The Thoughts of an Asshole

BLOG POST

2011-07-18T11:18:00.004+08:00

Standing on the precipice of my wit's end trying to think of a topic to revive this blog, typing that and then googling whether I used the word precipice correctly, and then ending this sentence abruptly.

What's new? Oh, right, yes. That is the purpose of a web log, isn't it. Within the span of the last three months, I have;

1) Played a wedding gig.

2) Gone for two football games.

3) Graduated, or rather, have achieved the necessary results to graduate.

4) Gotten a job (or an internship, as some of my friends are quick to remind me).

5) Attempted to write countless numbers of songs that never seem to come to fruition.

6) Gotten Unifi.

7) Bought a table tennis net.

and concluded this list when realization dawns that nobody cares. Another futile exercise in either the mundane, or mendacity. Who's to know for sure? Another realization dawns; that I have not written for bloody ages, and the difficulty in which words flow from thought to hands become more apparent than ever, and at this very moment the grammar gods are weeping for salvation. Past tenses flow into the present unwillingly, dragged into a future they did not want.

To arms!

The mandatory political commentary here:

Politics is stupid. The end.

After hearing much raving from my peers about the series "Game of Thrones", I decided to start on the series. Me gusta. If you haven't already watched it, start now.

K finish.

How much for a printjob

2011-04-21T10:02:00.002+08:00

Here's how I spend my mornings productively: I don't.

Anyway, a little anecdote. Doing my usual ITS student helper duties this morning - y'know, filling up paper in the computer lab printers and shit; the important stuff - I stumbled across a printer which had a rather bad paper jam. Being the handyman I am (Seriously, I can fix anything. Except maybe televisions, radios, microwaves,refrigerators, computers, sinks, plumbing, lights, nuclear reactors, cars and a good sandwich), I got down to business and sorted the problem out without so much as a cry for help. The printer then, as expected, started to print it's load of backlogged printjobs. This was not the problem.The problem was that it didn't stop. And this was a problem because I can't fill papers into a printer while it's printing.And so I waited. I started losing patience at the 7th page. At the 15th page, I started swearing under my breath. By the 18th page I was ready to throw something. And then, this appeared.

I didn't know whether to laugh or rage.

So I did both and nearly had an epilepsy.

To the person who printed this, if you're reading, all I have to say is this; Well played, faggot. Well played.

F.E.A.R

2011-01-08T12:44:00.001+08:00

A friend mentioned the other day about her eagerness to try out the computer game F.E.A.R; a game which I played a few years back and thoroughy enjoyed, but eventually forgot about. I recently replayed it, and yes, it's still pants wettingly good.

If you have a soft spot for horror games, F.E.A.R was probably the penultimate experience at the time for invoking sheer terror. Even today, it can still be considered a very good game, despite the amount of newer titles ripping off its scaring devices.

Call me sacrilegious, but the old Silent Hill and Resident Evil games just didn't do it for me. Sure, they were (at times, literally) bleeding with atmosphere, but they didn't get under my skin, didn't quite haunt me in the way Alma (the spooky psychic ghost girl in F.E.A.R) did. The shambling zombies of RE are terrifying at first, yes. But pop one head with a well aimed shot and you've popped 'em all. Even the mutiliated eyesores of Silent Hill (and those dogs. Yes, those.) became standard fare after awhile. The only game that probably came close at the time was the Fatal Frame series. The crucial difference here is probably the fact that in most survival horror games, you can, and have to, fight your way out of whatever situation you got your sorry ass into. F.E.A.R doesn't let you do that. Also, the story is pretty darn good too.

You're a supersoldier in the conveniently named acronym-friendly"First Encounter Assault Recon", an elite special forces something-or-other. Cue standard cliches such as readings of your reflexes being "off-the-charts" and being the "strong, silent type". Your job is to follow orders and kick seven shades of bejesus of whatever gets in your way. There's just the slight problem; the involvement of a japanese horror-inspired ghost girl with the ability to make anyone she wants explode into a mess of blood and flying viscera. And she does so, quite frequently.

F.E.A.R paces its many setpieces quite admirably. Combat sections are a joy; much more similiar to waltzes than to the tedious running-and-gunning of more recent FPS games (Cough-over-rated-Modern Warfare-cough). I can't remember any other game where I saved just before any intense battle sequence, knowing full well I would reload it again soon after just to play it out in a different way. Monolith had an incredible AI system and they knew it; your enemies, primarily consisting of cloned soldiers, reacted in ways unseen in any other game before. They shouted orders, flipped furniture over to use as cover, dove through windows (and shattering glass) spectacularly, and flanked you whenever possible. Standard FPS strategies such as hiding in a corner were nullified if they knew where you were; they'll throw grenades to flush you out into the open.

Naturally, you have your very own arsenal of tricks to get you by. And oh, what an arsenal. Besides THE MOST SATISFYING SHOTGUN IN ANY GAME EVER (I swear, they nailed it. From the incedible devastation you wreak on someone when you nail him at close range, right down to the "click-click boom" sound effect), you have a focus mode, essentially bullet-time and F.E.A.R's big sellling point, and a variety of less-lauded but just as fun kungfu moves. You haven't played an action game till you jump kick someone so hard he flies out the window and plummets 40-storeys. The more distasteful can kick dismembered heads around rooms, but that loses its appeal after awhile. I should know; it was something I did exclusively for awhile.

And then, there's Alma. A God among men you may be, but you're powerless against the girl with a penchant for giving you genuinely disturbing visions, and killing your very few friends. The horror sequences have to be played through; explaining what happens dulls the experience otherwise - and they're well worth it. Why Alma doesn't kill you outright is explained at the end of the game, in an incredible cliffhanger let down by F.E.A.R's several sequels.

And that's why F.E.A.R makes me sad. It was a genuinely fantastic game, with great potential because of its's multilayered story. Development issues arrived, however, and a split between developers Monolith and publishers Vivendi ensured that a proper sequel wasn't meant to be. They have both come out with many seperate versions of new F.E.A.R games since, and though good games in their own right, cannot hope to rival the original.

Cars and Secret Agents

2011-01-08T12:43:00.001+08:00

And there I sat, staring vacantly at nameless, faceless crowd around me. Perhaps, in a different situation, my disdain for people might not have been so obvious. Today, however, every iota of it showed in my body language. Shoulders slumped, arms folded, eyes slight crossed. Pests, every one of them. A blight on my very existence.

Well, okay; maybe I exeggerate for effect. But I do find this particular crowd particularly more annoying than any other crowd on any other day. Particularly.

It's 8 o' clock on a Saturday morning, and I'm at my car service centre. The balloon of optimism I had the day before about beating the crowd by waking up early was deflated.. nay, popped by these dozens of dodgy looking characters who all apparently had the same idea. Old women in flip flops. Fat men with questionable hygiene habits. That young lady who I might find quite attractive if she wasn't in front of me in the queue. And oh, what a queue it is. But not in a literal sense. Here, let me explain.

What you have to do once you enter the centre is this. 'This' being placing your service booklet into a book rack, sitting down and waiting for it to be collected by one of the service attendants, and after a quick discussion about what needs to be done, the actual waiting for your car to be serviced. The whole system collapses at step one. Your books become your representative - and this is where it all breaks down.

See, it's a lot easier for someone to move their book in front of yours in the rack than moving their body in front of yours in an actual queue (though perhaps only marginally so). Everytime someone gets up to 'check' their service booklets (for what? scratches?), they pick up their book, flip through a few pages, then place it back in a position that looks suspiciously quite dissimiliar to the original order; I could've sworn my book was ahead just a second ago . Such. Sneaky. Bastards.

Of course, being Malaysian, those who notice this little repugnant act (which is a majority of the the queue) choose to keep quiet. Sure, we seethe inwards. Perhaps mumble about the "inconsideration of some people" and "how they have no shame". But outright confrontation is unheard of. So, how do those who feel wronged retaliate? Why, by doing the exact same thing of course.

What transpires is a hilarious, farcical pantomime straight out of a bad covert ops movie; with everyone trying to outdo each other in the sneaky deparment. One mirrors the first person's strategy, but makes it more realistic by looking genuinely perplexed and flipping through the pages a lot more. One makes a big show of picking up his booklet from the rack and proclaiming loudly that he might just come back another day, before asking how much longer he has to wait, nods approvingly at the answer, then places it at the front of the stack. The service attendant, luckily, spots his attempt and throws his booklet back towards the end. I have to say, plaudits for the guy's effort. But surely the concept of stealth is based around actually being discreet. Guess he missed that class at spy camp.

The one that takes the cake, however, is the guy who insists that he has to be served first because he has someone waiting to pick him up. When the service attendant tells him that it's just not possible, he asks "What am I supposed to do?" with all the self righteousness in the world, and in rather loud tones. I'll tell you what you're supposed to do, buddy. Sit down, shut up, and wait like everybody else. Hell, turn pseudo-CIA Agent if you have to. Just don't expect preferential treatment because you're lucky enough to have someone pick you up in five minutes.

I am now sitting at a mamak near the centre. I did survive the whole ordeal only to be informed that my car requires a more comprehensive servicing than initially though; It's a three hour wait. My laptop is running out of battery, and I've just realized I left my handphone at home. Also, I think I need to go potty.

Rough morning? Doesn't even cut the top ten.

11

2011-01-01T03:24:00.002+08:00

I on the tv, cos' tragedy thrills me.

I find it ominous that the first song I listened to this year was Tool's Vicarious. As I sang along to the morbid lyrics (I need to watch things die/ from a good safe distance/ vicariously I live/ while the whole world dies) whilst drumming enthusiastically on my steering wheel to what I hoped was the correct beat, something hit me. Metaphorically, of course - anything otherwise would've been painful and slightly creepy.

It was the question as to why I had so much aversion to society. People. A question that I realize I cannot answer. There won't be any deep soul searching in this post, but it's something that I have to admit to; the sudden thought surprised me. Before this, I never really asked myself why I hated people. I just did.

Now, I'm not so sure.

Last year.. was..

shit.

No other words can describe what a letdown it was.

Some of it I can probably attribute to my largely negative outlook on life - I never thought of myself as anything more than another face, or more crucially, a person worth anything. However, I'm slowly starting to realize that this self-defeating persona, this emo facade, is my ego telling me in a fucked up way that I am better than everyone else. Which is complete bollocks.

Anyway, I'm done reflecting. I've got new year's resolutions, and if I achieve half of them then next year will be considered a success. See, it's important to set your targets low.

1. I'm gonna qualify for an honours degree. Whether I choose to do one will be a different matter altogether.

2. I'm gonna get a job at an advertising firm, and kick ass in whatever project I'm assigned.

3. I'm gonna fucking complete this six-pack I've been working on for 2 years. There is no bragging involved. It's tough work.

4. I'm going to.. *gasp*.. *splutter*.. make new friends.

5. I will give people chances.

I don't usually make resolutions, but I guess maturity does funny things at small paces.

It's time I outgrow myself.

*6. I will get laid.

HAAAAA. No, I'm not that mature yet.

Notes of an unemployed nobody

2010-12-08T13:48:00.003+08:00

Whatever projects I had in mind to start on once uni life ended seem to have come to a stagnancy, not unlike my love life. Instead, I realize I spend half my days trawling the vast areas of World of Warcraft, most times on my own. It's a sober awakening when you're playing a massive multiplayer game and you don't see anyone for miles around. Look, it's real life again! You write what you know, I suppose.

What I do know is that I should be looking for a job, or at least something to do. The Next Big Thing™ proved to be an abject and total failure and not the Next Big Thing™ at all but rather a small inconsequential blip in the dark comedy that happens to be my existence. But I refuse to be outwardly bitter (snorts all round the room), and so with head held high ("HOW DO YOU STILL DO THAT?" some of you ask in amazement, to which I reply with a finger raised equally high) I move on.

Oh no, no. I am perfectly aware of my pathetic nature and I am not trying to kid myself into thinking I am not, in fact a loser. Look, it says right so on the title of this post. What I'm doing is accepting the fact that, if viewed from a vantage point (and not the bottom of the hole), loser-ism is in fact, quite funny.

"Most people think that the greatest invention in existence is the wheel, but I think it's the second wheel, because.. well."

tik tok

2010-11-13T12:55:00.003+08:00

Wake up in the morning feeling unemployed,

grab a bat, walk out the door I'm gonna hit somebody,

I'll just leave, won't brush my teeth not like there's any point,

cos when I leave for the night, I'll be back by 10pm.

I'm talking driving around in my car, car,

Not getting very far, far.

Trying to play the guitar,

Afternoon-napping.

Staying at home trolling /b/,

not invited to any parties.

curl up in bed and cry deeply.

(forever alone)

Uni's done, what the hell,

time to retreat into my shell.

Tonight, Imma fight,

FM till I see sunlight.

Tick tock, that's the clock,

but this madness won't stop, no.

uh ohohohooho.

uh ohohooh.

Caleb helped.

Why I love FM10

2010-11-10T12:10:00.004+08:00

I'm getting seriously addicted to this little game called Football Manager 2010. I swear, it's like crack, not that I'd know what crack is like, but the expression speaks for itself.

You, obviously, play a football manager in this. And that's it.

Pages, and pages, and pages. Of information. Stats. Spreadsheets. Numbers. You choose a club, then you choose its players. Then you play matches in leagues and competitions (from over 9000 in the world. HURR DURR). In the 2010 version, there's a 3d engine so you can see your players run around more clearly, but I'm a traditionalist. I stick to the classic 2d engine - so effectively, your players are represented by little coloured M&Ms moving about with the ball pinging off them. What fun then, could one possibly gain from staring at an over-glorified Excel sheet?

Certainly watching one play football manager without understanding its' nuances would leave many quite bemused. Or even worried for the players sanity. In the more nerve wrecking games, the quasi-consummate, absorbed player would most likely be spotted screaming at his computer screen, punching a table, eating a sandwich, and during the rare(r) moments when the words 'Goal!' flash on screen, either whooping and punching the air, or burying his head in his hands in dismay. This is not because the player is preposterously awkward in most social settings (though this is a likely side effect), but because by looking beyond the numbers, beyond the stats, beyond the M&Ms, you see another world.

You see real people, real players. The 18 year old striker on top of the world when he scores a late winner in front of 40,000 screaming supporters, and winning them the trophy. The despair of facing relegation from a top tier league, knowing it would mean financial problems, and less prestigious glory. The clumsy tackle from a defender earning him a red card, a drop from his squad, and finally the club. The stories that come out of the FMs are limitless. The team that wins the FA cup in the English league but gets relegated from the Premiership - a mixture of pride and sadness. Heartbreak for the determined 34-year old centreback determined to make the most of his last chance to finally break into the national squad, but is injured days prior to the international competition.

But enough of this. I'm a troll. I look at whatever mechanisms the game offers and I break it.

SO I choose Tottenham Hotspurs to manage. Cos London is full of top clubs and a break from the two note Arsenal-Chelsea . I'm given a budget of 14 million. Hmm. Not bad. But it's about to become better in a bit.

First, our defence. It's woeful. Ledley King is decent but he plays one game, and then needs a three month break. Woodgate is good when both his legs aren't broken. Bale shows promise, and is a lovely attacking wingback, but his constant forays forward leave his backline brutally exposed. Assou-Ekotto looks a bit like a friend of mine, so I sell him off first because no friend of mine should play under me (hrr hrr). Corluka's the only solid choice.

Our midfield and attack is decent. Modric is class, and with Kranjcar and Huddlestone present, there's always opportunity for good passing movement. Pavlyuchenko is extremely solid, and Keane works hard. The problem is with the 10-foot calamity Peter Crouch, who can't seem to score a goal to save his life (though, I swear, the developers are trolling all of us by giving him a 'finishing' attribute of 16/20). He should pack his bags too.

Obviously the next step is to add a new manager for Real Madrid, and with this new profile, spend 150m on one of my untalented donkeys from reserves, and then retire.

So now I've got 164m to spend, which is a ridiculous amount by any stretch of the imagination, and I've ensured that I'll eventually win the game and become king of the world.

If you wanna be more subtle about it, of course, without outward cheating, there are still a huge amount of ways you can troll players and other managers. You could talk up a huge rival clubs chances of winning the next match, and the enormous amount of respect you have for the manager, before gloating about your 8-0 victory to the press post-match. Opposition manager "feels the both of you could become friends"? Not bloody likely.

Or the disgruntled, clueless reserves player who has a monstrously inflated opinion of himself (a bit like Nani, actually) who feels he deserves to play first-team football. You ask him to wait for his chance, and to prove himself, and he refuses to back down. He wants glory and he wants it now. A pompous arrogant whiny little ass. So here's what I do. When you're sure your team is good enough, stick him in. And then make him play for every game. Ever. Every. Game. Ever. Reserves. League. Cup. Champions League. Friendlies. Under 18s if possible. And when he's "exhausted and in need of a long rest", I play him some more. Sure, there's always a twinge of guilt, especially when his condition is at 40% and at half time talks I tell him I'm disappointed in his performances, but when he does get injured (or fakes injury) and I put him back on reserves, he's not so quick to stamp his non-existent authority.

Or, if you're notified of another clubs manager spotted at one of your games because he's interested in one of your players (the dirty bastard), take off the player he's interested in on the 1st minute. You get the satisfaction of knowing he got nothing done (especially when he's from a different country), but also that he paid for a ticket to watch one of your games. Cheers, mate.

All hail Lol Cat, greatest manager in the world of his saved games.

I wear my sunglasses at night

2010-11-07T03:19:00.003+08:00

Passion, lust, desire.

Instinct, yet learnt,

Required, and yearned.

A flick of hair, subconscious.

Synapses clicking, almost virulent

an effect equivocal.

Attribution, to what?

A little restless, a jumbled mess.

Tranquility creeping slowly,

a shot, of methadone

a hospice, rest finally.

And I lay my head, slumber beckons.

Look, post modernist text. Let's all put our heads together and discuss the possibility of true meaning behind words. Or we could do the sensible thing and write it off as a load of garbage.

Ride

2010-11-03T02:02:00.003+08:00

If I told you you were right, would you take my hand tonight?

If I told you reasons why, would you leave your life, and ride?

I sit here contemplating the past and the events that have lead up to this current point of space and time. Surreality seems to rule with an iron fist within this zone. I look at the changes people are going through - some seem confident of their future, most seem terrified. A herd of sheep being led in a direction that modern society's shepherd has dictated. For those who dare to dream the weirdest dreams possible, to break the mould, I salute you.

There was once a time when we all felt, I'm sure, that we would have the confidence to know the right thing when we became adults. Sort of like a magic manual that taught us how to be mature. Now, we realize that grown ups are about as lost as we are.

University life is ending soon. On the cusp of graduation, and I still feel like a newborn. I'm confused, I'm awkward. But I try.

Then I think about love and I get depressed. Because that's another thing I'm not very good at.

We seem to be very good at over complicating matters that, given different perspectives, are very simple. I really hate what I'm going through now, and yet, there's a feeling of exhilaration inherent that I wouldn't trade for anything else in the world.

But like all things, it'll eventually have to come to an abrupt and unexpected end. Much like this post.

And here I was, trying to be friendly

2010-10-03T01:49:00.006+08:00

Opening line of conversation with a certain female friend I haven't talked to in a long time (via MSN, of course. I don't have any friends in real life).

"Hi. You look like you've lost weight. Make up?"

In retrospect, not a great opener. But she takes it in stride anyway, and we chat about mundane things. Quite literally; boredom was the topic of discussion. It's going pretty well up to this point;

Certain Female Friend: You should exercise.

Yours Truly: What, now? It's 12am. I don't wanna go to the gym, it's creepy.

CFF: Don't have to go to the gym. You can exercise at home, do bodyweight exercises.

Me: What, like pushups and situps?

CFF: Yeah, or you can do it like mountain climbers. The leg ups.

Me: Can't. No mountains in my condo.

CFF: Go google it.

Me: No, I'm quite sure. My place is too small for mountains.

And here, she basically tells me that I always say stupid and 'unfunny' things and it's difficult to talk to me and why can't we have a normal conversation for once.

On an unrelated note, a thief broke into the local police station today and stole all the toilets and urinals, leaving no clues. A spokesperson was quoted as saying, “We have absolutely nothing to go on.”

I apologize, but it was funny

2010-10-02T11:37:00.004+08:00

Lets cut to the chase. We're all guilty of "not-thinking" every time we post something up on the internet for all to see. Status updates, twitters, blogposts, pictures. Occasionally though, one has to look at the context one is posting in. Take this for example; 'Facebook only has a 'like' or 'comment' option. So it's either you like it, you comment, or you shut up.' And now here's an example of how you can be an extreme bastard with the click of a button (short of pressing the big red one, obviously).

I'm sorry. I really don't mean it.

Of football and testosterone

2010-10-02T01:12:00.006+08:00

I've been watching football since my high school days. Never really been a fan of a club for long, always just fleeting around looking for one to support. I supported Aston Villa once, in 2003 as I recall, for all of three matches before I realized that they were complete fucking shite and nobody would broadcast their matches live in public. So Chelsea it was.

Manchester United have got a gem of a player this season though, and he goes by the name of Javier Hernandez.

And that's a fucking footballers name, let me tell you that. S'long as you're named anyone of the few; "Fernandez, Hernandez, Juan, van der bla bla, " and you're pretty much guaranteed a career in football.

But this guy thinks, "Nah. Hernandez just isn't manly enough. I'd better get myself a nice, strong nickname. Something to do my eyelashes justice" (No, seriously check out those eyelashes). So, guess what he settles on, with all that testosterone?

'Chicharito'.

It means "Little Pea" in Spanish. Now, I'm not one to be easily amused, but that raised an eyebrow.

But in all seriousness, I think his new found moniker is a little too manly. He should even it out a bit, and here's what I suggest.

"Chicharitorito".

That way, none of us more effeminate males will have to feel so threatened anymore.

Once more, with feeling

2010-09-21T22:40:00.003+08:00

Oh, what a mess.

As everything descends.

It's always been the same story. To quote a friend, "what made me think this time was gonna be any different?"

Oh, what a mess.

But everything amends.

Watching friends as they find happiness, I sit back and watch. I smile. It all comes so easy for them. Realizing that the only way I could follow suit was to become another.

One of these days,

you will learn to love again.

I wish I could, you know. I mentally beat myself up for not saying so many things that could've been said. So many things that could've been done.

We all have hearts, we all have homes,

but when we die, we die alone.

This isn't for anyone in particular.

This is me affirming myself.

this is about nothing, yet nothing

2010-09-18T01:49:00.004+08:00

A swish of a tie,

a flick of a belt,

donning our jackets,

how fly we felt.

an attempt at %,

unprecedented disaster,

donning our jackets,

how fly we felt.

dancing in rapture,

&? Quintessential,

Semiotics, signs,

are you existential?

Sense, no longer,

derived from maleficence, maleficarum?

of pure, of thought,

no, no longer.?

this is nothing, and everthing at once,

of all that is unholy, a paganistic trance,

words missspleled, words not needed.

words.

and as my lust for insanity has finally been sated,

so has the queasy feeling in my stomach abated

lul

2010-09-12T21:39:00.003+08:00

A woman walks into a clinic and tells her doctor that her husband is really into anal sex.

With a raised eyebrow, he asks, "Well, do you enjoy it?", to which the woman replies "Yes."

"Does it hurt, or is there any discomfort, during intercourse?", to which the woman replies "No."

"Well, then what seems to be the problem?" the doctor asks, puzzled.

"Well, you see, my husband and I are trying to have a baby. And I can't get pregnant if it's only anal sex all the time can I?" the woman says.

The doctor snorts. "Of course you can. Where do you think lawyers come from?"

Something I need to get off my chest

2010-09-10T08:26:00.003+08:00

The plural for 'stuff' is NOT FUCKING 'STUFFS'.

THINK ABOUT IT. DOES 'STUFFS' EVEN SOUNDS REMOTELY CORRECT TO YOU?

kay, that's been bugging me for a long time now.

Selamat Hari Raya. Rubber Dinghy Rapids, bro.

I call this a lolpoem

2010-09-08T23:34:00.002+08:00

A septic core // a derelict place.

Once a whore // now left to waste.

She cries out // what's there to save?

where are the Gods //the heroes and the brave?

He stumbles but once // earth bears the sin,

through the battles // of wars we can't win.

A lonely dance // heralding corpses and fire.

Welcoming death's rattle // life's necrophiliac desire.

Triumph // victory,

over // against,

crime // injustice,

no longer // no more.

A million souls // clawing at a conscience,

bleeding dry // no longer alive.

The agonizing screams // all acts of penance,

slowly die out // before He arrives.

how do I copyright this.

Life is beautiful

2010-09-04T09:13:00.004+08:00

And I said "Be still my heart, this could be a brand new start".

Sometimes I really do wish we had more seasons in this country (rather than 'hot', and 'hotter'). We could begin sentences with "Autumn leaves on pavements", or "snow covered rooftops". Alas, our exposure to language is limited by out exposure to actual experiences. We make do with what we have. It's poignant how the most beautiful of imagery can't be evoked if we don't have the rights to use them. I can't say I enjoy watching the sun set on the beach, because I haven't seen the sun set on the beach nearly enough to say I enjoy it. I can't say I love walking on sidewalks with autumn leaves swirling all around me. I can't say I adore performing because I have never put on a good enough show for people to delight in. I can't say that I am in a state of permanent turmoil because of a stranger I might have known all my life.

What are we , but fools as Man.

Oh, listen to "Life is beautiful" by Vega 4.

2010-08-22T14:57:00.004+08:00

Lets play a game. Write, write anything that goes through your head, pausing not to gather thoughts but instead letting your fingers channel your thoughts straight onto your keyboard. Release your brain-finger filters and forget beautifying any piece of writing that escapes you for the next few minutes. Just write whatever it is you are thinking about. I've already started, no pauses, no breaks just unfiltered typing about anything and everything. Trying to string a coherent thought process uninterruptedly is quite a tricky thing, we all have thoughts that flow through our minds, most of which coherent yet somewhere between thinking about lunch or dinner, your mind manages to break a single thought and implant one more there. Like thinking about how to get to uni today, but halfway through thinking about the route your going to take, you begin to wonder who will be there, is it going to rain today, why can't i always get what i want, i hate that person, i wish i could go to Japan. it goes on and on. The wandering mind is a playground, as wide as your own imagination makes it. Which lead me to this decision to partake in this experiment. Does everyones mind work the same? Are our thought processes similar? Do we all think about love, hate, happiness, sadness, and everything on the opposite ends of a spectrum? or are there people who just think linearly in ways which would bore the hell out of me. Is thinking about one thing really thinking about one thing? Im sure your thoughts can be interrupted by your own thoughts. So join me, i hope at least people will partake in this. Just type whatever it is that comes into your mind, no pauses. Spellcheck at the end dammit. Do not break the flow, just roll with it, and lets see how our thought processes function.

I have no idea what this style of writing is called. An inner-narrative something or other... simply let the thoughts run and Jesus Christ this video is distracting, I'm allowing a.. wait, my thoughts have changed direction I have no idea what they're really on about. Streets. Speaking of streets, and directions. You know how they say real men never ask for directions? Who really came up with that? It's funny. You know what else is funny. Baked beans. Like woah. Matrix. Neo. Heinz. Gabriel Heinze. Wasn't he a defender somewhere? Oh, there's this epic line in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy that goes like this. Oh wait it's a sentence, rather than a line. "The most threatening thing you can do to a computer is to go up to it and start counting; it's the equivalent of standing in front of someone and saying "blood, blood, blood"". Yeah, I thought it was hilarious too. Oh look someone's pm-ing me on MSN, it's probably about dota. It's always about dota. God I hate this miserable excuse for a life. What's going on what's going on are my thoughts still churning? Wait, they are. Now I see dots. Dots. .............................. Bzz. Bzzzz. Ok, this is fun I think I might start blogging like this all the time.

sigh

2010-04-08T11:10:00.001+08:00

Sometimes, I really don't know what to think.

No words come to mind. Nothing but this cold weight pressed so heavily upon my chest, I feel like I'm suffocating.

It's just me trapped in this head.

Let me out.

Let me out.

Interesting things happen, but they're not always pleasant

2010-03-18T16:45:00.005+08:00

Those accustomed to reading my blog/notes will notice that I generally refrain from talking about everyday events; normally because I find the mundane and unnecessary. This is not one of those posts.

Alright, true story, and you be the judge of the total jackassery of the whole situation.

So, I'm on my way to class, and naturally, I opt to turn into the free parking area for Monash/Sunway students to try my luck. But as usual, no parking. Bear in mind that the 'free parking' is along one long stretch of dirt road, bout 1km, barely enough space for one car, starting from Monash University and ending just opposite Sunway College. So I went in, turned around, and headed back out. No problem.

So, I'm nearly 8-9/10ths of the way out, when this car zooms in, and I fuck you not, stops directly in front of me. I was incredulous. Surely, he was gonna reverse. Surely, he was gonna let me out. Surely, I was being optimistic, because he does not reverse. We are locked in position for about 30 seconds. I horn, I signal, I wind down the window shouting at him to get out of the fucking way. He stares back and does not move. And then, he is joined by 2 cars from the back.

What choice did I have? Either, we would've been there all day, or I swallowed my pride and reversed.

I reversed. I reversed a kilometer back to the end of the parking area, nearly denting and scratching at least 10 cars in the process (Students in that area would know how tight the lane is; it's hard enough driving straight, let alone reversing). But I didn't, thank every God in every religion ever.

Mini exercise: Hold up your hand. Look at your little finger. See how thick it is? That's how much space I had to maneuver.

You'd expect a better climax to this story. I did too. I was shaking in anger. At the end of the stretch, I got out of the car, leaving it in the middle of the parking area, waiting for him to get out of his so I could... give him a piece of my mind. But no, he stays inside, and as fate would have it, I had to get back in my car and move it so someone else could get out, and in that process, he'd gotten out of his and walked across. To Sunway college.

So, owner of a Blue Kelisa with a black rooftop. If ever in a millionth chance you're reading this, just know that though I pity the fact that you were obviously brought up as the accident that you are, or are probably the product of a failed abortion, I would liked nothing better than to watch your head get bashed in by something hard and spiky. And then I would probably piss on your corpse and laugh at your funeral.

But I won't, cos I'm a nice guy.

2010-03-15T16:10:00.004+08:00

You know what I find funny? How Monash sends you e-mails telling you that your inbox is nearly full.

Redundancy squared.

2010-03-10T23:01:00.004+08:00

At this very moment, I am pondering the apparent loss of my desire and ability to write - something which has been bothering me for some time now. There used to be a period where words flowed freely, almost lovingly, from thought to paper, from mind to pages; but lately ("lately" being used figuratively and somewhat misleadingly, seeing as "lately" in this context actually means "these past few years"), it is as if a river has been stemmed. The interest has died out, and it doesn't feel great.

Switch to past tense. There was a time when I dreamt of becoming an author, a writer; weaving fantastic tales involving all kinds of marvelous characters (of course, I also dreamt of becoming a singer, an artist, and getting laid with at least 50 women before I turned 21, but I digress). But reality has a way of smacking you in the face. And when you get up, reeling from the blow, along comes reality's bigger brother, academic literature, to really pound you into ground.

So my writing style changed. Out with the creative, humorous play on words. In with droning; long, meandering words to relay meanings made obscure precisely because of the bastard difficult language that we're forced to read and use. However, it's almost a juxtaposition. On one hand, I am desperately clinging on to whatever vestiges of my old writing style that remain, and on the other, I feel almost obliged to write with lingustic aplomb. Which is confusing, and for lack of a better expression, sucks monkey balls.

Switch to present tense. Alas, my dreams of writing aren't meant to be, at least not in the academic sense. However, I do feel that it is time to tentatively start again. Words, don't fail me now.

Hi

2010-02-14T00:18:00.003+08:00

AHAHAHAHHAHHAHA. You serious ah.

HAHAHHAHAHA.

kk, sorry. funny.

Gong hei gong hei

2010-01-23T14:11:00.003+08:00

Be wary of friends - they will betray you more quickly, got they are easily aroused to envy. They also become spoiled and tyrannical. But hire a former enemy and he will be more loyal then a friend, because he has more to prove. In fact, you have more to fear from friends than from enemies. If you have no enemies, find a way to make them.

Whoops

2010-01-03T23:36:00.001+08:00

I accidentally bookmarked my own blog.

What kind of self-serving narcissist does THAT?

So this is the new year.

2009-12-31T04:08:00.003+08:00

And I don't feel any different.

Yeah, seems almost perfunctory to start with a statement like that, cliched as it may be.

But then again, who can argue with honest truth.

Is it time to do that whole looking back thing again? No. Honestly, I couldn't be bothered.

Have I grown? I don't know. Have I learned? Probably not. Am I bitter? Just a smidgen.

Ah, hell. Who am I kidding. I hate the world. The world can go and eff itself in the arse.

Oh, sorry, I mean, "a" world. Inside joke (click if interested. You're probably not).

Oh, true story. A woman came up to me at a mamak asking for donation for charity. Orphans with cerebral palsy and whatnot.

"Please, sir, share your love and kindness with them." Bingo. Loophole.

I wanted to tell her that I had no love and kindness. And as such I couldn't spare any for poor special children. But apparently that statement is frowned upon in society, and it makes me a bit of an asshole.

Ah well. Can't win everything.

Amagad

2009-12-16T00:25:00.002+08:00

Tak leh tidur dowh.

2009-12-09T20:14:00.003+08:00

On a mountainside away from the hustle and bustle of harried life, I stood. Sounds even a few meters away were dampened, muffled, by the snow. A wall of cold seemingly impenetrable, yet unobtrusive. Breath leaves my body in clouds of vapor.

I look up as snow continues to cascade. Flakes land on my cheek and quickly melt away, leaving my face damp and stinging from the cold. The night sky illuminated by a star here, a streetlight there. The world feels fresh, renewed.

And I think of you.

2009-12-06T02:27:00.003+08:00

10 days to Colombo. Can't come soon enough.

It'll be a milestone of sorts for me, I suppose, seeing as I'll be traveling alone. Of course, it'll be the company of brehs once I hit Colombo (hopefully, of course; in which failing might lead to a breakdown, and constant sobbing).

I suppose we all need breaks like these. Time to just get away from everything, and to reflect and to look back on life in general.

What a year. What a fucking year.

But we take what we get; we live a little, we grow a little, and we learn a little. But there's always company through it all, and that's what's important.

Don't you just feel all warm and fuzzy inside? I would if it wasn't for THAT COLD DARK ABYSS IN MY SOUL THAT CONSUMES ALL HAPPINESS AND LEAVES A DEGENERATE, ROTTING SHELL BEHIND TO DIE A SLOW PAINFUL DEATH. Naw, I kid.

Srsly.

Another fighter

2009-12-05T20:59:00.001+08:00

Another fighter,
Left to fend for himself in this dark, cold world,
Another wasteland,
with so little to offer but it's all he's got,
Another fighter,
Who's left the war to sit at home alone,
A creeping shadow,
has left it's place to make his mind its' throne.

Another fighter,
sees the ground where he laid it all to waste,
A weak alibi,
Any excuse to hide his face,
From the outset,
He's reluctant to see what he's become,
Another fighter,
Won't be long before he's dead and gone,
And that fighter is me.

Another fighter,
Takes the time to mend his broken bones,
Another heartbreak,
caused so much more than just plain sticks and stones,
The faltered footsteps,
of a man trying to find his way back home,
The broken pavement,
is what remains of all his past regrets.

Another fighter,
sees the ground where he gave it all away,
A selfish alibi,
he'd rather hide the pain than stay,
From the outset,
He's reluctant to brave another day,
Another fighter,
Won't be long before he's dead and gone,
And that fighter is me.

I am a goddamn poet.

2009-12-03T12:54:00.003+08:00

I've always been a fan of a good cup of tea.

So imagine the pride, and along with it a proper sense of accomplishment, when I learned how to make genuine 'chai' (a milk tea that has lots of milk and lots of tea) during the holidays. Yes, feeling very proud now, aren't you?

Ninja Assassin must be watched.

Hai

2009-12-01T20:54:00.003+08:00

Yeah, I realized that's how I generally start most conversations.

Hai.

Let me explain why.

You see, in a standard conversation, when one begins with a 'hi', it becomes so natural and expected that, pardon me, it's become impersonal; we are desensitized, if you will, towards salutations that have lost their meaning. There is no friendliness in a normal 'hi'. Unless of course it's accompanied with a

: )

However, let me show you why adding the 'a' makes a world of difference. First of all, there's a sense of individuality imbibed into the word; when we say 'hai', we break the chains of normativity, therefore sticking it to the man, the system, and his brother-in-law in the other system. Secondly, which is a crucial point, it shows that you care. By adding an 'a', you're showing genuine interest in conversation, making the effort to type out three letters instead of two. And since it's executed in such an elegant and purposeful manner, people will appreciate you all the more for it.

So go on, say hai to someone,

Second time blogging in a day, this must be, like, some kinda record, man. Dude.

p/s: Heteronormativity is a good word.

This title is called 'Title'

2009-12-01T14:45:00.003+08:00

What does one do when a sudden urge to expel a portion of mental mundanity strike the individual, thereby forcing a decision to type meaningless words of no meaning into a web page where the world, if they so choose, can read? Naturally, I blog.

Meaningless words of no meaning. Read it a few times, it should make sense after the 3rd revision.

They say they should write what you know. So, disregarding the fallacy of sweeping statements such as 'From henceforth, I shall..' and 'From now on, this blog shall..' (because chances are the author isn't going to live up to promises anyway), from now on, this blog will be so mind-fucking-ly redundant, you as a dear reader will be left gasping for need of intellectual engagement.

The sky is blue today.

I need a job.

I don't want a job.

But I need a job.

Is there a job where they pay you to do nothing but sit around all day?

Oh right, security guards.

Faker

2009-10-15T00:50:00.002+08:00

So take your fucking faker face and stay away from me
I'm trying not to hear your lies or see your make-believe
The words you speak are empty and your stories full of holes
God I know you're burning up for all the lies you've told

Ni lagu power. Power ranger.

2009-10-12T23:39:00.003+08:00

ohai.

.. and yet again the urge to grace these pages with words of acquired wisdom has left me.

kthxbye.

URGHHHH tagged.

2009-09-07T20:44:00.003+08:00

Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, cleverly answer these questions. Pass it on to 10 people including me. You can't use the band I used. Try not to repeat song titles. It's a lot harder than you think! Repost as "My Life According to (BAND NAME)"

Pick Your Artist:
Theory of a Deadman

Are you a male or female?
Invisible Man

Describe yourself:
Point to Prove

How do you feel:
Hate My Life

Describe where you currently live:
Heaven

If you could go anywhere, where would you go?
Santa Monica

Your favourite form of transportation:
Leg to Stand on

Your best friend(s) is/are:
Me and My Girl

Your favourite colour is:
Confession

What's the weather like?
In The Middle

Favourite time of day:
End of the Summer

If your life was a TV show, what would it be called:
Hell just ain't the same

What is life to you:
Got It Made

Your current relationship:
Not Meant to Be

Breaking up:
No Surprise

Looking for:
Bad Girlfriend

Wouldn’t mind:
All or Nothing

Your fear:
Say I'm Sorry

What is the best advice you have to give:
Make up your mind

If you could change your name, you would change it to:
Quiver

Thought for the Day:
Walk Away From this

How I would like to die:
Sacrifice

My motto:
Save the best for last

Did You Know Series #4

2009-08-31T10:30:00.003+08:00

Did you know..

That it takes one woman to screw on a lightbulb, two engineers to fix the lighting, and three structuralists to tell you that electricity is merely a discourse, and in essence, does not exist?

Did You Know Series #3

2009-08-25T01:39:00.001+08:00

Did you know..

That two wrongs don't make a right, but three do?

Did You Know Series #2

2009-08-24T01:25:00.003+08:00

Did you know...

that ice is formed because water molecules huddle together to keep warm from the cold?

Did You Know Series #1

2009-08-23T17:57:00.001+08:00

Did you know...

that when a guy hasn't gotten laid in six months, his virginity grows back?

A rough Go 2

2009-08-05T08:56:00.002+08:00

Hey, hey.

What does one do in the computer lab when he is all by his lonesome before a freakin' 9 o' clock class?

PERV ON FACEBOOK LA PLG

A rough go

2009-07-28T15:29:00.004+08:00

To start, let's have us a riddle. What do you call a driver who when seeing someone cutting into a gap in front of them, decides to speed up and then horn?

A woman.

Was that sexist? I apologize. On an entirely related note, I flipped off someone for the first time today in a car. I cannot describe the joy of breaking free of societal norms when you're in a vehicle and consequential unpleasantness may be avoided. I may have at first intended to raise my hand in apology but somewhere along the line my middle finger popped out.

Bad day? So-so.

AAAAAA

2009-07-12T21:58:00.002+08:00

We all have days like these.

This Blog post will be explained entirely in pictures and symbols

2009-06-26T01:11:00.004+08:00

With friends like these...

2009-06-19T20:03:00.001+08:00

"Hey, Josh, when you reach the inevitable moment when you commit suicide, I have a challenge for you. I want you to incorporate whipped cream into your death."

We apologize for the inconvenience

2009-06-17T22:31:00.001+08:00

Funny how this sometimes sounds EXACTLY like life.

How movies can save your life (or part of it)

2009-06-16T19:41:00.003+08:00

So, a funny little thing happened to me when I was sitting for my globalization paper today.

I forgot what date it was, and hence, risked either getting intensely embarrassed or by some arcane guesswork, writing down a random date and risk getting suspected of cheating. Even worse, I had to fill out two slips with the dates.

How did I get out of that little muddle, you ask me? Well, if you shut up I'll tell you.

I counted down from the day which Transformers will be premiering. 24th of June, next Wednesday.

THE INNER GEEK WILL SAVE OUR SOULS.

Gems of blog surfing #1

2009-06-13T22:15:00.004+08:00

Now, I'm not normally one to criticize other thoughts and opinions. But some things just should not pass without comment and (not necessarily positive) attention.

Like this little bit of treasure, for instance.

.

.

.

Christ.

OMGOMGOMG

2009-06-08T20:11:00.002+08:00

I can barely believe it.

HAHAHHAHAHA.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA.

Initiative is a very dangerous thing.

2009-06-02T21:15:00.004+08:00

I hearth back to my home city of Dalaran with my newly mined loot. I head to the nearest forge, and begin my work. I smelt my copper ores into copper bars, all 65 of them. Then like the magnificent jewelcrafter I am, I slowly mold these bars into copper wires. Then I braid them into copper rings. +1 agility. In your face Level 3 wolves.

Then it's on to tin. I start smelting away, and pretty soon I have 120 shiny new tin bars demanding my attention. Realizing that the option to smelt bronze, a combination of copper AND tin, is now open to me, I take on the task with great aplomb, and behold, 50 shiny bronze bars ripe for developing. Into bronze settings, no less. I grind and grind. Not in the context that I usually like.

I realize I am at a profficient level to mine silver ore, raw material which I will need to progress with my levelling of my jewelcrafting skills. So I head to areas where silver veins are said to spawn, only to my dismay, several 15 minute sweeps of these locations availed no silver. I hurriedly consulted trusted sources, and they pointed me to a shade deep within Ashenvale forest. I rush there, and hurriedly reap the spoils of the earth before others come bumbling along, eager for their own share of minerals.

Three times I journey the area, three times sweeping for silver ore. I finally accumulated what I believed to be a decent amount and head back to the forge, where I shall smelt my newly gathered ore into decent material, and with it, work my way towards higher levels and more epic gear.

I glance at my current jewelcrafting level. I smile. I have hit 100.

Only 350 more levels to go.

.
.
.
.
.

I need to get laid.

AH. MM.

2009-05-29T21:01:00.005+08:00

sometimes we perasan or overread certain things. But for some reason, aku terasa wei when reading this e-mail.

From a lecturer, no less.

Could this be me looking too much into a simple typo, something that has nothing whatsoever to do remotely with me? Or could this be a slight reference to the fact that I've always been late, never paid attention in class and in short, quite a dumbass when it comes to academics?

Kthxbyelol.

It's a very, very mad world.

2009-05-26T20:15:00.003+08:00

"And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad.
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had."

How befitting a title. How chaotic is truth.

Watching as people go by, each chasing dreams, ambitions, life. And I remain stagnant, a starry-eyed observer, in awe of such energy and dedication.

I look into myself, and find nothing but a void, an abyss. No drive, no motivation; nothing to propel my desire to move.

I smile and greet people, but only as etiquette requires. I try and be friendly, but feel more alien in the process. Caught in a limbo, unsure of what I am or where I belong, though I once thought I knew.

Maybe that's what life is all about. Maybe some of us are really meant to be alone.

...

It seems that the Emo-meter always goes up by at least 300% when there's an assignment to be completed.

Yes, I do have one to start on. It's due tomorrow, in fact. fmletckthxbye

2009-05-21T21:37:00.005+08:00

"Isn't it crazy
How life slips right into your life?

Forces everything else to the side."

A sudden urge to blog slips away into nothingness. Hmm. Oh well, on a side not, random conversations in Uni today reminded me to search this little gem out. Ahhh childhood memories.

She was only 16 when she made this video. Here's what she looks like now. Caution: Barely, BARELY SFW.

Bow Chicka Bow Wow.

Attempts at Domestication

2009-05-20T17:20:00.004+08:00

All you needed was a crutch.

It is without great pride that I admit to being quite useless around the house, especially in the kitchen. So, attempts to domesticate myself today, though blatantly ludicrous, should be applauded for effort. My first attempt: To make hard boiled eggs.

It can't be that hard, I think to myself. Any fool can do it. Take a couple of eggs, boil some water, add both of them together, wait a bit, and ta-dah, maths tells us that should have hard boiled eggs on our hands. It's so easy, one can do it with their eyes shut, right? Right?

Apparently not. I tried to peel open my first egg only to be splattered by its' uncooked contests. Adding insult to the injury, it was hot. Wary of the second one due to the first disaster, I quickly browsed through the internet and found out I had to let the egg cool first. Fair enough. Straightforward. Round 2.

Eggs 2 - Josh 0.

Fuck eggs, I'm happy with milk and potato chips.

Ice Age

2009-05-16T14:13:00.004+08:00

In future times,
We'll hold it closer.
Imagining,
We weren't older.
Yet through it all,
they'll be playing our song.

Of burgers and Apple

2009-05-15T10:45:00.002+08:00

My personal message conveyed a statement true and dear to my heart. "Buy me a Mac and I'll love you for life."

"Hey." A friend nudges me.

"Yeah?" I reply.

"I could get you something better than a Mac. Way, way better."

Wary of idiotic jokes (and rightly so), I reply. "What."

"A BIG MAC."

"..."

"AHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHA..HAHAHHAHAHAHHA.. AAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHA"

"..."

"AAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHA."

kthxbye.

Reasons why Cigarettes are better than Women

2009-05-13T20:58:00.005+08:00

At the verge of sounding extremely politically incorrect (or have I already stepped over that tenuous line?), there are always times in a man's life where he's just about had it with all the feminist and post-feminism *insert random word here*. So let's review some of the reasons, and for all of you feminists who can't take women jokes, I will solemnly declare my apologies by never holding the door open for you to walk through again, and as an added bonus, promise never to offer to carry your shopping, cos we all know how you hate to be insulted that way. omgloll!!11!! 1 Iz jokez laik srsly. srs.

1. A cigarette will never break your heart. It just fucks your lungs, and God knows we all love a fling.

2. Cigarettes come with warning signs on their boxes just how hazardous to your health they can be. Women, on the other hand, don't. Have signs, that is.

3. You can finish a cigarette at your own time, with zero performance pressure.

4. A cigarette doesn't leave you rolling around on the floor in a stupor of heightened emotions. To achieve desired results, get your heart broken or score some weed.

5. A cigarette doesn't say those dreaded words; "We need to talk." Unless you've already gotten some of that aforementioned weed. Then chances are, your cigarette won't be the only thing talking.

6. A cigarette will never demand equal rights then expect you to pay for dinner. Speaks for itself, really.

However, I concede that these are all really poor reasons to compare women to smokes. OF COURSE women are better than cigarettes. OF COURSE if given the choice, we'd take a woman anyday over a smoke. And here's why:

You can't have sex with a cigarette.

kthxbye.

Emokid

2009-05-10T19:39:00.004+08:00

"Let me give you this book. You'll enjoy it; it's hilarious, and the insights are incredible." The mother says, handing me a pink colored hardcover volume.

I pick the book from her hand, and read the title. "But mom, this is a girl's book. I don't think I can identify with this."

"It's okay." She replies. "You can read it. You're more emotional than most guys."

I am officially the new breed of woman. wtfkthxbyeetc.

Oh, to be beautiful.

2009-05-09T09:39:00.004+08:00

Pedantic and Pedagogic, precariously we pry at people's paranoia, passively pondering the present predicaments, partly with patience, partly with passion. Pitted in a penurious paralytic pandemic of penultimate perfection, we partake in a pallet of peccant pleasures; provided we pay the price. Petty politics plagiarized in plausible parodies, paltry in worth, pitiful and picayune. Pride permeates the populace, pandering to primarily individual prerogatives; putting past pernicious, pestilent penetrations of peace. Perverted by principalities proffered in propaganda; when will we ever learn.

Yes, I should be studying. However did you guess?

kthxbyeetc.

Damned to shadows

2009-05-08T22:50:00.001+08:00

Silence, darkness.

That's all there's left.

I still want out.

2009-04-29T16:04:00.001+08:00

"Ah, Fuck Me."

Sums up life pretty much at the moment, really.

We talk about love, but we love on conditions.

2009-04-22T12:29:00.004+08:00

Oh, how true these words ring.

But then again, there's always exceptions to the rule.

Thank God for you.

Yeah. You know who you are. =)

We talk.

2009-04-19T13:32:00.005+08:00

We talk about giving, but we all want to receive.

We talk about loving, but we love on conditions.

We talk about faith, but we doubt ourselves.

We talk about generosity, but we think "what's in it for me."

We talk about excellence, but we forget that we aren't perfect.

We talk about effort, but we ignore the cost.

We talk about others, but fail to look inwards.

We talk about talents, but not about how to develop them.

We talk about support, but there isn't any real acceptance left in the world.

We talk about change, but we fail to see the beauty of individuality.

We talk about the wonders of science, but do not consider the consequences.

We talk about the environment, but in the long run we do not practice what we preach.

We talk about sex, but we do not think of the emotional connection of it.

We talk about life, but refuse to acknowledge death.

We talk about what God can do for us, but never what we can do for Him.

Sometimes, we need to make up our damn minds.

Realization

2009-04-18T11:29:00.004+08:00

I'll try to be the best friend I can be.

2009-04-05T01:14:00.004+08:00

Sick and tired of obligations, expectations.

I do not want your opinions, I do not need you breathing down my neck telling me how to live my life.

I may not know what's best for me, but I do know what I want.

All I want to do now is run.

Far away.

You know...

2009-04-01T14:30:00.001+08:00

I've had time to review my life lately, and I realize that much of it has just passed me by. Either I was left helpless and straggling trying to find a way in this world, or I was too lazy to make a difference and to change situations for the better. So I made a vow to myself, no longer will I disillusion myself into thinking that it really is never my fault. No longer will I hold on to the resolute view of myself being the ultimate pinnacle of humanity. I will strive for excellence and change for the better.

April fool.

It's the world that has to change. Not me. _|_!!

Sob

2009-03-30T16:27:00.003+08:00

Pesal blog aku tak de komen. ;_;

The Unrefined Masses

2009-03-29T18:39:00.001+08:00

So I was playing an immensely popular Warcraft III map one day, when this conversation started up for reasons unfathomable to me.

DotaGODLIKEKIllerZzZ: Sei mahai noob kser. dno how play noe ks oni cb noob.

Me: I'm sorry, are you implying that I took a kill that was supposedly yours? Pray, tell me, how would you have killed him if it wasn't for my fantastically timed stun, my useful lightning bolt, and my incredibly fast reflexes?

DotaGODLIKEKillerZzZ: cb don tok so many de. noob is noob

Me: I know you're bitter over the fact that I probably get more sex in a weekend than you'll ever get in your entire life, but are these deragatory comments really necessary?

DotaGODLIKEKillerZzZ: noob sohai gv u fuck later than u noe

Me: I'm flattered by your forthrightness, but I'm afraid you have to wait in line like everyone else.

DotaGODLIKEKillerZzZ has left the game.

The problem with being a vastly superior being is the amount of idiots you have to put up with in life.

Earth Hour?

2009-03-26T22:41:00.001+08:00

Is something I will most definitely not participate in.

Reason why?

"This year, Earth Hour has been transformed into the world’s first global election, between Earth and global warming. For the first time in history, people of all ages, nationalities, race and background have the opportunity to use their light switch as their vote – Switching off your lights is a vote for Earth, or leaving them on is a vote for global warming. WWF are urging the world to VOTE EARTH and reach the target of 1 billion votes, which will be presented to world leaders at the Global Climate Change Conference in Copenhagen 2009. This meeting will determine official government policies to take action against global warming, which will replace the Kyoto Protocol. It is the chance for the people of the world to make their voice heard." (source: www.voteearth2009.org)

This is a fundamentally flawed argument. One cannot presume to stand for the people when this campaign is organization based, meaning that we are influenced by what we read, hear and see. The figures that are thrown out about global warming and how our earth is reaching climates of unbearable conditions is manipulated as much as it is dispensed.

But of course, that's just me. Anyway, here's just a few thoughts

Doran, P.T., Priscu, J.C. et al., 2002, "Antarctic Climate cooling and terrestrial ecosystem response", Nature 415: 517-20
"From 1986 to 2000 central Antartic valleys cooled .7 degrees Celcius per decade with serious ecosystem damage from cold."

Comisco, J.C., 2000,"Variability and trends in Antarctic surface temperatures from in situ and satellite infrared measurements", Journal of Climate 13:1674-96
"Both satellite data and ground stations show slight cooling over the last 20 years"

Joughin, I. and Tulaczyk, S., 2002, "Positive mass balance of the Ross Ice Streams, West Antartica", Science 295: 476-80.
"Side-looking radar measurements show West Antartic ice is increasing at 26.8 gigatons/yr. Reversing the melting trend of the last 6,000 years."

""So," Kenner said, "global warming represents a threat to the world?"
"Absolutely," Bradley said. "A threat to the whole world."
"What sort of threat are we talking about?"
"Crop failures, spreading deserts, new diseases, species extinction, all the glaciers melting, Kilimanjaro, sea-level rise, extreme weather, tornadoes, hurricanes, El Nino events-"
"That sounds extremely serious," Kenner said.
"It is," Bradley said. "It really is"
"Are you sure of your facts?"
"Of course"
"You can back your claims with references to the scientific literature?"
"Well, I can't personally, but scientists can."

"Actually, scientific studies do not support your claims. For example, crop failure - if anything, increased carbon dioxide stimulates plant growth. There is some evidence that this is happening. And the most recent satellite studies show the Sahara has shrunk since 1980... rate of emergence of new diseases has not changed since 1960...Kilimanjaro (has been) melting since the 1800s - long before global warming... Sea level is indeed rising...as it has been for the last six thousand years, ever since the start of the Holocene. " (Micheal Crichton, "State Of Fear")

Think about it.

Life, the universe, and everything

2009-03-24T23:45:00.002+08:00

So what is the ultimate answer to it all?

That would be obvious. 42.

In the Beginning.

2009-03-18T22:28:00.001+08:00

Something poignant struck me in Literature Studies a week back; the idea that human beings need a creation to have a creator before they are able to accept its' validity. It seems there is a fundamental instinct in us that requires every piece of work to originate from somewhere, from someone before it can be considered something of worth. It seems we are generally not accepting of the fact that something can simply exist, without an origin, without a creator.

The whole debate about Homer (the supposed writer of Odyssey) being a possibly entirely fictional character, constructed so as not refute the idea that the collection of stories in the epic simply came to be, really hit a chord. In a sense, there's almost a religious connotation from this; the very idea of creationism and that this world, this place, must come from SOMETHING simply because we cannot accept the fact that something can come into existence by BEING.

This struck me is poignant because that was the only thing I could remember after the class and I was hungry.

Almost paradigm

2009-03-13T23:54:00.001+08:00

It's interesting when you think about it, how we are all merely cumulative byproducts of a increasingly destructive culture; even though we try our hardest to deny it. We talk about technological advance - the internet, the phone, web cams, scientific wonders all designed to make communication easier. Instead, now we are planted behind screens that serve to make outright communication virtually impossible. We talk about weapons, armaments, all created to serve the purpose of keeping the peace. Instead, there is more death and chaos in the world now, more than ever. We talk about restoring the environment. I ask, restoring what, exactly? The argument that pollution and global warming will destroy the earth is fundamentally flawed. The earth has outlived us by about several billion years; we are arrogant to think we could destroy the planet with our mistakes.

You talk about global culture as if it's a wonderful thing. Certainly, it may have its' merits, but tell me, what have we lost in the process? The very wonders of tradition have been vanquished in the face of the rapid growth towards modernization. The beauty of generational culture is forsaken in the bid for the acceptance of the current, the now.

Because certainly, everything looks different from the other side.