Pet peeves

You must be thinking oh no, there goes the Earl of Whine-dom again! What new rave is he unleashing upon poor old me! Save me! There, there, hold your horses my young padawan learner. A few things to clarify, this is just a generic rave inspired by real life occurrences of course (of which some of you dear readers may be able to identify the protagonist(s)) not a particular attack on any individual which admittedly I am so wont to do. Another thing to note is that, this of course is my blog, if I am not free to express my views here, I could of course call you on the phone and whine. Now, now, that is purely hypothetical, now that I established my freedom to whine on the cybersphere, I probably not (note its improbable not impossible) pick up the phone, so please don't feel compelled to pretend you were on the phone with the Oval Office when my number appears on your caller-ID, the world can wait for you.

Okay, now that the prologue is out of the way, let's go on to my pet peeves proper (well, if proper is ever an appropriate word to use on a post laced with non-constructive criticism)

1. Ridiculous self-invented names:
Now I am not just talking about people whose are names are bestowed by parents' with a unique sense of humor like Rain, Phoenix, Dweezil, Moon Unit, Kobe, Matrix, Kal-El (no, I am not referring to the fictional Superman but the descendant of the next onscreen superman), Rocket, Racer, Rogue, Beckham, Brooklyn whatever..... Its bad form to criticise one's parents. Nay, it may be laughable when one's parent's choose such gems of absurdity for you, but when you christen yourself in a bid to appear unique, its downright ludicrous. Now two main categories:
i) mis-spelt existing or modify names or like Precelia, Kerene, Jaffrey, Cheryline, Jacquedie, Adriel, Daryline etc.
ii) adopt from existing words that were not meant for first names: Sky, Chantal, Money, Windy, Cash etc.

2. Parking Pontianaks aka Feng Fei Fei aka Fatimah aka Hua Jie aka Gestapo aka CPAs (Car Park Attendants)
Ok, ok, everyone has a job to do, not really fair to criticise them. Just want to share some of the nicks I have heard.

3. Dastardly differing definitions
Sounds like nonsense, just bear with me slightly. Like for example, if somewhere texts you "Coming down now", what does "now" mean to you? Now would probably mean immediate, unless my vocabulary is really messed up, no? Ok, even if I am willing to expand the confines of 'immediate' there is a limit to how far it can be stretched. If the distance between 'down' is but a mere descend of the lift, I wager that now should not take more than ten minutes not a full forty-five. If you have not gathered by now, this is a real life incident, but what struck me was the aplomb the perpetrator turned the table and accused me of being impatient and petty. Astounding, only a woman is capable of such a deed, no?

4. Hypocrisy
This warrants an entire post in itself, just let me attempt to sum this up as succintly as I can: My life interests you as much as your life interests me, you don't see me feigning it do you?

I have a great deal more, actually but I decided I appear too much like a grumpy old man, better refrain.

Treading the same ol' path

Does familiarity really breed contempt? Certainly the fact that some of my closest friends hold me in contempt does lend some credence to this familiar phrase. But no, this is not a whine-fest about how unappreciated I am by the ones I call brethren. Nope, this is Christmas after all, spirit of cheer and all that, yea? Rather, this is about a journey of self-discovery and self-actualisation that I had undertaken of late. At this juncture I can almost hear the groans go up and hear the whirling of mouse scrolls, not another needlessly self-indulgent ill-disguised whine. Well not exactly, considering how little interaction I have had with the outside world in my period of self-imposed isolation, where else would I go, if not inward?

Anyway, further talk of such nature would only mislead the reader that this blogger is a narcissist, which most definitely I am not. Of course I am not, what makes you say so? I am so misunderstood. Let ME explain. you don't know ME! Don't you judge ME! How can you say that about ME! I hate you! Come back here, I am talking to you! Why won't anyone listen to ME! Nobody understands ME! Nobody loves ME! Nobody cares about ME!

Brushing that little utterly pointless side-show aside, it does seem that invariably, life has fallen into a routine, at least for me, such that at times I have to really consider if repetition of an activity is birthed out of sustained interest or repetition sustains the interest. For example, reading, one of my most beloved activities. There was a period of my life when I had been so comfortable reading and re-reading certain novels, that it seems almost ritual for me to revisit them, that I may recite the text verbatim, recreate the scenes in my mind, reenact dialogues time and again. I am rather ashamed to say that I have read the Godfather more comprehensively and at some juncture more frequently than any other book (yes including the Bible, gasp!). I could flip to any page and carry on reading from that point without having a gap in the story. A distant second would be Kane and Abel (yes its disgusting that its not even Cain and Abel). Yes these two books were what I would consider an absolutely compelling read, definitely worth re-reading, but the extent to which I revisited, re-revisited, re-re-revisted (you get the idea, I am too ashamed to continue butchering the English language) these novels surely would have outstripped the lure of the novel. Perhaps, it was a case where I was so comfortable within those literary confines that any deviation would be not be sustained.


The story remains the same for food I guess. Unwittingly, I find myself circling the same stalls, ordering the same dishes, time and again. Not that I am utterly smitten with the culinary skills of the vendors, not that there is some addiction to the taste or in some cases lack thereof, perhaps just as a case of simplicity, just a lack of energy to ponder further, if it remains bearable (and these confines expands on a daily basis) why bother changing it? Same goes for my regular watering hole, if I am meeting Capt its at A, if I am going with JK, its at B, if I am meeting them both generally its at A unless we are already at B. Its oddly appropriate to describe my drinking patterns as formulaic. Even my choice of poison is largely varying within limited confines; if I am driving, its Kilkenny or Guiness Draught, if I am not, its either Black Label or MacCallum. At this juncture, the reader may be forgiven for denouncing this blogger as utterly devoid of imagination and variety, in other words, being an engineer.

That cheap blow aside, all the above while mildly depressing, lacks the makings of a tragedy. Where someone occupies your thoughts, your fancies, the ends to your means, upon careful analysis, you suspect that its more out of habit than anything else, would it not be absolutely tragic? You find yourself wondering if your continual pursuit perhaps would stem out of nothing more than habitual familiarity? Or has the flames which should have long fizzled out been sustained by the embers of remembrance?

As the curtains draw on yet another largely uneventful year, will the new one usher in a new era?

Networking

Definitely an activity that I utterly detest, not because I am totally adverse towards all social activities that require interaction with participants numbering more than two although that statement is not untrue. Nay, rather its for what the common usage of this word has degenerated into. In its original form, network wherein relates to human relationship is defined as a supportive system of sharing information and services among individuals and groups having a common interest.

In other words, networking is an event where people come together to make acquaintances for the sole purpose of uncovering how they may make use of each other. Not even with some cursory attempt to disguise the true intent. No doubt the vast majority of working adults' small talk do not breech the subject of one's occupation within three questions, but when people get together or proudly proclaim that its their main purpose for expanding their social circle, it does sound offensive, at least to me.

You want to come for a networking session? a colleague asked me. Oh you mean one of those events where you go around distributing and collecting name cards after which you file them all to be retrieved on the day you might possibly realise the value of association with that person? No thanks, I would much rather spend my time analysing the fascinating patterns on my ceiling.

Facebook also has the description of networking as an option for the types of relationships they are searching. Oh, how astoundingly candid: I am looking for people who might be of value to me, if I ever contact you it is probably because there is something in it for me, don't contact me, I will contact you. This is almost as irritating as "It's complicated" for your status which I had previously blogged about.

The guise of meeting people for the sole purpose of making friends seems like a totally alien concept, is it not? Are we in a culture that celebrates material gains and personal advancement openly and gratituously? Not that I am an advocate for hypocrisy but subtlety is not without merits. Yet increasingly the transparency with which we embrace networking is shocking, as though there it is the most natural thing to do.

In simplicity, historically speaking there are a few classes of people, the merchant class, the scholars/artists class, the civil government and the clergy/monks. In an affluent society like Singapore, it seems the merchant class is the most dominant and its influence has permeated to all other classes. If you look at the state of modern literature for example, much of it has been prostituted. The civil government while maintaining its reputation of incorruptability has to dangle a huge monetary carrot to attract talents into their ranks. Most disturbingly, the clergy is increasingly secularised that it smacks of commercialism and church harvest events are managed and marketed not unlike the latest products.

With the degeneration of society into one big merchant guild, it is little surprise that people are so candid about networking. Long live the merchants!

I have a sucky feeling

This title looks decidedly juvenile, something which under ordinary circumstances I would cringe to put on in my blog. Anyway, today I don't really care, I am royally pissed. PISSED.

What if you were told of something that would require you to radically change your life as you knew it, that you had spent some time resolving your inner apprehensions to psyche yourself up for it, something that you had planned at lengths for, overcoming the doubts into enthusiasm; and just like that, it was pulled. The rug under your feet that you thought you had stood firmly on was just yanked away. No warning, no signs, no explanations, no epilogue. Just yanked from underneath your feet.

Fall? More like plunge into a deep abyss, where you see no bottom to which you would eventually reach? Darkness..... Despair..... Distress....... Disillusionment........

Nobody likes the feeling of being treated like yesterday's garbage...... Where do I go from here? Its taking more self-control than I possess not to spout vulgarities..... I suppose a simple click of the mouse would save me from this struggle............

Labels

Here I am not referring Campbell or Heinz but rather the generic terms that others impose on us in order to facilitate the easy identification of our nature. Like the word “geek” conjures up the image of a gawky teenage heavily affected by myopia that would suffer from withdrawal symptoms should he be separated from his laptop for periods that are measurable by analog devices. Or “hip” when used to describe an individual pertains to one whose tastes are impeccably attuned and aligned to the latest fashion magazines which incidentally tend to be imported and not readily available on the shelves of your favorite “mamak” stall. In the post-modern non-conformist Google generation (you can tell I am throwing labels around for fun), our penchant for classifying people has escalated to unprecedented heights.

Are we not a society that emphasizes individuality and non-conformity? Why then should that be a convention for the non-conformist? When I was experimenting with this phase (i.e. when I was young and stupid) the mould for the non-conformist was the ‘grunge’ look. Being woefully out of sync with the latest in the world of the hip and fashionable, I have no idea what is the present equivalent so don’t cringe and shudder at my imperfect parallel using this as justification that I am hopeless out of touch (which incidentally I probably am).

“Cool” as I knew it back when I bothered involved a remarkable dedication to creating a look and image of nonchalance. Who would have thought that looking casual is anything but? Perhaps the powers-that-be in the mysterious council of the socially acceptable had a remarkable love for irony. That would explain why those who yearn for differentiation from the norm look like everyone else with the same desire.

Life is full of ironies is it not? In finding your own voice, you mimic others. In searching for your own identity, you turn to others for analysis. In companionship, you experience solitude. In trying to conform, you end up deformed. Somewhere along the line I transcended the boundaries of sense.

To put all my rather convoluted writings into perspective, consider how we Singaporeans tend to stick labels on others with the most limited of observations. When your friend answers you in fluent Hokkien/Singlish, you would instantaneously think of him as an “ah beng” or an “ah lian” if “he” happens to be a she. If you happen to be unfortunate enough to be subject to my endless soliloquies on self-identity, (which means you are probably remarkably adept at feigning interest or disguising disinterest) this theme is by no means novel to you. Of the many comments I received related to this, one that remains not unlike a resounding gong is this “I can’t believe that an ah beng like you read so many books”. Now if this came from an Oxford fellow (not as if an Oxford fellow would use this local colloquial expression but oh well, you get the point) I would accept it with nary a complaint. Where the perpetrator is one who in my limited (and you have no idea how limited it is) graciousness I choose not to comment on her linguistic prowess or lack there-of, the statement is all the more offensive. Where people of inferior education backgrounds to mine (what a decidedly snobbish statement, not as if I was from King’s College but anyway….) slap that label of “ah beng” on me, it does require a Herculean effort to remain civil (read: not vulgar).

Well, actually the whole point of all my rather unnecessary writings can be summed up in the above paragraph. I am peeved at constantly being mistaken for some lowly educated ruffian but the reluctance of being exposed as a petty, self-absorbed individual prompted me to launch into some quasi-philosophical commentary on cultural trends. If there is a conclusion to be drawn, its that I have too much time on my hands, but you probably already know that.

The Benefit of Hindsight

How often have you heard the expression "It's better to regret something you did than something you didn't do?". Well, in all honesty, there are some things I did that I regret bitterly, and bitter not in the sense of "eeew-screwed-face-bitter" but more like "spit-it-out-and-wash-gargle-mouth-with-listerine-and-drink-listerine-and-still-feel-horrific-bitter". Of course the extent of regret does have a wide spectrum. For one end of it you have "I wish I didn't drink that much last night" and you swear you will never binge again, only until the next craving sets in, and you discard that altogether. Right at the polar opposite, you have deeds commited that three quarters of a year down the road, you still cringe and wonder if your brain was taking a siesta at that juncture. The only reason why I say three quarters of a year is because that is exactly how long it has lapsed to date. Perhaps, ten years down the road, I will look back and still cringe at that incident and conclude my brain was on a pilgrimage at that juncture.

Now what I am about to write about is decidedly devoid of gallantry, grace and chivalry but knowing me as some of you do (actually I think this is only applicable to RW), it is scarcely out of character especially in this regard. Anyway, the prologue has dragged on longer than it should (as always) so on to the main issue direct:

If the scope where our collective memories intersect can be traced back in terms of decades, you would recall that as an adolescent with raging hormones and non-existent wisdom, my pursuits during those teenage years were varied and frequent, on many occasions, having a volatility that would resembles some gases I would be able to recall had I paid more attention in chemistry classes back then. Anyway, looking back, there were many cringe-worthy moments but I do suppose my the idyllic (idiotic) nature of youth would suffice as a defence. Having met some of my ex-crushes after the passage of time has ravaged them (oh man, I am such a gentleman) I certainly have cause for rejoicing that in detailing our experiences, its entirely in past tense.

After graduation, perhaps its maturity, perhaps its fatigue, perhaps its just meeting someone who forever changed my life, my pursuits have been fewer, few and far between, dare I say. Which only serves to add to the disgust that wells up upon self-reflection. At a juncture when one had all but given up hope on the Special One (or so I thought), one decided that compromise would have been an inevitable option. Suffice it to say, for not the first time, I was totally wrong.

When your intended compromise views you as a compromise she is not willing to make, adding insult to injury ceases to be a mere cliche. It is one thing to fail to hit the bull's eye but its quite another to fail to hit the board altogether. The sense of failure does not merely descend, it envelopes. Engulfs. Encompasses your entire being.

Anyway, moving right along, you would think that one is able to get over the incident entirely given the curative prowess of time. In an sense, one does. In another sense, an entire new dimension has been introduced into this equilibrium. Rather than being plagued by depressive thoughts associated with failure, it is a feeling of "What-on-earth-was-I-thinking?????????" that surges. A few pointed but relevant questions that came up were:
1) Was I blind?
2) Had I totally no taste?
3) Had desperation totally overwhelmed me?
4) Can I kill everyone who had knowledge of that incident?

Whenever someone brings up that incident, I cringe. Period. C. R. I. N. G. E. And then suppress the bile that rises. Really, one can't make mistakes, can one. Its at times like this I wish I had that gadget that Tommy Lee Jones had in M.I.B. that once flashed, erases the memory entirely. First up would be myself. I still get the shivers thinking how ludicrous my behaviour and intents were. Can I shoot myself?

Well meaning friends best be advised............. This is an episode of my life that would best be forgotten, forever...... Still have the taste of bile in my mouth.....

Of four letter words

Wait is a four letter word in more sense than one, is it not? Frustrations boil over when you are in this state. Seemingly your life is put on hold as you await the results of a decision that you have absolutely no influence over. A simple "yes" or "no" would alter the course of your life.

As some of you faithful readers out there (although I have absolutely no idea who is left) would have gathered by now, this is typical DC hyperbole. Certainly I am not holding my breath for the answer to my wedding proposal or something of that magnitude, but insofar as impact goes, this is pretty close to the apex of plausible scenarios in my life presently.

A myriad of issues need to be ironed out upon confirmation of this, its as though I am at the threshold of a new era. Yet, trying to predict how things pan out is like trying to monitor the Nasdaq. Without internet access. Or phone access.

Incidentally, I just heard over a podcast that this present generation is described as the digital generation. A generation that has never known what is like not to be able to access information instantly. A generation where research is done more often than not using Wikipedia rather than the good ol' fashion Britannica. I just have to add the very quotable quote I heard (even though it seems out of place here): a generation that thinks of "mice" primarily as computer peripherals rather than rodents.

Since I am still in my twenties, albeit very late twenties, I am a bit of a hybrid between the digital and the print generation. Hope that my traditional sensibilities would sustain me. Although it must be said, in learning the value of patience, I can understand why the same Greek word is translated long suffering in the KJV.

Nothing much can be done, other than waiting for it. Waiting on Him.

What do dreams really mean?

Lately I have been having so many dreams, most of them are probably the equivalent of a episode of say........ really no example comes to me. Probably testifies to how little of television I watch these days. Okay, probably Simpsons, not that its all comic in nature but rather it's a self-contained little dream, everything pans out in one nugget-sized sitting, without any loose ends or continuation to the story. In other words, it's a short and sweet type of dream. And boy were some of these dreams ever ever sweet...........


This week alone, I had a couple of dreams that I have some recollection of. Does it mean anything? Well maybe for starters its a sign that my mind is too active at night, probably because they have been largely dormant during the day time, particularly during office hours where I am ridiculously free. The extent is ludicrous, I reiterate. Since my request for transfer was officially approved and my status is basically that of a chair warmer (i.e. waiting for my replacement to come in), the amount of work I have been assigned ranges from cursory to non-existent. Case in point, it's a monday morning and this morning I have received less than 10 emails, 5 of which are routine reports that are cc-ed to me for no reason other than I was on the mailing list by convention. Remaining 5, 3 are replies to the same theme that requires an attention span of circa 5 minutes (including the time it requires for me to finish drinking my coffee and I am a slow drinker for non-alcoholic drinks). So, it should surprise no one that my nocturnal mind is as active as a cheetah running off with a can of Pepsi Max (man, am I ever so full of s***).

I really think my dreams are pretty much congruent with a lot of thoughts/meditations/hallucinations. I would like to think that those are noctural forthtelling visions but then again I am a perpetual optimist when it comes to certain issues. I suspect only RW would be able to make light of what gibberish I am spouting now. Gosh, I feel like a woman, unleashing a flurry of random sentences and expect others to make sense of it.

Have you ever woke up from a dream thinking that you are so absurdly long-winded, even in your dreams? Have you ever open your eyes wondering who on earth can you share that dream with since it felt so sweet but yet there are certain contents that once revealed, would change the very entire premise of your relationship? Have you ever had three dreams in the same night that could very weave together in one longer dream ala Pulp Fiction? Have you wondered where I am going with this? In typical DC fashion, there is a lot of smoke, a lot of air but in the end, it's a cliffhanger......... Gosh, I should be script writer since lots of movies pan out like this these days........

Musings about my muse

Though we know not what the future may hold,
Laughter, tears, joy, distress and tales to be told,
I will rejoice in my blessings that our paths has crossed,
If this is all we will ever be, all progress will be paused,
Still I will rejoice in these memories that are such a gift,
When I recall them, my spirits surely will lift,
Call it fate, destiny, divine appointment, providence,
For those in doubt surely there is much evidence,
Of the Divine's work in bringing 'bout our route's congruence,
If joy's a currency, this is the source of my affluence.

I wish you well, trust me one day I really will,
If farewells are in order, my heart will be still.
Sharing your joy some how will be contagious,
I say in faith not in fact lest I sound fallacious.
Surrender I am learning though now I lack,
His sufficiency and grace will still bring me back,
Though the fig tree or the vines blossoms not,
In my God I trust; whose face I've sought,
He will bring me through whatever He ordain,
In Him my toil and tears will not be in vain.

Broad definitions

Some words in the English language can be use to define a full range of activities or entities that differ significantly in scope and application. It is interesting how the same word has so many usage that leaves the reader baffled when it comes up. Sounds like I am babbling? Please read on:

1) Work

Now this is an all-encompassing term, used in our modern day to entail all activities you engage in that ultimately contributes to your paycheck. Depending on your actual job scope, the phrase "I am working now" can cover the following activities:

i) Slogging in front of the PC frantically doing endless reports or replying a never-ending stream of questions
ii) Playing golf
iii) Drinking coffee and talking about golf
iv) Eating lunch or dinner and talking about golf
v) Having a beer and talking about golf
vi) Soaking in the hot pool and talking about golf
vii) Calling a client while shopping for golf accessories
viii) Going to a client's office to talk about golf
ix) Taking golf lessons
x) Seated in front of your PC and thinking about golf


2) Busy
Usually used in conjunction with the phrase "Don't disturb me now, I am......"
Its coverage is even greater than 1) as it encompasses but is not limited to the usage above. Other common use in additional to 1) includes
i) Gossiping with colleagues
ii) Bearing the brunt of your boss' nonsense, frequently after he is a recipient of the same from his boss
iii) Watching TV/movies/the spider crawling on the ceiling
iv) Admiring (read:oogling at) girls/cars
v) Shopping although this is the exclusive right of the fairer sex
vi) Accompanying/talking to Gxxxx (okay, only one person uses this definition)
vii) Manicure/pedicure/skin-kena-cure(d)
viii) blogging (hahahahaha)
ix) shading 4-D tickets

3) Urgent
As this term can by no means be treated exhaustively in my non-Encyclopedia Britannia rivaling entry, usage here refers to circumstances that pertain to your female friends's usage in activities that require your immediate attention. In case you missed that out, its IMMEDIATE attention
i) Anything to do with them
ii) nothing else

4) For your own good
This phrase has been used by everyone from your mother to your colleague who refused to give you a hand. I have learnt in twenty something years in life that it could refer to one of the following:
i) eating horrendous vegetables that taste like grass that has just been organically fertilized
ii) complaining to your boss that you ignored their trivial enquiry
iii) forcing you to walk under the hot sun at a time when you are supposed to be in bed
iv) humiliation

5) Friends
Ah, what a wonderful word that encompasses such a broad range! That wonderful catch-all word that seems to explain a relationship completely, look what it encompasses:
i) People whom you encounter in your job whom you can approach for assistance either directly or indirectly
ii) People who are mysteriously in your contact list but you have not the foggiest idea whom they are
iii) Colleagues who call you that when they need a favor from you
iv) People whom you share every minute detail of your banal existence with
v) That person who occupies your every pleasant thought every waking moment for the past years

Things I will never understand

Not one associated with humility, it is rare that I will concede defeat unequivocally. Very rare indeed. Yet, this post is about the phenomenons that I must unconditionally accept my complete ignorance of and total inability to fathom. Here it goes in no particular order of merit


1) Why woman view their involvement in their friends' weddings as integral and indispensable? Does it matter they have ABSOLUTELY nothing to wear? Define nothing to wear, you mean they have been running around stark naked daily? Does it matter whether they look fat? I mean if its their wedding well and fine but they are part of the guests list, along with a few hundred other people, all eyes are going to be on the bride and groom, no? Case in point, when my best friend had his ROM a few months back, I went swimming in the morning and the only preparation I made was to iron an EXISTING shirt. Of course, I am a bit of an extreme case since I still managed to be late on this extremely sacred day, :p

2) Why are woman always right?
When they criticise you, they are being truthful, when you criticise them, you are being mean.

When they tell you what to do, they are showing concern, when you tell then what to do, you are overbearing.

When they are ignore you, they are busy (saving the world), when you ignore them, you are throwing a tantrum.

When they refuse to help you, they are teaching you independence, when you refuse to help them, you are a selfish pig.

When they don't pay attention to you, they have other weightier issues on their minds, when you don't pay attention to you, you are an insensitive pig.

When they are late, they are tied up with other commitments, when you are late, you are a thoughtless pig.

When they criticise your friends, they are helping you to steer away from bad company, when you criticise their friends, you are a judgemental pig.

When they dismiss your suggestions, your suggestions sucks, when you dismiss their suggestions, you are critical pig.

When they interrupt your conversation midway, there is some grandiose scheme behind it which basically is for your own good, when you interrupt their conversation midway, oh God have mercy on you, you pig.

When they band together against you, they are exercising gender loyalty, when you band together with other suffering men against them, all men are pigs.

Which brings me to the third mystery.....

3) Why are all men labeled as pigs?
'nuff said

4) Why do women have boundless reserves of energy for shopping?
The same feet that are killing them miraculously transform into well-oiled machines of extra-ordinary power and durability when the life giving four letters "S-A-L-E" bound together to form that word of inexplicable power. Eternity is not long enough for them and enough cumulative distance to challenge a marathon runner are but mere details. In heels no less.

5) Why are women's problems always a life threatening crisis and men's problems insignificant?
If you need me to explain this, you probably don't know any women other than your mother.

6) Why am I writing this when I know it will invariably increase the possibility of me dying alone?
One word: time
Too much of it

The summer of sequels

This seems to be the summer of sequels, Spiderman 3, Pirates of the Carribean 3, Shrek 3, Fantastic Four 2, Die Hard 4.0 ( which I thought was dead and buried hard already), Harry Potter et al. Why so many sequels? Is it because these franchises are already tried and tested? Is it because we fear to tread unfamiliar grounds? Is it because men inevitably retraces his steps?

Is DC going for a sequel again? Surely a LOTR scale trilogy would have sufficed? I mean, hasn't the tale run its entire course? Has not all possibilities been exhausted? What other direction may a sequel take? What can be said that has not already been said before? What can be done that has not been done before? Is there not already a closure to this?

As I pondered what is the difference between persistence and insanity? The answer is simply this: the end result. To quote Thomas Edison, he discovered 999 ways NOT to make a light bulb, but what if in the end he didn't wind up inventing the light bulb and was doomed to failure all his life, at least in this respect? You would think him mad would you not?

If long drawn toil results in a resounding success, surely it would be a source of inspiration to others? What if ultimately success remains elusive? Nothing to talk about right? No matter how impressive one's persistence and efforts are, if there is no end result, it is more than an exercise in futility, its plain lunacy. And the depths of lunacy are directly proportional to the efforts, is it not?

Which begs the questions, should the fourth instalment ever be written in this tale that would dwarf "War and Peace" in scale and depth?

Dear friends, please cast your votes...........

Then again, what nonsense, not as if my readership is akin to Mr Brown or Xiaxue, don't think I can garner a sample size of any significance.

Narcissism

Yesterday, I wrote about the fascinating phenomenon that I would like to summarize as DCM, a post that upon self-reflection seems to exude a bit of narcissism on my part. Well, considering self-reflection and observing self's reflection are part of my daily routine, I do consider this description not altogether inappropriate. (Notice how many times the words I, my and self had appeared to this short paragraph)


Anyway, in order to expound on this topic more accurately, the tireless and relentless pursuit of the truth drove DC to type http://www.dictionary.com/ and upon seeing the blank column type "narcissism" frantically and depress the 'search' icon with a swift combination of wrist and finger on the mouse. (Were you expecting a search of the magnitude and scope in "Raiders of the Lost Ark"? This is classic DC, dramatizing the drab drudgery) Here was what turned up:


nar·cis·sism [nahr-suh-siz-em]

–noun
1. inordinate fascination with oneself; excessive self-love; vanity.
2. Psychoanalysis. erotic gratification derived from admiration of one's own physical or mental attributes, being a normal condition at the infantile level of personality development.


Not sure about you but point 2. kind of freaks me out. I mean what abomination of nature would get turned on looking at himself/herself? "Erotic gratification" from him/her self? That is the stuff that belong solely on the National Enquirer between the headlines "UFOs landed in Houston" and "Elvis lives!". Weird. Then again, I have the misfortune of meeting one person who comes precariously close to that definition. Here are some gems of wisdom from that National Enquirer Interviewee:

DC: When did you start taking an interest in her?
NEI: When she started probing about my wealth.
DC: When DID she probe about your wealth, what wealth, Donald Trump?


NEI: Tell you something very interesting, did you know that my left armpit is more smelly than my right armpit?
DC: If I knew that without you telling me, I think I am a perfect waste of oxygen and fresh water.


NEI: I know I make you feel inferior but I can't help it.


I could actually go on and on about his turds of waste-dom, but keeping in line with the theme of this post, its not about other people, its about DC. So let me continue....... Then again, I ran out of things to say about myself, so I am not a narcissist! So there!

The repression of the inner man

Before I embark on what this post entails, let me state what this post is not about. For those whose minds are a permanent resident of the gutters, there is no deep dark fantasy in question, nor are there any lolita like musings. Neither is there a scarcely uncontrolled rage boiling beneath me. How then, should I tell this story now that all these pointless fillers are out of the way?

Let me try the methodology of chronos. The inspiration behind this post all started with an innocent phone call on Monday. My friend called me while he was overseas and suddenly requested for a favour. Judging from the somber tone and ill-concealed anxiety of his voice, I steadied myself for the gravity of the task I would be called upon. As the words rolled off his tongue, I readied my pen and paper in case my memory would fail to recreate faithfully the entirety of his request: Bro, can you help me........ um...... (as his voice trailing off, a myriad of possibilities surfaced in the effervescent imagination of DC) send flowers to someone?"

Huh? Chey! As far as anti-climatic occurences go, this would have be the Bentley of them, majestic and unquestionably the elite of them all. Well, the story is not about the errand that I ran for him, although that in itself would be quite a tale. (well its not really the kind of news that CNN and BBC would be falling over themselves to scoop but considering the banality of my life lately, this is about the most exciting tale I have to share) Rather, the tale illuminated a truth that had been buried in the dark recesses of my mind (which has been rather empty of late): suddenly it struck me like a fully loaded truck with a 40 foot trailer travelling at 100 km/h ( I live in Singapore okay, 100 km/h is considered very fast) what passage of time has elasped since I last had the opportunity to unleash the full blast of the flamboyant fascinating DC magic. Well, not even the 'full blast', in fact, it has been a while since I was last given the opportunity to unveil even a fraction that would be considered above the levels of materiality.

For the uninitiated, uninspired and unimpressed (the last adjective probably relates to everyone with fully functional faculties), the 'DC-magic' is a depiction of the typical flash-and-bling modus operandi that yours truly bring to the table when it comes to declaring/exhibiting my interest in members of the opposite sex for a relationship that extends beyond the realms of platonic. In other words: kao za bor or kzb for short. To be more accurate, eight long years have elapsed since then.

Do not be mistaken, I have not embraced the monastic order since then. Nor have I been living as a hermit in total seclusion for four fifths of a decade. Rather, since my last demonstration of the width and scope of the DC-magic or DCM for short, since then my journey has largely been either 1) an immensely scaled down version of the DCM or abridged DC Magic (ADCM) for short or 2) the Cliff Notes of DC-Magic CLDCM. Lest you think my perchant for gibberish has escalated to heights that Edmund Hilary would not even touch with a pole, let me explain.

The ADCM has been birthed in the era where restrain was the buzzword. Typified by advice such as "Don't scare people off" and "Slowly, get to know her first", the ADCM was meant to be a prelude to the DCM where the protaganist would be warmed to the 'idea' prior to receiving the entire ensemble that DCM brings to the table. Sadly, thus far, intended recipient(s) were initially blissfully unaware of the intent as the 'idea' were kept at frigid level, the moment it was heated to levels approaching room temperature, the recipient quickly side-stepped the proposition. Okay, 'side-stepped' is an understatement, 'avoided like the plague' would be a bit more precise. Therein lies the travesty of nature that the repression of the inner man is. Its akin to asking Schumacher to drive two hundred miles while adhering to school-zone speed limits, retelling Lord of the Rings in two sentences, confining Sonny Rollins strictly to the score. Sheer injustice!

The CLDCM is worse in nature. Shaped by statements like "I need a man who offers me security, not little things like this" and "Its quite sweet but this is not what I need", it is more than restrain and repression, it is total repudiation of the core of DCM. Blissfully, the era in which the CLDCM is but a passing shower in the tempest of my life. Best left buried.

Oh how long? How long more before DCM may be once more unveiled in the entirety of its scope?

It's about time

I have been allowing these thoughts to fester for so long, hanging around like they were my best friends, waking up in the morning with them, going to sleep with them, eating with them. It's about time to let them go.

Another chapter has to be written, new stories to be told, new frontiers to be conquered, enough of dwelling in this place. It's time to move on.

Of all the possible emotions of the entire spectrum, the most tiring surely must be hatred and anger. Time to let go.......... To rebuild what was burnt and recover what was lost.