I guess that explains my broody and moody quietitude all the time in my youth. My mom has affected me to a very large extent. Her emotional grip on me has it coursing through my every vein - the deep well of emotions, love and hate. That was why I have to run away from it.
As she recounts all her stories of sufferings, I took it on as a part of me - so much so that I could feel all her sorrows, pains and angst. She must have been my singular most inluential factor.
She was a pious woman. I remember her attendance in church is always marked by the black veil she wears over her head. Her only comfort is the rosary she holds between her fingers whenever she meditates and prays. Never mind, how we were scorned at at some time in our lives where she was refused milk for me by the church. I think this was a turning point for me that I revolted against my religion. To me it was striking hypocriticism and lip service. The congregation and the practising religious people I see.
To a young person, that fair play and justice is crucial if you ever want to win trust and support.
That explains why acts of injustice and affront to the poor, the weak and the oppressed are not particularly something which I can swallow very well.
As I said before, I wept when I read about Jesus. I can only compare his sufferings to that of my mother and father. Jesus had died for the sake of his sorrowful passion. The every whip he took and crown of thorn that cuts deep into his human flesh must have hurt him so badly.
I pray too for my deaf and mute sister who must be suffering in her solitude of being in a dark world. I cannot imagine how she is going to live out her old age. I pray for my sister who suffered through her acrimonous divorce - the pain and abuse she suffered.
O Sweet Jesus. My mother has prayed to you consistently for your intercession and that of Mother Mary. Please keep both of them safe in heaven.
I must try to make lives better for them all.
Monday, August 29, 2005
Saturday, August 27, 2005
The Ravages Of War
All it took was one war in 1942 to have my whole genealogical generation wiped out of its riches and its progeny scattered and strewn.
My paternal grandfather was a rich merchant. He owns plantations in Bukit Timah and I remember him in a black-and-white photograph along with grandmother (the third wife to my grandfather by the way) , dressed in her fineries which included a tiara. I always thought I had this aristocratic stirrings in my bloodline.
As far as I knew, when the Japanese struck, they were hiding away their treasures and jewellery. Much of the riches were lost somehow. Grandmother died after giving birth to her last daughter and not long after, grandfather passed on too. My father was orphaned and had to fend for himself at a very young age along with her younger brother and sister. The older children of the first wife were in a world unto themselves.
As if that war has not done enough damage to my paternal line, my mother in the meantime had fled to Singapore with both her sister and cousin. It was ironical that they were fleeing the Japanese tormentors back home in China, only to suffer a worse fate here in Singapore.
My mom's sister was killed. She had to suffer the indignity of warfare by eating tapioca, working in the fields and at one point was debilitated with beri-beri. She hallucinated and thought she saw Mary, the Mother of God's , apparition. She miraculously recovered and atrributed this to the saving grace of God, thereby becoming a Roman Catholic convert.
They sang anti-Japanese songs , the lyrics of which I can still partly recite. It had to do with beating down the Japanese and hatred for their savagery.
My mother left behind a blind mother and her father together with her other older siblings. Sometimes I would wonder what my fate would have been if I had been born in China, now that China was opening up and modernising. The village back there had even transformed into a somewhat bustling city.
My mother was also courted by a rich Chinese businessman while staying in the nunnery. She must have been one of those few coveted in the convent for their housekeeping skills and as future wives-to-be. I sometimes wonder who this rich Chinese businessman could have been and how my life could have changed too.
She would write back home via one of those letter-writers on the streets back then. Sometimes she would get a reply of sorts and even remit money. I am not sure if the letter-writer was truly writing and remitting the money back to China. Even if the money ever got as far back to China, corrupt bureaucrats would probably have intercepted the remittance. She showed me these letters in old, yellowed and faded pages.
Even our family name got transcripted wrongly. We were never the surname we have now. Some clerk mis-recorded. We were "Chong" for heaven's sake.
The ravages of war had left my family line tattered and torn. I can only hope to salvage our lineage's pride and riches.
My paternal grandfather was a rich merchant. He owns plantations in Bukit Timah and I remember him in a black-and-white photograph along with grandmother (the third wife to my grandfather by the way) , dressed in her fineries which included a tiara. I always thought I had this aristocratic stirrings in my bloodline.
As far as I knew, when the Japanese struck, they were hiding away their treasures and jewellery. Much of the riches were lost somehow. Grandmother died after giving birth to her last daughter and not long after, grandfather passed on too. My father was orphaned and had to fend for himself at a very young age along with her younger brother and sister. The older children of the first wife were in a world unto themselves.
As if that war has not done enough damage to my paternal line, my mother in the meantime had fled to Singapore with both her sister and cousin. It was ironical that they were fleeing the Japanese tormentors back home in China, only to suffer a worse fate here in Singapore.
My mom's sister was killed. She had to suffer the indignity of warfare by eating tapioca, working in the fields and at one point was debilitated with beri-beri. She hallucinated and thought she saw Mary, the Mother of God's , apparition. She miraculously recovered and atrributed this to the saving grace of God, thereby becoming a Roman Catholic convert.
They sang anti-Japanese songs , the lyrics of which I can still partly recite. It had to do with beating down the Japanese and hatred for their savagery.
My mother left behind a blind mother and her father together with her other older siblings. Sometimes I would wonder what my fate would have been if I had been born in China, now that China was opening up and modernising. The village back there had even transformed into a somewhat bustling city.
My mother was also courted by a rich Chinese businessman while staying in the nunnery. She must have been one of those few coveted in the convent for their housekeeping skills and as future wives-to-be. I sometimes wonder who this rich Chinese businessman could have been and how my life could have changed too.
She would write back home via one of those letter-writers on the streets back then. Sometimes she would get a reply of sorts and even remit money. I am not sure if the letter-writer was truly writing and remitting the money back to China. Even if the money ever got as far back to China, corrupt bureaucrats would probably have intercepted the remittance. She showed me these letters in old, yellowed and faded pages.
Even our family name got transcripted wrongly. We were never the surname we have now. Some clerk mis-recorded. We were "Chong" for heaven's sake.
The ravages of war had left my family line tattered and torn. I can only hope to salvage our lineage's pride and riches.
A Tribute To My Form and Subject Teachers
Primary 1 - Mrs Ang : Sorry old hag. I remember you pinch my ears so hard in class for god-knows-what I had done that I never spoke up in class again. All you ever cared for were the lottery draw tickets you wanted us to sell to raise funds for the school. That Chinese handicraft teacher who makes us do fruit crafts like papaya. I loved getting my fingers gooey and sticky with all that paper mache.
Primary 2 - Mrs Doreen Khng : A supportive teacher who encourages and cajoles. I think I even won "Best Conduct" prize or something. Or was this in my later years? Cik Minah who pinches all the boys' private genitalia. Thanks for that and that is how guys get horny.
Primary 3 - Mr Lim Kok Kee. A huge and fat man. How did he ever get to his size I will never get to know or want to know. Strict and mostly punitive punishment that he metes out. Loves passing the volleyball real hard. Heard he has undergone some stomach operation and he has deflated so much.
Primary 4 - Mrs Juliana Chng. A bitch-face whom I don't really like. Ostensibly class-conscious and scoffs at my dad's occupation. I could do without you bitch. Hey all the Chinese teachers seem to have problems. Mr Heng and Mr Tim. What is wrong with you guys? Miss Szetoh who teaches Singapore history with such realism especially in her narration of Sang Nila Utama.
Primary 5 - Mrs Maria Tay. She is one of a kind. She trains me in my leadership role and makes me do all those things which I never dreamt of doing - concerts, skits, talentime, sports, the prefectorial board and the whole works. Thank you M/s Maria Teo. If not for you, I would never have the guts to do anything. Mr Robert Teo for his short-putting skills.
Primary 6 - Mr John Tan . A young handsome man whom I may have fallen in love with. Encourages me in my quest for knowing the English language so much better.
Secondary 1 - Mr Joachim Pereira. No problems here but our class was a noisy one so I guessed I sided with them in the "hooliganism". Miss Lian - I know the other guys are infatuated with her but sorry I am not. She may be the prettiest woman about town but I don't give a damn. Miss Christina Liew who comes across as someone who is serious and sincere.
Secondary 2- Mr John Cher. A remarkably sedate and soft-spoken man. No problems here too. Mr Heng - a sleepy Literature teacher. Mr Balasingam - a loud and funny history teacher.
Secondary 3 & 4 - Mr Peter Tan. My source of politicism. He dutifully does his work and we learn much by way of his English language pedagogy. Also religious. I am sorry I have to disappoint you on this count. Miss Chan who was just fresh out of school and teaches with oomph. Poor Miss Mary Lim, the bad boys make you cry. Miss Ting - Maths teacher, what really happened to you? You look and behave like a robotic mechanical zombie. Mrs Chia - that fierce and vocal Chinese teacher who makes me want to do well for my second language.
JC 1 & 2 - Cik Aminah. Cannot remember very much here maybe because I wasn't in class half the time. Nothing really memorable. Belinda Charles scares the hell out of me with her sharp tongue so maybe this is where I pick up mine. It is my only defence against women too - be like them to beat them at their game. Mrs Molly Tan - OMG - that heavily-painted doll who shrils ever so often at lectures but she is really one nice woman. Mr Chia Khoon Hock - smiling tiger. I will have him know our last tiger was in the 1930s. Miss Eu - really lucid and good maths illustrator. Otherwise I might have done worse at Maths. Miss Chng - good Chemistry teacher but I don't seem to be able to score at this subject. Mrs Cheah/Mr Lim - God..please...I can't understand her Singlish and Physics has never been made a duller subject than it already is.
To one and all who make or break my future, thanks a zillion.
Primary 2 - Mrs Doreen Khng : A supportive teacher who encourages and cajoles. I think I even won "Best Conduct" prize or something. Or was this in my later years? Cik Minah who pinches all the boys' private genitalia. Thanks for that and that is how guys get horny.
Primary 3 - Mr Lim Kok Kee. A huge and fat man. How did he ever get to his size I will never get to know or want to know. Strict and mostly punitive punishment that he metes out. Loves passing the volleyball real hard. Heard he has undergone some stomach operation and he has deflated so much.
Primary 4 - Mrs Juliana Chng. A bitch-face whom I don't really like. Ostensibly class-conscious and scoffs at my dad's occupation. I could do without you bitch. Hey all the Chinese teachers seem to have problems. Mr Heng and Mr Tim. What is wrong with you guys? Miss Szetoh who teaches Singapore history with such realism especially in her narration of Sang Nila Utama.
Primary 5 - Mrs Maria Tay. She is one of a kind. She trains me in my leadership role and makes me do all those things which I never dreamt of doing - concerts, skits, talentime, sports, the prefectorial board and the whole works. Thank you M/s Maria Teo. If not for you, I would never have the guts to do anything. Mr Robert Teo for his short-putting skills.
Primary 6 - Mr John Tan . A young handsome man whom I may have fallen in love with. Encourages me in my quest for knowing the English language so much better.
Secondary 1 - Mr Joachim Pereira. No problems here but our class was a noisy one so I guessed I sided with them in the "hooliganism". Miss Lian - I know the other guys are infatuated with her but sorry I am not. She may be the prettiest woman about town but I don't give a damn. Miss Christina Liew who comes across as someone who is serious and sincere.
Secondary 2- Mr John Cher. A remarkably sedate and soft-spoken man. No problems here too. Mr Heng - a sleepy Literature teacher. Mr Balasingam - a loud and funny history teacher.
Secondary 3 & 4 - Mr Peter Tan. My source of politicism. He dutifully does his work and we learn much by way of his English language pedagogy. Also religious. I am sorry I have to disappoint you on this count. Miss Chan who was just fresh out of school and teaches with oomph. Poor Miss Mary Lim, the bad boys make you cry. Miss Ting - Maths teacher, what really happened to you? You look and behave like a robotic mechanical zombie. Mrs Chia - that fierce and vocal Chinese teacher who makes me want to do well for my second language.
JC 1 & 2 - Cik Aminah. Cannot remember very much here maybe because I wasn't in class half the time. Nothing really memorable. Belinda Charles scares the hell out of me with her sharp tongue so maybe this is where I pick up mine. It is my only defence against women too - be like them to beat them at their game. Mrs Molly Tan - OMG - that heavily-painted doll who shrils ever so often at lectures but she is really one nice woman. Mr Chia Khoon Hock - smiling tiger. I will have him know our last tiger was in the 1930s. Miss Eu - really lucid and good maths illustrator. Otherwise I might have done worse at Maths. Miss Chng - good Chemistry teacher but I don't seem to be able to score at this subject. Mrs Cheah/Mr Lim - God..please...I can't understand her Singlish and Physics has never been made a duller subject than it already is.
To one and all who make or break my future, thanks a zillion.
Women - The Bane of Thy Life
The late Professor Stephen Jay Gould in his book "The Mis-measure of Men" states that the world could be a very different place if women enter the workforce. He is so right.
As far as I can remember, they have plagued me from home to work and from young till old.
They are surely unfathomable creatures God created by mistake in the Garden of Eden. He must have been joking when he deems Adam in need of companionship and so he took a rib off Adam and made Eve. So God, if you are listening to me now, let us just say I thank you for the miseries of the world you have wrought by your hands!
After all, it was Biblical Eve who incited Adam to eat off the fruit of the tree of knowledge. Helen of Sparta had to be the most beautiful woman and sparked off a war of ultimate demise for one nation when she became Helen of Troy. Empress Cixi inexorably ensured the death knell of the Manchu dynasty by her reign.
Their mood are like swings of the pendulum. One woman food vendor could agree to my packing off my eats without extra recompense one moment but demanding more the next. Cleopatra could be all pretty one day and conniving the next. Utter unpredictability.
Look! If you have the face, you have it. There is no need to cover it up under mountains of paint. And to flaunt your artistry in the hope of magically masking hideousness at the office can only deflect all good spirits with your compact mirror.
Talking to one takes effort. I am not sure how they see the world. It looks like there is a filter of hate and moronity built into their sensors. Watch out for the blinkered ones. They are the typical dumb blondes.
Wedge-drivers they are. They would gossip to you about someone's vices but with that person, they in turn yelp about you. I had one who actually asked her sister why she had married this husband when she had so many other suitors. If this is not driving a wedge, what is? For pete's sake, they have three children by this marriage and are married for some time now. Just because you don't like your brother-in-law doesn't mean that your sister doesn't.
They are so animated that it pisses you off. You can tell a sincere smile apart from a wicked one. Their intentions are so blatantly written all over their faces. Some think they can pull the wool over your eyes with their smiles and charms. Once you are hooked, you are like a drowning man clutching at that last straw.
You had better not say something to insult them, they will bear grudges and hit back when you are least expecting it. If they nit-pick on the right things it is perfectly alright but it is usually on some mundane ones. In schools, disciplinary offences are usually on attire and looks. I can imagine someone being picked on for his looks or wearing tinted glasses. What is the big deal really?
Perhaps that explains the lack of entrepreneurship in our society because anyone who dares to be different is brow-beaten and whip-whacked into shape till he conforms. And a lot of rebelliousness is surely going to be bred this way.
I had a vice-principal of a junior college chasing us away because we were not exactly high-pointers for our GCE 'O' level examination. She certainly had a younger diffident me turned my life around. I will hound her till her deathbed with her callousness.
Please keep the women talk among yourselves and I am not keen to be drawn into any such conversation.
And higher education does not seem to help either. I don't see any words of wisdom or distinction passing out from their mouths. What comes out is just shrill-ass siren of gossips and intonations.
So before you open your mouth, please check that you got the facts right and you know what you are talking about. Because if you are in a position of authority, you are leading the blind by being blind yourself and feeding mis-information and gossip.
And that mis-information can cost someone his life or fortune.
As far as I can remember, they have plagued me from home to work and from young till old.
They are surely unfathomable creatures God created by mistake in the Garden of Eden. He must have been joking when he deems Adam in need of companionship and so he took a rib off Adam and made Eve. So God, if you are listening to me now, let us just say I thank you for the miseries of the world you have wrought by your hands!
After all, it was Biblical Eve who incited Adam to eat off the fruit of the tree of knowledge. Helen of Sparta had to be the most beautiful woman and sparked off a war of ultimate demise for one nation when she became Helen of Troy. Empress Cixi inexorably ensured the death knell of the Manchu dynasty by her reign.
Their mood are like swings of the pendulum. One woman food vendor could agree to my packing off my eats without extra recompense one moment but demanding more the next. Cleopatra could be all pretty one day and conniving the next. Utter unpredictability.
Look! If you have the face, you have it. There is no need to cover it up under mountains of paint. And to flaunt your artistry in the hope of magically masking hideousness at the office can only deflect all good spirits with your compact mirror.
Talking to one takes effort. I am not sure how they see the world. It looks like there is a filter of hate and moronity built into their sensors. Watch out for the blinkered ones. They are the typical dumb blondes.
Wedge-drivers they are. They would gossip to you about someone's vices but with that person, they in turn yelp about you. I had one who actually asked her sister why she had married this husband when she had so many other suitors. If this is not driving a wedge, what is? For pete's sake, they have three children by this marriage and are married for some time now. Just because you don't like your brother-in-law doesn't mean that your sister doesn't.
They are so animated that it pisses you off. You can tell a sincere smile apart from a wicked one. Their intentions are so blatantly written all over their faces. Some think they can pull the wool over your eyes with their smiles and charms. Once you are hooked, you are like a drowning man clutching at that last straw.
You had better not say something to insult them, they will bear grudges and hit back when you are least expecting it. If they nit-pick on the right things it is perfectly alright but it is usually on some mundane ones. In schools, disciplinary offences are usually on attire and looks. I can imagine someone being picked on for his looks or wearing tinted glasses. What is the big deal really?
Perhaps that explains the lack of entrepreneurship in our society because anyone who dares to be different is brow-beaten and whip-whacked into shape till he conforms. And a lot of rebelliousness is surely going to be bred this way.
I had a vice-principal of a junior college chasing us away because we were not exactly high-pointers for our GCE 'O' level examination. She certainly had a younger diffident me turned my life around. I will hound her till her deathbed with her callousness.
Please keep the women talk among yourselves and I am not keen to be drawn into any such conversation.
And higher education does not seem to help either. I don't see any words of wisdom or distinction passing out from their mouths. What comes out is just shrill-ass siren of gossips and intonations.
So before you open your mouth, please check that you got the facts right and you know what you are talking about. Because if you are in a position of authority, you are leading the blind by being blind yourself and feeding mis-information and gossip.
And that mis-information can cost someone his life or fortune.
What Meanest This World And Us?
I have been trying to place a finger on the pulse of what makes the world go round and why we have landed ourselves in the position we are now in on this blue planet. That must be the other reason why we are the blue planet apart from the usual one of oceans covering three-quarters of its surface.
There is only one undeniable fact and that is the "economy" that we live in. This is the only means which we live and sustain ourselves by. Everything else is subsidiary and works towards this economy.
The economy creates jobs. Without it, we would not be able to live.
Remembering that we lived 99% of our time here on Earth as hunter-gatherers and you can surmise that what we have built is only a recent phenomenon and perhaps an un-natural one. We virtually lived off the land then. The land was able to sustain us by its abundance of flora and fauna.
I am not sure if men were ever meant to be living in 'captivity' and densely crowded together. But this is how city-living has made us do .
The old days saw people owning one plot of their land, self-sufficiently growing and herding what they need for food. That was work. It was each to himself and no one dominates over another.
Now with industry kicking in, we have organised complex organisations and hierarchies where we are all interdependent. Interdependence has also pitted man against man. It is an artificial system where we created the rut ourselves.
It used to be just man against nature - animals and the natural elements of climatology.
Can you imagine putting the Khoisans culture and a Chinese one together? Do they not differ in so many ways as to put living together seriously flawed? Even if they could co-exist peacefully together, it doesn't mean that I would want to live close by listening to Mr Khoisan clicking his tongue every now and then to speak to his people.
This interdependence has gone beyond the boundaries of one's home to trans-national and international corridors. What happens in someone's backyard affects you and what one nation does within its borders transgresses sometimes upon the whole world. Think SARS and you pretty much understand what I am saying.
Gavin Menzies and even Professor Stephen Jay Gould posited the possibility of a very different world order if only the imperial Ming Chinese had not decided to shut its doors and seclude itself after very successful navigational conquests.
As it is, it became the Western dominance of the world and we have wars, science and industry all spewing forth at an unprecedented pace. Many of our institutions and industry are products of this invention.
We in particular have imported many of these inventions, rightly or wrongly, which may not have been suitable for our Asian culture in so many ways.
Our education is distinctly British but our media and many of our cultural imports are American. America is surely one of the cleverest and most innovative country ever. However, as history has shown, it had also bungled as many times.
Therefore many of what we need now are artificially created for the economy's sake. We would never have needed branded goods, fast-foods , tuition, the military and the stock exchange.
All we need is food and a roof over our head. Now that this has been so complicated that we cannot live or eat without work. Work used to be looking for this roof and food.
And to continue living under this roof, we need to plan for our retirement. Because once we hit that humongous biggy in age, we can't work anymore. The caveman probably just lived out his dying years , holed up and embracing death as it should be - naturally without funeral rites or a need for a sarcophagus or cremation. The Egyptians must have been the stinks to upset this apple-cart with their mummification and life-after-death reincarnation aspirations.
So if the United Nations , being the world platform as I see it to pull countries together, could collaborate and decree to halt this world nonsense and go back to basics, perhaps we as the most intelligent of primates (but not necessarily the most dominant or best suited to live out this world) could still have that last chance to live at peace with ourselves and with nature once more.
That I think will be the only surviving grace for us to bow out of commerce and industry and preserve the only planet we have for living our miserable short lives out.
There is only one undeniable fact and that is the "economy" that we live in. This is the only means which we live and sustain ourselves by. Everything else is subsidiary and works towards this economy.
The economy creates jobs. Without it, we would not be able to live.
Remembering that we lived 99% of our time here on Earth as hunter-gatherers and you can surmise that what we have built is only a recent phenomenon and perhaps an un-natural one. We virtually lived off the land then. The land was able to sustain us by its abundance of flora and fauna.
I am not sure if men were ever meant to be living in 'captivity' and densely crowded together. But this is how city-living has made us do .
The old days saw people owning one plot of their land, self-sufficiently growing and herding what they need for food. That was work. It was each to himself and no one dominates over another.
Now with industry kicking in, we have organised complex organisations and hierarchies where we are all interdependent. Interdependence has also pitted man against man. It is an artificial system where we created the rut ourselves.
It used to be just man against nature - animals and the natural elements of climatology.
Can you imagine putting the Khoisans culture and a Chinese one together? Do they not differ in so many ways as to put living together seriously flawed? Even if they could co-exist peacefully together, it doesn't mean that I would want to live close by listening to Mr Khoisan clicking his tongue every now and then to speak to his people.
This interdependence has gone beyond the boundaries of one's home to trans-national and international corridors. What happens in someone's backyard affects you and what one nation does within its borders transgresses sometimes upon the whole world. Think SARS and you pretty much understand what I am saying.
Gavin Menzies and even Professor Stephen Jay Gould posited the possibility of a very different world order if only the imperial Ming Chinese had not decided to shut its doors and seclude itself after very successful navigational conquests.
As it is, it became the Western dominance of the world and we have wars, science and industry all spewing forth at an unprecedented pace. Many of our institutions and industry are products of this invention.
We in particular have imported many of these inventions, rightly or wrongly, which may not have been suitable for our Asian culture in so many ways.
Our education is distinctly British but our media and many of our cultural imports are American. America is surely one of the cleverest and most innovative country ever. However, as history has shown, it had also bungled as many times.
Therefore many of what we need now are artificially created for the economy's sake. We would never have needed branded goods, fast-foods , tuition, the military and the stock exchange.
All we need is food and a roof over our head. Now that this has been so complicated that we cannot live or eat without work. Work used to be looking for this roof and food.
And to continue living under this roof, we need to plan for our retirement. Because once we hit that humongous biggy in age, we can't work anymore. The caveman probably just lived out his dying years , holed up and embracing death as it should be - naturally without funeral rites or a need for a sarcophagus or cremation. The Egyptians must have been the stinks to upset this apple-cart with their mummification and life-after-death reincarnation aspirations.
So if the United Nations , being the world platform as I see it to pull countries together, could collaborate and decree to halt this world nonsense and go back to basics, perhaps we as the most intelligent of primates (but not necessarily the most dominant or best suited to live out this world) could still have that last chance to live at peace with ourselves and with nature once more.
That I think will be the only surviving grace for us to bow out of commerce and industry and preserve the only planet we have for living our miserable short lives out.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
The Loves Of My Life
My first crush was Gabriel Rodriguez when I was only 11 years old. I was attracted by his good looks, copper blond hair and all that golden matt shine on his arms. He had tinted blue eyes too.
I was so infatuated that I fantasized about him at night and during my dreamy bouts.
In particular, I found him so sexy with his tight blue uniform shorts that he dons to school every day. So much so that I would fondle his private parts on several occasions. He would try pushing me away and fall to the ground sometimes. I think I must have been hard on him.
As I said I was precocious and my onset of puberty was at the ripe young age of between nine to ten years old.
Someone else was in turn attracted to me. On a class outing to the cinema, he snuggled up to me and we both hugged in the dark. If the paparazzi was as rampant then, they would probably have had a field day.
When I did my National Service, someone did the same when we compulsorily had to attend the National Day Parade. He was someone from the typing pool, a really stunningly good looker. We must have been the talk of the town after that.
My second love was some tutor from the university. I had a glimpse of him at a function once and I didn't know I would bump into him at some gay beach after I had left the university. He was rich and well educated and taught me most of what I wanted to know about gay life.
Much later he discontinued his tenure in the university and his cushy job in the public sector and left for San Francisco to broker foreign exchange deals.
I was so infatuated that I fantasized about him at night and during my dreamy bouts.
In particular, I found him so sexy with his tight blue uniform shorts that he dons to school every day. So much so that I would fondle his private parts on several occasions. He would try pushing me away and fall to the ground sometimes. I think I must have been hard on him.
As I said I was precocious and my onset of puberty was at the ripe young age of between nine to ten years old.
Someone else was in turn attracted to me. On a class outing to the cinema, he snuggled up to me and we both hugged in the dark. If the paparazzi was as rampant then, they would probably have had a field day.
When I did my National Service, someone did the same when we compulsorily had to attend the National Day Parade. He was someone from the typing pool, a really stunningly good looker. We must have been the talk of the town after that.
My second love was some tutor from the university. I had a glimpse of him at a function once and I didn't know I would bump into him at some gay beach after I had left the university. He was rich and well educated and taught me most of what I wanted to know about gay life.
Much later he discontinued his tenure in the university and his cushy job in the public sector and left for San Francisco to broker foreign exchange deals.
Growing Up Tales
When I was growing up, we lived in a particularly tough neighborhood. It was much like the BRONX. Neighbors were not too friendly and fights broke out frequently.
Home was one bedroom where we all slept on the floor and the window was wooden louvres. This remained shut most of the time, so the whole place was always hot and stuffy. That explained why I was sickly as a child.
Mother always busied herself in the kitchen and we were left to our devices most of the time. Play-time meant role playing and I impersonated a teacher with high heels and feather duster to boot. We had doll paper cut-outs and collected stickers for our album.
Some books and comics were quite readily available as a live-in aunt worked as an "amah" for a Caucasian expatriate family. They included DC and Marvel Comics, Beano and Rupert the Bear. There were even Norse mythological heroes and I guessed the family must have been Nordic.
Toys were some wind-up Fisher and Price musical boxes and Ultra-Man dolls.
To ease our bowels more conveniently we had a sit-down toilet pot in the room too. On my way to school in the morning, it was customary for me to pack one or two big meat buns for breakfast. The "baos" then were certainly tastier than the ones now. It had more flavor and meat.
Not long after, we moved to the second modern satellite town in Singapore where I began my primary school years.
Come Christmas, my sister and I would go picking tree branches off the marsh land below where we lived. We would paint over the branches in wood color, stick on styrofoam flakes to resemble snow and adorn them with lights and ornaments. We have plates of circular styrofoam stuck to the ceilings and we will then stick these branches onto them.
That was how we celebrated festive occasions. There were always hand-crafted decorations of our own hanging in the home. Mother would bake all the butter cakes, jam tarts, love letters and egg tarts herself. The Nonya dumplings now sold in shops are a far cry from the ones Mother makes. We fry our rice and the fillings are hot, spicy and peppery with generous helpings of mushroom and pork.
Brother loves buying turn-table records and I remember we listened to selections of Deep Purple rock, Carpenters' ballad and Engelbert Humperdink's melodies. In case the younger people don't know, the music players of old are kind of like gramophones with a rotating disc and a stylus.
Sometimes after midnight, Brother would come home from his waitering work and buy us supper. Usually this is fried noodle hor-fun wrapped in some broad whitish palm leaves.
I remember our first color television set was a European Sierra set, a long one with speakers on both sides. The first color television program we watched was the cartoon Tarzan. It was really a pyrotechnical mosaical feast for the eyes.
Mother was one tough cookie. She had to escape the Japanese invasion along with her sister (who then died in the Japanese war here) and cousin. They fled Shan Tou, Guangdong and rode a ricekty bum-boat to Singapore, en route Hongkong. When war again broke out in Singapore, she took refuge in a nunnery and lived through seeing the Catholic ex-archbishop being beaten up by the Japanese invaders and the Maria Hertogh massacre.
She worked in the kitchen and in handcrafts for the convent. I remember the beautiful embroidered handkerchiefs she sews and our blankets were tiled designed fabrics sewn together (very much like the Fabric of the Nation we now have up on the panels).
She always tells us stories when she is not too busy in the kitchen.
My shirts were almost always her tailoring effort. She would shop for the cloth and then working on her Singer sewing machine, put together our clothes which include hers.
I can imagine how a young woman just into her teens having to fight tooth and nail for her livelihood and all alone to fend for herself during those heady days of the war and with Singapore on the brink of nationhood.
Dad is a quiet man and works in American General Motors. He is a Peranakan , schooled in English and colonial ways .
I remember myself as a student enjoying my kindergarten and primary school days very much. When I was in the PAP Community Foundation education centre, I was asked to lead in reading out Chinese phrases and won prizes usually cardboard picture cards.
I led in pledge-taking, took part in competitions like handwriting contests, story-telling and art posters . I acted in a skit of "Detective and Thief" and sang in a Talentime, a rendition of Donny and Marie "Paper Roses". I remember telling a story in Chinese about a big fish eating a small fish. I drew pictures of Mary, the Mother of God and won prizes. I enjoyed Catechism lessons and on answering questions correctly, would win holy pictures of Saints.
I was also precocious and big for my age. By the time I was in Primary 5, I looked like a younger adult, pimply and all.
Even in my lower secondary school years, I loved current affairs or science quizzes. Our team clinched the first place in a knowledge quiz and I worked with this friend Merwin who incidentally was teased a lot too for his large head. Kids can be cruel.
I was teased and bullied in school for everything - being fat, pimply and soft.
My circle of friends included Chinese, Indians, a Malay and Eurasians. Melvin, a Portugese Eurasian Indian invites us ever so often for lunch and I really love the belanchan he serves for our meals. Martin, a Chinese friend, takes us to his home along Lorong Napiri, a swampy road which winds past the mental institute of that time. I remember seeing all these naked men basking in its compound. Redzwan was my best buddy of sorts and he visited me for Chinese New Year and I did likewise for Hari Raya.
Joseph Ramalingam co-opted me for softball and I loved the sport so much even though he placed me on reserve eventually for the finals. We visited his home too and he was always playing soccer with his brothers.
So I think friendship transcended race and I wasn't even aware of their skin colors as I played and lived along them.
Life took a turn when my Dad was retrenched in my upper secondary school years. He went blind with cataract and glaucoma, which would have been preventable today with early detection. But it was also a fact that the older generation then always feared visiting hospitals and would bear medical ailments with a grin until it is too late. I had a tonsilectomy just before my 'O' levels because I was continually sick with fever and sore throat.
Somehow the older you get, the worse education seems to be - boring, stiff and no fun. It was mugging and exams, with very little room for discovery or activities. I knew I always had a thing for nature and the arts but this never had the opportunity for development back then.
I also never got to know what my options could have been or where I could have obtained help or to forge ahead with my talents. I didn't think bursaries were even available then.
I was mostly a slightly-above-average academic performer but with help I could perhaps make more headway. Moreover coming from a humble background, I was diffident and not as self-confident or assured as my richer or better-endowed peers.
By the time I got to Junior College, I was skipping classes like pop-corn. It was mostly a bad choice of course options and college. Life at home was not going well. My older sister had married young at 19 and was in an abusive and violent marriage ending in an acrimonious divorce.
Once my brother got married and with my sister-in-law around the home, there were in-laws problems and relationships all round deteriorated. That was when I decided to move.
I had a great yearning to earn my big bucks and live independently. I was also restless with the perpetual academic grind which is so lacking in practicalities. I guessed I could do better with more hands-on. In America, people leave the nest young and lead their own lives. So what I did was no different, which fostered character, independence and survivalship.
Home was one bedroom where we all slept on the floor and the window was wooden louvres. This remained shut most of the time, so the whole place was always hot and stuffy. That explained why I was sickly as a child.
Mother always busied herself in the kitchen and we were left to our devices most of the time. Play-time meant role playing and I impersonated a teacher with high heels and feather duster to boot. We had doll paper cut-outs and collected stickers for our album.
Some books and comics were quite readily available as a live-in aunt worked as an "amah" for a Caucasian expatriate family. They included DC and Marvel Comics, Beano and Rupert the Bear. There were even Norse mythological heroes and I guessed the family must have been Nordic.
Toys were some wind-up Fisher and Price musical boxes and Ultra-Man dolls.
To ease our bowels more conveniently we had a sit-down toilet pot in the room too. On my way to school in the morning, it was customary for me to pack one or two big meat buns for breakfast. The "baos" then were certainly tastier than the ones now. It had more flavor and meat.
Not long after, we moved to the second modern satellite town in Singapore where I began my primary school years.
Come Christmas, my sister and I would go picking tree branches off the marsh land below where we lived. We would paint over the branches in wood color, stick on styrofoam flakes to resemble snow and adorn them with lights and ornaments. We have plates of circular styrofoam stuck to the ceilings and we will then stick these branches onto them.
That was how we celebrated festive occasions. There were always hand-crafted decorations of our own hanging in the home. Mother would bake all the butter cakes, jam tarts, love letters and egg tarts herself. The Nonya dumplings now sold in shops are a far cry from the ones Mother makes. We fry our rice and the fillings are hot, spicy and peppery with generous helpings of mushroom and pork.
Brother loves buying turn-table records and I remember we listened to selections of Deep Purple rock, Carpenters' ballad and Engelbert Humperdink's melodies. In case the younger people don't know, the music players of old are kind of like gramophones with a rotating disc and a stylus.
Sometimes after midnight, Brother would come home from his waitering work and buy us supper. Usually this is fried noodle hor-fun wrapped in some broad whitish palm leaves.
I remember our first color television set was a European Sierra set, a long one with speakers on both sides. The first color television program we watched was the cartoon Tarzan. It was really a pyrotechnical mosaical feast for the eyes.
Mother was one tough cookie. She had to escape the Japanese invasion along with her sister (who then died in the Japanese war here) and cousin. They fled Shan Tou, Guangdong and rode a ricekty bum-boat to Singapore, en route Hongkong. When war again broke out in Singapore, she took refuge in a nunnery and lived through seeing the Catholic ex-archbishop being beaten up by the Japanese invaders and the Maria Hertogh massacre.
She worked in the kitchen and in handcrafts for the convent. I remember the beautiful embroidered handkerchiefs she sews and our blankets were tiled designed fabrics sewn together (very much like the Fabric of the Nation we now have up on the panels).
She always tells us stories when she is not too busy in the kitchen.
My shirts were almost always her tailoring effort. She would shop for the cloth and then working on her Singer sewing machine, put together our clothes which include hers.
I can imagine how a young woman just into her teens having to fight tooth and nail for her livelihood and all alone to fend for herself during those heady days of the war and with Singapore on the brink of nationhood.
Dad is a quiet man and works in American General Motors. He is a Peranakan , schooled in English and colonial ways .
I remember myself as a student enjoying my kindergarten and primary school days very much. When I was in the PAP Community Foundation education centre, I was asked to lead in reading out Chinese phrases and won prizes usually cardboard picture cards.
I led in pledge-taking, took part in competitions like handwriting contests, story-telling and art posters . I acted in a skit of "Detective and Thief" and sang in a Talentime, a rendition of Donny and Marie "Paper Roses". I remember telling a story in Chinese about a big fish eating a small fish. I drew pictures of Mary, the Mother of God and won prizes. I enjoyed Catechism lessons and on answering questions correctly, would win holy pictures of Saints.
I was also precocious and big for my age. By the time I was in Primary 5, I looked like a younger adult, pimply and all.
Even in my lower secondary school years, I loved current affairs or science quizzes. Our team clinched the first place in a knowledge quiz and I worked with this friend Merwin who incidentally was teased a lot too for his large head. Kids can be cruel.
I was teased and bullied in school for everything - being fat, pimply and soft.
My circle of friends included Chinese, Indians, a Malay and Eurasians. Melvin, a Portugese Eurasian Indian invites us ever so often for lunch and I really love the belanchan he serves for our meals. Martin, a Chinese friend, takes us to his home along Lorong Napiri, a swampy road which winds past the mental institute of that time. I remember seeing all these naked men basking in its compound. Redzwan was my best buddy of sorts and he visited me for Chinese New Year and I did likewise for Hari Raya.
Joseph Ramalingam co-opted me for softball and I loved the sport so much even though he placed me on reserve eventually for the finals. We visited his home too and he was always playing soccer with his brothers.
So I think friendship transcended race and I wasn't even aware of their skin colors as I played and lived along them.
Life took a turn when my Dad was retrenched in my upper secondary school years. He went blind with cataract and glaucoma, which would have been preventable today with early detection. But it was also a fact that the older generation then always feared visiting hospitals and would bear medical ailments with a grin until it is too late. I had a tonsilectomy just before my 'O' levels because I was continually sick with fever and sore throat.
Somehow the older you get, the worse education seems to be - boring, stiff and no fun. It was mugging and exams, with very little room for discovery or activities. I knew I always had a thing for nature and the arts but this never had the opportunity for development back then.
I also never got to know what my options could have been or where I could have obtained help or to forge ahead with my talents. I didn't think bursaries were even available then.
I was mostly a slightly-above-average academic performer but with help I could perhaps make more headway. Moreover coming from a humble background, I was diffident and not as self-confident or assured as my richer or better-endowed peers.
By the time I got to Junior College, I was skipping classes like pop-corn. It was mostly a bad choice of course options and college. Life at home was not going well. My older sister had married young at 19 and was in an abusive and violent marriage ending in an acrimonious divorce.
Once my brother got married and with my sister-in-law around the home, there were in-laws problems and relationships all round deteriorated. That was when I decided to move.
I had a great yearning to earn my big bucks and live independently. I was also restless with the perpetual academic grind which is so lacking in practicalities. I guessed I could do better with more hands-on. In America, people leave the nest young and lead their own lives. So what I did was no different, which fostered character, independence and survivalship.
Saturday, August 20, 2005
Dramatis Personae and Femme Fatale in Micro-Orgasm (Part I)
Hush. Do you hear it? Listen carefully now, there is a tete-a-tete going on. Somewhere on planet Earth. A place called Singapore. Let us listen in for a moment.
Gall A: (in tube with cleavage exposed, prolly after breast augmentation) Aiyo. Look at that watch! So beri nice! Must buy. I will ask Daniel buy for me...
Gall B: Ya! Nice hor! Expensive leh. Wo pei fu ni! (stares stupidly like a bimb)
I am not sure what is wrong with the womenfolk here. But something is amiss - and I think it is their brains. The things (or rather vacuous things) they chat about. The materialism they hanker after. The disconnect in their yak. The high-pitch intonation.
It is like pontianak has embraced their breasts and squeezed them so hard, they asphyxiate and oxy-haemoglobin cannot reach their gray matter enough to resusitate their thinking.
They think they are too clever or intuitve and see so many things which are not even there. It is strictly speaking figments of their imagination. Loving to make mountains out of a mole hill, it is characteristic of the womenfolk to exaggerate a problem.
There is no divide between young and old sometimes. Older folks squeeze their bums into tight jeans one size too small, mini-skirts and try to compete in navel exposition. Worse, many have had their faces pulled taut and that all too ghastly dead-pan look pokes itself out of what was once a woman.
I remember being shown a really large room once for a seminar whereupon I requested for a microphone. A Fat-Ass flatly refused at first citing small number of participants. She had the equally meagre brains to equate the need for amplification with people and not the room's size.
No man would mind a woman who is strong and vocal. But what matters most is what is being articulated and if it is sensible. That is the crux.
Try talking to people here and you can instantly sense that what you say is obviously not getting across. Some are bad listeners and they seem to have a mental block somewhere which prevents them from hearing you. I think it is called their own "radio channel" where they only want to hear what they want to hear.
I have had a femme espionager sent my home by my femme boss to check on my living. She probably wanted to know what goes on. This femme fatale checks every corner of my residence and passes her unwarranted comments on what she thinks should be done up. That mother fucking cunthole.
Then there was this boss' son who is born with a silver spoon thrust up his anus. All he has to do upon graduation was sit around at the office and watch what others do. He is even given the key to a Bayerish Motoren Werke and zooms around town while we slog at our work like beavers.
He certainly has good fashion sense sporting expensive watches and garb.
------------------------------------End of Part I----------------------------
Gall A: (in tube with cleavage exposed, prolly after breast augmentation) Aiyo. Look at that watch! So beri nice! Must buy. I will ask Daniel buy for me...
Gall B: Ya! Nice hor! Expensive leh. Wo pei fu ni! (stares stupidly like a bimb)
I am not sure what is wrong with the womenfolk here. But something is amiss - and I think it is their brains. The things (or rather vacuous things) they chat about. The materialism they hanker after. The disconnect in their yak. The high-pitch intonation.
It is like pontianak has embraced their breasts and squeezed them so hard, they asphyxiate and oxy-haemoglobin cannot reach their gray matter enough to resusitate their thinking.
They think they are too clever or intuitve and see so many things which are not even there. It is strictly speaking figments of their imagination. Loving to make mountains out of a mole hill, it is characteristic of the womenfolk to exaggerate a problem.
There is no divide between young and old sometimes. Older folks squeeze their bums into tight jeans one size too small, mini-skirts and try to compete in navel exposition. Worse, many have had their faces pulled taut and that all too ghastly dead-pan look pokes itself out of what was once a woman.
I remember being shown a really large room once for a seminar whereupon I requested for a microphone. A Fat-Ass flatly refused at first citing small number of participants. She had the equally meagre brains to equate the need for amplification with people and not the room's size.
No man would mind a woman who is strong and vocal. But what matters most is what is being articulated and if it is sensible. That is the crux.
Try talking to people here and you can instantly sense that what you say is obviously not getting across. Some are bad listeners and they seem to have a mental block somewhere which prevents them from hearing you. I think it is called their own "radio channel" where they only want to hear what they want to hear.
I have had a femme espionager sent my home by my femme boss to check on my living. She probably wanted to know what goes on. This femme fatale checks every corner of my residence and passes her unwarranted comments on what she thinks should be done up. That mother fucking cunthole.
Then there was this boss' son who is born with a silver spoon thrust up his anus. All he has to do upon graduation was sit around at the office and watch what others do. He is even given the key to a Bayerish Motoren Werke and zooms around town while we slog at our work like beavers.
He certainly has good fashion sense sporting expensive watches and garb.
------------------------------------End of Part I----------------------------
Friday, August 19, 2005
The Central Lending Library - My Home of the Future
Spanking new glass and glamour. All 15 storeys of it. On almost every floor, there is at least one exhibition going on. Like the one I caught featuring Admiral Zheng He's legendary voyage.
But the really "hot" stuff is this : only one basement level is open to the public for lending out. This is where the adult, youth and children's collections are compressed together. Imagine little kids running wild amidst the crowd of other serious library users. You better watch your steps or you may end up whamming into one of these "kids on skates". They do sprawl themselves out on the sofa too so before plonking your rumps onto any of these, keep your eyes peeled please.
Half the building is dedicated to the staging of the performing arts. The other half is where mugging, serious research and reference are being done.
This is the part of the building I like best. I could choose a sofa settee near the ceiling-to-floor bay windows and read to my heart's content. One end faces the congested road of Bras Basah while the other opens out to the blue sky, the sea and the Esplanade.
I spied an Atlas Moth one day clinging onto its pristine and gleaming facade. This has to be the pinnacle dramatic irony. Nature amongst nurture or is it just a crossing over where nature meets nurture? So if you are a lepidoterist, this must be a biggy yeah?
At night, the scene comes alive with twinkling lights and columns of moving headlamps.
There is a donors' collections section which I feel is so insane for it to exhibit books which we cannot even interact with by flipping its pages. So what is the point? Isn't a book supposed to be read?
Those kaleidoscopic images of Singapore on the upper wall of Level 11 actually houses two floors of even rarer collection of South-Eastern heritage. These are held in glass cabinets which could be the old Victorian Cabinet Museums Professor Stephen Jay Gould speaks of in his books.
We don't get to see any more of the OPAC system. Instead these are replaced by cool LCD screens strewn strategically throughout the library. You could even top up your cash-cards at one of those self-automated machines (SAM).
This place beats Kinokuniya to some extent if for the sit-down reading pleasure , the ambience and breath-taking window view. However for up-to-the-minute availability of resources, Kino still reigns.
Guess I will be spending some good part of my life between the two. This could very well be my 2nd or 3rd home.
But the really "hot" stuff is this : only one basement level is open to the public for lending out. This is where the adult, youth and children's collections are compressed together. Imagine little kids running wild amidst the crowd of other serious library users. You better watch your steps or you may end up whamming into one of these "kids on skates". They do sprawl themselves out on the sofa too so before plonking your rumps onto any of these, keep your eyes peeled please.
Half the building is dedicated to the staging of the performing arts. The other half is where mugging, serious research and reference are being done.
This is the part of the building I like best. I could choose a sofa settee near the ceiling-to-floor bay windows and read to my heart's content. One end faces the congested road of Bras Basah while the other opens out to the blue sky, the sea and the Esplanade.
I spied an Atlas Moth one day clinging onto its pristine and gleaming facade. This has to be the pinnacle dramatic irony. Nature amongst nurture or is it just a crossing over where nature meets nurture? So if you are a lepidoterist, this must be a biggy yeah?
At night, the scene comes alive with twinkling lights and columns of moving headlamps.
There is a donors' collections section which I feel is so insane for it to exhibit books which we cannot even interact with by flipping its pages. So what is the point? Isn't a book supposed to be read?
Those kaleidoscopic images of Singapore on the upper wall of Level 11 actually houses two floors of even rarer collection of South-Eastern heritage. These are held in glass cabinets which could be the old Victorian Cabinet Museums Professor Stephen Jay Gould speaks of in his books.
We don't get to see any more of the OPAC system. Instead these are replaced by cool LCD screens strewn strategically throughout the library. You could even top up your cash-cards at one of those self-automated machines (SAM).
This place beats Kinokuniya to some extent if for the sit-down reading pleasure , the ambience and breath-taking window view. However for up-to-the-minute availability of resources, Kino still reigns.
Guess I will be spending some good part of my life between the two. This could very well be my 2nd or 3rd home.
Reminiscent Ramblings And the Citizenry
I broke my lenses the other day and had to go virtually blind over the next few days. The shattered piece was so bad, fine hair-like cracks were emanating all across from the fulcrum. It was only at the optometrist that I chanced upon an old pair of glasses I used to don - the huge, oversize metal-rimmed sort very much like what the swooning dude wore in Mysterious Skin.
I couldn't have imagined myself wearing this thingy in that distant era. It was so "obiang" to say the least. I must have looked really like a nerd and a moron. Which I guess I was back then. Outwardly that is because I had no fashion sense, didn't see the need to, don't have the financial resources nor do I like to be with the in-crowd always.
Inside I know I am more than my peers, in my values and my beliefs. I guess you could say I could not identify with most of what they were doing. Who they are and what they portray themselves to be.
Above all, I think I didn't really want to hang out much because that meant spending money. I was out most of the time giving tuition to earn my keep. This was so evident even back in my National Service days.
I could be arranging my schedule back-to-back, shuttling from one place to another on foot or via the public transport system. And I was picking up driving lessons as well which I passed miraculously on my fourth attempt. I gave some reason for needing my licence as a need for a meal ticket.
Back at the optometrist, times have changed. I was directed to an auto-refractor to check for astigmatism where there was a green-red landscape with a pin-light at the centre. Moreover my lens power had increased some 2.5 diopters with correction for toricism.
In the mean time, I put on my pair of Made-In-Singapore Free-Con hazel blue contact lenses. Now if you think I am being a real spender with such frivolous accessories, think again! This is a recent upgrade from my last one since the turn of the century? And they are supposed to be disposables which I did not dispose of fornightly or monthly as the case may be.
Boy how I must really stand out! People were giving me the stares and they must be wondering if I was some Caucasian with jet-black hair but a genetic mutative gene.
Or perhaps I could pass for a white?
I remember this little boy I met at an orphanage. Poor family finances and familial dysfunction. I can imagine why he sports such a tough and competitive complexion. In the home, he had to fend off those other bigger or meaner boys.
He is also known to have a fiery temperament. I can't blame him. Anyone brought up in such a hostile environment and who need to keep up with bread and butter issues, cannot be expected to be all cordial and nice. I say it is even too early at this young age to pre-judge anyone. Even at all our other phases in our lives. Be it 15, 20, 30, 40 or even 50.
And the orphanage reminded me of the all too familiar Oliver Twist saga. Again the place was staffed by women and guess what, the usual dose of scolds and pinch. I can only feel great pity for these kids growing up in such a place.
I will certainly not put my (adopted) kids in such a place. Or for that matter in many of our institutions. I think many of our prejudices and myopic beliefs are seriously being transmitted through these "great" institutions we have made ourselves to be.
More so the ones that are commercialised. I cannot understand why parents would want to subject their little ones through sarcasm, scolds and high-handedness at the mercy of these "institutions". Apart from those reasons that they cannot do so themselves or afford the time, I think a personalised approach will do much better. I suspect it is the expense so parents really haven't the resources to muster.
The one thing I do know is that this place is swarming with zombies. That was the reason why Jesus had to preach with parables.
Everyone is so caught up in their own world. Everyone talks in their own veiled language. It is as if blinders are pulled right over their senses. They can't seem to see, think, hear, speak or understand. That shallowness and superficiality.
And they like jumping to conclusions. They love putting words into your mouth even though you didn't say them or even meant them that way. In all, highly assumptive and crass .
Let me give you an illustration. Anyone who sees someone with a copy of the bible will think that this person is a God-fearing pious man! Can anyone not own a copy like he owns other books such as Dan Brown's or Stephen Jay Gould's?
I will probably have to pen another blog on this. What I perceive to be our citizenry.
When I look back on myself and the so many crazy things I did, I am surprised I am even here today. I could have been a statistic for all I know.
And that was when I realised that if the world ever lack one thing, it has to be this - a need to have a really stimulating and profund sharing with a close one (sorry girls, I don't think this space in my heart is for you) and not the superficialities we deal with at work, school and even among friends and family.
Look, let us be honest, how many of us actually know our family or friends that well? Do you know what your parents work as? Are you even on such close terms to understand what your siblings are really working as or doing? The companies they work in? Do you know the sexual orientation of your friend? Or his other relationships outside the circle both of you share?
I can only wait with sincere hope and fervent anticipation for this to happen.
Any takers? I am ready to commit and love. Are you? (Girls - please lay off and give me space - I have had enough of your nonsense)
I couldn't have imagined myself wearing this thingy in that distant era. It was so "obiang" to say the least. I must have looked really like a nerd and a moron. Which I guess I was back then. Outwardly that is because I had no fashion sense, didn't see the need to, don't have the financial resources nor do I like to be with the in-crowd always.
Inside I know I am more than my peers, in my values and my beliefs. I guess you could say I could not identify with most of what they were doing. Who they are and what they portray themselves to be.
Above all, I think I didn't really want to hang out much because that meant spending money. I was out most of the time giving tuition to earn my keep. This was so evident even back in my National Service days.
I could be arranging my schedule back-to-back, shuttling from one place to another on foot or via the public transport system. And I was picking up driving lessons as well which I passed miraculously on my fourth attempt. I gave some reason for needing my licence as a need for a meal ticket.
Back at the optometrist, times have changed. I was directed to an auto-refractor to check for astigmatism where there was a green-red landscape with a pin-light at the centre. Moreover my lens power had increased some 2.5 diopters with correction for toricism.
In the mean time, I put on my pair of Made-In-Singapore Free-Con hazel blue contact lenses. Now if you think I am being a real spender with such frivolous accessories, think again! This is a recent upgrade from my last one since the turn of the century? And they are supposed to be disposables which I did not dispose of fornightly or monthly as the case may be.
Boy how I must really stand out! People were giving me the stares and they must be wondering if I was some Caucasian with jet-black hair but a genetic mutative gene.
Or perhaps I could pass for a white?
I remember this little boy I met at an orphanage. Poor family finances and familial dysfunction. I can imagine why he sports such a tough and competitive complexion. In the home, he had to fend off those other bigger or meaner boys.
He is also known to have a fiery temperament. I can't blame him. Anyone brought up in such a hostile environment and who need to keep up with bread and butter issues, cannot be expected to be all cordial and nice. I say it is even too early at this young age to pre-judge anyone. Even at all our other phases in our lives. Be it 15, 20, 30, 40 or even 50.
And the orphanage reminded me of the all too familiar Oliver Twist saga. Again the place was staffed by women and guess what, the usual dose of scolds and pinch. I can only feel great pity for these kids growing up in such a place.
I will certainly not put my (adopted) kids in such a place. Or for that matter in many of our institutions. I think many of our prejudices and myopic beliefs are seriously being transmitted through these "great" institutions we have made ourselves to be.
More so the ones that are commercialised. I cannot understand why parents would want to subject their little ones through sarcasm, scolds and high-handedness at the mercy of these "institutions". Apart from those reasons that they cannot do so themselves or afford the time, I think a personalised approach will do much better. I suspect it is the expense so parents really haven't the resources to muster.
The one thing I do know is that this place is swarming with zombies. That was the reason why Jesus had to preach with parables.
Everyone is so caught up in their own world. Everyone talks in their own veiled language. It is as if blinders are pulled right over their senses. They can't seem to see, think, hear, speak or understand. That shallowness and superficiality.
And they like jumping to conclusions. They love putting words into your mouth even though you didn't say them or even meant them that way. In all, highly assumptive and crass .
Let me give you an illustration. Anyone who sees someone with a copy of the bible will think that this person is a God-fearing pious man! Can anyone not own a copy like he owns other books such as Dan Brown's or Stephen Jay Gould's?
I will probably have to pen another blog on this. What I perceive to be our citizenry.
When I look back on myself and the so many crazy things I did, I am surprised I am even here today. I could have been a statistic for all I know.
And that was when I realised that if the world ever lack one thing, it has to be this - a need to have a really stimulating and profund sharing with a close one (sorry girls, I don't think this space in my heart is for you) and not the superficialities we deal with at work, school and even among friends and family.
Look, let us be honest, how many of us actually know our family or friends that well? Do you know what your parents work as? Are you even on such close terms to understand what your siblings are really working as or doing? The companies they work in? Do you know the sexual orientation of your friend? Or his other relationships outside the circle both of you share?
I can only wait with sincere hope and fervent anticipation for this to happen.
Any takers? I am ready to commit and love. Are you? (Girls - please lay off and give me space - I have had enough of your nonsense)
Friday, August 12, 2005
O Great City - Thy Name is VSM2
A fishing village it once was
But now a metropolis it is
Skyscrapers reaching for the sky
Of steel, glass and concrete they are
O Great City, Thy Name is Vanity
Of ostentation you are built on
And the people decked out
Of galls in skimps and men in color
Of gleaming marble floors
And glinting steel glass
Of torsoed sculpted men
And gaily painted women
Of pearly smooth complexion
Not one a blemish allowed
Of the finest fabric
To match an alter-ego
There is no place
For the mal-look or aged
And the odd ball
Is banished to all but hell
Of lavish ponds
And space of disproportion
Castles, fortresses and mansions
You built up to heaven
O Great City, Thy Name is Money
Of all enterprised is commerce
Of monied hues
And loss of soul
O Great City, Thy Name is Materialism
Of landscaped houses
And luxury wheelers
Of branded garb
And bejewelled decks
Of professions and of titular apellations
Of commerce in conglomerates
At the befallen whose slog toils blood and sweat
Just so for the luxurious inside
Of all the homes
Plush furnishings and fixtures
Any modern contraption
Is deemed a necessity
The only brandishment
Is the mobile telecommute
Of brand and expense
The only show-off
O Great City, Thy Name is Sin
The wretched indigent
and vagrants they are
Yet we see not with our eyes
The living children indigent
The folks barely make ends meet
The rising costs
And the nest-egg dwindled
The drink, wine and dine
Of waste and women in songs
Till the wee-hours of the morning
For want of a meaningful existence
The young are left to their devices
All have left for industry
Of minds distorted
And obfuscated in values
Of personal gain and fame
Not one ounce for the community
It is self and self alone
To rise and rise without a pause for thought
Chalets, parties and club drugs
Of The Net affluence
and the coupling young
Left to abandon
The media blatant in all its display
Of magazines skin
And amorous young
Seduce and tempt in various sartorial
Of parties and clubs
In their lust
Of bodies in motion
And of working pairs
O Great City - Thy Name is VSM2
But with me is a part of a whole
But I shall hold my own
I still believe in thy redemption
But now a metropolis it is
Skyscrapers reaching for the sky
Of steel, glass and concrete they are
O Great City, Thy Name is Vanity
Of ostentation you are built on
And the people decked out
Of galls in skimps and men in color
Of gleaming marble floors
And glinting steel glass
Of torsoed sculpted men
And gaily painted women
Of pearly smooth complexion
Not one a blemish allowed
Of the finest fabric
To match an alter-ego
There is no place
For the mal-look or aged
And the odd ball
Is banished to all but hell
Of lavish ponds
And space of disproportion
Castles, fortresses and mansions
You built up to heaven
O Great City, Thy Name is Money
Of all enterprised is commerce
Of monied hues
And loss of soul
O Great City, Thy Name is Materialism
Of landscaped houses
And luxury wheelers
Of branded garb
And bejewelled decks
Of professions and of titular apellations
Of commerce in conglomerates
At the befallen whose slog toils blood and sweat
Just so for the luxurious inside
Of all the homes
Plush furnishings and fixtures
Any modern contraption
Is deemed a necessity
The only brandishment
Is the mobile telecommute
Of brand and expense
The only show-off
O Great City, Thy Name is Sin
The wretched indigent
and vagrants they are
Yet we see not with our eyes
The living children indigent
The folks barely make ends meet
The rising costs
And the nest-egg dwindled
The drink, wine and dine
Of waste and women in songs
Till the wee-hours of the morning
For want of a meaningful existence
The young are left to their devices
All have left for industry
Of minds distorted
And obfuscated in values
Of personal gain and fame
Not one ounce for the community
It is self and self alone
To rise and rise without a pause for thought
Chalets, parties and club drugs
Of The Net affluence
and the coupling young
Left to abandon
The media blatant in all its display
Of magazines skin
And amorous young
Seduce and tempt in various sartorial
Of parties and clubs
In their lust
Of bodies in motion
And of working pairs
O Great City - Thy Name is VSM2
But with me is a part of a whole
But I shall hold my own
I still believe in thy redemption
Thursday, August 11, 2005
O Mighty Last Tiger Of Our Reserve
At the turn of the century
You roamed and pawed the reserve
Your brethens in stripes so dark
The orange coat of fur it camouflages
Your feeling whiskers and glowing eyes
Scan the forest floor and horizon
For sustenance to make your mighty roar
It must have been a majestic maraud
Your teeth of carnivorous strength
And instinct intuitively matched
Makes you Almighty Beast feared and awed
Of our reserve and the kingdom of beasts
Your stealth and pounce
Is strong and beyond compare
As you steady your keel for the kill
To feed your brood and brethen
Your silhouette is of the beast of Greats
It scares the wits out of mortals like me
You stand atop the hill and roar
Your abode you make amongst the forest shrubberies
You spar among yourselves
In playful play and pounce
Learning and honing the craft of preying
So to keep alive and well
The forest beasts they scurry on your approach
The Second Only King of the Beasts
As you strut with mighty strides
And grandeur pad upon the forest floor
But alas, your tragic end
At the hands of Man
Reduced to a pittiance heap laying on the forest litter
What Man Art Thou to kill the Almighty Beast!
O braveless fearless One
That last growl of howl and pain
Has then terminated the Beast of Greats
Nature red in tooth and claw
As I glimpse the last of you in that monochrome
It must have been death of throes and shudders
At the shot of a gun
Your mighty frame as it is being brought down under
What heart is Man
To kill the Beast of beasts
And smile and grin
At the end of a species
O Murderers of this magnificient kill
The same befall you too
As your lineage is done for
Suffer the same as the Almighty Beast
O Mighty Last Tiger of our Reserve
What an awesome sight you will impose
If you were alive again today
You stand with glow and glory and roar atop the hill once more
You roamed and pawed the reserve
Your brethens in stripes so dark
The orange coat of fur it camouflages
Your feeling whiskers and glowing eyes
Scan the forest floor and horizon
For sustenance to make your mighty roar
It must have been a majestic maraud
Your teeth of carnivorous strength
And instinct intuitively matched
Makes you Almighty Beast feared and awed
Of our reserve and the kingdom of beasts
Your stealth and pounce
Is strong and beyond compare
As you steady your keel for the kill
To feed your brood and brethen
Your silhouette is of the beast of Greats
It scares the wits out of mortals like me
You stand atop the hill and roar
Your abode you make amongst the forest shrubberies
You spar among yourselves
In playful play and pounce
Learning and honing the craft of preying
So to keep alive and well
The forest beasts they scurry on your approach
The Second Only King of the Beasts
As you strut with mighty strides
And grandeur pad upon the forest floor
But alas, your tragic end
At the hands of Man
Reduced to a pittiance heap laying on the forest litter
What Man Art Thou to kill the Almighty Beast!
O braveless fearless One
That last growl of howl and pain
Has then terminated the Beast of Greats
Nature red in tooth and claw
As I glimpse the last of you in that monochrome
It must have been death of throes and shudders
At the shot of a gun
Your mighty frame as it is being brought down under
What heart is Man
To kill the Beast of beasts
And smile and grin
At the end of a species
O Murderers of this magnificient kill
The same befall you too
As your lineage is done for
Suffer the same as the Almighty Beast
O Mighty Last Tiger of our Reserve
What an awesome sight you will impose
If you were alive again today
You stand with glow and glory and roar atop the hill once more
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Hasta La Vista, Bloghead - Blow-by-Blow Showdown
That is it. Someone on the other side of blogdom has slimed and slandered moi. This can only mean one thing - The War of Bloggerdom.
Debators, take heed, you may just get to learn a few magical tricks from me here as well as you can pick up card tricks from Mr Hunkie (Ewwwww...if you are hunky, I am hunkier** snigger* snigger* laugh* laugh) from the other side of the fence (maybe when we sign the Treaty of Blog Peace you could afford time to show me your card tricks ** I may scream if it is good * snigger and snort)
So here it is:
1. Anyonymous? Well I did sign in as anonymous a few times but that does not mean all anonymous entries are me. Anyone with gray matter in their cranial skull of a porridge (by the way one of the foodies you ate - snigger*snort) can log in as anonymous if they wish to, any more than they can log in as "beetch", "Dwayne" or "Daryl" or even "Philip Teo".
2. Incessant? Ramblings? After what you see that I write here, let me know if you still think they are incessant or ramblings. They are concise and balanced factually true truths. (N.B: I had to write this reply in a blog so that I could place "his" and "my" blogs anal-to-mouth-then-dik-to-orifice position for a blow-by-blow counter-thesis, nothing short of a mutual rectal and blow job ***muahahahha* so gay**. Guessed you guess this right with the "turn over" snide remarks). If you call episodic comments incessant, so be it. After all, a pig-head is determined too.
3. I conjecture at this point that "upset" people meant someone you linked (licked) and my take is: If you have a banquet of bikinis, you invite all to your feast.
4. Impersonate a teenage girl? My moniker then and now is "samurai". Would a girl impersonate a "samurai' or a "samuraiess"? If you think you are David Beckham, think again. Because that reincarnation has to wait 1 zillion light years (snigger* snort). And you mean she is begging for rape from you? Duh.
5. No comments on postings, gay and hot ass action. I only posted on two and if that is one too many, that number is just mathematically your imagination (snigger *chortle *laugh)
6. Plagiarism? I have never in my life plagiarised anyone. Unless that person is myself (snigger* slap-on-back-self-congratulations - where the hell do you get these taglines from?) Report me to the cops for my threatening replies? You call this blog threatening? And I will expose myself to the cops if I need to (snigger yet again)
7. Monkeys? We are fortunately more closely related to apes which only form a part of the primates. Our closest is the bonobo and the next closest, the chimpanzees. We are NEVER monkeys. You got your science wrong, take a hike dude. Well do read what I said before :"In solitude, be a multitude unto thyself". That could explain the brainwave we all get from time to time.
8. You are absolutely right on this. I talk to myself a lot like we all do at one time or another. Read the above quote again. And the "dialogue" serves as balances and checks against my own views on my blogs too. Kind of like self-editing (snigger* snort* chortle* I can just imagine you with mouth agape now*laugh).
9. Bash? Now this takes the cake. Why would I bash Dwayne, the other half of the famous pair, who is so hunky ...like you (snort*chuckle yet again). Jesus! (oops - that is blasphemous)! I only "suan" him sometimes because he looks, well, so "suanable". He is a barrel of laughter. And anatomically too (but you look sexier **nude with protrusion, like tat other blog guy on someone's blog- snigger*hip-hip-hooray*hee hee hee)
10. Fame? The Straights Times? I only thought it would be cool to pen my thoughts and feelings on a variety of subjects as a way of self-expression and I got this idea only after I read about it in the press. If I had wanted fame, I would have gone to the press, like you guys did , and have a publicist with me (clap* justice sees the light) I would also never attend any DXO conferences not like you guys did, again. I swear to God - like over my dead body that is.
11. Cowardice? If you call "publicity-shyness", "introvertedness", "social awkwardness" and a "sense of right and wrong" that, so be it. It will be the same to you that black is also white and red is pink (chuckle). Add "elusive", "reclusive", "neurotic" and "withdrawn" and you created a sensible and cautious blogger (*hoot with laughter now)
12. Let me rephrase the headline : " So-so Super Not-so Gorgeous Bloghead makes his Gay Lover See Red over infidelity" (laugh* hoot la*) . Jealous? I am so zoilic now, why would I be green with envy? Rantings? I don't seem to think and see so (wahhahaha*seow)
13. You are right on one point though. I should get a life, But since I can't seem to get one, circumstantially speaking, that means I am not alive. And if I am not alive, I am dead. So help me GOD!
Miscellaneous
10 minutes is also about the same time I wank as a quickie (laugh*snigger*chortle) and if you want babes, I suggest you visit the bar (*hilarous laughter* sock it to him man)
And take note: all that background hooting and tooting of cheers, jeers and smears rises in crescendo.
So after thirteen (snigger*snigger* good luck to you) epistles from one blogger to another, do I sound any more anonymous than you do? Or are they still incessant rambles as you insisted previously.
By the way Russell Peters must be that jig of a comic stand-up. I think he is great too. And I think your food menu speaks a lot about your personal preferences in a way. (snort* snortle)
Other grammatical errors spotted: "miserly" for "measly and "saner" for "more sane" and the list goes on.
So there! I will continue reading your blog and hopefully we can "whatever". Hasta La Vista - Bloghead.
P.S: What is Vanilla sky? Foaming white ice-cream oozing from something hung up in the air? (snortle* chuckle yet again)
Debators, take heed, you may just get to learn a few magical tricks from me here as well as you can pick up card tricks from Mr Hunkie (Ewwwww...if you are hunky, I am hunkier** snigger* snigger* laugh* laugh) from the other side of the fence (maybe when we sign the Treaty of Blog Peace you could afford time to show me your card tricks ** I may scream if it is good * snigger and snort)
So here it is:
1. Anyonymous? Well I did sign in as anonymous a few times but that does not mean all anonymous entries are me. Anyone with gray matter in their cranial skull of a porridge (by the way one of the foodies you ate - snigger*snort) can log in as anonymous if they wish to, any more than they can log in as "beetch", "Dwayne" or "Daryl" or even "Philip Teo".
2. Incessant? Ramblings? After what you see that I write here, let me know if you still think they are incessant or ramblings. They are concise and balanced factually true truths. (N.B: I had to write this reply in a blog so that I could place "his" and "my" blogs anal-to-mouth-then-dik-to-orifice position for a blow-by-blow counter-thesis, nothing short of a mutual rectal and blow job ***muahahahha* so gay**. Guessed you guess this right with the "turn over" snide remarks). If you call episodic comments incessant, so be it. After all, a pig-head is determined too.
3. I conjecture at this point that "upset" people meant someone you linked (licked) and my take is: If you have a banquet of bikinis, you invite all to your feast.
4. Impersonate a teenage girl? My moniker then and now is "samurai". Would a girl impersonate a "samurai' or a "samuraiess"? If you think you are David Beckham, think again. Because that reincarnation has to wait 1 zillion light years (snigger* snort). And you mean she is begging for rape from you? Duh.
5. No comments on postings, gay and hot ass action. I only posted on two and if that is one too many, that number is just mathematically your imagination (snigger *chortle *laugh)
6. Plagiarism? I have never in my life plagiarised anyone. Unless that person is myself (snigger* slap-on-back-self-congratulations - where the hell do you get these taglines from?) Report me to the cops for my threatening replies? You call this blog threatening? And I will expose myself to the cops if I need to (snigger yet again)
7. Monkeys? We are fortunately more closely related to apes which only form a part of the primates. Our closest is the bonobo and the next closest, the chimpanzees. We are NEVER monkeys. You got your science wrong, take a hike dude. Well do read what I said before :"In solitude, be a multitude unto thyself". That could explain the brainwave we all get from time to time.
8. You are absolutely right on this. I talk to myself a lot like we all do at one time or another. Read the above quote again. And the "dialogue" serves as balances and checks against my own views on my blogs too. Kind of like self-editing (snigger* snort* chortle* I can just imagine you with mouth agape now*laugh).
9. Bash? Now this takes the cake. Why would I bash Dwayne, the other half of the famous pair, who is so hunky ...like you (snort*chuckle yet again). Jesus! (oops - that is blasphemous)! I only "suan" him sometimes because he looks, well, so "suanable". He is a barrel of laughter. And anatomically too (but you look sexier **nude with protrusion, like tat other blog guy on someone's blog- snigger*hip-hip-hooray*hee hee hee)
10. Fame? The Straights Times? I only thought it would be cool to pen my thoughts and feelings on a variety of subjects as a way of self-expression and I got this idea only after I read about it in the press. If I had wanted fame, I would have gone to the press, like you guys did , and have a publicist with me (clap* justice sees the light) I would also never attend any DXO conferences not like you guys did, again. I swear to God - like over my dead body that is.
11. Cowardice? If you call "publicity-shyness", "introvertedness", "social awkwardness" and a "sense of right and wrong" that, so be it. It will be the same to you that black is also white and red is pink (chuckle). Add "elusive", "reclusive", "neurotic" and "withdrawn" and you created a sensible and cautious blogger (*hoot with laughter now)
12. Let me rephrase the headline : " So-so Super Not-so Gorgeous Bloghead makes his Gay Lover See Red over infidelity" (laugh* hoot la*) . Jealous? I am so zoilic now, why would I be green with envy? Rantings? I don't seem to think and see so (wahhahaha*seow)
13. You are right on one point though. I should get a life, But since I can't seem to get one, circumstantially speaking, that means I am not alive. And if I am not alive, I am dead. So help me GOD!
Miscellaneous
10 minutes is also about the same time I wank as a quickie (laugh*snigger*chortle) and if you want babes, I suggest you visit the bar (*hilarous laughter* sock it to him man)
And take note: all that background hooting and tooting of cheers, jeers and smears rises in crescendo.
So after thirteen (snigger*snigger* good luck to you) epistles from one blogger to another, do I sound any more anonymous than you do? Or are they still incessant rambles as you insisted previously.
By the way Russell Peters must be that jig of a comic stand-up. I think he is great too. And I think your food menu speaks a lot about your personal preferences in a way. (snort* snortle)
Other grammatical errors spotted: "miserly" for "measly and "saner" for "more sane" and the list goes on.
So there! I will continue reading your blog and hopefully we can "whatever". Hasta La Vista - Bloghead.
P.S: What is Vanilla sky? Foaming white ice-cream oozing from something hung up in the air? (snortle* chuckle yet again)
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Lexicon of Context, Culture and Continuum
This is the last of my trilogy on philosophical musings with regards to muti-dimensionalism, rounding up my thinking on many current post-modernistic issues.
I have gone from a mono-angle to a bi-one and even to a multi-perspective facet.
What remains now is to show a continuum . In case you ask what difference would that make, I think it is a fair question. My answer is : Does it really really matter? Of course it does.
First it would show once and for all, in all its finality, the Golden Median concept. That mid-point or that average of averages. That homeostatic balance in view and equilibrium. Never leaning too far right or left. And so logically never ultra liberal or ultra conservative.
Whether this stance can always be possible to all of lives' conudrums, that is ultimately a philosophical posit.
It is important that we relate all that we experience within its proper context and culture. In fact culture is such an influential factor, the Thai has it in their greeting of "Suawdee Krup" or "Suwadee Ka", exuding feminism or masculinity.
Many of our English words have the same. He is a blond but she has blonde hair. My father is my greatest confidant but my mother is my confidante. Plato must surely count as the savant that he is but we can safely add that so too was Mary Magdalene, the savante of Jesus' disciples.
We can never be at the polars of the world both at the same time. However we can veer off in the magnetic polar positions.
This illustrates the continuum concept perpaciously. We are usually on a range, between the maxima or the minima. With bad luck we could lean on the absolute zero but with the God of Fortune smiling upon us, we could also be at the pyramidal apex.
Like the optical electromagnetic spectrum of varying wavelengths, theological cardinal, venial and mortal sins or geographical rural , exurbia, surburbia and urbania.
But we must remember the continuum does not necessarily represent the zenith or the trough. Each may equally be a point of excellence on the continuum. It need not lead to progressivism as in the sense of being the best or most ideal.
Any point on a continuum could be just as excellent as those at the extreme positions.
I have gone from a mono-angle to a bi-one and even to a multi-perspective facet.
What remains now is to show a continuum . In case you ask what difference would that make, I think it is a fair question. My answer is : Does it really really matter? Of course it does.
First it would show once and for all, in all its finality, the Golden Median concept. That mid-point or that average of averages. That homeostatic balance in view and equilibrium. Never leaning too far right or left. And so logically never ultra liberal or ultra conservative.
Whether this stance can always be possible to all of lives' conudrums, that is ultimately a philosophical posit.
It is important that we relate all that we experience within its proper context and culture. In fact culture is such an influential factor, the Thai has it in their greeting of "Suawdee Krup" or "Suwadee Ka", exuding feminism or masculinity.
Many of our English words have the same. He is a blond but she has blonde hair. My father is my greatest confidant but my mother is my confidante. Plato must surely count as the savant that he is but we can safely add that so too was Mary Magdalene, the savante of Jesus' disciples.
We can never be at the polars of the world both at the same time. However we can veer off in the magnetic polar positions.
This illustrates the continuum concept perpaciously. We are usually on a range, between the maxima or the minima. With bad luck we could lean on the absolute zero but with the God of Fortune smiling upon us, we could also be at the pyramidal apex.
Like the optical electromagnetic spectrum of varying wavelengths, theological cardinal, venial and mortal sins or geographical rural , exurbia, surburbia and urbania.
But we must remember the continuum does not necessarily represent the zenith or the trough. Each may equally be a point of excellence on the continuum. It need not lead to progressivism as in the sense of being the best or most ideal.
Any point on a continuum could be just as excellent as those at the extreme positions.
Monism, Dualism, Pluralism, Existentialism and Logic Explained
Rene Descartes, inventor of the Cartesian co-ordinates, mouths: "Cogito Ergo Sum" or "I think therefore I am."
In some ways, he was asserting the concert of the mind-body dualism, with an emphasis perhaps, that the mind somehow has a more overwhelming hold on the body, it being superordinate and the body subordinate.
By extension, I could also assert that if I think I am a pig, I am, sort of a reincarnation of Hinduistic religious beliefs. Or if my She-Ape ex-colleague thought she was a pongo pygmeus, she has to be because we would whole-heartedly lend credence to that notion.
That wonderful mass of neuronic synaptic tangle can do so much for our self-image and self-esteem and radically alter our perception of the world. So on a bad hair day, I can simply pre-meditate and think the people in the world are neurotically cataleptic or mute and they are. Or my neighbor's twin monozygotic off-springs are brattish pain-in-the-asses and what do you know, they are too.
Extrapolating, when I think dudes at the swimming pools are hunks, I likewise see a sea of hunky dories. Or if the women are bitches, I similarly see a platoon of dogs, female dogs, that is.
I think you are a bunch of bastardy bastards and you are. I think she is a smellysmock snollygoster and hey presto, she is.
What a marvellous philosophical treatise Descartes has left us. We can simply tune in or tune out our eye-diffraction grates and cerebral cognition just at the snap of our fingers!
Now the mind-body dualism can also mean working in opposites. We just have to look around our public transport system to see this extremophilic preponderance!
Anorexic bitch A walks in front of you and her body suddenly stops to listen in on her celly. Fussock bitch B, on the other hand, blocks your path as she mindlessly and zombiely saunters along. A good and fine example of mind not working but body is.
In fact, both examples would exemplify monism too.The reality is only as real as their bodies are in motion and nothing else.
Principia Motionia, ala Sir Issac Newton, states that all bodies tend to continue in their line of motion unless stopped by some opposing forces. Like when they slam into the wall or another person in front of them, ruining their eyeliner and peeling off their mascara in this clash of accident. Maybe even warranting maxillo-facial microsurgery!
Dualism also shows traces of the dichotomous dichotomy we spoke of earlier but in the strictly "anti" sense.
Now the most famous of all philosophical exposition has to be the ontological argument or ontology issue. This is where I failed my philosophy exam. I mean being more an agnostic, I couldn't really relate to such profundity in cosmological, ecclesiastical or logical dissertation.
I mean who cares for the "Designer" argument for seeing a time-piece as a first person God-designed-one any more than I care to tell the time to check if I am late for an appointment.
Or the egg or chicken ontology argument. As far as I am concerned, both make sumptuous dinner eats and I do not need to know their nature or first being at all! That would qualify as truly true-blue American pragmatism.
Just so you can really grasp this dualism precept, it goes beyond the "mind-body" argument and extends to a myriad of theological dualism - good/evil, divine/human and spiritual/physical.
So like today I decide to peck my good friend a "muack" but tomorrow it could be a "burke". Or I kick Jen physically but feel remorseful spiritually. I clean up the orphanage one day but raze it to the ground the next. The list of antagonistic forces goes on.
Dualism can mean eonism in certain ways too. It is also a tussle of the mind-body control. A man decides to cross dress. Mentally he is yang but physically he is yin. But the yang wasn't enough to overpower the yin, so he ends up being a transsexual eventually.
Pluralism is self-evident and you can think of that multi-dimensionalism we discussed before. If I have to expound on this, I choose to use our very own Singaporean pledge of "regardless of race, language or religion". A pluralism, in my context, means more than 2, and it must be the official languages of Chinese, Malay, Tamil and English.
Now this is the quintessential pluralism.
An Indian can be a Muslim who speaks English. A Chinese Muslim speaks Tamil. Awesome pluralistic manifestation indeed.
However you rarely find a Malay Muslim speaking any language other than English or Malay , so more dualism.
As for me, I am a Chinese Christian who speaks English and Mandarin - thus not quite pluralistic. But if you account for the other dialects and a spattering of Malay and European languages I dabble in, well then maybe I am.
Existentialism is that unique experience an individual and only an individual himself undergoes which is independent of the environment that goes on unperturbed around him. Note that this is a necessary condition.
An ant losing his feelers experiences just that. But no other animal in the arthropodic phylum is going to give two hoots about that. They are just going to carry on as usual , unmoved, much like we reeling from catalepsy and mutism in our society today.
At best a fellow passing ant reaches out into thin air, cannot feel our "antennaeless" ant and unaffectionately crawls along till he meets another. Think of this poor "antennaeless" ant as being an alien of sorts, dropping in on a colony of his former comrades.
It is just his luck to have lost his feelers either by choice or by accident. Nobody is going to take notice.
On top of that, this "alien" ant has the free will to either 1) completely disappear from the surface of the earth or 2) carry on his same "antennaeless" antics.
In any case, he faces the consequences of either 1) not being missed at all or 2) not even being seen or noticed in the least bit. He is a walking, fucking ghost for pete's sake.
Now that is existentialism. Schizophrenic? Well yes to a large extent. Isn't dualism exactly that too?
Logic is the ultimate of all philosophies. It teaches inductive and deductive lines of reasoning and thinking. But logicians worry more about the form rather than the content. We can
have absolutely valid arguments with implausible or even meaningless premises.
Just to illustrate this syllogism:
All Singapore girls are chio
All Singapore girls are bu.
Therefore all Singapore girls are chio-bus
Or this one:
All Singapore males have dicks
All Singapore males have testis.
Therefore all Singapore males have dik-tests.
Finally, logic assumes non-contradiction, or rhetorical logic, as it is popularly known (my concoction anyway): If A, not B, then C ?.
If Dwayne is a glutton
but Daryl is not a glutton
Then who is?.
Call this New Age rhetorical logic if you must.
You got that logic right? Good luck, you need it.
In some ways, he was asserting the concert of the mind-body dualism, with an emphasis perhaps, that the mind somehow has a more overwhelming hold on the body, it being superordinate and the body subordinate.
By extension, I could also assert that if I think I am a pig, I am, sort of a reincarnation of Hinduistic religious beliefs. Or if my She-Ape ex-colleague thought she was a pongo pygmeus, she has to be because we would whole-heartedly lend credence to that notion.
That wonderful mass of neuronic synaptic tangle can do so much for our self-image and self-esteem and radically alter our perception of the world. So on a bad hair day, I can simply pre-meditate and think the people in the world are neurotically cataleptic or mute and they are. Or my neighbor's twin monozygotic off-springs are brattish pain-in-the-asses and what do you know, they are too.
Extrapolating, when I think dudes at the swimming pools are hunks, I likewise see a sea of hunky dories. Or if the women are bitches, I similarly see a platoon of dogs, female dogs, that is.
I think you are a bunch of bastardy bastards and you are. I think she is a smellysmock snollygoster and hey presto, she is.
What a marvellous philosophical treatise Descartes has left us. We can simply tune in or tune out our eye-diffraction grates and cerebral cognition just at the snap of our fingers!
Now the mind-body dualism can also mean working in opposites. We just have to look around our public transport system to see this extremophilic preponderance!
Anorexic bitch A walks in front of you and her body suddenly stops to listen in on her celly. Fussock bitch B, on the other hand, blocks your path as she mindlessly and zombiely saunters along. A good and fine example of mind not working but body is.
In fact, both examples would exemplify monism too.The reality is only as real as their bodies are in motion and nothing else.
Principia Motionia, ala Sir Issac Newton, states that all bodies tend to continue in their line of motion unless stopped by some opposing forces. Like when they slam into the wall or another person in front of them, ruining their eyeliner and peeling off their mascara in this clash of accident. Maybe even warranting maxillo-facial microsurgery!
Dualism also shows traces of the dichotomous dichotomy we spoke of earlier but in the strictly "anti" sense.
Now the most famous of all philosophical exposition has to be the ontological argument or ontology issue. This is where I failed my philosophy exam. I mean being more an agnostic, I couldn't really relate to such profundity in cosmological, ecclesiastical or logical dissertation.
I mean who cares for the "Designer" argument for seeing a time-piece as a first person God-designed-one any more than I care to tell the time to check if I am late for an appointment.
Or the egg or chicken ontology argument. As far as I am concerned, both make sumptuous dinner eats and I do not need to know their nature or first being at all! That would qualify as truly true-blue American pragmatism.
Just so you can really grasp this dualism precept, it goes beyond the "mind-body" argument and extends to a myriad of theological dualism - good/evil, divine/human and spiritual/physical.
So like today I decide to peck my good friend a "muack" but tomorrow it could be a "burke". Or I kick Jen physically but feel remorseful spiritually. I clean up the orphanage one day but raze it to the ground the next. The list of antagonistic forces goes on.
Dualism can mean eonism in certain ways too. It is also a tussle of the mind-body control. A man decides to cross dress. Mentally he is yang but physically he is yin. But the yang wasn't enough to overpower the yin, so he ends up being a transsexual eventually.
Pluralism is self-evident and you can think of that multi-dimensionalism we discussed before. If I have to expound on this, I choose to use our very own Singaporean pledge of "regardless of race, language or religion". A pluralism, in my context, means more than 2, and it must be the official languages of Chinese, Malay, Tamil and English.
Now this is the quintessential pluralism.
An Indian can be a Muslim who speaks English. A Chinese Muslim speaks Tamil. Awesome pluralistic manifestation indeed.
However you rarely find a Malay Muslim speaking any language other than English or Malay , so more dualism.
As for me, I am a Chinese Christian who speaks English and Mandarin - thus not quite pluralistic. But if you account for the other dialects and a spattering of Malay and European languages I dabble in, well then maybe I am.
Existentialism is that unique experience an individual and only an individual himself undergoes which is independent of the environment that goes on unperturbed around him. Note that this is a necessary condition.
An ant losing his feelers experiences just that. But no other animal in the arthropodic phylum is going to give two hoots about that. They are just going to carry on as usual , unmoved, much like we reeling from catalepsy and mutism in our society today.
At best a fellow passing ant reaches out into thin air, cannot feel our "antennaeless" ant and unaffectionately crawls along till he meets another. Think of this poor "antennaeless" ant as being an alien of sorts, dropping in on a colony of his former comrades.
It is just his luck to have lost his feelers either by choice or by accident. Nobody is going to take notice.
On top of that, this "alien" ant has the free will to either 1) completely disappear from the surface of the earth or 2) carry on his same "antennaeless" antics.
In any case, he faces the consequences of either 1) not being missed at all or 2) not even being seen or noticed in the least bit. He is a walking, fucking ghost for pete's sake.
Now that is existentialism. Schizophrenic? Well yes to a large extent. Isn't dualism exactly that too?
Logic is the ultimate of all philosophies. It teaches inductive and deductive lines of reasoning and thinking. But logicians worry more about the form rather than the content. We can
have absolutely valid arguments with implausible or even meaningless premises.
Just to illustrate this syllogism:
All Singapore girls are chio
All Singapore girls are bu.
Therefore all Singapore girls are chio-bus
Or this one:
All Singapore males have dicks
All Singapore males have testis.
Therefore all Singapore males have dik-tests.
Finally, logic assumes non-contradiction, or rhetorical logic, as it is popularly known (my concoction anyway): If A, not B, then C ?.
If Dwayne is a glutton
but Daryl is not a glutton
Then who is?.
Call this New Age rhetorical logic if you must.
You got that logic right? Good luck, you need it.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Binary Dichotomus Dichotomy and/or the Golden Mean
So there you have it. In life, which in all likelihood is an invention of the West, yet again, we have this binary "either this" or "that" take on almost everything.
East versus West. Male versus female. Boss versus worker. Teacher versus student. Foreign versus local. Nature versus nurture. Rich versus poor. Old versus young. Religion versus religion. North versus south. In short, Us versus them.
The notion of one being true and the other false intensifies till one is obliterated while the other stands victorious.
Rudyard Kipling, Nobel laureate for literature sums this opposable force thus: "East is East. West is West. Never the twain shall meet." He also gave us memorable literature such as the Jungle Books.
Nevertheless, despite all that competition and pitting of one against the other, you will have noticed my surreptitious insertion of the "and/or Golden Mean". If we just replace each and every one of the preceding with "and", it would turn out to be a co-operative and beneficial enterprise.
So this "and" rather than "or" or "versus" turns a contentious dichotomy into the Middle of the Road (our Singaporean version) or Middle Way (Eastern concept) proposition, the West's Golden Mean (courtesy of Phidias the Athenian sculptor who is credited with the building of the Parthenon).
What this means is that the best ingredients of both are taken to make a broth of potent mutualism . After all, each is unique and has a life all its own.
If we must trace its roots, it started first with Hegel and his dialecticism. It goes something like a debator proposing a thesis, his opponent parries with a counter-thesis and the judicature probably in delivering the final verdict will come up with a synthesis.
Of course, Karl Marx and Friedrich Engel took this and turned it on its head somewhat with their dialectical materialism. Lenin added it on to make it Lenin-Marixism. By the time it filtered down to Stalin, it was way off its original intent and rightly named Stalinism.
That was the West conception by the way.
For the East, very much mimicking the Taoist Dao, it was change, contradiction then holism, moving in a circular motion as a wheel of fortune would. For Easterners, the opposite of a great truth can be equally true.
Merging the two will effect two "before" and "after" scenes of the battle of the sexes thus:
Before
King Tut :(furiously heeling chariot's horses) Come on asshole! I am gonna race you to the finish line! Come on! (gnashing teeth as he says this)
Queen Nefertiti:(riding on other chariot) Tut....don't go so fast... watch out for that .....(stops in the middle of her sentence and watches Tut's chariot overturning and Tut somersaulting into the air) ...hump on the road..Duh!
Which could possibly explain Tut's broken ribs.
After
Tut and Nefertiti, on same chariot together, with Nefertiti reining and stirupping the horses.
Or this other scene of East and West when Bush captured Sodom. They actually had "someone" in common.
Sodom: (Showing family portrait of 2 moustachioed sons and slutty wife in Arabian gown) Bush, look at my family album. You must let them go. They are my source of pride and joy.
Bush: (Brandishing his album in turn) Nah. Look at mine. They are better!(Album shows two daughters and same slutty wife in Arabian gown)
Therefore in diverse humankindship, there do exist commonality and crossing over.
In the old days, educators thought they had the upperhand in all teacher-pupil relationship. But with the advent of the Internet and many other telecommunicative and research facilities , this can no longer be a truism.
So instead of drawing a line and adopting a distinctive disciplinarian, combative, hierarchical stance, the daily "battle of wits and supremacy" must cease.
Similarly bosses must take the same enlightened route. You no longer own the life of your staff any more than you own a mortgaged property, technically.
Christian reformists and Catholics can do the same. Their focal point will be Jesus as the Anointed One whom both can relate to. Likewise, Islam's Prophet Mohammed and in fact Islamism itself stems from the same Abrahamic roots like the Jews.
The battle cry of the sexes should also not be heard as an "either or" combat line but as the two dots dotting the Yin-yang elements within each of the symbol. The Animus and Anima enigma if you will.
Thus today the man may dress himself in stockings and a pinafore while the next day the woman will be in pant suits. There is no more distinction in the gender germ line.
On a closing note , just so to illustrate the bridge to span the French and British continentals, I will leave you with an anecdote about Napoleon and his English counterpart.
English sovereign: (towering over Nap's bald pate) Jolly good fella. I am actually taller than you. Brittania lives in eternity (in old Britisher accent).
Napoleon : (feeling his pate with one hand and the other in breech pockets) Juis Ce'sn Nui Ote de mon de (which when translated goes: Yeah but I am sure gonna kick your ass at Waterloo to make up for my inferiority complex)
Who says Man ever learn sometimes? Duh.
East versus West. Male versus female. Boss versus worker. Teacher versus student. Foreign versus local. Nature versus nurture. Rich versus poor. Old versus young. Religion versus religion. North versus south. In short, Us versus them.
The notion of one being true and the other false intensifies till one is obliterated while the other stands victorious.
Rudyard Kipling, Nobel laureate for literature sums this opposable force thus: "East is East. West is West. Never the twain shall meet." He also gave us memorable literature such as the Jungle Books.
Nevertheless, despite all that competition and pitting of one against the other, you will have noticed my surreptitious insertion of the "and/or Golden Mean". If we just replace each and every one of the preceding with "and", it would turn out to be a co-operative and beneficial enterprise.
So this "and" rather than "or" or "versus" turns a contentious dichotomy into the Middle of the Road (our Singaporean version) or Middle Way (Eastern concept) proposition, the West's Golden Mean (courtesy of Phidias the Athenian sculptor who is credited with the building of the Parthenon).
What this means is that the best ingredients of both are taken to make a broth of potent mutualism . After all, each is unique and has a life all its own.
If we must trace its roots, it started first with Hegel and his dialecticism. It goes something like a debator proposing a thesis, his opponent parries with a counter-thesis and the judicature probably in delivering the final verdict will come up with a synthesis.
Of course, Karl Marx and Friedrich Engel took this and turned it on its head somewhat with their dialectical materialism. Lenin added it on to make it Lenin-Marixism. By the time it filtered down to Stalin, it was way off its original intent and rightly named Stalinism.
That was the West conception by the way.
For the East, very much mimicking the Taoist Dao, it was change, contradiction then holism, moving in a circular motion as a wheel of fortune would. For Easterners, the opposite of a great truth can be equally true.
Merging the two will effect two "before" and "after" scenes of the battle of the sexes thus:
Before
King Tut :(furiously heeling chariot's horses) Come on asshole! I am gonna race you to the finish line! Come on! (gnashing teeth as he says this)
Queen Nefertiti:(riding on other chariot) Tut....don't go so fast... watch out for that .....(stops in the middle of her sentence and watches Tut's chariot overturning and Tut somersaulting into the air) ...hump on the road..Duh!
Which could possibly explain Tut's broken ribs.
After
Tut and Nefertiti, on same chariot together, with Nefertiti reining and stirupping the horses.
Or this other scene of East and West when Bush captured Sodom. They actually had "someone" in common.
Sodom: (Showing family portrait of 2 moustachioed sons and slutty wife in Arabian gown) Bush, look at my family album. You must let them go. They are my source of pride and joy.
Bush: (Brandishing his album in turn) Nah. Look at mine. They are better!(Album shows two daughters and same slutty wife in Arabian gown)
Therefore in diverse humankindship, there do exist commonality and crossing over.
In the old days, educators thought they had the upperhand in all teacher-pupil relationship. But with the advent of the Internet and many other telecommunicative and research facilities , this can no longer be a truism.
So instead of drawing a line and adopting a distinctive disciplinarian, combative, hierarchical stance, the daily "battle of wits and supremacy" must cease.
Similarly bosses must take the same enlightened route. You no longer own the life of your staff any more than you own a mortgaged property, technically.
Christian reformists and Catholics can do the same. Their focal point will be Jesus as the Anointed One whom both can relate to. Likewise, Islam's Prophet Mohammed and in fact Islamism itself stems from the same Abrahamic roots like the Jews.
The battle cry of the sexes should also not be heard as an "either or" combat line but as the two dots dotting the Yin-yang elements within each of the symbol. The Animus and Anima enigma if you will.
Thus today the man may dress himself in stockings and a pinafore while the next day the woman will be in pant suits. There is no more distinction in the gender germ line.
On a closing note , just so to illustrate the bridge to span the French and British continentals, I will leave you with an anecdote about Napoleon and his English counterpart.
English sovereign: (towering over Nap's bald pate) Jolly good fella. I am actually taller than you. Brittania lives in eternity (in old Britisher accent).
Napoleon : (feeling his pate with one hand and the other in breech pockets) Juis Ce'sn Nui Ote de mon de (which when translated goes: Yeah but I am sure gonna kick your ass at Waterloo to make up for my inferiority complex)
Who says Man ever learn sometimes? Duh.
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