Hmm I just woke up
OH rats. Must toddle down opposite for lunch again.
Sunday, October 30, 2005
I am very fedup.
Perspective is an amalgam of interests, nothing more. People only see events in a certain way, from a certain angle, because it interests them that way - perspective is delusion.
I don't want a perspective. I want to know the truth, independent of people's interests, including my own.
Show me.
Perspective is an amalgam of interests, nothing more. People only see events in a certain way, from a certain angle, because it interests them that way - perspective is delusion.
I don't want a perspective. I want to know the truth, independent of people's interests, including my own.
Show me.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Hmm. My mother is vicious, indeed. I have a sore throat, and every dish on the table has copious amounts of chilli in it.
I suppose it is no secret that I am arguing with my family again, seeing how I stormed into school in very attention-grabbing civvies grumbling very loudly about how I got pseudo-thrown out of the house. (By pseudo, I mean that they will probably call me at night and ask when the bloody hell I'm coming back home, so it's not really counted). I swear my mother is a loony-bin sometimes - women, in general, are irritatingly menopausal twits.
On a side note, I really wish that people wouldn't ask me things like "eh don't you hate your mom" or tell me to report her etc. etc.
Every family interacts in different ways. To quote Leo Tolstoy, "All happy families resemble one another, each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." Since not many families can claim to be happy, it thus follows that most families are unhappy, and hence unhappy in their own way. When you put four people together under the same roof for 18 years, the amount of contact and interaction is simply too much for all four to be happy. Heck, we have trouble finding lifetime happiness between two people, what more four?
But in the same vein, the 18 years has developed a system of interaction, a framework in which all four of us work to minimize the unhappiness as much as possible (Or to maximise the happy moments, but I feel pessimistic today). Me running into school and grumbling and whining is really part of this system of interaction - my mother knows, to some extent, that I have featured her as the Evil Witch Of The East amongst my friends. She accepts it, just as I accept that she will always be a crazybitch at times. In the same way, I accept that they will always impress upon me the fact that I owe them a living, and I accept that they will always pull this up when I argue with them. It cannot be helped, this is how it has always been done. The children will argue, the children will lose, the children will go out and cry boo-hoo.
Admittedly I have been unfair to them, demonizing them does little justice to the care and concern that they have, at times, shown me. Unfortunately, care and concern is never really appreciated by the children. As my mother often says (in hokkien), "sometimes feeding dog is more worth it than feeding children." It is a hokkien proverb - I think that in itself should say something about the system of interaction in most chinese families.
I hope you see that at the end of the day, all this childish provoking of each other is simply a time-worn drama that we have been playing out all our lives.
So I really wish people wouldn't ask me to hate her or report her or do other things that would tear down this delicate framework. I'm aware that this would appear to be the logical thing to say, but it simply shows that they don't understand. To do so would truly be ungrateful - not just to the effort my parents have spent bringing me up, but also to this constant system of interaction that we can always fall back on. You may have different ways of interacting with your family, and in the same vein so do I. If I don't stand on the moral perch and go "tsktsktsk" at my mother, I don't see why you should either.
Sigh I wish Suwee were here. She'd understand.
I suppose it is no secret that I am arguing with my family again, seeing how I stormed into school in very attention-grabbing civvies grumbling very loudly about how I got pseudo-thrown out of the house. (By pseudo, I mean that they will probably call me at night and ask when the bloody hell I'm coming back home, so it's not really counted). I swear my mother is a loony-bin sometimes - women, in general, are irritatingly menopausal twits.
On a side note, I really wish that people wouldn't ask me things like "eh don't you hate your mom" or tell me to report her etc. etc.
Every family interacts in different ways. To quote Leo Tolstoy, "All happy families resemble one another, each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." Since not many families can claim to be happy, it thus follows that most families are unhappy, and hence unhappy in their own way. When you put four people together under the same roof for 18 years, the amount of contact and interaction is simply too much for all four to be happy. Heck, we have trouble finding lifetime happiness between two people, what more four?
But in the same vein, the 18 years has developed a system of interaction, a framework in which all four of us work to minimize the unhappiness as much as possible (Or to maximise the happy moments, but I feel pessimistic today). Me running into school and grumbling and whining is really part of this system of interaction - my mother knows, to some extent, that I have featured her as the Evil Witch Of The East amongst my friends. She accepts it, just as I accept that she will always be a crazybitch at times. In the same way, I accept that they will always impress upon me the fact that I owe them a living, and I accept that they will always pull this up when I argue with them. It cannot be helped, this is how it has always been done. The children will argue, the children will lose, the children will go out and cry boo-hoo.
Admittedly I have been unfair to them, demonizing them does little justice to the care and concern that they have, at times, shown me. Unfortunately, care and concern is never really appreciated by the children. As my mother often says (in hokkien), "sometimes feeding dog is more worth it than feeding children." It is a hokkien proverb - I think that in itself should say something about the system of interaction in most chinese families.
I hope you see that at the end of the day, all this childish provoking of each other is simply a time-worn drama that we have been playing out all our lives.
So I really wish people wouldn't ask me to hate her or report her or do other things that would tear down this delicate framework. I'm aware that this would appear to be the logical thing to say, but it simply shows that they don't understand. To do so would truly be ungrateful - not just to the effort my parents have spent bringing me up, but also to this constant system of interaction that we can always fall back on. You may have different ways of interacting with your family, and in the same vein so do I. If I don't stand on the moral perch and go "tsktsktsk" at my mother, I don't see why you should either.
Sigh I wish Suwee were here. She'd understand.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
Thursday, October 13, 2005
What is this sudden influx of jap-trance on puroeuro.com?! There's this song that goes Du-Du-Di-Da-Du-Du-Di-Du?!
Nevermind it sounds quite trashy, I like.
I am also slightly distraught that they won't play trance at onyx for post-prom. But I suppose, for the Greater Good, some personal sacrifices must be made.
Oh well. Cooped up at home studying and reading books in-between. Reading John Sloman Economics 4th Edition, attempting AJC Math Paper 1, Copying out Home Burial and reading Old Man and the Sea. Sounds very productive, yay.
Du-du, Di-Da!
Nevermind it sounds quite trashy, I like.
I am also slightly distraught that they won't play trance at onyx for post-prom. But I suppose, for the Greater Good, some personal sacrifices must be made.
Oh well. Cooped up at home studying and reading books in-between. Reading John Sloman Economics 4th Edition, attempting AJC Math Paper 1, Copying out Home Burial and reading Old Man and the Sea. Sounds very productive, yay.
Du-du, Di-Da!
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
You know when you write testimonials, characters blend into each other, and sometimes it feels like you're writing about yourself.
Or maybe I'm just Kookoo.
Any old how! Prelims have been encouraging, although not spectacular. Under the perhaps presumptuous assumption that my Lit is an A, (which pwns that livejournal-intellectually-pretentious-loser upside down nyeheheheheheheh) the grades that sit in the bag are now ABBC. Which is nice, but can be nicer, of course.
To the two J1s, good luck for promos and go get those As! Or Bs. Whatever. You shouldn't be reading this anyway you should be studying.
Life has been - what do you girls call it again? - Peachy, as of late.
Or maybe I'm just Kookoo.
Any old how! Prelims have been encouraging, although not spectacular. Under the perhaps presumptuous assumption that my Lit is an A, (which pwns that livejournal-intellectually-pretentious-loser upside down nyeheheheheheheh) the grades that sit in the bag are now ABBC. Which is nice, but can be nicer, of course.
To the two J1s, good luck for promos and go get those As! Or Bs. Whatever. You shouldn't be reading this anyway you should be studying.
Life has been - what do you girls call it again? - Peachy, as of late.
Friday, September 30, 2005
I don't understand how anyone can love rainy days.
How do you appreciate the gloominess that comes as thunderclouds gather? As they block out the blue sky, garnering darkness that becomes so oppressive it weighs down on the trees, birds, edging in on everything, rushing towards the inevitable point: self.
The rain comes and the cold, the cold. Being caught in the rain is all fine and dandy, the feeling of submitting oneself to the elements. But in your four-walled apartment, when the chill enters the room and the flip the switch for the florescent light, while the rain is outside tapping on your window. The chaos outside, trees dancing in a wild frenzy, flowers tossed by the wind, the man-made landscape in a rebellious fit of vitality.
You, inside. Cold, and alone with your dry desk and an empty picture frame.
When it rains, the heavens part and shed life-giving sorrow to the land. But I feel more isolated, more alone. I can only sit at the window-ledge, knees tucked in, and gaze wistfully outside.
The cold, the cold. It oozes through your every pore and sets in your bones, reminding you that your body alone is not enough to keep you warm.
How do you appreciate the gloominess that comes as thunderclouds gather? As they block out the blue sky, garnering darkness that becomes so oppressive it weighs down on the trees, birds, edging in on everything, rushing towards the inevitable point: self.
The rain comes and the cold, the cold. Being caught in the rain is all fine and dandy, the feeling of submitting oneself to the elements. But in your four-walled apartment, when the chill enters the room and the flip the switch for the florescent light, while the rain is outside tapping on your window. The chaos outside, trees dancing in a wild frenzy, flowers tossed by the wind, the man-made landscape in a rebellious fit of vitality.
You, inside. Cold, and alone with your dry desk and an empty picture frame.
When it rains, the heavens part and shed life-giving sorrow to the land. But I feel more isolated, more alone. I can only sit at the window-ledge, knees tucked in, and gaze wistfully outside.
The cold, the cold. It oozes through your every pore and sets in your bones, reminding you that your body alone is not enough to keep you warm.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
For some odd reason I find that I've very little to say whenever I come here nowadays, so much that when I see the white box I just type something random like "I'm bored" and decide that it isn't worth posting too many random one-liner entries.
It appears that today isn't one of those cases.
But any old how, I think that's probably because I've been too preoccupied with prelims to let my mind wander about the usual mopeydopey subjects. Prelims have been terrorizing most of my brainspace, leaving me little time to think about love and other such womanly issues that make for good blogging material.
Which is not a good thing, seeing how Lit S looms tomorrow. I humbly assert that I'm probably sufficiently prepared for a love question, but other than that I have no idea what I'm going to write about! I tried finding books that gave depressing perspectives on the human condition, but (and I know this is a very lame excuse) I haven't had time to read them! I probably wouldn't get through them anyway, I'll just huddle up in the middle of the book and cry into my blanky. I know I got very upset after reading Bell Jar (okay technically that isn't the futility of human condition, it's just whiny teenage angst, but still. It's powerful whiny stuff.)
Stupid girl fluff.
Jeanette Winterson is, however, very good. She is teh love guru, and she pwns everyone, and makes me happy in my bed eating chocolate under the sheets. See. Out there someone understands, that love is wanting to destroy and be destroyed. (Oranges are not the only fruit)
It appears that today isn't one of those cases.
But any old how, I think that's probably because I've been too preoccupied with prelims to let my mind wander about the usual mopeydopey subjects. Prelims have been terrorizing most of my brainspace, leaving me little time to think about love and other such womanly issues that make for good blogging material.
Which is not a good thing, seeing how Lit S looms tomorrow. I humbly assert that I'm probably sufficiently prepared for a love question, but other than that I have no idea what I'm going to write about! I tried finding books that gave depressing perspectives on the human condition, but (and I know this is a very lame excuse) I haven't had time to read them! I probably wouldn't get through them anyway, I'll just huddle up in the middle of the book and cry into my blanky. I know I got very upset after reading Bell Jar (okay technically that isn't the futility of human condition, it's just whiny teenage angst, but still. It's powerful whiny stuff.)
Stupid girl fluff.
Jeanette Winterson is, however, very good. She is teh love guru, and she pwns everyone, and makes me happy in my bed eating chocolate under the sheets. See. Out there someone understands, that love is wanting to destroy and be destroyed. (Oranges are not the only fruit)
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Monday, September 12, 2005
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Sunday, September 04, 2005
Anyway, I was thinking about ladder theory a few hours back, and, of course, wondering about the validity of its assertion with respect to girls being bitches. Are girls really power-grubbing bitches who will only take men who can give them as much as possible? Or is there some truth the the other attributes that they so often claim to be attracted to?
Part 1: Sincerity
Girls often claim that sincerity moves mountains. As though their hearts were mountains. Although some of them are fat enough to be.
Anyway! Sincerity. Yes it is often said that if a guy shows himself to be sincere enough, a girl's heart can be moved from the dark pits of despise to that warm fuzzy feeling, love. It is as though sincerity was some otherworldy quality that can drive the girl's thoughts away from her worldy concerns to accept him.
Nonsense.
What is sincerity to a girl? It is constant affection, sending gifts every occassion, writing cards constantly, buying roses every date. One must note, however, that the feeling that she is constantly on the mind of the other can swing both ways. What one girl calls sincerity, another calls desperation. Which term the girl chooses, is highly dependent on how ready she was to accept him in the first place.
Because sincerity is simply how much the guy is prepared (or thinks he is prepared) to give for the girl. (Not To, For.) And, surprise surprise, this is of course limited by how much the guy CAN give in the first place! The poor pauper cannot afford to be sincere! Girls cite stories of guys waiting at house gates in the pouring rain, but really now, doesn't the poor pauper have money to earn instead of sitting like some lovesick fool at a girl's gate? It takes more than a few hours of rain to wash away the petty complaints of a girl.
The truth is, the claim to sincerity is a sneaky ploy by girls to continue making themselves desirable to as many guys as possible. Sincerity is like the stick that dangles the carrot (the carrot here being the girl herself, for those of you who fail to see the metaphor). It drives the stupid donkey, and the idiot animal never realizes that he is being led. He believes he is fulfilling some higher ideal of sincerity, that he is allowing the girl look past worldy concerns into the deep richness of his heart. He is also, egregariously, an ass.
There is no one in love who will say his love his false, and no one whose love is false will let his prey think otherwise. Sincerity is a wasted word in these proceedings.
Part 1: Sincerity
Girls often claim that sincerity moves mountains. As though their hearts were mountains. Although some of them are fat enough to be.
Anyway! Sincerity. Yes it is often said that if a guy shows himself to be sincere enough, a girl's heart can be moved from the dark pits of despise to that warm fuzzy feeling, love. It is as though sincerity was some otherworldy quality that can drive the girl's thoughts away from her worldy concerns to accept him.
Nonsense.
What is sincerity to a girl? It is constant affection, sending gifts every occassion, writing cards constantly, buying roses every date. One must note, however, that the feeling that she is constantly on the mind of the other can swing both ways. What one girl calls sincerity, another calls desperation. Which term the girl chooses, is highly dependent on how ready she was to accept him in the first place.
Because sincerity is simply how much the guy is prepared (or thinks he is prepared) to give for the girl. (Not To, For.) And, surprise surprise, this is of course limited by how much the guy CAN give in the first place! The poor pauper cannot afford to be sincere! Girls cite stories of guys waiting at house gates in the pouring rain, but really now, doesn't the poor pauper have money to earn instead of sitting like some lovesick fool at a girl's gate? It takes more than a few hours of rain to wash away the petty complaints of a girl.
The truth is, the claim to sincerity is a sneaky ploy by girls to continue making themselves desirable to as many guys as possible. Sincerity is like the stick that dangles the carrot (the carrot here being the girl herself, for those of you who fail to see the metaphor). It drives the stupid donkey, and the idiot animal never realizes that he is being led. He believes he is fulfilling some higher ideal of sincerity, that he is allowing the girl look past worldy concerns into the deep richness of his heart. He is also, egregariously, an ass.
There is no one in love who will say his love his false, and no one whose love is false will let his prey think otherwise. Sincerity is a wasted word in these proceedings.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
You know I was thinking of that Lit S question, the bit about there are standards in villany as well.
Is very true!
My ideal villian has to be someone intelligent. Snape comes to mind. But yes I cannot settle for big brawny villians because they are quite simply, fit for nothing more than henchmen work. It is the brains that set the standard for villany. The evil mastermind, the insidious double-crosser, the sneaky thief. I used to play Tenchu on the PS, and once you've played that game you'll realize that simple hack and slash is no fun! It's creeping behind your prey, slitting his throat from behind, killing him so efficiently and silently that he'll never know what hit him, and leaving without a trace.
My ideal villian has elegance about him. His plots and schemes work flawlessly, they flow from planned event to orchestrated situation, leaving a trail of subtle deceit. He has every situation mapped out, has considered all possible circumstances and has weaved his intricate web of deceit seamlessly. And so from a seemingly simple act, the ideal villian will steer events along his planned route, leading whosoever he desires to play his designated role in the grand scheme. Cunning and charisma are his weapons, not brute strength and a scary physique. The ideal villian manipulates, he does not maim. He plants the seeds, and lets evil take root and grow.
And so I was telling Uni once that if I had to be an animal I would pick a snake. The serpent. Original sin was satan's greatest triumph, and very elegant at that too. In enticing eve to eat the fruit, the serpent planted temptation and doomed man for all eternity.
Is very true!
My ideal villian has to be someone intelligent. Snape comes to mind. But yes I cannot settle for big brawny villians because they are quite simply, fit for nothing more than henchmen work. It is the brains that set the standard for villany. The evil mastermind, the insidious double-crosser, the sneaky thief. I used to play Tenchu on the PS, and once you've played that game you'll realize that simple hack and slash is no fun! It's creeping behind your prey, slitting his throat from behind, killing him so efficiently and silently that he'll never know what hit him, and leaving without a trace.
My ideal villian has elegance about him. His plots and schemes work flawlessly, they flow from planned event to orchestrated situation, leaving a trail of subtle deceit. He has every situation mapped out, has considered all possible circumstances and has weaved his intricate web of deceit seamlessly. And so from a seemingly simple act, the ideal villian will steer events along his planned route, leading whosoever he desires to play his designated role in the grand scheme. Cunning and charisma are his weapons, not brute strength and a scary physique. The ideal villian manipulates, he does not maim. He plants the seeds, and lets evil take root and grow.
And so I was telling Uni once that if I had to be an animal I would pick a snake. The serpent. Original sin was satan's greatest triumph, and very elegant at that too. In enticing eve to eat the fruit, the serpent planted temptation and doomed man for all eternity.