewhat frustrating.

Its annoying because its tiring. And it eats my weekend up. And leaves me looking forward to Wednesdays and Thursdays as my days of rest.

So far, it has remained somewhat interesting. There are still subtle little things for me to learn, and unlike most of my colleagues, I actually look forward to taking down orders. Walking someone through what he or she wants sure beats cleaning up the bloody mess they leave behind. And seeing different kinds of people eat, handle their children and work makes for an interesting spectacle.

And its also frustrating. Because I know that the job pays peanuts. And I also know that I would slip into severe depression if I came to a realization that I would be doing the same routine thing for the rest of my life with little chance of escape. I suspect those are to prospects that face some of the long term staff there. Its hard to take pride in the work I do. With the kind of pay it receives and the rate of staff being hired and leaving, I can't seem to shake off the feeling that I'm doing something anyone else can do. I think I'm getting a clearer picture of how some people end up finding their jobs meaningless and hollow. But have to do it anyway, because its just what they do. And I hope it never happens to me. I am really scared of getting stuck in a 9 to 5 job that has me groaning every morning and staring blankly at the wall in the evening.

The temptation to quit is there, but I'm going to see this through. Just need to keep telling myself that it could be much worse.

I'm getting really annoyed.

2007-11-15T08:49:00.000-08:00

Its 1 a.m. and I don't normally blog at this time, not unless I'm super emo or something. But I've spent a good portion of tonight reading about the bersih rallies, and I'm getting really pissed off.

I'm not pro-opposition, just anti-stupidity. Someone sent me a link to our information minister's telephone interview with Al-jazzera. I thought Syed Hamid Albar was rubbish on Hardtalk. That was enough to make me rant and rave for a good 15 minutes. Zainuddin's performance on the other hand makes me contemplate denying being a Malaysian when people ask where I'm from. The simple mindedness and the utter childishness of the accusations that he hurled at the news network is something I would expect from a name-calling match between 12 year olds.

I really wonder if he realizes how stupid he actually sounded. He probably doesn't, seeing how he probably gets away with that kind of rethoric on home ground where the press is held at gun point and the people are fed government or anti-opposition propaganda on a daily basis. But Al-jazzera is an international news network. What you say is going to be broadcasted to millions all over the world. If it was me, I'd be shit nervous. I would really hate to say the wrong thing.
But even if you did ambush me, an engineering student who has never really played politics, and has no experience dealing with the press, I don't think I would have cocked up that badly. He is the information minister. How the hell did such incompetence find its way up the ranks of our government?

And how is this for scare tactics? RTM 1's report on the rally ended with footage from other violent protests from other countries and the message "Demonstrasi selalu berakhir dengan keganasan". All reports in the local newspapers were similarly biased. The way that this is being handled either shows complete idiocy on the part of the government or a severe underestimation of human intelligence. Seriously, if this is the best the can come up with, then they are morons. If they can't be bothered to do better because they know that they are going to get away with all this, then they are insulting my intelligence. And I'm tired of it. Everytime this happens, all I see is this patronizing old man patting me on the head like I'm a 5 year old child and telling me to behave myself and to listen to him because he has 'eaten more salt than I have rice'. Well, I have read more books than you have words, so there.

Disillusionment really is reaching its tipping point.

Lets fighting love - Part 2

2007-11-10T07:52:00.000-08:00

Micheal found himself in a very familiar alley, walking home following the path less taken. He actually found himself wondering why he was taking this route at all, considering that was his emo path. He never took that route unless he felt like cutting off the rest of the world.

He shrugged and kept walking. Then he saw something that left him reeling for a while. There was a couple walking in the very same alley. He couldn't help but feel a sense of deja vu. Holding his breath and closing his eyes, he strained hard to hear for the rapid pitter patter that would confirm his fears. It didn't take long. The near silent footsteps were even coming from the exact same direction.

Micheal opened his eyes and looked at the couple. It wasn't the same two people. Odd. If this really was a recurring nightmare, he would have thought that the participating characters would have been the same. Different couple, but still instantly recognizable people to Micheal. Before the realization of the implications could hit him, the ninja had burst into view.

The attack was exactly the same, a sharp blow straight to the head of the unsuspecting boy. The girl spun around and screamed, and Micheal found himself responding. Just like before.

But this time, he knew better than to use the shoulder barge. He still gave his most bloodcurling scream to get the ninja's attention, but led with his fists this time. Apparently, he wasn't the only one with memories of a parallel scenario, because the ninja had turned around to face him and taken off his mask, a big grin on his face. The girl no longer in immediate danger, Micheal slowed down to a walk. The ninja had something to say to him, and he wanted to know what it was.

"Hey there, twin," started to ninja.

Micheal stole a glance at the girl. She was frozen with fear, mouth agape and eyes staring into nothingness. He wished she would at least look for a way out of this, but he remembered the throwing stars. No, running away would be a bad idea.

The doppelganger saw his eyes travel, and added, "Lovely isn't she? Almost makes killing her hard. But after what she has done, its never a problem."

"What did she do? I have never had thoughts of murdering her before. What are you doing here?"

"Well, you were taking too long. So I decided to move things along. This avenger gets bored easily."

"She doesn't deserve to die."

"Yes she does. As do you."

"Me?"

"Yes. You are going to try and save her. And you will fail again, just like before. And for being such an idiot, you will deserve to die."

"This is ridiculous."

"I'm sure it is. And now I'm bored. Chop Chop!"

Weapon drawn, the ninja shuffled his way towards Micheal. The katana became a blur as the ninja started showing off. But as he drew closer, he started slowing down. In fact, he slowed down so much that Michael could very easily dodge the slash. And just as easily, he dodged the second one, and soon after, a third.

Micheal was puzzled. And from the look on the ninja's face. so was he.

"What the..."

Impressed with himself, Micheal decided to press the advantage. His punch caught the ninja by surprise, and left him with a bloody nose. Getting very annoyed, the ninja renewed his attacks, the flurry of swordplay doubled in ferocity.

But Micheal emerged unharmed. Screaming in frustration, the ninja reached down and grabbed his throwing stars. Micheal thought that they were meant for him, so he waited for them. But the ninja turned around and threw the blades at the paralyzed girl. Her fate had seemed to be sealed at that point, her eye right in the middle of the weapon's trajectory. Micheal was running forward, instinctively trying to save her. And he found himself running faster than the weapons were flying. He suddenly felt like Max Payne and Neo combined.

He plucked the flying stars out of the air and flung them back at the ninja. There was no escape for him, the sharp blades slicing into his kneecaps. Half screaming and half cursing, the ninja collapsed.

"This is impossible."

Smiling, Micheal replied. "I know. Tell me about it. This is great."

"But how?" the ninja asked, still confused.

"You no longer fight for what is right. She doesn't deserve to die, and you know it. When you stopped being an agent of justice, and became a pouty, self serving murderer, you stopped being able to beat me."

"Where did you get all that shit from? The compendium of paladin asswipe ideals?"

"It doesn't matter," Micheal replied. Half a second later, the ninja lay in a pool of his own blood, the shurikens on his knees now lodged in his windpipe.

Whoever knew?

2007-11-10T07:28:00.000-08:00

I certainly never expected it to happen. But Malaysians finally are starting to show a bit of spine. They are demanding fair elections in a peaceful rally that had to be dispersed with water cannons. Apparently, the gathering was illegal because the permit for it was never issued. I tried looking for justification for denying these people the permit and I could find none. I shouldn't be surprised. In a rather anti-climatic twist, here is a potentially controversial article.

http://dilbertblog.typepad.com/the_dilbert_blog/2007/11/find-the-patter.html

Read the link that leads to the freakonomics column.

Steven Levitt is saying that voting is pointless if you want to make a difference, and as much as it defies everything that I have ever learned, I have to say that he is right. The first thing that I thought of when reading the article was "what if everyone thought like you? then there would be no democracy". Then I realized that the scenario would be impossible because we don't vote to protect our self interests anymore. We have come to accept that our vote does nothing to change the outcome of policy. What it does do, however, is massage our egos and give us the idea that we are good citizens.

Will I vote? I guess.. Just to stick it to the big man, I will. Its my way of picking a side.

The 5 a.m. sleepless night rhyme

2007-11-07T13:57:00.000-08:00

I look to my left, and I see my world,
A zone of comfort, where I seem unfurled,
At ease with the norms and expectations,
A place where I never seem out of fashion.

To my right, the great unknown,
Where seeds of doubt are too easily sown,
A place that I had been blind to see,
By circumstance of just being too mousy.

Drawn to the right, but happy with the left,
Confusion to the point of certain death,
I can see the joy that lies in store,
But if I submit to impulse, I feel like a whore.

I see examples, and I often wonder,
Whyever not, its not like the world will be torn asunder,
But something always feels out of place,
Like a duck wading around in toxic waste.

I tell myself that these things take time,
It could take years to feel sublime,
But to think of time that has gone to waste,
I can't help but to think that I should make haste.

You are who you are, I've heard that before,
But what if who you are is a bloody bore?
Do you force yourself to get with the hype?
Or do you ignore it and do what you like?

Its really no fun figuring this out,
Too bad I'm too old to sit down and pout,
So I'll rhyme my way to some peace of mind,
And hope that somehow, the stars will align.

Stupid laws.

2007-11-06T19:10:00.000-08:00

Hilarious stuff. Talk about being outdated or sometimes, just plain daft.

The UK's top 10 most ridiculous British laws were listed as:

1. It is illegal to die in the Houses of Parliament (27%)

2. It is an act of treason to place a postage stamp bearing the British king or queen's image upside-down (7%)

3. It is illegal for a woman to be topless in Liverpool except as a clerk in a tropical fish store (6%)

4. Eating mince pies on Christmas Day is banned (5%)

5. If someone knocks on your door in Scotland and requires the use of your toilet, you are required to let them enter (4%)

6. In the UK a pregnant woman can legally relieve herself anywhere she wants, including in a policeman's helmet (4%)

7. The head of any dead whale found on the British coast automatically becomes the property of the King, and the tail of the Queen (3.5%)

8. It is illegal not to tell the tax man anything you do not want him to know, but legal not to tell him information you do not mind him knowing (3%)

9. It is illegal to enter the Houses of Parliament wearing a suit of armour (3%)

10. It is legal to murder a Scotsman within the ancient city walls of York, but only if he is carrying a bow and arrow (2%)

Other bizarre foreign laws voted by those polled included:

In Ohio, it is illegal to get a fish drunk (9%)

In Indonesia, the penalty for masturbation is decapitation (8%)

A male doctor in Bahrain can only examine the genitals of a woman in the reflection of a mirror (7%)

In Switzerland, a man may not relieve himself standing up after 10pm (6%)

It is illegal to be blindfolded while driving a vehicle in Alabama (6%)

In Florida, unmarried women who parachute on a Sunday could be jailed (6%)

Women in Vermont must obtain written permission from their husbands to wear false teeth (6%)

In Milan, it is a legal requirement to smile at all times, except during funerals or hospital visits (5%)

In France, it is illegal to name a pig Napoleon (4%)

Nyahaha.

2007-11-04T07:43:00.000-08:00

Zero Punctuation rulez. (Google it, watch it. Else u're a loozer)

Ktnxbai.

I don't like British Music.

2007-11-04T06:58:00.000-08:00

WTF.

I swear I'm right. I swear I knew it all along.

The Dashboard Confessionals sang that and its been my little anthem since it was released.

You don't like British music huh? Apparently, Muse isn't quite your thing. Supermassive Blackhole not a good track? I believed it. Until you said you'd go to one of their concerts anyday. I shrugged. Muse had just visited, so maybe it was all the hype..

Oh. And the Sugarbabes suck too huh? And now, you liked them ever since they hit the air.

Yes, I'm nitpicking. They are non-issues. They don't matter, at least not to an average reasonable person. Yes, I'm bitter. So sue me.

Contradictions.

2007-11-02T01:43:00.000-07:00

I've asked these two questions a number of times and I have never gotten an answer that is satisfactory. Both have things to do with Islamic principles and government policy.

Gripe one. Muslims can't gamble. There are active steps taken to keep them out of Genting. There are signs outside 4D gambling shops warning them to stay away. Yea, sure, lots of Muslims still end up buying the stuff, but what I'm interested in is the official Government stand on this, and not the efficiency of its enforcement. So far, as far as I know, the Government discourages Muslims from buying 4D. So, in essence, the government is against all forms of gambling done by Muslims and will try to regulate and put a stop to instances of it happening.

Yet, their kids gamble all the bloody time, oblivious to the fact that they are gambling. Remember those plastic egg vending machines that seem to be in every comic book and sundry shop? Those that seem to have different content inside? Or the card vending ones for that matter. Dragonball, Power Rangers, that kind of stuff. Thats gambling right there. If it is advertised on the outside that you stand to gain a figurine of hero X when you put a dollar into a machine and twist a dial, you are promising a chance of winning. Its now a game of chance, putting it neatly into the category of judi. If that isn't a clear enough example, here is another one. I remember this from back when I was 12. There is a keropok vendor near my school, selling all manner of crackers. One of his products is a tiny little packet of nearly inedible prawn crackers with a little gift on the inside. The packet itself cost 20 cents, and most of the time, you will get a little plastic lobster that cannot possibly cost more than half a cent. But, you stand to win one of those Tamiya car rip offs that go for about 5 bucks at the pasar malam. There are other prizes too. So, a little token fee for a shot at winning something that is worth 25 times as much as the original investment. Sound familiar?

Its all gambling, and yet these people get away with selling it to Muslims, and Muslim children at that. I'm not a Muslim and if someone pulled this kind of shit of on my 12 year old, I'd get pretty pissed off. And I don't have a God promising me eternal suffering if I went near any of that. Thats just fucked up.

Now, on to the second problem. Alcohol. Muslims can't touch that stuff. (debaters not withstanding) Not even food that has alcohol in it is allowed. Chinese food that contains a bit of rice wine is not halal anymore. Even if eating 2000 portions of it isn't enough to make you drunk. (Which I was told is the main justification for banning alcohol for all Muslims. Drunk people do stupid and very un-Islamic things) So imbibing alcohol molecules in any form is dosa, correct? So whats the deal with tapai? Its served all over the place and is as part of Malay culture as lemang and ulam. But its fermented glutinous rice, and fermented normally indicates a presence of alcohol. I know, because when I smelled a batch when I was a kid, it felt to me like smelling the fumes from a bottle of VHS tape cleaner. The smell of alcohol was THAT strong. Rum and raisin has a distinctive taste of alcohol, but hardly smells that strong. Yet, rum and raisin ice cream is in a fridge that carries the warning to Muslims that rum and raisin is not halal. If this isn't hypocrisy and selective application of rules, then I don't know what is. It is entirely possible that the Jabatan Agama Islam realizes this and decided they cannot do anything about it because the eating of tapai is so ingrained into our society already. I guess they realize what a sudden decision to make tapai non-halal would bring a lot of complications and get people asking questions that they are not quite prepared to answer.

But ignoring the problem is not going to make it go away. I guess with the immense control that the government has on any form of intelligent questioning, these inconsistencies can be stopped from ever surfacing as actual issues. To be honest, I think that they are non-issues too. Its just that if Malaysian Muslims are anal enough to care about the direction of the kiblat from space, and about the halalness of vaccines, I suppose something like this should be considered pretty big problems.

Stupid..

2007-11-01T23:00:00.000-07:00

A grieving father has been awarded $11 million in damages against a fundamentalist church that pickets military funerals because they believe that the war in Iraq is punishment for American tolerance for gays. Good for him. But it really does beg the question, where do these people come from anyway?

These are two of the signs that they use when picketing. 'Thank God for dead soldiers" and "God hates fags". Thank God for dead soldiers? No bloody wonder the father got pissed off. And one of the church leaders has claimed that they will continue to picket. Apparently, a $11 million fine is 'an act of futility'. Wow. If that was the case, the judge should have hit them with $111 million.

I wonder who told them that the casualties in Iraq was punishment for accepting gays. Did one of them get a visitation from God one night? Or some messenger of God for that matter. Or did they pull it out of their interpretation of the Bible? To be honest, I'm getting pretty sick of reading about people like this intruding on other people's lives because they think its their holy duty to do so. That father sued because he felt that they had ruined his son's funeral and intruded upon a solemn ceremony. If I were in his position, I'd kick their asses too, even if I were anti-gay. There are places and times where you don't preach and spew your religious convictions.

I wish they would stop caring so much and leave all of us heretic sinners to burn in hell after we tell them to eff off for the fifth time.

I mean, thats what I would do when giving advice to someone. If they don't want the advice, it really is their problem now isn't it? Admittedly, repeating it over and over might get them to accept your message as true, but nine times out of ten, you're just being annoying. And when you go past their breaking point, things get ugly. Wouldn't we all be so much better off if you just roll your eyes and tell yourself that you will get the last laugh when you watch us all burn in hell while you sit on your pretty little cloud strumming your harp? Or if you really can't bear seeing someone walk the wrong path, keep telling yourself that you have tried and move on. No one is going to blame you for failing in your task to bring salvation. I think even God will forgive you.

Women and musicians..

2007-10-31T07:21:00.000-07:00

Its conventional wisdom that knowing how to play music makes a guy popular with the ladies. In fact, when a guy who has never really shown any inclination to play music starts to learn, the first assumption will be that he is trying to raise his networth somewhat. Might not be a fair assessment, but that just goes to show how much this image has been ingrained into culture.

But why? There has to be a reason that girls find guitarists or pianists or violinists attractive. I think it has something to do with natural selection.

An article in the Economist once observed that humans find mates that are liberal with their resources attractive. In the modern context, its material wealth for men, and the willingness to care for others for women. Apparently, generous men and unusually compassionate women are found to be more attractive by the opposite sex. Women want a man who is willing and capable of taking care of them in the traditional role of breadwinner (thus the eye for material wealth) . Men want a woman who will take care of the family in the role of housekeeper (thus the need for a woman who is charitable with her energy). The bottom line is, the more likely a person is able to spare resources, the more attractive they become.

I think that the ability to play music is a show of an abundance of resource. Music isn't an easy skill to master, and requires a lot of practice and dedication. Looking at it from a survival perspective, music is useless. Music is a luxury, not a necessity. Only a person who has his necessities more than covered for extended periods of time will be able to come up with a decent tune. So that automatically means that they have their bases covered. Which would mean that if you manage to nail him you got all your bases covered too.

This theory has its problems. If it were true, then all forms of art would share the same status as music, but they don't. A painter doesn't get panties thrown at him, a musician does. I concede that they are other factors that have to be taken into consideration. The scale of appeal of the different forms of art, the audiences that they cater to. Painters may not be able to make girls squeal, but they can make ladies swoon (see Titanic). The underlying principles are the same.

All this talk of love might seem like I'm generalizing women into neat little categories. Some might get a bit pissed, because they say I'm stereotyping. Others might wonder why there is a focus on women. Well, to answer all that, first off, I'm a guy. Of course I'm more interested in women. Second, male reactions are boring. The simple equation boobie = erection pretty much sums it up. Women are much more complex, much more fun to form ideas about.

And no, I don't see the entire female population as a bunch of experimental lab rats to be put into a glass case and observed. It is possible to study human attraction, speak very clinically about it and still be put under its influence. Helen Fisher confessed to have had her fair share, and knowing about it and having an academic curiosity never dampened the magic for her. So there..

The army and I

2007-10-29T06:58:00.000-07:00

I was going to blog a third part to my 'love' observations, and had the idea nicely line up in my head. But I decided against it, mostly because I think that I need to take a step away from ranting and visceral fiction.

So, a bit of relatively light material today.

This post struck me as I was watching 'We are Marshall'. Actually, two things stuck me in that show. One of it was the reason that American football is the most popular sport in that country. The other was the way that the movie made me feel.

I felt the exact same way watching Band of Brothers. For some reason, and movie the properly depicts esprit de corps is to me the equivalent of the notebook to most girls. It can drive me to tears.

For that reason, I really think that if I wasn't born here and if I didn't have so much contempt for the values that this country stands for, watching something like that could very well have made me a soldier. It might sound a little gay, especially since a lot of that has to do with male compatriots bonding, and dying for each other. But it isn't. I just don't know what part of me puts my tear ducts into gear when I see a captain or a coach stand before his men and rally them. And just trying to put yourself in their position, and feeling the very same drive that surges through the team. The belief that the impossible can be done. Its all terribly corny. Which is why I think the comparisons to notebook type movies works very well.

Fighting for the fallen, making their sacrifices count, battling on to make the unit proud of itself. All those things probably elicit eyerolls form a lot of people. But I'm not ashamed to say that I feel for them. Of course, knowing that most of it is based on a true story helps. This really happened, in some way or another. Not everyone is an asshole.

Retreat? - Part 2

2007-10-28T01:49:00.000-07:00

Time seemed to stand still as Captain Garret watched Costello limp away from the camp. His gun was still aimed at the deserter, his finger ready to pull the trigger at any time. But he couldn't. Costello's words rang in his ears, the truth behind them freezing him on the spot. Indecision racked him as the silhouette of Costello grew smaller and smaller. Sweat trickled down his forehead. Finally, he dragged his arm upwards and emptied his entire magazine onto the air, screaming in frustration.

He kept pulling the trigger, even after he ran out of bullets. The firing mechanism clicked uselessly against the empty chamber, but he kept pulling, and he kept screaming. He screamed until his lungs gave out and collapsed into a wheezing pile on the ground. The sergeant who initially shot Costello in the leg came running to his aid, but the Captain brushed off the helpful hand. He was kneeling on the ground, coughing and sputtering.

The sergeant kept a respectful distance form the Captain, but hung around out of concern. It wasn't long before Garret recovered and slumped into a sitting position. Murray started to say something but Garret raised his hand and shook his index finger. I know what you are going to say. I don't need to hear it.

Captain Garret just sat there, staring at the ground, trying to get his thoughts back in order. In fact, he was so engrossed with his contemplations that he never noticed that Murray wasn't standing close to him anymore. Nor did he notice the bright lights that were dancing around him. Nor the screaming that was coming from the camp. Wait. Screaming?

Garret looked up and saw Murray suspended in midair, a huge thorn being pressed into his skull. The fact that he was already dead didn't make any of it more comforting to watch. His mouth was gaping, as if screaming. Blood streamed out of his ears.

All around the camp, his other men were suffering different, but ultimately gruesome fates. Garret could see MacKenzie being mauled by what looked like a phantom image of a wolf. The shimmering beast would have looked magnificent if it wasn't for the mask of blood that it now wore. It wasn't eating. It was destroying its victim in a show of mindless violence, claws and teeth tearing mercilessly into flesh.

Another ghostly figure flew about rapidly, fusing itself with his soldiers and causing them to explode into a shower of blood. It was incredibly efficient, sending bits of muscle and bone flying in every direction seconds after it merged with its victim. And shortly after that, it would float again, looking for someone else to murder.

Garret couldn't believe it. He was a practical man, and seeing such supernatural forces at work left him reeling. As he watched the bloodshed, he searched for an explanation. There was no way that it was the Germans. If they really did have control over such potent power the war would have been over long ago. All he could think of at that point was sorcery. Some pagan, druidic force seemed to be at work here, seeing how all the agents of death seemed to have taken shapes derived from nature.

It was then that it hit him. The phrase 'we were never meant to take that hill' took on a whole new meaning now. Somewhere, scrawled across the pages of things that are meant to be, it must be written that the hill cannot be taken by them. The hill didn't want to be taken, and it was fighting back. As potent as the howitzers were, there was no way the German army could match such power. The hill had spoken, and he had to go. Leave or die a horrible death, the message was clear. For a moment, he thought of reasoning with the hill, finding some way to win its allegiance. But he soon realized that the Germans had known the hill for much longer than he did. There was no question about who the hill would side in a conflict.

He sighed, resigned to defeat. His harbinger of death had arrived, and strangely enough, it was an angel. It had black feathers, black hair, and it wore black robes. But its skin was pale as the moon. It landed two feet away from Garret, sword raised. He looked up, and could have sworn he saw a tear forming in the angel's eye. But he would never get a second look.

There is nothing quite as decisive as an angel bent on destruction.

Retreat?

2007-10-27T06:25:00.000-07:00

Captain Garret didn't like what he saw, and he like what he smelled even less. His outpost, or what was left of it lay in ruins, the smell of charred flesh still strong in the air. The German attack that they had anticipated all this while finally came, and although they managed to beat the krauts back, it came with a price. Half his company lay dead, their corpses scattered across the battlefield. There were shouts for the medic all over the place as the wounded sought help. Garret shook his head.

He had direct orders from headquarters to take Thurigen Hill with whatever means necessary. As he pored over the maps during the mission planning, he couldn't help but to notice that the orders made no sense at all. The hill was tactically useless to them. They couldn't use it as a staging point because it was too far away from the other German outposts. It held no resources, nothing salvageable, and was very heavily guarded. Plus, the enemy was on high ground, armed with 2 howitzers. By themselves, the artillery would be scary enough. Put them on a hill, and they became the army equivalent of Psycho. Guaranteed to make you shit your pants. It was a fool's errand.

But orders were orders. He had a responsibility to carry them out. He had heard rumours that the hill was particularly significant to General Lee, something about loving the hills more than anything in the world. It sounded like bullshit to Garret. He knew General Lee personally, and found him to be a perfectly reasonable man. It didn't make any sense that he would order such a mission out of a whim. There had to be something to that hill.

The krauts defending the hill probably loved the hill just as much judging from the resistance they put up. They were fighting tooth and nail, when an infantry ran out of bullets, he had seen one of them charge down the battlefield, bayonet leading the way. It all seemed very strange to him.

As time progressed and the siege dragged on, it became increasingly apparent that the hill would not be taken. Not without a significantly larger force, at least. And the army had made it quite clear that no reinforcements could be spared. Morale in his company was at an all time low. He had seen happier soldiers in a fox hole in the middle of no man's land.

Suddenly, a single shot rang out. As Garret ran towards the sound, he began to hear shouting. He got closer, and saw one of his staff sergeants shouting at one of his unit's soldiers. He had his rifle raised, ready to shoot at any moment, and it was aimed at one of his own men. The soldier was rolling on the ground, screaming in pain as he clutched his bleeding leg. "Murray! What the hell do you think you are doing?" Garret was shouting at his sergeant as he approached, hoping to avert a crisis.

"Costello here was about to desert, sir. So I shot him. Got him in the leg"

By now, Garret had positioned himself between the two men. He turned to the writhing man on the ground. "Is that true, soldier?"

Costello turned away, and curled himself up even tighter. The pain in his leg had apparently gotten a lot worse after hearing the question. Garret walked up to the soldier. "Is that true?" he shouted.

The captain reached the man, who was now sobbing uncontrollably. Garret kicked the man in the face, and asked again, his voice getting increasingly louder. He ground his boot into the man's head. "You stupid mother fucker."

Garret pulled his revolver out of the hostler and aimed it at Costello's head. He was about to pull the trigger when Costello turned and raised himself into a kneeling position. He grabbed the gun barrel firmly and placed it between his temples. "Go ahead. Shoot me. I'm dead anyway, whether I run or not. Just fucking end all this."

Garret paused, taken aback by the sudden boldness of his subordinate. Costello looked him in the eye and asked, "What? Suddenly you got no stones to shoot me?"

There was a long pause. Garret stood there, his gun still pointed at Costello's head. "I mean, what the fuck do you expect us to do, huh? Charge up the hill again tomorrow morning? They got five pill boxes up there. Five fucking pillboxes with machine guns in there. Its a god damned suicide mission. This hill cannot be taken, and you can tell General Lee to go fuck himself."

Garret replied, "You will not speak about your superiors in such a manner, soldier."

"You know what captain? I don't give a fuck anymore. This mission is stupid. I mean, sure the place is really pretty and all, but is it really worth fighting for? Our outpost just got shelled, and we lost half the company. Half the motherfucking company. I'm not sure how much more of this shit we can take, man."

"Hey, who the hell are you to question the General's orders huh? Who do you think you are?"

The reply was sharp. "I'm the guy who's putting his ass on the line, thats who. If the General loves this fucking place so much, he can take my gun and charge the hill himself. But I sure as hell ain't gonna do it for him. You know this, Cap. For the army, this place is useless. The General is just fucking with us. I'm leaving."

Costello got up and turned around. Garret just stood there and let him leave, torn between his duty to capture the beautiful hill and common sense to cut his losses and run.

Banning Love.

2007-10-26T20:22:00.000-07:00

The last time I talked about this, I was in the passenger seat being driven back to campus by my brother. I brought the topic up and we got into a fairly heated argument. He ended up saying, "This is why I don't debate. You guys always talk about thing that don't matter at all." I didn't bother pointing out that I wasn't debating, but putting forward an idea for discussion. I didn't really believe in what I was talking about, I just wanted other people to consider it and see what they can come up with. But after that response from him, I dropped it and moved on.

Reading Helen Fisher made me revisit. It was her idea (seen on her TED video) that sparked this particularly controversial idea and I wasn't surprised to see it in her book. I have to point out that she never said anything about banning love. She just came up with the research that I'm piggy backing. So, why ban love?

It stems from the finding that romantic love really is an addiction. FMRI scans of the brain indicate that the parts of the brain that light up when a love struck person looks at a picture of the sweetheart are the same as the ones that light up when cocaine addicts get their fix. Cocaine. That the stuff that not even Holland has legalized. The cocktail of chemicals that runs in your blood when you fall in love are just as dangerous as blow. We already have proof of this in the news. Crimes of passion happen all the time. And as Dr. Fisher observed, the withdrawal symptoms showed by cocaine addicts are hauntingly similar to the signs of heartbreak. Loss of appetite, inability to focus, the constant craving. They are all there.

We ban cocaine not because it gets us high. We ban it because its addictive. We ban it because it does everything that love does to us, admittedly with less destructive consequences. But on principle, love deserves banning just as much as cocaine. So on that basis, now that we understand it better and exposed some of its inner workings, it should stand trail the same way every other drug did. On principle, we need to look at it and decide if it really is doing enough harm to warrant it being removed. To ignore the effects of love just because we have never known life without it is being a tad hypocritical.

Some might argue that love is essential to reproduction and it evolved in us for a reason. I have said before that our physical evolution is taking place at a much slower rate than our changes in cultural ideas. I think that the same idea works her as well. When we were driven by primordial urges, and listened solely to instinct, love was essential to the continuation of the human race. But it isn't now, and the legacy of our past could very well be a burden.

Then of course comes the question of whether it can be done or not. Can we stop people from falling in love? For now, no. But our understanding of human brain and how it connects to all the aspects of life that makes us human is expanding rapidly. At some point, someone will find a way to put a roadblock on one of the processes that are involved in falling in love. As it is, we can turn promiscuous rats into doting fathers with one injection. And we can turn the most faithful species into uber playboys with the opposing drug. I think its no longer a question of if, but a question of when.

Okay, premise set. There is a problem, and there might be a solution. Should we do it? In my opinion, no. Most people will agree with me at this point I suspect, but for different reasons. I cannot accept 'We cannot ban love because we just can't do something like that. I mean do you have any idea what you are doing? We're talking about love here!' as a valid argument against the banning of love, although I'm sorely tempted to. I'm sure that kind of an emotional appeal would work nowadays, because the idea really is quite unthinkable. But humans change their minds really fast. Things that were unthinkable 50 years ago are quite commonplace now. Banning slavery was an insanity not too long ago. Now people who enslave are prosecuted and thrown into jail. A society in the future that sits down and has a serious discussion about the relevance of love to humanity is not really that far fetched an idea if you ask me.

But I am not too fond of the idea of messing with something like human reproduction. Of course the option of voluntarily blocking off love for yourself will always be open, but to treat it like cocaine could be dangerous. Science has screwed up before, and while that may not be a good excuse to stop applying the findings of science, this is too big a risk to take. Only absolute certainty is acceptable, and there can be no absolute certainty.

Why we love.

2007-10-24T05:29:00.000-07:00

Okay. Everyone of you who snorted when you read the title of the post, slap yourselves now. Done? Lets move on...

I bought and read the book Why we love written by Helen Fisher, one of the leading anthropologists in the world. To be honest, the book was a little dry, and unless you have a keen interest, you probably shouldn't read it. But an evolutionary insight to arguably one of the most celebrated aspects of our culture is always exciting (to me, at least).

So, why do we love? It took Dr. Fisher one whole book to explain it, and I really don't think I can satisfactorily summarize the book in one post. But I can tell you some interesting stuff. Men will always think about sex, and women will always be money grubbers. Both these traits have been the butt of jokes, but they remain true. And they are there for a reason. Thousands of years of evolution have forced men and women into different roles, and to maximize their chance of survival, we have developed those traits. I think the reason for those traits being there are quite self evident, so I won't patronize you by telling you what they are. All of us know this. There is a difference between what I used to believe and what I believe in now.

Before this, I thought those traits were tendencies. Now, I know that they are hardwired somewhere in our genes. It means that whatever we do, short of genetic engineering ourselves, there is no running away from these stereotypes.

She says that women are programmed to look for successful mates. Mates that can support them, and provide for them, even when they don't need providing for. This is where Helen Fisher's ideas stop, and where mine come in. How many times have you read articles written by young successful women lamenting about how hard it is to find a good man. They always say that the good ones are always either taken or gay. Well, of course they are, especially if your definition of good is 'earns more than you'. Think about it for a while. You earn $400,000 a year, live in a million dollar apartment, and drive a BMW. Okay, those figures are a tad exaggerated, but the idea is there. How many guys around your age do you think are as successful as you are? Maybe its better to look at it in percentages. Assume you are the in the top 10% of young professional women when it comes to income per annum. To simplify things, lets also assume that all men and women are equal and that only the top 10% of men will be able to match your earning power. You are genetically predispositioned to exclude the other 90% from your potential husbands. That is a hell of a lot of men. Is it all that surprising that you have such a hard time now?

The higher a woman climbs, the harder it is for her to find someone that she will consider good enough for her. They are programmed to look up, not down. People say to leaders, 'It is lonely at the top'. That is all the more true for women, in a totally different context.

We can look at this and tell ourselves that true love will overcome all these obstacles. We can think about fate, and all the other romantic ideals that poets and the like have spawned over the centuries. But ask yourselves honestly, when you think about a highly successful woman in a relationship with a man that can never hope to match her achievements, what do you think of? Do you get this strange sensation that something isn't right? Thats your genetic programming talking. There is no fighting it, true love or not.

So what can be done? I don't know. The options I can see all involve compromise. A lot of women have quit their positions to become mothers. Sure, the excuse that they want to take care of the kids is perfectly believable, but think of the fallout if the woman continues and earns more than the husband. Men are programmed to be heroes as much as women are programmed to look for rich hubbies. (the stupider males pull off deadly stunts) To deny them the right to be the hero of the family would be a cruel blow. This has nothing to do with male ego. This cannot be controlled, and much as we would like to think that it is.

Or the women can choose to lower their standards and choose men from outside the income bracket that their genes have predetermined. The above problem will rise again, and the happiness of both the man and the woman are at stake. But it is possible to override these primordial needs. It requires a hell of a lot of will, a deep understanding of what you are doing and a thick skin in the face of snide remarks that will inevitably come.

Sometimes, I do pity you superwomen. Your talent could very well be a double edged sword.

TEEN Choice award

2007-10-24T01:22:00.000-07:00

Thats right. Hugh Laurie is Fox TV's teen choice for best actor. Quite and achievement, really considering he had the likes of Jared Padalecki (the dude from Supernatural), Milo Ventimiglia (the pussy power stealing dude in Heroes) and Wentworth Miller (bald, genius civil engineer from Prison break). Its weird just seeing his name up there.

The article that informed me of this postulated that House's rebellious nature has something to do with the win. Teens relate to him. I guess I do too.

I always wondered why I liked the show so much. Was it because of all the clever lines? Was it House's atheistism and cutting remarks towards the religious? Or is it really because he is such a rebel?

I think its a combination. I am a bit of a rebel, my disregard for authority having caused other people grief at some point or another. But I have always differentiated my rebellion form the typical teen's rebellion, partly because my personal growth seems to have happened in reverse. I'm mostly now trying to grow down (if that terms actually exists), but that idea has been visited many times before.

We can't dismiss the role of the script either when it comes to deciding what makes me watch the show. I love watching Top Gear, but Fifth Gear bores me to sleep. Both shows are about cars, so we can quite safely say that it isn't a passion for motoring that keeps me watching the show. I love it when Jeremy, Richard or James takes on an American car, because then I can expect the usual witty but incredibly scathing reviews. For some reason, singing the praises for a car isn't quite as funny as insulting the crap out of it. And their lines stay with me. Apparently, the most memorable part of my Oh My God rant was the burning my nipples off bit. Well that line came straight out of Jeremy's mouth.

Whatever it is, David Shore has done me a great service. And for his portrayal of House, Hugh deserves every award he gets.

Raikonnen, hats off to you.

2007-10-21T20:10:00.000-07:00

Well, you did it. I didn't think it was possible, but you are now the world champion. The Iceman finally gets the credit he deserves.

Sure, you needed rookie Hamilton to self destruct in the last two races. But it doesn't mean you don't deserve the title. You won more races than Alonso or Hamilton. That in itself should be enough justification for your winning.

And you winning means that perpetual whiner doesn't. For doing that, you are a hero to many. Some didn't care if Sebastian Vettel won the world championship. We just didn't want to see Alonso win it for the third time in the row. Thanks for stopping him.

And thank you, whoever it may concern for the last 3 races of the season. It put the race back into racing, and for once, motorsport became exciting. I have never had this much fun following Formula 1 before, even if I didn't watch the races, but read about them in the news reports.

Homosexuality in the news.

2007-10-20T20:39:00.000-07:00

Dumbledore is gay. So says the person that created him. That's all cool. Gay rights campaigner Peter Tatchell welcomed the news about Dumbledore and said: "It's good that children's literature includes the reality of gay people, since we exist in every society." Complete agreement as well. Harry Potter wields enough influence to help change this generation's minds about homosexuality. But check this out. A spokesman for gay rights group Stonewall added: "It's great that JK has said this. It shows that there's no limit to what gay and lesbian people can do, even being a wizard headmaster." It show that there is not limit? Are you so blinded by your desire for equality and acceptance that such an obvious logical gap can escape you? Dumbledore is fictional. Him being headmaster of Hogwarts proves nothing. Because Hogwarts doesn't exist. Sure, gay people are just as capable of achievement as straight people are. But having a character in popular fiction being gay just shows that the author isn't homophobic. We can't use him as proof that gays aren't inferior because this person is the figment of one woman's imagination.

Also somewhat interesting is the rumour that our astronaut is gay. I can already hear all the women groaning about how all the good looking guys are gay. But the absolutely amazing part is that he is a Muslim. And now a national hero. I found myself wondering what would happen if someone went ahead and scandalized this thing. Then the Jabatan Agama Islam will have to ostracize him. But will be reluctant to do so because he is a national hero. And Malaysian Muslimness will come into question. The role model of developing Muslim countries will have to explain why they put the honour of the country in the hands of a gay person. And why they made a hero out of a homosexual. The thought of those bearded polygamists squirming under the spotlight shone by their 'pious' counterparts is almost funny. But that would mean our astronaut having to go through a bloody nightmare, and I wouldn't wish that on even my worst enemies. (Okay, maybe I would, but the good doctor isn't my enemy.)

Gah!

2007-10-19T04:02:00.000-07:00

Linkin Park. Live in Singapore.

I did the mental calculations. I would have to skip 2 days of class. In the coming semester, not a problem. I checked it out online.

Ticketing started early September. I didn't know about it.

Now all that are left are the SGD 128 and above tickets.

Sigh. I have got to start listening to the bloody radio a bit more.

Sahara

2007-10-18T09:32:00.001-07:00

The scorching heat plays nasty tricks on you. And the longer you remain exposed, the nastier the tricks become. Hallucinations and fantasies of things that are not really there take hold of you, and at that point, it becomes a battle to retain your sanity. Its a test of will - can he keep trudging along on the shifting dunes with no sense of direction? Or will he collapse into a sobbing heap and let the wiggly waves of heat sap the last vestiges of life from him?

He is a fighter. Or at least he thinks he is. Sometimes he doubts himself, but he'd like to think that if the occasion called for it, he would pull through. It was just a question of putting him in a challenging enough situation to call upon the will that will theoretically sustain him. And that situation was now. Alone with not a friendly soul in sight, surrounded by shifting dunes and the occasional prickly cacti. He wasn't giving up just yet.

He had just reached the top of a dune when he heard a distant sound. There was a cloud of dust being raised in the horizon. He brightened up a little. Salvation!

Moving as quickly as he could, he headed towards the direction of the cloud. He lost sight of it as he tumbled down the dune, but the persistent creaking got louder and louder, telling him that he was indeed drawing closer. Soon it was within shouting distance, and he started screaming at the object. It came a little bit closer, and he could make out the shape. A horse-pulled caravan came to view, and he moved to intercept.

Strangely enough, there wasn't a driver in sight. It was a phantom horse caravan, just like the carts in Sherlock Holmes and the Red Death. His gut instinct told him to be wary, but the thirst was overwhelming. He had to try.

When it was close enough, he threw himself at the caravan, almost missing it. Somehow, his outstretched fingers managed to grab hold of the steps leading into the inside, and he clung on for dear life. His flesh grating against the unyielding desert sands burned like sulfur on an open wound, but he kept his vice-like grip. He wasn't giving up. He wasn't going to let fate have the last laugh.

The door to the caravan opened. He looked upwards and saw the silhouette of a woman dressed in a long dress. She was tall, and looked stunningly beautiful. Even while fighting to block out the pain, he wondered if she looked beautiful because he hadn't seen a woman in a very long time, or if she was genuinely attractive.

He reached out, his eyes pleading. He pursed his parched lips, mouthing a silent "Save me." because his voice had been long lost to the desert. She looked down on him with her soft eyes. He tried again. "Please let me in." She was indecisive, not really knowing what to do. Looking back into the caravan, she talked to someone on the inside. Then she turned back to him and looked at him again, a pained expression of sorrow in her face. She bent down close to him, and said in a quavering voice "I'm sorry, but I can't".

She closed the door behind her as she went back inside.

State of mind.

2007-10-16T10:41:00.000-07:00

Trying not to think too much is a trying experience. Telling yourself not to read too much into any action is a lot harder for some people than it is for others. But you see the blinking blob reveal a good night wish. Instinct takes over and a thousand worst case scenarios pop up. Depression starts to creep in.

But you promised yourself that you would take it easy. A deep breath later, things become a bit clearer. They look up a bit. At least the wish was there. Even if it could mean something unthinkably depressing. It could have not come at all, and you would be none the wiser. Things could be a lot worse.

Close your eyes. Failure isn't the end of the world. You know this, you just need to start believing it. Maybe if you write about it?

But that would mean people might know. Your code isn't perfect, you know that.

So what?

Write away. This is who you are. Stop being afraid of being him.

Just put it down, and go to sleep. Thats my boy.

Untitled.

2007-10-16T02:05:00.000-07:00

Anonymous: "Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well-preserved body but rather to skid in sideways - Chardonnay in one hand, chocolate in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming: "Woo hoo, what a ride!"

Now, reading that really smacked me in the face. All my earlier posts about doing stuff and being spontaneous summarized rather brutally in one paragraph. Never mind the fact that I have no idea what Chardonnay is. Probably something alcoholic.

But the fact remains that I think I'm likely to be one of those 9 to 5ers clocking in early every day and getting home, plonking myself down on the couch for a while, and then going to bed early because I'm tired. That very thought depresses me. Knowing that you are headed that way and not really knowing what to do to stop it is the thing that bothers me most.

I know its a long shot, but Auntie, you could very well be my way out. Teach me the art of living, so that I may have my mid-life crisis without regretting how I spent my youth. I'm not even sure if one can learn such a thing, but if you are willing to talk about it, I'm all ears.

Oh. My. God.

2007-10-13T08:32:00.001-07:00

Have you ever not like anyone?

Yes?

Then have you ever gone ahead and read stuff that the person has written?

And find it so annoying that you'd rather burn your nipples off with a blow torch than read it again.

You know that those self glorifying words are delusions. The temptation to point them out, backed up with examples can be overwhelming.

You read every line and ask yourself what kind of idiot would believe such crap. Then you realize that there are lot of people out there who would gladly kick your head in and rip your scrotum off to defend this very annoying person, and then you just get depressed.

Yeap. Life is unfair, and the bad guy wins too much of the time. But thats life right? All you can do is pray that one day, some greater power will wipe the smug smile off that person's face, and you can have your little victory dance. In private, of course. Because you are better than that.

Angkasawan.

2007-10-10T21:14:00.000-07:00

Fine. I'll admit it. I do have a grudging respect for the Malaysian astronaut. Is having a Malaysian in space something to be proud of? I suppose. Is this event being milked for every ounce of political leverage that could possibly come out of it? Yes it is. Why am I surprised? I honestly don't know.

Najib said that we can now stand a few inches taller. Badawi was equally nauseating. I was trying to put a finger on why I was feeling so aggrieved over the whole thing and trying to identify if all my cynicism for our administrators was causing this. What I came up with is this.

National pride can be attributed to many things. Lets look at the biggest one. That this is a big step forward for Malaysia. Is it? No. The reason Yuri Gagarin was a success was because of the effort that it took to get him there? The same goes for Niel Armstrong. Did Malaysia have anything to do with our Malaysian going to space? Apart from buying the Sukois from the Russians and getting a free ride, no. We could go into all the support that we gave our astronaut, but I'm not going to count anything that we can't quite prove had an actual impact. The trip is a milestone for our young doctor who had to go through the whole training program. He pulled through, and thats an achievement for him, not us.

Which led me to thinking about a similar idea when we are talking national pride. Sports. Athletes overcoming great obstacles brings great pride to a country, and its still largely an individual effort. Yet the whole country gets to take pride. Why should an astronaut be any different? Why can't we be proud that a Malaysian managed to be declared fit to board and serve on a rocket, and share in the pride? Well, because there are a lot of people that can do it. Our astronaut pulled through, and I'm happy for him. But it doesn't mean that there aren't thousands of other Malaysians who would have done a great job as well. Finding a Malaysian who can be an astronaut isn't quite as hard as finding one who can run faster than everyone else in the world. Very different situations.

It was then that it hit me. I now know why I felt half lame about having a countryman in space. Its because all our declarations of glory are likely to fade away into nothingness because we don't have the will or the interest to build on it. It just feels like we have bitten off more than we can chew. To say that we are now on par with the other nations is so much of a stretch that I won't be surprised if we have plastic deformation. (sorry, material science joke). We don't have a space program. We are no where near the point where we can build anything that can escape orbit. It makes absolutely no economic sense for us to pursue a space program, and unless we do that, sending our astronauts to space will have a distinctly hollow feel to it. Any country can do that.

Could the Thais have bought a bunch of fighter jets and picked one of its military officers to go on a free ride to space. Sure, they could. Could the Argentineans have done it? Yeap.

Sure, having a man in space is special. But the fact that you are part of an elite club because everyone else just can't really be bothered to join is just a bit deflating.

Still, Malaysia Boleh right?