Educational Practicalities
If the world of hard sciences like Physics is to be any more relevant to our everyday living, then perhaps it could boil down to this.
We have come across the Kilowatt-rating of electrical appliances from many a Physics textbook we have read. The air-conditioner functions on a BTU rating system. We could learn how we can convert this to KWh (I have done this once but have forgotten it by now) and have everyone know which items in the house are energy guzzlers.
What about sharing snippets of our lives on what works and what doesn't work for us. Of course we should have the proviso that it may not work for thou. For example, I hardly visit a doctor except for a hacking cough or a fever. Somehow Panadol doesn't work for me. But now that they have non-drowsy suppressive mucolyants sold over the counter for whooping coughs, I find that I don't have to see a doc for that anymore.
Education cannot be more practical than this.
Social Smoker
I picked up smoking when I was serving National Service. There are a handful of us who I suppose do pick up vices from doing their bit for the nation. Vices like vulgarities and smoking.
Smoking looks cool with the smoker being seen as sado-macho, lips parted holding a fag (pun intended), a white smoke trail whirling and something to do with your itchy fingers. Health concerns apart (and if the movie "Thank You For Smoking" is anything to go by, smoking may not be as deleterious as research doctors have yet to substantiate its hazardous effects), smoking contains nicotine which like any chemical stimulant, put you on an instant high if only for a brief moment.
After that, you find you need more puffs to get this same high which is the intended addictive nature of nicotine.
Just last Friday, I was lured to buy a pack of ciggies and today saw me lapping up my 2nd pack. Ciggies don't come cheap these days. Back in 2001 or thereabouts (and that was a period when I had a bout of extremely heavy smoking after a particularly nasty break-up and numerous troubles plaguing me), a pack costs something well within 5 bucks. Today, there is just one standard size and its price has skyrocketed to twice what it was back then.
I was pleasantly surprised when the vendor showed me strawberry filtered ciggies. Usually I chew on the light minty menthol tobacco flavor. But I just had to try this out.
New Place
I was frantically looking high and low for a new place. My scouting escapade has not resulted in any favourable searches but since Daniel issued the final ultimatum to leave within 4 days (I had to negotiate for 2 more days and my deposit was still 5 days shy of maturing), I was caught in a real bind.
At the eleventh hour, someone relented and I found myself sleeping on a mattress laid in the living hall. This is a space encircled by the sofa and a television side-board which demarcates my private space from the rest of the world unpartitioned. Lying just next to the window , the corridor lights offered me artificial lighting refuge from the pitch-darkness.
This vantage (if you wanna call it that, it could be "disturbing and too pervious" too) point offered me a panoramic peeping-out-the-window view to 4 reasonably nice-looking chaps, two Malaysians, one Filipino and one local, scurrying to work at the crack of dawn and to their alarms.
I sense a charade going on here and these folks look like they are hiding something. A masquerade party of sorts ala the "Wedding Banquet" with a pair of Malaysian "cousins" holed up in one bedroom and the local bedding in with his "weekend galfren" (whom I have yet to have the honor to see). I am supposed to be the local's "buddy" if the house-owner comes a-knocking and asking.
The only eligible bachelor seems to be the Filipino. I will give them all the benefit of the doubt but my eyes will be peeled for little tell-tale signs. Like the jockstrap and way too cute swimming trunk hanging out to dry. Much too sexy I must add.
As they shuffle their blurry and half-woken bodies and faces to and fro between their bedrooms and the bathroom, moi sleeps on, semi-conscious himself, with the swirl of the light, the sound and the foot-steps going all around him.
I had a stiff neck too. I haven't had any back or neck pains for the 3 months I put up at Daniel's. This means that all that abdominal crunches and exercises have paid off. It also means that sleeping on the floor tend to aggravate my body aches and pains.
Anyway Patrick, the Filipino tenant, is supposed to shift out and I am taking over his place. I hope he does soon.
SUPERMAN hasn't been unpacked and he sits draped in two layers of CARREFOUR plastic bags and he won't see the light of day, at least not yet, for a whole month as this is a temporal abode until I find a "permanent" place the following month.
Superman Has Replied
Speaking of SUPERMAN, the other SUPERMAN in my life (remember MR ARMY HUNK?) has finally replied to my electronic mail. WHOA! My heart skipped a beat here. I didn't know what to say except that we should text instead of chatting online.
It is obvious that bouncing chatter off your friends or whoever does sometimes light up our headbulbs. While chattering with MR ARMY HUNK, I realised I should find out if this club membership was transferable. This may seem trivial but it won't be anymore should you be caught in a CATCH-22 (pun intended) when you are unable to ride out the tenure of the membership due to various compelling reasons.
What Really Gets Me Up About This New Place
I can't afford the pricey room I am going to live in soon, which isn't much better than most that I have seen (in fact the whole place is old and run down), but it is nestled in the green lung of a town park and I can actually walk to places I have my regular fixes without taking the bus or train. Places like the three swimming pools, one stand-alone library, two stadia, two gymnasiums , a highly popular shopping mall, a cineplex, neighborhood shops, grocery stores and eateries which dot the whole scenic route, all within walking distance of each other and straddling two estates.
This is what I really like about the place. Two towns for the price of one. And a gazebo looking out to the town park where I can sit, stare and smoke while deep in pensive thoughts, relishing the cool breeze after a heavy downpour.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Pertinent Education For All
More thoughts cross my mind.
Technical and vocational education teach the skills one has to master to perform a task or job. Laboratorial techniques and retail services management are but examples.
Apart from the English language and the humanities (English literature which usually explores a whole range of human emotions and motivation) ,the social sciences (History and Geography) , basic Science and Maths (for example, computing the four basic operations) academic skills are not very relevant save for those who go on to become engineers and scientists.
Let me focus on just one aspect today, primarily that of the English language essay-writing topics.
Story telling or narrative subjects are sometimes not geared towards more personalised experiences. A good instance of more personalised topics would be to have pupils describe one sporting event they have participated in and to pour their heart out on the subject, rather than more asbtractly headed ones.
An essay requiring a pupil to espouse on "The Efficacy Of The UN In International Dispute Arbitration And Intervention" would probably have students reading up on the UN and rattling off a list of successes and failures it has had in handling global warfare or discord.
But someone who works for the UN (maybe on internship even) will be in a singularly unique position to write insightfully on the intricacies of round-table discussion, negotiation and opposition versus someone who just creams off information from a book or a magazine.
These are the kind of subject matter students should be writing on, from their heart and personal experiences. Not just solely gleaned from "reading and research".
But of course, we do need some of the "read and research" topics to have students understand and appreciate a whole spectrum of writing between pure textbook regurgitation or a personally experienced one and even a combo of the two.
Having said that, students within their narrow bandwidth of encounters in the real world, are perhaps unfairly expected to have personally experienced the topics they write on. They usually do not.
Education cannot just be remote, perhaps even alien , expatiation of Calculus or Optical Physics but an indepth look into how these can be applied meaningfully to our day-to-day existence.
In this light, the English Language, the humanities ,the social sciences and some fundamental parts of Maths (four basic operations) and Science (applications of water pressure and heat perhaps?) seem more pertinent in educating us as a whole.
We communicate in the English language. Other than pronunciation, correct intonation and grammatically strung sentences, diction, concise and precise thinking leading to crystal clear conveyance are part and parcel of the communicaton process.
Literature helps us understand psychological and philosophical thinking and motivation of Man. History helps us understand why the world is the way it is today and Geography teaches environmental science which are applied to pollution control and resource management.
How real can education get as far as language, the humanities and social sciences are concerned? Compare this with the hard sciences of Maths, Physics and Chemistry. Hardly a teeny weeny fraction of us use it in our daily dealings except for the very fundamentals.
The analogy can be drawn by examining how we have poured billions into infrastructural development, utilising the hard sciences. But we may not have really looked into functionality and aesthetics as much as we should, with functionality over-riding non-sensical aesthetics if the latter renders the former useless.
This is only half the equation gotten correct.
The other half will be to improve on the people manning and living the infrastructure. Using languages with a heart of humane-ities, a good understanding of sociological perspectives, logic and reasoning with the hard sciences guiding us in more scientific rationalisation of things, events and people.
Technical and vocational education teach the skills one has to master to perform a task or job. Laboratorial techniques and retail services management are but examples.
Apart from the English language and the humanities (English literature which usually explores a whole range of human emotions and motivation) ,the social sciences (History and Geography) , basic Science and Maths (for example, computing the four basic operations) academic skills are not very relevant save for those who go on to become engineers and scientists.
Let me focus on just one aspect today, primarily that of the English language essay-writing topics.
Story telling or narrative subjects are sometimes not geared towards more personalised experiences. A good instance of more personalised topics would be to have pupils describe one sporting event they have participated in and to pour their heart out on the subject, rather than more asbtractly headed ones.
An essay requiring a pupil to espouse on "The Efficacy Of The UN In International Dispute Arbitration And Intervention" would probably have students reading up on the UN and rattling off a list of successes and failures it has had in handling global warfare or discord.
But someone who works for the UN (maybe on internship even) will be in a singularly unique position to write insightfully on the intricacies of round-table discussion, negotiation and opposition versus someone who just creams off information from a book or a magazine.
These are the kind of subject matter students should be writing on, from their heart and personal experiences. Not just solely gleaned from "reading and research".
But of course, we do need some of the "read and research" topics to have students understand and appreciate a whole spectrum of writing between pure textbook regurgitation or a personally experienced one and even a combo of the two.
Having said that, students within their narrow bandwidth of encounters in the real world, are perhaps unfairly expected to have personally experienced the topics they write on. They usually do not.
Education cannot just be remote, perhaps even alien , expatiation of Calculus or Optical Physics but an indepth look into how these can be applied meaningfully to our day-to-day existence.
In this light, the English Language, the humanities ,the social sciences and some fundamental parts of Maths (four basic operations) and Science (applications of water pressure and heat perhaps?) seem more pertinent in educating us as a whole.
We communicate in the English language. Other than pronunciation, correct intonation and grammatically strung sentences, diction, concise and precise thinking leading to crystal clear conveyance are part and parcel of the communicaton process.
Literature helps us understand psychological and philosophical thinking and motivation of Man. History helps us understand why the world is the way it is today and Geography teaches environmental science which are applied to pollution control and resource management.
How real can education get as far as language, the humanities and social sciences are concerned? Compare this with the hard sciences of Maths, Physics and Chemistry. Hardly a teeny weeny fraction of us use it in our daily dealings except for the very fundamentals.
The analogy can be drawn by examining how we have poured billions into infrastructural development, utilising the hard sciences. But we may not have really looked into functionality and aesthetics as much as we should, with functionality over-riding non-sensical aesthetics if the latter renders the former useless.
This is only half the equation gotten correct.
The other half will be to improve on the people manning and living the infrastructure. Using languages with a heart of humane-ities, a good understanding of sociological perspectives, logic and reasoning with the hard sciences guiding us in more scientific rationalisation of things, events and people.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Experential Learning And Teaching And Surviving Life
My last post on how deficient I think our education system is in really teaching life skills has been further augmented by students commenting in the national newspaper today about how irrelevant many of the subjects they are studying are.
One girl wanted to be in public relations while another wanted to work in the media field. They can't see how calculus has anything to do with their future jobs other than for would-be future engineers and even then.
How is an educator to know or feel how it is like the lives their charges lead if they have never had the experiences. Broken homes, abusive, uncouth and violent family members, living in constant insecurity when threatened with being thrown out of the home, the pain of body piercing and tattooing, unfair treatment in the corporate world and more or even being stung by a bee, breaking a back and coping with grief and depression. Even hoping to die.
All too often, education is associated with imparting technical, vocational and academic skills. This is the easy part. More difficult is the part where practicality and relevance can be linked to say, how algebra could be used in everyday living. This has more to do with academia than technical or vocational learning. I have illustrated in one of my early blogs a simple example of how this can be done. The example of dining out at a fast-food joint and deciding between a set meal and a ala-carte menu using algebra.
Much more than mere rote-learning, exams, grades and ccas, are other equally if not more pressing aspects of educating our students how to survive life.
I am not asking that all educators go through the whole works here which would mean purposely subjecting onself to a bee sting or to a fractured spine. But it would lead to more empathy, understanding and compassion, wouldn't it , if we have walked in someone's mocassins?
It would be even greater if educators can then draw on these experiences to teach survival and coping skills to their charges.Skills which are not just banking on divine intervention alone but human effort to at least pull through the ordeals.
Survival skills on how to argue based on sound reasons, facts and logic to ward off unfair treatment and practices anywhere, be it in the workplace, in business or in the dealing with any body-politick. Skills to observe, understand and think through so that we are not cheated or placed at the mercy of mercantile greed and excessive consumerist exploitation. Skills to protect ourselves both as producers and consumers.
Even more so, skills to keep our human pride, integrity and self-worth flying high and to realise that we cannot allow economics (money and especially economically-powered individuals or corporates or whatever) to over-ride or overcome sane human conditions and treatment.
Skills to protect lives and limbs, being street-smart, savvy and just being able to get round life in one piece.
Education has to be the dismantling of one's religious, gerontological ,gender, sexual, racial, national, educational and economic status and to just relate and look someone else in the eye as a fellow human being.
It is even truer that each of the human binder or divider just enumerated has its certain unique traits and therefore to render human inter-relation possible, it is even more important that all such affiliations and biases are done away with.
To me, the ideal world will be one where it is a person-to-person interactivity minus all the above. The interactivity will be one based on the universality and binding forces of sports, music, food, hobbies, education and the like ( I could be wrong here, these could divide for sure).
I can give you many instances of how biased the society we are living in is. Imagine for a brief second, a man holds another's hands or smooches. Would a "predominantly hetero" (or is it more bi-sexual) world be able to accept this? Or how a strictly straight 'family nucleus" has the right to own a piece of public housing but not gays. Gays are not even considered a 'family nucleus" in the first place.
Not to mention, how Daniel has tried hoodwinking me into paying him what should rightly have been his utilities. I have obligingly without question paid 97 odd bucks the first month just based on the one bill he showed me claiming to be a pattern he has been paying $80 or $90 a month all the while.The arrangement was to have me foot what is over and above that.
For just the two of us living in a 5 roomer, 197 odd bucks is way too much. I have been making enquiries all round and some comparisons thrown up are like (1) $160 odd for 4 pax in a 5 roomer (2) $140 odd for a family of 4 in a 5 roomer. All in the 100 odd range.
The second month bill is $145 just for the two of us. I don't stay in very often but he does. I am a weekender at most and even then. He is on the computer, the air-conditioner and television. I use the fan option on the air-conditioner but for the second month, I switched to the manual fan. If the meter readings are correct, it can only mean that he is eating up the electricity consumption.
He should have shown me a couple of months or even past year's consumption pattern to show that the $80-$90 was indeed so. But I had taken his word on good faith. But i can't continue the second month like this, knowing full well what the real situation is. The $80-$90 was probably true when he doesn't stay in which he recently didn't. Like I say, he has someone to fall back on. Maybe his parents or someone.
But that second month bill wasn't justified because he was in all the time. The third month, yes, he wasn't in some of the time.
Ah the stuff life is made of. It makes me wanna puke and belch most of the time.
One girl wanted to be in public relations while another wanted to work in the media field. They can't see how calculus has anything to do with their future jobs other than for would-be future engineers and even then.
How is an educator to know or feel how it is like the lives their charges lead if they have never had the experiences. Broken homes, abusive, uncouth and violent family members, living in constant insecurity when threatened with being thrown out of the home, the pain of body piercing and tattooing, unfair treatment in the corporate world and more or even being stung by a bee, breaking a back and coping with grief and depression. Even hoping to die.
All too often, education is associated with imparting technical, vocational and academic skills. This is the easy part. More difficult is the part where practicality and relevance can be linked to say, how algebra could be used in everyday living. This has more to do with academia than technical or vocational learning. I have illustrated in one of my early blogs a simple example of how this can be done. The example of dining out at a fast-food joint and deciding between a set meal and a ala-carte menu using algebra.
Much more than mere rote-learning, exams, grades and ccas, are other equally if not more pressing aspects of educating our students how to survive life.
I am not asking that all educators go through the whole works here which would mean purposely subjecting onself to a bee sting or to a fractured spine. But it would lead to more empathy, understanding and compassion, wouldn't it , if we have walked in someone's mocassins?
It would be even greater if educators can then draw on these experiences to teach survival and coping skills to their charges.Skills which are not just banking on divine intervention alone but human effort to at least pull through the ordeals.
Survival skills on how to argue based on sound reasons, facts and logic to ward off unfair treatment and practices anywhere, be it in the workplace, in business or in the dealing with any body-politick. Skills to observe, understand and think through so that we are not cheated or placed at the mercy of mercantile greed and excessive consumerist exploitation. Skills to protect ourselves both as producers and consumers.
Even more so, skills to keep our human pride, integrity and self-worth flying high and to realise that we cannot allow economics (money and especially economically-powered individuals or corporates or whatever) to over-ride or overcome sane human conditions and treatment.
Skills to protect lives and limbs, being street-smart, savvy and just being able to get round life in one piece.
Education has to be the dismantling of one's religious, gerontological ,gender, sexual, racial, national, educational and economic status and to just relate and look someone else in the eye as a fellow human being.
It is even truer that each of the human binder or divider just enumerated has its certain unique traits and therefore to render human inter-relation possible, it is even more important that all such affiliations and biases are done away with.
To me, the ideal world will be one where it is a person-to-person interactivity minus all the above. The interactivity will be one based on the universality and binding forces of sports, music, food, hobbies, education and the like ( I could be wrong here, these could divide for sure).
I can give you many instances of how biased the society we are living in is. Imagine for a brief second, a man holds another's hands or smooches. Would a "predominantly hetero" (or is it more bi-sexual) world be able to accept this? Or how a strictly straight 'family nucleus" has the right to own a piece of public housing but not gays. Gays are not even considered a 'family nucleus" in the first place.
Not to mention, how Daniel has tried hoodwinking me into paying him what should rightly have been his utilities. I have obligingly without question paid 97 odd bucks the first month just based on the one bill he showed me claiming to be a pattern he has been paying $80 or $90 a month all the while.The arrangement was to have me foot what is over and above that.
For just the two of us living in a 5 roomer, 197 odd bucks is way too much. I have been making enquiries all round and some comparisons thrown up are like (1) $160 odd for 4 pax in a 5 roomer (2) $140 odd for a family of 4 in a 5 roomer. All in the 100 odd range.
The second month bill is $145 just for the two of us. I don't stay in very often but he does. I am a weekender at most and even then. He is on the computer, the air-conditioner and television. I use the fan option on the air-conditioner but for the second month, I switched to the manual fan. If the meter readings are correct, it can only mean that he is eating up the electricity consumption.
He should have shown me a couple of months or even past year's consumption pattern to show that the $80-$90 was indeed so. But I had taken his word on good faith. But i can't continue the second month like this, knowing full well what the real situation is. The $80-$90 was probably true when he doesn't stay in which he recently didn't. Like I say, he has someone to fall back on. Maybe his parents or someone.
But that second month bill wasn't justified because he was in all the time. The third month, yes, he wasn't in some of the time.
Ah the stuff life is made of. It makes me wanna puke and belch most of the time.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
This Is Truly Education
Today's national newspaper has run several articles on the various kinds of school we have been having, vis-a-vis the Arts School, the Sports School and the NUS Maths And Science High School. Back when I was schooled under the old educational system, this was unheard of. Thus I think students nowadays are so lucky in that they have so many choices to develop themselves in fields they are talented in.
Unfortunately, it seems that the humanities, particularly the English language isn't really thought of as crucial, even though we are now in the midst of promoting a "Speak Good English" movement and we have canvassed for "native speakers" from abroad. This is something I find really sad when there are so many of us here who would jump at the opportunity to be recruited to teach the English language. And we ain't exactly in any way inferior to our overseas counterparts.
To beat down our own isn't an easy pill to swallow. After all we do face a majority of students who would move on to the polytechnics and technical vocational schools, while the cream of the crop are usually the students in the top few junior colleges. It doesn't call for a 'native speaker' to be able to interact effectively with our own cohort.
The importance of the English language cannot be overemphasized. It is the language in which many other subjects such as the Sciences and the Maths are written in. If it isn't well expressed, many of the scientific or mathematical ideas will not be clearly or wholly conveyed.
My experience is that I have compared both locally-written and international versions of various textbooks and I find that most of the international editions are better expressed and written. It is because the local writers may have superb credentials in the respective subjects they write on but their language skills may not be on par.
Therefore hiring only native speakers to teach the English language does not solve the problem, not unless the Ministry feels that they should also hire foreign teachers for the other subjects who must be proficient in the English language as well.
Our education system may seem to be covering the whole spectrum of technical and vocational skills, what with our polytechnics and institutes of technical vocation. The sports school, arts school, maths and science school develop talents in sports, arts and the academics.
Unfortunately, our spectrum has not touched on life skills to help students cope with life in general when they go to work and where they live with their friends, neighbors and community. Life skills like communication, good etiquette, good reasoning, logicating, critical thinking, observation , compassion, a feel and respect for others, how the law works so we do not encroach on incivility and to treat one another fairly and justly.
Aren't these skills we deal with on a day-to-day basis more than technical or vocational skills? What use is our BA, MBA or PhD if we cannot even treat a person as a person regardless of religion, race, gender, sexual orientation or education. While it is true that a person from a particular culture would in some ways share certain unique traits,shouldn't this then be the clarion call for us to dismantle all our religious, racial, gender, sexual orientation or educational affiliations and biases and just look someone else in the eye as another person similar to us.
Unfortunately, it seems that the humanities, particularly the English language isn't really thought of as crucial, even though we are now in the midst of promoting a "Speak Good English" movement and we have canvassed for "native speakers" from abroad. This is something I find really sad when there are so many of us here who would jump at the opportunity to be recruited to teach the English language. And we ain't exactly in any way inferior to our overseas counterparts.
To beat down our own isn't an easy pill to swallow. After all we do face a majority of students who would move on to the polytechnics and technical vocational schools, while the cream of the crop are usually the students in the top few junior colleges. It doesn't call for a 'native speaker' to be able to interact effectively with our own cohort.
The importance of the English language cannot be overemphasized. It is the language in which many other subjects such as the Sciences and the Maths are written in. If it isn't well expressed, many of the scientific or mathematical ideas will not be clearly or wholly conveyed.
My experience is that I have compared both locally-written and international versions of various textbooks and I find that most of the international editions are better expressed and written. It is because the local writers may have superb credentials in the respective subjects they write on but their language skills may not be on par.
Therefore hiring only native speakers to teach the English language does not solve the problem, not unless the Ministry feels that they should also hire foreign teachers for the other subjects who must be proficient in the English language as well.
Our education system may seem to be covering the whole spectrum of technical and vocational skills, what with our polytechnics and institutes of technical vocation. The sports school, arts school, maths and science school develop talents in sports, arts and the academics.
Unfortunately, our spectrum has not touched on life skills to help students cope with life in general when they go to work and where they live with their friends, neighbors and community. Life skills like communication, good etiquette, good reasoning, logicating, critical thinking, observation , compassion, a feel and respect for others, how the law works so we do not encroach on incivility and to treat one another fairly and justly.
Aren't these skills we deal with on a day-to-day basis more than technical or vocational skills? What use is our BA, MBA or PhD if we cannot even treat a person as a person regardless of religion, race, gender, sexual orientation or education. While it is true that a person from a particular culture would in some ways share certain unique traits,shouldn't this then be the clarion call for us to dismantle all our religious, racial, gender, sexual orientation or educational affiliations and biases and just look someone else in the eye as another person similar to us.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Superman Is With Me
Economics
I was shooting the breeze with someone, literally, as we were parked near a beach . That was how this topic surfaced. I remembered how there were the LRAC and SRAC (long and short run average cost) parabolas. How this concept applied to the real world wasn't very clear and economics is, in many ways, theoretical, with loads of models assuming some constants.
How Some Teachers Could Teach The English Language
Taking She-Ape as an example, she wasn't proficient in the English language. She could speak it fairly well but she can't write. What helped her along was some grammar book with isolated illustrations filled with ample DIY practices thereafter. Anyone can do this quite easily. However when she has to write a piece and to put together all that one has learned, she can't. Her writings have been ridden with all manner of syntactical and grammatical errors.
This clearly shows that in many instances, we can't apply our knowledge or act on it. Students would relate much better to any subject, be it Science, Math or Business Studies, if they could see the practicality of their learning.
Can A Singular Method Work For 40 Diverse Personalities In A Class?
The pedagogy, curriculum design and other aspects of education like classroom management seem to be handled by professorial staff advocating a singular methodology in our teaching academy. Given the wide array of different educational experiences such as primary school, secondary school and junior college learning, it will be bewildering that they would be expected to know how these work if they were never at the ground themselves teaching.
And with 40 or more diverse personalities in a class or lecture, can one method work? Has it even worked? Were all the discipline and management only temporal in their effects, only to have the same "problems" crop up again at some future point in time. Were they even problems in the first place or were we being overzealous in seeing them as problems when they were not?
Our vocational schools like the polytechnics do not strictly employ teachers trained in the academy. This seems to work better where industrial and practical experience count. And practical skills include life skills such as communication, reasoning, logicating, sequencing, processing, critical thinking, observational and application skills. Skills gleaned from personal experential encounters .
Singapore Idoless
This year could mark a turn of tide if Mathilda D'Silva's superb singing and dramatic performance hitherto keeps up. Even Rahimah Rahim seems to better hers every time. As the "Spectaculars" has some way to go, we can't speculate who will be the Singapore Idol just yet . But Hady, Jay, Jon, Nurul and Mat do seem to be the consistent favorites thus far. Every finalist has bettered their last, even Joakim, but with some dips in between.
Heady Encounter
Daniel, you are such a Macho Mary. Coz I refused to pay for the utility when I realised that if the meter reading wasn't askew and you stay in most of the time and I am now on a fan system and not the air-conditioner, then who is the one who must be eating up the electricity?
It was so good he called in the cops and tried to throw me out the flat. At least they could mediate and I could reason with them. Daniel, with your personality, no wonder you had a breakup with your ex-beau and you can't connect, communicate or socialise . You have my sympathies. You are probably one of the many in your generation and older who are steeped in this tradition of "autism".
I am really packing this time. I just wished our men in blue are more well versed with the law than they are now.
Of Bus Trips And More
Hot on the heels of the hike in cab fare, comes the increase in prices of bus and train rides. There is even the mooting of better bus service. It is about time. Some bus trips are two to three pages in the bus guide printed in very small fonts. These buses journey from one terminal to another, weaving in and out of several estates sometimes. This spells a time-consuming, costly and hassling ride to the commuter, not to mention what state the bus drivers will be in at the end of the toing and froing.
Success And Failure
Just as He-Ape claims credit for its students' top PSLE successes, so too mustn't he disclaim responsibility for its students who fail. For every one success, there is probably five or six other failures. I personally know of several pupils who had been with his "school" at lower secondary and who went on to vocational schools despite their dreams of making it to junior colleges and the polytechnics.
He doesn't talk about this, does he?
Cool Breeze Here
At the MRT platform, the whole place was abreeze with strong gusts. That proves that with the promontory that is the place moi is holed up now, the surrounding waters should be suffusing the entire godam place with sea breezes. But the clustering has effectively prevented this.
Superman Is Still With Me
Yes, he still very much alive. He is guarding over moi. He is gonna be a kind of mascot for me. Whenever someone tries something to harm moi, moi will be flying SUPERMAN right in front of him as a shield.
Who wouldn't fear the MAN OF STEEL with X-ray vision and super chilly breath?
I was shooting the breeze with someone, literally, as we were parked near a beach . That was how this topic surfaced. I remembered how there were the LRAC and SRAC (long and short run average cost) parabolas. How this concept applied to the real world wasn't very clear and economics is, in many ways, theoretical, with loads of models assuming some constants.
How Some Teachers Could Teach The English Language
Taking She-Ape as an example, she wasn't proficient in the English language. She could speak it fairly well but she can't write. What helped her along was some grammar book with isolated illustrations filled with ample DIY practices thereafter. Anyone can do this quite easily. However when she has to write a piece and to put together all that one has learned, she can't. Her writings have been ridden with all manner of syntactical and grammatical errors.
This clearly shows that in many instances, we can't apply our knowledge or act on it. Students would relate much better to any subject, be it Science, Math or Business Studies, if they could see the practicality of their learning.
Can A Singular Method Work For 40 Diverse Personalities In A Class?
The pedagogy, curriculum design and other aspects of education like classroom management seem to be handled by professorial staff advocating a singular methodology in our teaching academy. Given the wide array of different educational experiences such as primary school, secondary school and junior college learning, it will be bewildering that they would be expected to know how these work if they were never at the ground themselves teaching.
And with 40 or more diverse personalities in a class or lecture, can one method work? Has it even worked? Were all the discipline and management only temporal in their effects, only to have the same "problems" crop up again at some future point in time. Were they even problems in the first place or were we being overzealous in seeing them as problems when they were not?
Our vocational schools like the polytechnics do not strictly employ teachers trained in the academy. This seems to work better where industrial and practical experience count. And practical skills include life skills such as communication, reasoning, logicating, sequencing, processing, critical thinking, observational and application skills. Skills gleaned from personal experential encounters .
Singapore Idoless
This year could mark a turn of tide if Mathilda D'Silva's superb singing and dramatic performance hitherto keeps up. Even Rahimah Rahim seems to better hers every time. As the "Spectaculars" has some way to go, we can't speculate who will be the Singapore Idol just yet . But Hady, Jay, Jon, Nurul and Mat do seem to be the consistent favorites thus far. Every finalist has bettered their last, even Joakim, but with some dips in between.
Heady Encounter
Daniel, you are such a Macho Mary. Coz I refused to pay for the utility when I realised that if the meter reading wasn't askew and you stay in most of the time and I am now on a fan system and not the air-conditioner, then who is the one who must be eating up the electricity?
It was so good he called in the cops and tried to throw me out the flat. At least they could mediate and I could reason with them. Daniel, with your personality, no wonder you had a breakup with your ex-beau and you can't connect, communicate or socialise . You have my sympathies. You are probably one of the many in your generation and older who are steeped in this tradition of "autism".
I am really packing this time. I just wished our men in blue are more well versed with the law than they are now.
Of Bus Trips And More
Hot on the heels of the hike in cab fare, comes the increase in prices of bus and train rides. There is even the mooting of better bus service. It is about time. Some bus trips are two to three pages in the bus guide printed in very small fonts. These buses journey from one terminal to another, weaving in and out of several estates sometimes. This spells a time-consuming, costly and hassling ride to the commuter, not to mention what state the bus drivers will be in at the end of the toing and froing.
Success And Failure
Just as He-Ape claims credit for its students' top PSLE successes, so too mustn't he disclaim responsibility for its students who fail. For every one success, there is probably five or six other failures. I personally know of several pupils who had been with his "school" at lower secondary and who went on to vocational schools despite their dreams of making it to junior colleges and the polytechnics.
He doesn't talk about this, does he?
Cool Breeze Here
At the MRT platform, the whole place was abreeze with strong gusts. That proves that with the promontory that is the place moi is holed up now, the surrounding waters should be suffusing the entire godam place with sea breezes. But the clustering has effectively prevented this.
Superman Is Still With Me
Yes, he still very much alive. He is guarding over moi. He is gonna be a kind of mascot for me. Whenever someone tries something to harm moi, moi will be flying SUPERMAN right in front of him as a shield.
Who wouldn't fear the MAN OF STEEL with X-ray vision and super chilly breath?
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
I Slept With Superman. Now I Wanna Sleep With Army Hunk
Superman I Love You
Well for a moment, I did. I mean sleeping in with him. I cuddled him. But after some time, he began to smell plasticky and he was cold, being the chemical polymer that he was. In a brief second of crannyness and diabolicism, I twisted his head the other way and his legs another way so that SUPERMAN was facing in all the wrong directions.
It was bozoic, I can tell you that. And SUPERMAN can't sit very well either. His legs are stiffened by his chocolate red hard shell of an underwear. He can only afford a 45 degree decline which would surely be back for his spine. Oh shucks! What was his divine creator thinking when he made him?
As it is, it was already hell trying to cut him loose from his bondage, trying hard not to slash him while doing this. His cuffs were strong wired steel. He had tattooed holes running the whole length behind his body and a butthole. Yes, you heard me right, a butthole. Now why would a butthole be planted so insiduously save for the intentions of a sex loon who must have been maniacally obssessed.
When I was through with SUPERMAN, I had him tethered to the bed post. Well ok, not exactly tethered but just standing guard over me. Like someChinese door gods or those stone-carved lions keeping watch at the gates.
SUPERMAN's fearsome knitted brow and wry smile carved out into a powerful musculature would be a deterrent to even the most industrious of hardcore Alcatraz escapees.
SUPERMAN, with you by my side, who needs MR ARMY HUNK.
Mr Amry Hunk
By the way, there could be other possibilities why ARMHY HUNK had left moi high and dry. ( a) he isn't into moi (b) he is scared because moi came on too strong the other day and feared he would be ravished (c) he forgot to open his mail and reply.
Whatever the reasons, please just reply, MR ARMY HUNK. I NEED YOU though I now have SUPERMAN.
But with TWO SUPERMEN bunking down with him, moi can only rest at greater ease at night when he hits the sack. Shouldn't he?
Well for a moment, I did. I mean sleeping in with him. I cuddled him. But after some time, he began to smell plasticky and he was cold, being the chemical polymer that he was. In a brief second of crannyness and diabolicism, I twisted his head the other way and his legs another way so that SUPERMAN was facing in all the wrong directions.
It was bozoic, I can tell you that. And SUPERMAN can't sit very well either. His legs are stiffened by his chocolate red hard shell of an underwear. He can only afford a 45 degree decline which would surely be back for his spine. Oh shucks! What was his divine creator thinking when he made him?
As it is, it was already hell trying to cut him loose from his bondage, trying hard not to slash him while doing this. His cuffs were strong wired steel. He had tattooed holes running the whole length behind his body and a butthole. Yes, you heard me right, a butthole. Now why would a butthole be planted so insiduously save for the intentions of a sex loon who must have been maniacally obssessed.
When I was through with SUPERMAN, I had him tethered to the bed post. Well ok, not exactly tethered but just standing guard over me. Like someChinese door gods or those stone-carved lions keeping watch at the gates.
SUPERMAN's fearsome knitted brow and wry smile carved out into a powerful musculature would be a deterrent to even the most industrious of hardcore Alcatraz escapees.
SUPERMAN, with you by my side, who needs MR ARMY HUNK.
Mr Amry Hunk
By the way, there could be other possibilities why ARMHY HUNK had left moi high and dry. ( a) he isn't into moi (b) he is scared because moi came on too strong the other day and feared he would be ravished (c) he forgot to open his mail and reply.
Whatever the reasons, please just reply, MR ARMY HUNK. I NEED YOU though I now have SUPERMAN.
But with TWO SUPERMEN bunking down with him, moi can only rest at greater ease at night when he hits the sack. Shouldn't he?
Monday, July 24, 2006
HoodWinked And A Bracie
This movie is worth the watch. It adds a fantastically new twist to the "Red Riding Hood" plot and turns it into a modern-day detective story of finding out "whodunit". It is totally original and makes me wonder how Hollywood is always able to churn out animations like that. They are all memorable anthromorphic characters which put their animalistic traits to good human use with Red and Grannie as the only homo sapiens.
It is almost a Sherlock Holmes' or Alfred Hitchcock tale-gripper thriller with each doing their turn for their side of the story when all the recipes go missing in the forest. There is music and singing too, all wonderfully lyriced and catchy.
If you loved the fairy tale, you will love this movie for its cut-out, spring up story board and the classic Red Riding Hood and The Big Bad Wolf exchange of "What Big Ears, Eyes, Hands And Bad Breath You Have..." dialogue, but with a twist.
You will be rolling with laughter throughout the movie, trust me.
And yes, I got meself a stunning metallic coin leather-strapped bracelet with a timepiece locket (which I have removed because it was heart-shaped and I aint exactly in love at the moment). It was a real knock-down bargain and may not be in vogue but I am not known to buy anything in seasonal fashion. I like it and I buy! And it was a mere S$10!
It is almost a Sherlock Holmes' or Alfred Hitchcock tale-gripper thriller with each doing their turn for their side of the story when all the recipes go missing in the forest. There is music and singing too, all wonderfully lyriced and catchy.
If you loved the fairy tale, you will love this movie for its cut-out, spring up story board and the classic Red Riding Hood and The Big Bad Wolf exchange of "What Big Ears, Eyes, Hands And Bad Breath You Have..." dialogue, but with a twist.
You will be rolling with laughter throughout the movie, trust me.
And yes, I got meself a stunning metallic coin leather-strapped bracelet with a timepiece locket (which I have removed because it was heart-shaped and I aint exactly in love at the moment). It was a real knock-down bargain and may not be in vogue but I am not known to buy anything in seasonal fashion. I like it and I buy! And it was a mere S$10!
LATEST! Superman Is In Me Bag
As I sit and blog about this, SUPERMAN has a white CARREFOUR plastic bag pulled over his head and another from his bottoms up. He is laid right next to moi, fully erected in his 30 inches of manly glory on the carpeted floor of a LAN shop.
I can't wait to get home and lay my hands on him. First off will be his cuffs which have plastered him stiff enough to the packaging box. Then I will explore his every body part thoroughly to find how if I had missed out on some things he may yet be capable of doing. His head will swirl and so will his wrists and torso. His limbs will be in all manners of transformational rotation. His cape will fly and best of all, he will rest beside moi in bed after all that hard work.
If that kinda foreplay isn't enough to tantalise us both, it will be back to the box for him.
He is gonna be a collector's item.
I can't wait to get home and lay my hands on him. First off will be his cuffs which have plastered him stiff enough to the packaging box. Then I will explore his every body part thoroughly to find how if I had missed out on some things he may yet be capable of doing. His head will swirl and so will his wrists and torso. His limbs will be in all manners of transformational rotation. His cape will fly and best of all, he will rest beside moi in bed after all that hard work.
If that kinda foreplay isn't enough to tantalise us both, it will be back to the box for him.
He is gonna be a collector's item.
Superman I Am Coming For You
Ratiocination
I have to explain myself, I guess. When I did what I did at the reservoir, it was certainly for eye therapy. First, I did have a stroke of chronic fatigue syndrome for a whit while and second, the hunks were all so ravishing, my eyes smart just from gawping so much. I will stare at water anytime, wouldn't you? You wouldn't find me staring at parliamentarians sitting at a round table, shooting their mouths off, that is for sure.
When I said "new" gym, I meant it was a switch from the last one I worked out in. It isn't as if it was a newly built one. I think you could say it was just new old gym.
So when dogsbodies ask if I work at a specific time of the day, I reply: "Yeah, I work....out."
I am crestfallen. MR ARMY HUNK hasn't caught on to my electronic mail addressed to him. That can only mean one of several things : He is (a) bethrothed (b) married (c) bisexual (d) straight or (e) plain fuck. You had me tethers and now this.
Of English And More
I chanced upon this dude schooling in a Madrasah. His command of the English language was simply superb. I was awed. I discovered that this did not happen from school. Rather, it was his own love for the language which led him to do his own reading and so on which made him head and shoulders above his contemporaries.
He is so much like me . We both did poorly for our mother tongue but superiorly better in the English language. A senior writer in the ST hit the nail on the head on the subject with her well-written piece headed "The TV My Tutor".
WYSIWYG
Another frightful thought entered my consciousness. All guys are in their all-natural state save for the handful who are stage artistes. Gals, on the other hand, pile on tonnes of foundation, concealer and compact, have their eyebrows plucked and redrawn (tattooed even - hey, this was all the rage at one time) , put on false eyelashes and god-knows-what-else. Can we be sure we are getting what we think we are seeing through our eyes? Remember those "before' and "after" pictures? Frightening, isn't it?
Daniel, Gimme A Break
Well, yeah. This guy can drive me nuts sometimes. All my encounters with him are over rent and utility bills. I am not gonna put down a deposit, not when some furniture, as far as I can see, are some real cheapos and then have you offsetting "damage" against the said deposit.
I am not paying for any utilities anymore because you are the one always at home (because you aint working no more and prolly living in the bosom of your family, a real MOMMA or PAPA's boy), using the air-conditioner 24/7, the computer, washing, etc. I am not footing what is essentially your utility bill.
So I do wash my stuff and have a change of clothes too at this place. But this is about all I do.
I had hoped I could lay my head down on the bosom of MR ARMY HUNK but now that his abundant bosom does not seem to be on hand anymore, I guess I will have to fall back on SUPERMAN.
He-Ape Is An Educator?
The WYSIWYG entry got me remembering how He-Ape's 'school' materials were all back-dated by several years, maybe more. Imagine teaching this to kids now. And perhaps because of some kickbacks (what else can it be in this age of our 'economy') , he is so fond of this one publisher whose publications are so full of errors, it is astounding nobody has vetted them?
I mean , hey, I am all for making mistakes. But to realise this and print an erratum or not to repeat them again would be in order. But to allow these mistakes to repeat over 19 years is too much to ask, don't you agree?
Censorship
Well I have my entries deleted in someone's blog (you know who you are) . The funny thing is that I could only think of a funny punchline :"....I am beginning to think I am deleterious."
Superman, I Think I Am Buying You Up
I have finally decided. I will buy him up once I find a suitable piece. The one I saw had scratch marks on it. That would spell certain disaster as superman clawed means superman disfigured. And no right-minded DC comic hero should ever suffer this indignation. Not when you are supposed to be SUPERman, right?
I have to explain myself, I guess. When I did what I did at the reservoir, it was certainly for eye therapy. First, I did have a stroke of chronic fatigue syndrome for a whit while and second, the hunks were all so ravishing, my eyes smart just from gawping so much. I will stare at water anytime, wouldn't you? You wouldn't find me staring at parliamentarians sitting at a round table, shooting their mouths off, that is for sure.
When I said "new" gym, I meant it was a switch from the last one I worked out in. It isn't as if it was a newly built one. I think you could say it was just new old gym.
So when dogsbodies ask if I work at a specific time of the day, I reply: "Yeah, I work....out."
I am crestfallen. MR ARMY HUNK hasn't caught on to my electronic mail addressed to him. That can only mean one of several things : He is (a) bethrothed (b) married (c) bisexual (d) straight or (e) plain fuck. You had me tethers and now this.
Of English And More
I chanced upon this dude schooling in a Madrasah. His command of the English language was simply superb. I was awed. I discovered that this did not happen from school. Rather, it was his own love for the language which led him to do his own reading and so on which made him head and shoulders above his contemporaries.
He is so much like me . We both did poorly for our mother tongue but superiorly better in the English language. A senior writer in the ST hit the nail on the head on the subject with her well-written piece headed "The TV My Tutor".
WYSIWYG
Another frightful thought entered my consciousness. All guys are in their all-natural state save for the handful who are stage artistes. Gals, on the other hand, pile on tonnes of foundation, concealer and compact, have their eyebrows plucked and redrawn (tattooed even - hey, this was all the rage at one time) , put on false eyelashes and god-knows-what-else. Can we be sure we are getting what we think we are seeing through our eyes? Remember those "before' and "after" pictures? Frightening, isn't it?
Daniel, Gimme A Break
Well, yeah. This guy can drive me nuts sometimes. All my encounters with him are over rent and utility bills. I am not gonna put down a deposit, not when some furniture, as far as I can see, are some real cheapos and then have you offsetting "damage" against the said deposit.
I am not paying for any utilities anymore because you are the one always at home (because you aint working no more and prolly living in the bosom of your family, a real MOMMA or PAPA's boy), using the air-conditioner 24/7, the computer, washing, etc. I am not footing what is essentially your utility bill.
So I do wash my stuff and have a change of clothes too at this place. But this is about all I do.
I had hoped I could lay my head down on the bosom of MR ARMY HUNK but now that his abundant bosom does not seem to be on hand anymore, I guess I will have to fall back on SUPERMAN.
He-Ape Is An Educator?
The WYSIWYG entry got me remembering how He-Ape's 'school' materials were all back-dated by several years, maybe more. Imagine teaching this to kids now. And perhaps because of some kickbacks (what else can it be in this age of our 'economy') , he is so fond of this one publisher whose publications are so full of errors, it is astounding nobody has vetted them?
I mean , hey, I am all for making mistakes. But to realise this and print an erratum or not to repeat them again would be in order. But to allow these mistakes to repeat over 19 years is too much to ask, don't you agree?
Censorship
Well I have my entries deleted in someone's blog (you know who you are) . The funny thing is that I could only think of a funny punchline :"....I am beginning to think I am deleterious."
Superman, I Think I Am Buying You Up
I have finally decided. I will buy him up once I find a suitable piece. The one I saw had scratch marks on it. That would spell certain disaster as superman clawed means superman disfigured. And no right-minded DC comic hero should ever suffer this indignation. Not when you are supposed to be SUPERman, right?
Thursday, July 20, 2006
I Was At The Reservoir Today, Staring Into The Waters (Eye Therapy)
Army Hunk - A Choice Partner For Life?
My eyes have been following his every move ever since his hot bod got in the way of my radar vision . His aura of self-confidence as he goes about his daily workout rountine and that gait are just infectious. I found myself striding his peacock strut like some hung beefcake just to mirror the admiration I have for him.
Something tells me he is not someone out of the ordinary. True to light, he was a regular from the army. In fact I have been remarking to an acquaintance (that in itself would be another blog but I dont have the space for that now) how this dude was too supermanly , charismatic, unpretentious and unassuming to be a mortal earthling. He must be Adonis, the son-God sent down by Zeus to save lonely souls like moi.
On Day 1, his weight plates dropped off the bar and landed near moi. I was too stunned to react except to utter a meek "Are you ok?". But my testerone and pheromones got the better of me and by Day 4, I managed to wring his email address off him and was actually chatting with him like an old friend. Day 5 had him acknowledging me mail and he had a couple of mails (WHOA! Where does that leave moi? The last queuer in a lucky draw contest?)
I was smiling like some star-worshipping, star-crazed cute gal when I greeted him. It was so awkward and sissy, I wanted to slap myself for being such a gal. I swear I could have been that gal who cried when Paul Twohill finished his Idol song.
I hope I didn't come across as too star-glazed or too strong or too mild. I was just trying to roll the words out, I guess. It was already a miracle I didn't stutter or had my tongue tied in Superman's red underwear or that black-out in me head, empty and blank.
I am keeping me fingers crossed here. Wish me luck, people. This could be THE BEAU moi has been searching high and low for his entire short life (just so not to make me sound any older). You may perhaps start to hear wedding bells tolling as soon as our legislators are enlightened enough to take the cue from some First World countries. That is provided if MR ARMY HUNK isn't already attached, married or straight-ace like the rest of humankind (or so we think).
Singapore, Are You Ready For Me Cross-Dressing
I have been observing gals real hard the last few weeks. Their mannerisms, their dressing, etc etc. Gals, I am so sorry. If you think I were admiring your boobs or your looks, be ready to be fleeced of your dresses. Truth is , I was staring at how this gal could have her eyebrows redrawn so surrealistically or how that gal could be so scantily clad, she doesn't feel the shudders aboard the North Polean train.
And in the process I found out that the only way to shame a gal for her indecent exposure was to stare her to death at the anatomy she had so shamefully willed to be "open season". Most gals would look down at their feet, avert your stares and shy away. This is revenge sought, no?
Perhaps the feminists can take up the cudgel and expatiate why gals are being shamelessly displayed as meat in all kinds of advertisement ranging from cars to a suckling pigs' ad for a newly-opened food centre.
And if you think I am cross-dressing anytime soon or going for a sex-change operation, banish that thought altogether. It will NEVER happen and I am supremely confident of my sexuality. You might as well ask He-Ape to dress up in his wife's lingerie for a Crazy Horse performance. He just might, you never know.
The Continuing Saga Of Mr He-Ape
Not that I am calling Mr He-Ape a coporate scoundrel or more likely, an "educator" in wolfskin hidden behind a sheep's wool. To think he could elude our public civil service hawk-eyes (maybe a slow loris' eyes) and cram as many tables and chairs into a class as there are bananas in a comb just in the name of profit.
An "educator" who if he doesn't like a particular student or staff have M/s She-Ape acting as his henchwoman or Mr Ex-Police Officer his henchman in "disciplining" that child or staff member. A Mafia organisation with him playing the role of THE BIG BOSS. Someone who apparently goes around sabotaging other competing educational businesses within his precinct.
A hypocritical, all smily but evil reincarnation of SATAN himself.
The Toilet BlowUp
And thanks to this new gym moi is working out at, moi had that fleeting chance of chancing upon MR ARMY HUNK and his cohorts. This gym even offers a 1-club or a All-club membership. But the trial is only for one club and how is one expected to know how the other clubs are like before deciding on which of the dual types he would pick?
In my previous blog, I wrote the "Mechanics Of Urination". Seems like MR AH PEK at this new gym has another take on this. Someone has peed a sizeable puddle onto the floor, it seems. I guess this has to be an aberration as no dudes would pee like that without any of it hitting the urinal. And it was only this ONE foreign charwoman who stared moi to death whenever moi washes his hands in the sink. She was expecting moi not to wet the floor, a task which might as well be like praying for Ronald Regan to be resurrected again.
Why Am I Paying So Much
Sometimes I wonder why I am paying through the roof for just that room I bunk in only at night most of the time. I hardly do anything here except for the occassional TV and staying in over the weekends. It is a room where I lay down my belongings. A place to shower and lay my head on a pillow. That is all. Not really "home" if you know what I mean. Might as well be a "hotel".
Singapore Idol
I think it is so unfair when a Singapore finalist sings his American Idol's hit and we compare this to its counterpart. There wouldn't be any basis for any such comparison primarily because that American Idol is at the top of the league in the professional singing pyramid. Thus it is a real pleasure to see Nurul doing it her own way when doing an American hit. I must say the consistent performers throughout the series have always been the three Ken Lim had cited.
Singapore Trivia And Radio Chatter
So you think you have lived your whole life in Singapore and you know the country inside out. Wrong. Tell me, how many carriages are the MRT trains? What are some of the inscribed tags laid on the tracks at the Yio Chu Kang stadium? Where will our national athletes train for their gym workouts before National Day 2006 and after ? Bet you you are probably on tenterhooks just trying to figure out the answers. Well these were just some of the little trivia moi found out while trekking the Singapore globe.
By the way, moi must warn you that when you cross the road at any junction or wherever, just make sure you steer clear of the edges of any kerb. I have had a monstrous trailer just rolling its big wheels onto the kerb and that would have meant my feet would have been flattened out by now if I had not stayed behind a safe distance. And most vehicles don't stop before the white lines anyway, have you noticed how dangerous that is?
Yesterday I rode the LRT and as it opens on both its sides, some commuters would be standing near the doors anyway. As the train doors behind me started creaking, I couldn't help fearing that they would fling open anytime just right behind me. To test it out, I grabbed its handles and the doors creaked again. WHOA! I hope nobody has the mishappence to be doing a flying trapeze act! I wouldn't wanna be the star stuntman of the Cirque du Soleil.
I don't mean to hurt anyone if I said I agreed with a writer when she mentioned "inane radio chatter". It is just that moi is only on a FM tuner and it doesnt work very well in underground tunnels (so I am hoping for some MP3 files transfer, anyone?). As you can imagine, I only wanna hear music and not chatter. If the DJs were just fooling around, it is fine and I have on numerous occassions laughed along with them. But when they dish out advice on a range of topics like relationships, I didn't exactly think it was good advice. Unless again of course they were just jiving. Kidding yeah..... Muahahahaha.....Burp
Allan My Dear Bosom Buddy
Well ok, I may be exaggerating just a little bit. We werent exactly from the same bosom and we didn't like keep in touch till we ran into each other that fateful day. I met him a second time at the Internet kiosk and we could chat on many things. But that spark of fire just isnt there anymore. I guess we will just be good friends and that is all.
My Gay Brethen Are Well-Fed, Well-Clothed And Well-Looked After
Having met Allan, I realised I wasn't alone in what I thought was my , and my alone, unique situation. We prolly have many among us. Like in Indonesia where underemployment is about half the working populace.
The big difference is: they still have their parents alive and kicking, sheltering them, feeding them, cleaning up after them and so on (or the maids). Moi has no such luxury. I don't even own my place now. I am on my own. I have to make me own money, survive and live. That explains why not too many gays are coupled. They dont see the need to, are too comfortable where they are or can ill afford to, in some cases.
Like Daniel. He isn't working anymore and I havent been seeing him over the weekends and over the last couple of weekdays. He comes and goes in casual shorts and sandals. He is either (a) living with his parents or (b) relatives or siblings or (c) with his friends or beau in a nearby location. No wonder my gay brethen are so amazed and callous to moi's urging of setting up home together. They are appalled even. They are fed, clothed and so on and thus do not see the need.
But let us just see how they will be like when all the support systems are taken away and they are old and on their own. It could happen sooner if the recent tsunamis or Lebanon-Israeli conflict are any indication.
My eyes have been following his every move ever since his hot bod got in the way of my radar vision . His aura of self-confidence as he goes about his daily workout rountine and that gait are just infectious. I found myself striding his peacock strut like some hung beefcake just to mirror the admiration I have for him.
Something tells me he is not someone out of the ordinary. True to light, he was a regular from the army. In fact I have been remarking to an acquaintance (that in itself would be another blog but I dont have the space for that now) how this dude was too supermanly , charismatic, unpretentious and unassuming to be a mortal earthling. He must be Adonis, the son-God sent down by Zeus to save lonely souls like moi.
On Day 1, his weight plates dropped off the bar and landed near moi. I was too stunned to react except to utter a meek "Are you ok?". But my testerone and pheromones got the better of me and by Day 4, I managed to wring his email address off him and was actually chatting with him like an old friend. Day 5 had him acknowledging me mail and he had a couple of mails (WHOA! Where does that leave moi? The last queuer in a lucky draw contest?)
I was smiling like some star-worshipping, star-crazed cute gal when I greeted him. It was so awkward and sissy, I wanted to slap myself for being such a gal. I swear I could have been that gal who cried when Paul Twohill finished his Idol song.
I hope I didn't come across as too star-glazed or too strong or too mild. I was just trying to roll the words out, I guess. It was already a miracle I didn't stutter or had my tongue tied in Superman's red underwear or that black-out in me head, empty and blank.
I am keeping me fingers crossed here. Wish me luck, people. This could be THE BEAU moi has been searching high and low for his entire short life (just so not to make me sound any older). You may perhaps start to hear wedding bells tolling as soon as our legislators are enlightened enough to take the cue from some First World countries. That is provided if MR ARMY HUNK isn't already attached, married or straight-ace like the rest of humankind (or so we think).
Singapore, Are You Ready For Me Cross-Dressing
I have been observing gals real hard the last few weeks. Their mannerisms, their dressing, etc etc. Gals, I am so sorry. If you think I were admiring your boobs or your looks, be ready to be fleeced of your dresses. Truth is , I was staring at how this gal could have her eyebrows redrawn so surrealistically or how that gal could be so scantily clad, she doesn't feel the shudders aboard the North Polean train.
And in the process I found out that the only way to shame a gal for her indecent exposure was to stare her to death at the anatomy she had so shamefully willed to be "open season". Most gals would look down at their feet, avert your stares and shy away. This is revenge sought, no?
Perhaps the feminists can take up the cudgel and expatiate why gals are being shamelessly displayed as meat in all kinds of advertisement ranging from cars to a suckling pigs' ad for a newly-opened food centre.
And if you think I am cross-dressing anytime soon or going for a sex-change operation, banish that thought altogether. It will NEVER happen and I am supremely confident of my sexuality. You might as well ask He-Ape to dress up in his wife's lingerie for a Crazy Horse performance. He just might, you never know.
The Continuing Saga Of Mr He-Ape
Not that I am calling Mr He-Ape a coporate scoundrel or more likely, an "educator" in wolfskin hidden behind a sheep's wool. To think he could elude our public civil service hawk-eyes (maybe a slow loris' eyes) and cram as many tables and chairs into a class as there are bananas in a comb just in the name of profit.
An "educator" who if he doesn't like a particular student or staff have M/s She-Ape acting as his henchwoman or Mr Ex-Police Officer his henchman in "disciplining" that child or staff member. A Mafia organisation with him playing the role of THE BIG BOSS. Someone who apparently goes around sabotaging other competing educational businesses within his precinct.
A hypocritical, all smily but evil reincarnation of SATAN himself.
The Toilet BlowUp
And thanks to this new gym moi is working out at, moi had that fleeting chance of chancing upon MR ARMY HUNK and his cohorts. This gym even offers a 1-club or a All-club membership. But the trial is only for one club and how is one expected to know how the other clubs are like before deciding on which of the dual types he would pick?
In my previous blog, I wrote the "Mechanics Of Urination". Seems like MR AH PEK at this new gym has another take on this. Someone has peed a sizeable puddle onto the floor, it seems. I guess this has to be an aberration as no dudes would pee like that without any of it hitting the urinal. And it was only this ONE foreign charwoman who stared moi to death whenever moi washes his hands in the sink. She was expecting moi not to wet the floor, a task which might as well be like praying for Ronald Regan to be resurrected again.
Why Am I Paying So Much
Sometimes I wonder why I am paying through the roof for just that room I bunk in only at night most of the time. I hardly do anything here except for the occassional TV and staying in over the weekends. It is a room where I lay down my belongings. A place to shower and lay my head on a pillow. That is all. Not really "home" if you know what I mean. Might as well be a "hotel".
Singapore Idol
I think it is so unfair when a Singapore finalist sings his American Idol's hit and we compare this to its counterpart. There wouldn't be any basis for any such comparison primarily because that American Idol is at the top of the league in the professional singing pyramid. Thus it is a real pleasure to see Nurul doing it her own way when doing an American hit. I must say the consistent performers throughout the series have always been the three Ken Lim had cited.
Singapore Trivia And Radio Chatter
So you think you have lived your whole life in Singapore and you know the country inside out. Wrong. Tell me, how many carriages are the MRT trains? What are some of the inscribed tags laid on the tracks at the Yio Chu Kang stadium? Where will our national athletes train for their gym workouts before National Day 2006 and after ? Bet you you are probably on tenterhooks just trying to figure out the answers. Well these were just some of the little trivia moi found out while trekking the Singapore globe.
By the way, moi must warn you that when you cross the road at any junction or wherever, just make sure you steer clear of the edges of any kerb. I have had a monstrous trailer just rolling its big wheels onto the kerb and that would have meant my feet would have been flattened out by now if I had not stayed behind a safe distance. And most vehicles don't stop before the white lines anyway, have you noticed how dangerous that is?
Yesterday I rode the LRT and as it opens on both its sides, some commuters would be standing near the doors anyway. As the train doors behind me started creaking, I couldn't help fearing that they would fling open anytime just right behind me. To test it out, I grabbed its handles and the doors creaked again. WHOA! I hope nobody has the mishappence to be doing a flying trapeze act! I wouldn't wanna be the star stuntman of the Cirque du Soleil.
I don't mean to hurt anyone if I said I agreed with a writer when she mentioned "inane radio chatter". It is just that moi is only on a FM tuner and it doesnt work very well in underground tunnels (so I am hoping for some MP3 files transfer, anyone?). As you can imagine, I only wanna hear music and not chatter. If the DJs were just fooling around, it is fine and I have on numerous occassions laughed along with them. But when they dish out advice on a range of topics like relationships, I didn't exactly think it was good advice. Unless again of course they were just jiving. Kidding yeah..... Muahahahaha.....Burp
Allan My Dear Bosom Buddy
Well ok, I may be exaggerating just a little bit. We werent exactly from the same bosom and we didn't like keep in touch till we ran into each other that fateful day. I met him a second time at the Internet kiosk and we could chat on many things. But that spark of fire just isnt there anymore. I guess we will just be good friends and that is all.
My Gay Brethen Are Well-Fed, Well-Clothed And Well-Looked After
Having met Allan, I realised I wasn't alone in what I thought was my , and my alone, unique situation. We prolly have many among us. Like in Indonesia where underemployment is about half the working populace.
The big difference is: they still have their parents alive and kicking, sheltering them, feeding them, cleaning up after them and so on (or the maids). Moi has no such luxury. I don't even own my place now. I am on my own. I have to make me own money, survive and live. That explains why not too many gays are coupled. They dont see the need to, are too comfortable where they are or can ill afford to, in some cases.
Like Daniel. He isn't working anymore and I havent been seeing him over the weekends and over the last couple of weekdays. He comes and goes in casual shorts and sandals. He is either (a) living with his parents or (b) relatives or siblings or (c) with his friends or beau in a nearby location. No wonder my gay brethen are so amazed and callous to moi's urging of setting up home together. They are appalled even. They are fed, clothed and so on and thus do not see the need.
But let us just see how they will be like when all the support systems are taken away and they are old and on their own. It could happen sooner if the recent tsunamis or Lebanon-Israeli conflict are any indication.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Dark Ages
Neologism
I will blog on the "Dark Ages" as soon as I am ready ok. Quit giving me the stares! For the precious moment, take this to be the electronic game's version of the "Dark Ages", which I am beginning to see quite a lot of as screen savers at the LAN shops.
If you haven't noticed, almost all the gamers are dudes and they have shops named after their boners. And you thought it was the Local Area Network, didn't you? *Shame on you.
The other things you would have noticed by now, are the proliferation of "neologism" in my blogs. But I have to explain a couple so you get their intended meanings right. "Salsa", as far as I want them to be, means two things. One, hot steamy sex or two, the hot, sexy and sexual ambience of a place.
So if Microsoft is so entrenched in our lives as is Google, we should have words like "Microsofting" where I say : "I am doing a spot of Microsofting right now, dude." Kinda like a present continuous kinda tense. Geddit?
Statistical Doo-dah
We are a nation of statistics. Every little venture we make, we espouse statistics like we eat hotdogs or frankfurters for lunch, dinner and supper (by the way, I had one yesterday evening and it was G-O-O-D, I tell yea).
For example, statistically speaking, for every one dude who is born into this world, one point five gall is born somewhere else, like in the frost-bitten, God-forsaken tundras? Now how the statisticians envisage a half-gal is beyond the logic of this blog. Ask the economists. Or even better, the politicans.
Now, presupposing, just for the sake of argument, that He-Ape dishes out his pamphlets on an average of four times a year and he has been at this dastardly act for 19 years, and unfortunately, 1 million of these get into the hands of our unsuspecting population. That will be an astounding , mind-blowing 76 million times the grammatical errors wheezing around our tiny island state. That can only mean ONE thing: Close your damned "school", you over-bloated gorilla.
Copernican Universe
If He-Ape believes that an experienced educator teaches "off the top of his head" (as he puts it and laughing his fat stinky arse-hole to the bank while doing this), this can mean ANOTHER thing: This ''educator" prolly didn't put much effort or new thought into his teaching. He may have repeated the same outmoded stuff not once, not twice, but a zillionth time despite new literature proving otherwise. He might as well be a BARBIE or KEN dollie.
Once again the heat is on. This time, some liberated country is being chastised for condoning gay marriages and gay civil unions. I can't see how this is a BAD thing. A homelife with foster kids means a stable "family nucleus". If the true dartboard is to be darted, it should be the temptations all around us that threaten not only gays' but straights' family lives. If you can't get a helio-centred universe right, don't expect to get this one right either.
Aim Well And Keep Our Public Toilets Clean And Dry (The Mechanics Of Urination)
We have perhaps just gone a little over the knife's edge with our toilet campaigns. Yes keeping our toilets clean may sound like a possible task (what if we were trudging outside where mud and grass are the order of the day? do you expect us to clean our shoes' soles first before entering the loo?) . Aiming well and keeping them dry is next to impossible.
My foreskin may, for some reasons, be retracted at some point in time. Like my zipper or buttons or pubic hair got in the way or the frictional force (F=ma) between me phallus and undies didn't exactly help either. Or my various standing, squatting and sitting positions weren't exactly aligned.
I unlock my jean's buttons, pull out my cock, I am on high tide, the urine squirts out in a gush but in a terribly wrong way because the urethra was obstructed by me foreskin. What do you propose I do? Massage my dick? Pull its skin apart? Or hold it down?
The toilet is a wet area. You wash your hands in the sink, some taps have water gushing and splashing, others trickle and when you wash, you just wash. Water is splayed everywhere. How on Gaia's earth can it ever be kept dry, as some charwomen would have you believe you could, creeping up on you and staring you to a ghastly death if you didn't.
Singapore Idol
I know it is prolly the teeny-boppers who voted the most. But look who they voted out! Norman Then (not that he is the judges' fav choice, going by their comments)! I thought he did his song pretty well as he did his previous songs. I feel so sorry for him (as I did Joakim Gomez when the segment of his family breakup got aired). It will shatter his mama's heart as well, who isn't exactly in the pink of health right now.
All save one will be booted out in the final scheme of things anyway. So if you have to go, you may as well go now, right? All twelve are Singapore Idols in their own ways. It is just that one will be THE Singapore Idol , right?
His younger days' photographs show up a impish little devil with dimpled smiles and cheeky eyes. I hope his education in school didn't beat back his boyish spirit too much (if the teachers' complaints about him at school are anything to go by) and "moulded" him to be just like everyone of us here. MORONIC, ZOMBIED, GROWN-UP (define this please and don't tell me being a corporate pig or cheat is) AND MONOLITHIC.
When I picked Nurul the other time, it was because she sang the song "Emotions" her own sui generis way. Madonna doesn't do Whitney Houston songs. She does her own repertoire written just for her voice. I can't name singers who are so versatile, they can croon, do a ballad, a slow or a fast or a loud number (maybe Celine Dion?). Jay Lim proved he could.
It is gonna be neck and neck, this competition, I tell yea. The gals are getting better too. Rahimah Rahim did a real nice number as compared to her last time, as far as I am concerned. Mathilda shone with her James Bond "Goldfinger" rendition. I am not too sure about the other gals though.
Dark Ages (Incognito And In Brief)
Might as well. While I was hypnopompoic, I drifted into Never Never Land. I had to. Kill the pain. Snuff out the bad thoughts. Obliterate the emotions brewing within me. Hey, I even tried killing myself.
I got hold of sleeping pills and gobbled them all. It is so easy getting these pills. But perhaps the kind doctor had better sense of what I was up to and gave me a low-dosage prescription. I don't know. But I didn't die. I paid a call on a Chinese physician and was duly prescribed a kinda syrup for my "sleep disorder". Again he may have known what I was trying to do to myself. I didn't die a second time.
All I know was I drifted into sleep as I lay in bed, thinking I could end this miserable life of mine. But sleep was all that it was as it turned out. I didn't have the guts to fling myself off a high-rise or slash myself ( I won't know what jugular to go for anyhow though I know some had tried this in the army. Not sure what the success rate is).
That ended my life-taking episode. After that, it was just staying frozen in time, comatose and drifting into Sleeping Beauty's deepest slumber. I guess this was also how I managed to preserve myself pretty well. My faculties intact. My passion and love unscathed. My belief in good still burning. I may have waited for a kiss a tad too long too but this didn't materialise. *Smirks at Dwayne and Co.
For 10 long years, while living on my own, I found myself. I got rid of my old self and all its despicable shove-it-down-my-throat humbug that society, my family and everyone else threw in my way. I re-wired myself believing new beliefs and values. To be who I really AM. I experienced and followed what worked for me and me alone.
I just hope my time out here now "among humanity" will not diminish or dent my self worth or outlook or identity too much for me to be hypnopompoic all over again. Because I may really DIE this time round.
I will blog on the "Dark Ages" as soon as I am ready ok. Quit giving me the stares! For the precious moment, take this to be the electronic game's version of the "Dark Ages", which I am beginning to see quite a lot of as screen savers at the LAN shops.
If you haven't noticed, almost all the gamers are dudes and they have shops named after their boners. And you thought it was the Local Area Network, didn't you? *Shame on you.
The other things you would have noticed by now, are the proliferation of "neologism" in my blogs. But I have to explain a couple so you get their intended meanings right. "Salsa", as far as I want them to be, means two things. One, hot steamy sex or two, the hot, sexy and sexual ambience of a place.
So if Microsoft is so entrenched in our lives as is Google, we should have words like "Microsofting" where I say : "I am doing a spot of Microsofting right now, dude." Kinda like a present continuous kinda tense. Geddit?
Statistical Doo-dah
We are a nation of statistics. Every little venture we make, we espouse statistics like we eat hotdogs or frankfurters for lunch, dinner and supper (by the way, I had one yesterday evening and it was G-O-O-D, I tell yea).
For example, statistically speaking, for every one dude who is born into this world, one point five gall is born somewhere else, like in the frost-bitten, God-forsaken tundras? Now how the statisticians envisage a half-gal is beyond the logic of this blog. Ask the economists. Or even better, the politicans.
Now, presupposing, just for the sake of argument, that He-Ape dishes out his pamphlets on an average of four times a year and he has been at this dastardly act for 19 years, and unfortunately, 1 million of these get into the hands of our unsuspecting population. That will be an astounding , mind-blowing 76 million times the grammatical errors wheezing around our tiny island state. That can only mean ONE thing: Close your damned "school", you over-bloated gorilla.
Copernican Universe
If He-Ape believes that an experienced educator teaches "off the top of his head" (as he puts it and laughing his fat stinky arse-hole to the bank while doing this), this can mean ANOTHER thing: This ''educator" prolly didn't put much effort or new thought into his teaching. He may have repeated the same outmoded stuff not once, not twice, but a zillionth time despite new literature proving otherwise. He might as well be a BARBIE or KEN dollie.
Once again the heat is on. This time, some liberated country is being chastised for condoning gay marriages and gay civil unions. I can't see how this is a BAD thing. A homelife with foster kids means a stable "family nucleus". If the true dartboard is to be darted, it should be the temptations all around us that threaten not only gays' but straights' family lives. If you can't get a helio-centred universe right, don't expect to get this one right either.
Aim Well And Keep Our Public Toilets Clean And Dry (The Mechanics Of Urination)
We have perhaps just gone a little over the knife's edge with our toilet campaigns. Yes keeping our toilets clean may sound like a possible task (what if we were trudging outside where mud and grass are the order of the day? do you expect us to clean our shoes' soles first before entering the loo?) . Aiming well and keeping them dry is next to impossible.
My foreskin may, for some reasons, be retracted at some point in time. Like my zipper or buttons or pubic hair got in the way or the frictional force (F=ma) between me phallus and undies didn't exactly help either. Or my various standing, squatting and sitting positions weren't exactly aligned.
I unlock my jean's buttons, pull out my cock, I am on high tide, the urine squirts out in a gush but in a terribly wrong way because the urethra was obstructed by me foreskin. What do you propose I do? Massage my dick? Pull its skin apart? Or hold it down?
The toilet is a wet area. You wash your hands in the sink, some taps have water gushing and splashing, others trickle and when you wash, you just wash. Water is splayed everywhere. How on Gaia's earth can it ever be kept dry, as some charwomen would have you believe you could, creeping up on you and staring you to a ghastly death if you didn't.
Singapore Idol
I know it is prolly the teeny-boppers who voted the most. But look who they voted out! Norman Then (not that he is the judges' fav choice, going by their comments)! I thought he did his song pretty well as he did his previous songs. I feel so sorry for him (as I did Joakim Gomez when the segment of his family breakup got aired). It will shatter his mama's heart as well, who isn't exactly in the pink of health right now.
All save one will be booted out in the final scheme of things anyway. So if you have to go, you may as well go now, right? All twelve are Singapore Idols in their own ways. It is just that one will be THE Singapore Idol , right?
His younger days' photographs show up a impish little devil with dimpled smiles and cheeky eyes. I hope his education in school didn't beat back his boyish spirit too much (if the teachers' complaints about him at school are anything to go by) and "moulded" him to be just like everyone of us here. MORONIC, ZOMBIED, GROWN-UP (define this please and don't tell me being a corporate pig or cheat is) AND MONOLITHIC.
When I picked Nurul the other time, it was because she sang the song "Emotions" her own sui generis way. Madonna doesn't do Whitney Houston songs. She does her own repertoire written just for her voice. I can't name singers who are so versatile, they can croon, do a ballad, a slow or a fast or a loud number (maybe Celine Dion?). Jay Lim proved he could.
It is gonna be neck and neck, this competition, I tell yea. The gals are getting better too. Rahimah Rahim did a real nice number as compared to her last time, as far as I am concerned. Mathilda shone with her James Bond "Goldfinger" rendition. I am not too sure about the other gals though.
Dark Ages (Incognito And In Brief)
Might as well. While I was hypnopompoic, I drifted into Never Never Land. I had to. Kill the pain. Snuff out the bad thoughts. Obliterate the emotions brewing within me. Hey, I even tried killing myself.
I got hold of sleeping pills and gobbled them all. It is so easy getting these pills. But perhaps the kind doctor had better sense of what I was up to and gave me a low-dosage prescription. I don't know. But I didn't die. I paid a call on a Chinese physician and was duly prescribed a kinda syrup for my "sleep disorder". Again he may have known what I was trying to do to myself. I didn't die a second time.
All I know was I drifted into sleep as I lay in bed, thinking I could end this miserable life of mine. But sleep was all that it was as it turned out. I didn't have the guts to fling myself off a high-rise or slash myself ( I won't know what jugular to go for anyhow though I know some had tried this in the army. Not sure what the success rate is).
That ended my life-taking episode. After that, it was just staying frozen in time, comatose and drifting into Sleeping Beauty's deepest slumber. I guess this was also how I managed to preserve myself pretty well. My faculties intact. My passion and love unscathed. My belief in good still burning. I may have waited for a kiss a tad too long too but this didn't materialise. *Smirks at Dwayne and Co.
For 10 long years, while living on my own, I found myself. I got rid of my old self and all its despicable shove-it-down-my-throat humbug that society, my family and everyone else threw in my way. I re-wired myself believing new beliefs and values. To be who I really AM. I experienced and followed what worked for me and me alone.
I just hope my time out here now "among humanity" will not diminish or dent my self worth or outlook or identity too much for me to be hypnopompoic all over again. Because I may really DIE this time round.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Calling Out To Fella Pisceans - Do You Read, Over?
I was reeling yesterday afternoon from the hot sweaty workout at the gym, what with the beefcakes and my own mental workout (I wanted to lunge at this dude's hot lips for one). To add further fuel to a wildfire that was alreading flaming out of control somewhere between my legs, I had to bump into Allan, my ex-NS matie, in, of all places, the North Pole.
But if this were the North Pole, why ain't we seeing the polar bears or Santa Claus riding down his sleigh, ho-ho-hoing his mirthy laughter? Worse , the ICE BITCH of NarHia didn't serve up hot food either.
Allan, as you will recall, was my bosom buddy whom I came out to. After I o.r.d (it was r.o.d back then ) I never saw him again though I thought I did spot him at a mall many years later. Our exact parting words if I recall correctly were: "He is curious (meaning a cock-teaser like some of the dudes I met. You mean being gay is a curios?), doesn't wanna be pulled into any "gay vice" and he will marry someone really special. What am I suppose to read into this? He is straight of course.
This Allan was togged a way bit funny from the Allan I knew. He didn't marry. Was in Bangkok, etc etc. He did provide me with some glimpses of what has happened to him and what is happening in his life and some others whom I thought had up and left the country. I couldn't digest very well the emotions that welled up in me, first, after that hot salsa in the gym, then the cold blasts and now this.
I wasn't sure if he was telling me a tall tale, or a sob-story or it was just a kryptonite chip of bad karma or I was hypnopompic again. Anyway, my sex drive dipped (I was supposed to meet someone) and I went home, bleary-eyed and watched Singapore Idol which was almost halfway done.
I reckoned he would email or text me. But when I checked my mail this morning, he sent me a little something on astronauts blasting away into space, courtesy of CNN. Now what does that mean? You are weirder and I thought I was weird. We do share the same astrological stars and only two years apart in age.
Getting to blog this morning was a mircale journey in itself. The train stopped in its tracks for a very long while due to a technical glitch, like the technical glitch that reduced Nurul and Mathilda to tears and to their knees.
If someone had laid himself on the tracks to be run over or SUPERMAN, the MAN OF STEEL, was saving humanity from certain destruction, I would have understood. But a technical glitch?
Now that I have access to BROADBAND, loyal fans can expect pretty regular blogs. If I sleep next to one, it would be even more instantaneous. The moment a thought strikes me, I would get up to pen. That way, fans get a load of me bullshit.
But if this were the North Pole, why ain't we seeing the polar bears or Santa Claus riding down his sleigh, ho-ho-hoing his mirthy laughter? Worse , the ICE BITCH of NarHia didn't serve up hot food either.
Allan, as you will recall, was my bosom buddy whom I came out to. After I o.r.d (it was r.o.d back then ) I never saw him again though I thought I did spot him at a mall many years later. Our exact parting words if I recall correctly were: "He is curious (meaning a cock-teaser like some of the dudes I met. You mean being gay is a curios?), doesn't wanna be pulled into any "gay vice" and he will marry someone really special. What am I suppose to read into this? He is straight of course.
This Allan was togged a way bit funny from the Allan I knew. He didn't marry. Was in Bangkok, etc etc. He did provide me with some glimpses of what has happened to him and what is happening in his life and some others whom I thought had up and left the country. I couldn't digest very well the emotions that welled up in me, first, after that hot salsa in the gym, then the cold blasts and now this.
I wasn't sure if he was telling me a tall tale, or a sob-story or it was just a kryptonite chip of bad karma or I was hypnopompic again. Anyway, my sex drive dipped (I was supposed to meet someone) and I went home, bleary-eyed and watched Singapore Idol which was almost halfway done.
I reckoned he would email or text me. But when I checked my mail this morning, he sent me a little something on astronauts blasting away into space, courtesy of CNN. Now what does that mean? You are weirder and I thought I was weird. We do share the same astrological stars and only two years apart in age.
Getting to blog this morning was a mircale journey in itself. The train stopped in its tracks for a very long while due to a technical glitch, like the technical glitch that reduced Nurul and Mathilda to tears and to their knees.
If someone had laid himself on the tracks to be run over or SUPERMAN, the MAN OF STEEL, was saving humanity from certain destruction, I would have understood. But a technical glitch?
Now that I have access to BROADBAND, loyal fans can expect pretty regular blogs. If I sleep next to one, it would be even more instantaneous. The moment a thought strikes me, I would get up to pen. That way, fans get a load of me bullshit.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
My Dear Gay Brethen At The Gym Or Anywhere Else For That Matter
This gym is really something else. My perception is that it is probably a 100% gay crowd with some in transition. There are just too many gorgeous looking hunks for the whole gym not to be overcome by a hot gay nuclear cloud. There is something about the eyes and the gait and the whole works which oozes gayishness.
There were just too many pairs of eyes, dreaming and looking. You sense them following your very move. Your mind can just as easily drift along with theirs. That peacock strut. Everyone looking for something. Except moi that is. At least not during the workout. But possibly after.
I have seen some familiar faces from moi's past life. Golly! You mean they are still at it. Guess the same goes for me too but I just kinda started after a decade of nothingness.
I can't figure out why we can't just start something up. Like a "hello" and so on. And then go from there. It isn't easy, I suppose. I find it hard too.
But look at it this way. If we don't try, we are still gonna be at it till we grow our little white hair. The Malays have this phrase : "Sampai tua" (till old) or the Chinese would say : "Tang kuh kuh" (wait long long). Do we want ourselves to be caught in this highly unenviable position? No right?
I don't feel very comfortable working out amidst so many of my fellow gay brethen, frankly. I can't concentrate when everyone is so good-looking, as if this isn't a superlative enough. It gets very distracting. Above all, I don't have such a hot bod as they do. I feel small.
I do goggle sometimes of course. I can't work out very well. And I need the workout, trust me.
I wanna get to know some. But I sense an aloofness. A wall. Can't seem to be able to break through.
Can you help? I have only two more days here before I vanish intoto.
There were just too many pairs of eyes, dreaming and looking. You sense them following your very move. Your mind can just as easily drift along with theirs. That peacock strut. Everyone looking for something. Except moi that is. At least not during the workout. But possibly after.
I have seen some familiar faces from moi's past life. Golly! You mean they are still at it. Guess the same goes for me too but I just kinda started after a decade of nothingness.
I can't figure out why we can't just start something up. Like a "hello" and so on. And then go from there. It isn't easy, I suppose. I find it hard too.
But look at it this way. If we don't try, we are still gonna be at it till we grow our little white hair. The Malays have this phrase : "Sampai tua" (till old) or the Chinese would say : "Tang kuh kuh" (wait long long). Do we want ourselves to be caught in this highly unenviable position? No right?
I don't feel very comfortable working out amidst so many of my fellow gay brethen, frankly. I can't concentrate when everyone is so good-looking, as if this isn't a superlative enough. It gets very distracting. Above all, I don't have such a hot bod as they do. I feel small.
I do goggle sometimes of course. I can't work out very well. And I need the workout, trust me.
I wanna get to know some. But I sense an aloofness. A wall. Can't seem to be able to break through.
Can you help? I have only two more days here before I vanish intoto.
Homophobes And Repression
Who is autistic? Not moi!
See I am not autistic. When I am within close range of somebody, like a hairdresser, I start yakking, almost non-stop even. I probe and ask questions . Hell! MR HAIRDRESSER may even think I am just a hair's breadth short of being a real busy-body.
But look at the things I found out. This salon, which was my haunt for a while way back in time, has now split up into two, apparently from a fall-out between its two partners. They have equally divided the salons, with one staking out its half with a intoto new name.
Who is homophobic? Not moi again!
I guess it is the whole culture permeating our society here. Most guys gotta have a sado-macho outlook, brimming with testerone, to qualify himself as a REAL man. The less he talks the more macho he is (maybe austism has nothing to do with it).
What if he opens his golden mouth and he actually has a high-pitched tone? Or worse, what if he talks like moi? (Cue: split your sides, roll on the floor, wallow in the grime and dirt and laugh your tight buns off)
Hell, I was a homophobe myself once. I mean society bashes us for whatever reasons. I don't wanna be caught hanging around groups of sissies in ma school. Nor do I want to be picked on . I dont exactly have a pretty-boy face and could easly be mistaken for a straight guy.
I even pretended I have done galls in. But secretly I was frequenting gay haunts and having a real GAY time! Muahahahahaha.
Imagine the hell if moi just as much as raise an eyebrow or crane his neck 10 degrees just so to have a peripheral good look at a HOTTIE. I would be dragged away, have my fingers crushed and crucified on the cross for the sake of my sorrowful passion, that is for sure. It will be GOOD FRIDAY all over again.
So can you blame us for all the sado-macho and indifferent act we all put on, especially the buffy gymmers (Oo, which I really like). This is seriously REPRESSION. Repression which makes us the catatonics we ALL are today (at least for a generation of us, I am glad to see the Generation NExt more open in many respects) . And long-term repression can only be irreparably harmful to our mind, heart and soul.
Therefore it is important I have that special someone now where I can just express my sexual self freely, uninhibited and unrepressed.
Who likes kiddos? Moi!
Not too long ago, a young mother bundled up her little son in a cloth cradle and took him, along with his sister, on a trip to the train station. While riding the escalator, he was fully facing me in his sack. I couldn't help pulling funny faces on him and this little boy actually cackled.
The same thing happened with a girl who sat on his dad's laps. She looked so much like a barbie doll with huge sparkling eyes and very lively.
Gee whiz! I didn't realise kids their young age have such powers of vision and observation. That tells us that kids are very much alive in any environment and watching our every move . They are just taking in all that they see, hear and feel and one fine day, WALA, they become what they imbibe! Like Charlie's Angels or SUPERMAN.
You know what? I think it is ok. After all if most caregivers are women and they do spend disproportionately more time with their kids, then wouldn't sons be in real grave danger? *Chew on that.
See I am not autistic. When I am within close range of somebody, like a hairdresser, I start yakking, almost non-stop even. I probe and ask questions . Hell! MR HAIRDRESSER may even think I am just a hair's breadth short of being a real busy-body.
But look at the things I found out. This salon, which was my haunt for a while way back in time, has now split up into two, apparently from a fall-out between its two partners. They have equally divided the salons, with one staking out its half with a intoto new name.
Who is homophobic? Not moi again!
I guess it is the whole culture permeating our society here. Most guys gotta have a sado-macho outlook, brimming with testerone, to qualify himself as a REAL man. The less he talks the more macho he is (maybe austism has nothing to do with it).
What if he opens his golden mouth and he actually has a high-pitched tone? Or worse, what if he talks like moi? (Cue: split your sides, roll on the floor, wallow in the grime and dirt and laugh your tight buns off)
Hell, I was a homophobe myself once. I mean society bashes us for whatever reasons. I don't wanna be caught hanging around groups of sissies in ma school. Nor do I want to be picked on . I dont exactly have a pretty-boy face and could easly be mistaken for a straight guy.
I even pretended I have done galls in. But secretly I was frequenting gay haunts and having a real GAY time! Muahahahahaha.
Imagine the hell if moi just as much as raise an eyebrow or crane his neck 10 degrees just so to have a peripheral good look at a HOTTIE. I would be dragged away, have my fingers crushed and crucified on the cross for the sake of my sorrowful passion, that is for sure. It will be GOOD FRIDAY all over again.
So can you blame us for all the sado-macho and indifferent act we all put on, especially the buffy gymmers (Oo, which I really like). This is seriously REPRESSION. Repression which makes us the catatonics we ALL are today (at least for a generation of us, I am glad to see the Generation NExt more open in many respects) . And long-term repression can only be irreparably harmful to our mind, heart and soul.
Therefore it is important I have that special someone now where I can just express my sexual self freely, uninhibited and unrepressed.
Who likes kiddos? Moi!
Not too long ago, a young mother bundled up her little son in a cloth cradle and took him, along with his sister, on a trip to the train station. While riding the escalator, he was fully facing me in his sack. I couldn't help pulling funny faces on him and this little boy actually cackled.
The same thing happened with a girl who sat on his dad's laps. She looked so much like a barbie doll with huge sparkling eyes and very lively.
Gee whiz! I didn't realise kids their young age have such powers of vision and observation. That tells us that kids are very much alive in any environment and watching our every move . They are just taking in all that they see, hear and feel and one fine day, WALA, they become what they imbibe! Like Charlie's Angels or SUPERMAN.
You know what? I think it is ok. After all if most caregivers are women and they do spend disproportionately more time with their kids, then wouldn't sons be in real grave danger? *Chew on that.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Cravings And Capitalism, Both With A Capital "C"
You just won't believe me if I told you that I have found yet another WIFI hotspot to blog and it is ABSOLUTELY free.
You can expect more frequent blogs provided the CORPORATE EAGLES do not decide to chase moi away for taking up way too much of their advertising space on the web meant for their cinema patrons to log on.
If they do, I just won't watch another movie among its chain of cineplexes then. How is that for tic-for-tac?
I am craving for a walk and a stretch in some parks or nature reserve. As a matter of fact, I am already protein and nature starved. Let me explain.
My gym workouts have since been fantabulous. But I think I am prolly not having enough protein or something so I have recently been plagued with "chronic fatigue syndrome". After all, the gymmers do gulp down their regular ration of whatever protein concoction they have stirred themselves.
It is just too bad the public gyms do not have as comprehensive a range of equipment to work the body parts as do the gyms in town. I don't think I can afford the pricey memberships, really.
However getting to the gyms in town ain't so nice an experience either.
First there is that BIG CRUSH at the train stations as always.
Second, jostling with all that people and sitting or standing pretty still or crammed amidst a sea of unsmiling, stern and in some instances vacuous-looking commuters (a nation of cataleptics, mutes and catatonics?) can only send one bad vibe after another.
Third all manners of good protocol get tossed out the window as soon as you have to claw your way into and out off the trains. You get sucked into the whirpool of bad behavior and discourtesy too. There is no other way.
Which makes moi yearn for those long walks moi has been taking at our parks. Any park must have a reasonable expanse of water. Water is therapy. Drenched in the rain, splashing about or just immersing yourself in what is essentially combinant 2 parts hydrogen and 1 part oxygen detoxifies, destresses, rejuvenates and exhilarates.
I would rather soak in the sun, the water and the natural sights, wouldn't you?
But as I have whinged about the gear-up changeover, you should understand how inconveniently inconvenient that is. If you were going to shop or work, you don't want to work up a sweat in your stilts or pantsuits for sure. But how are you gonna go on the train, bus or malls reeking of body or armpit odor?
Moreover, the whole place is blasting with artificially created but extremely cold air. It is almost like winter in sub-zero temperatures in some places here.
What an irony! I would rather be out in the sun, sea, blah blah blah, but this means I must be able to walk there to enjoy it first, profusely perspiring and bypassing the Northern and Southern Hemispheres where Singapore is. Muahahahahaha.
If I want to visit the Arctic or Antartic regions to shop, eat or catch a show, then I do so in me tight jeans and high-collared polos. To shield meself from the cold, the really really really freezing cold.
How come if we are so inclusive, so many of us are not included in so many things? I mean singles can only own a piece of public housing at a ripe old age of 35. Half his life is gone anyway and short of tottering on a cane, he may even have kicked the bucket, going by the grim statistics for a healthy living male.
I am dating again if you wanna call it that. I got rebuffed of course several times by wimps. And it does seem to be wimps who are doing this to moi. A real man wouldn't.
I mentioned Jonathon (whoops, is this right? I know I got Mathilda's wrong the last time, sowwi, dearie) Leong and his dog. Jon, you must be a hell of a fella to be among the few who actually go back to school to call on a former teacher. This is quite moving. Don't worry about moi. Moi may be an old dog but you can teach this old dog new tricks.
I also mentioned dudes donning pretentious spectacles. It is certainly more of a kaleidoscopic cum new age fashion statement more than the intelligentsia they aspire to be. They do look cute in these and moi's heart is set on fire.
The one thing I have been noticing about gals is that the nail varnish nowadays is no longer confined to the monotone red or pink ones of days gone by (if I continue to blog about the past like that and comparing it to the now, I think I might as well be Cliff Richard or Neil Sadaka). It has migrated to an assortment of colors which can be splayed, mottled or speckled in two or more hues with various motifs. I personally like a blue with a sterling-silver speckled floral motif.
Each movie I watch is a blog in itself. But I can't afford that kinda time,money or space. Thus I am really not doing them the full justice nor credit they deserve .
Just so you have some inkling of an idea, Cloris Leachman (Scary Movie 4)and Rob Lowe (Thank You For Smoking) were stars in their own right once upon a time (here I go again penning history). Cloris played her catatonic role superbly and Rob is so "youthful" after all that ravages of time?
For a knock-out stunner, the China-born actor looks real cute and bulgy in his knickers (430, which could be a conundrum when you ask for the movie and the ticketer thinks you want that time slot but keep insisting you specify the film title instead). So much for the myth that their pants are pulled up to the navel or nipples.
We assume everyone is gonna enjoy their Golden Years in relative good health. Unfortunately, I say, if we don't do the things we want now, we may never get to do them at all in our twilight years. We may not have the blessings of health on our side. *Think about it although I don't have the statistics.
Awww. Fans have been looking like a blur, claiming they can't spot moi's mistakes in his blogs. Ok ok ok. Stop bugging me. Here is a sample : Turf/tuft, adverse/averse , cross-legged and krypton is a noble gas. Some are just pure typographical errors ok. You happy now?
I know some educators are prolly holding up my piece as a subject of some academic research for both good and bad language use.
Hopefully they do understand that some parts are just meant as creative humor writing (like when I use meself, me, etc) intended to enhance the dramatic effect of the English language.
At least I dare write pieces like that and I don't normally repeat a mistake twice. What do some educators do? They are so afraid of slipping up, especially in front of their charges, they recoil into a chink armor of indifference, of fearing to write, or writing within a safe distance and only limiting their roles to editing and the like. You just miss out on a whole chunk of life, I will tell you that.
Isn't it the same too with some educators, particularly at the primary school levels, to just recommend tuition for intellectually-slower students, just to take the load off their hands and the likes of people like MR HE APE reaps the economic fruits of such a move. And he isn't even providing a decent enough education for it to be called that. Sounds like passing the buck to me.
Ah yes. Hypnopompic is a big word for some.If you experience so much pain in your life, watching your personal and family life crumble right before your eyes, I guess the only way is to withdraw and float into beautiful thoughts, tuning out all the negativity and bad karma. How do you achieve that must surely then to be in hibernation, suspended animation or alternating between sleep and awakening right?
By the way, karma is about the sum of all your good and bad actions in your former lives culminating into the net result of your present life. If you have bad karma now, you have had bad actions previously. So it isn't about doing good in the present because that only prepares you for the next life. Certainly not for the here and now.
If I wanna change my bad karma now, I prolly have to go back in time to change all the bad actions. Hope we all get this right, like we haven't when we confuse a kayak with a canoe. Someone please invent a time-machine!
Well I forgot about that tidy sum I have re-invested into the economy. Doesn't that enable realtors to build more real estate and therefore create more jobs and wealth? What about that other bit with our financial institutions? Doesn't that help seed some start-ups and again spawn employment? I am a loyalist ,am I not, in pumping back into our very own economy and not ploughing back elsewhere? *Chew on this.
There are about a million ideas swimming in me head for creation and innovation, just waiting for industry, commerce, science and academia to tap into. As I can't blog down ALL of what is happening to or sparking moi's neurons, these little bright bulbs will just lie dimming, dimming and eventually get snuffed out.
What a fucking waste! Don't you think?
You can expect more frequent blogs provided the CORPORATE EAGLES do not decide to chase moi away for taking up way too much of their advertising space on the web meant for their cinema patrons to log on.
If they do, I just won't watch another movie among its chain of cineplexes then. How is that for tic-for-tac?
I am craving for a walk and a stretch in some parks or nature reserve. As a matter of fact, I am already protein and nature starved. Let me explain.
My gym workouts have since been fantabulous. But I think I am prolly not having enough protein or something so I have recently been plagued with "chronic fatigue syndrome". After all, the gymmers do gulp down their regular ration of whatever protein concoction they have stirred themselves.
It is just too bad the public gyms do not have as comprehensive a range of equipment to work the body parts as do the gyms in town. I don't think I can afford the pricey memberships, really.
However getting to the gyms in town ain't so nice an experience either.
First there is that BIG CRUSH at the train stations as always.
Second, jostling with all that people and sitting or standing pretty still or crammed amidst a sea of unsmiling, stern and in some instances vacuous-looking commuters (a nation of cataleptics, mutes and catatonics?) can only send one bad vibe after another.
Third all manners of good protocol get tossed out the window as soon as you have to claw your way into and out off the trains. You get sucked into the whirpool of bad behavior and discourtesy too. There is no other way.
Which makes moi yearn for those long walks moi has been taking at our parks. Any park must have a reasonable expanse of water. Water is therapy. Drenched in the rain, splashing about or just immersing yourself in what is essentially combinant 2 parts hydrogen and 1 part oxygen detoxifies, destresses, rejuvenates and exhilarates.
I would rather soak in the sun, the water and the natural sights, wouldn't you?
But as I have whinged about the gear-up changeover, you should understand how inconveniently inconvenient that is. If you were going to shop or work, you don't want to work up a sweat in your stilts or pantsuits for sure. But how are you gonna go on the train, bus or malls reeking of body or armpit odor?
Moreover, the whole place is blasting with artificially created but extremely cold air. It is almost like winter in sub-zero temperatures in some places here.
What an irony! I would rather be out in the sun, sea, blah blah blah, but this means I must be able to walk there to enjoy it first, profusely perspiring and bypassing the Northern and Southern Hemispheres where Singapore is. Muahahahahaha.
If I want to visit the Arctic or Antartic regions to shop, eat or catch a show, then I do so in me tight jeans and high-collared polos. To shield meself from the cold, the really really really freezing cold.
How come if we are so inclusive, so many of us are not included in so many things? I mean singles can only own a piece of public housing at a ripe old age of 35. Half his life is gone anyway and short of tottering on a cane, he may even have kicked the bucket, going by the grim statistics for a healthy living male.
I am dating again if you wanna call it that. I got rebuffed of course several times by wimps. And it does seem to be wimps who are doing this to moi. A real man wouldn't.
I mentioned Jonathon (whoops, is this right? I know I got Mathilda's wrong the last time, sowwi, dearie) Leong and his dog. Jon, you must be a hell of a fella to be among the few who actually go back to school to call on a former teacher. This is quite moving. Don't worry about moi. Moi may be an old dog but you can teach this old dog new tricks.
I also mentioned dudes donning pretentious spectacles. It is certainly more of a kaleidoscopic cum new age fashion statement more than the intelligentsia they aspire to be. They do look cute in these and moi's heart is set on fire.
The one thing I have been noticing about gals is that the nail varnish nowadays is no longer confined to the monotone red or pink ones of days gone by (if I continue to blog about the past like that and comparing it to the now, I think I might as well be Cliff Richard or Neil Sadaka). It has migrated to an assortment of colors which can be splayed, mottled or speckled in two or more hues with various motifs. I personally like a blue with a sterling-silver speckled floral motif.
Each movie I watch is a blog in itself. But I can't afford that kinda time,money or space. Thus I am really not doing them the full justice nor credit they deserve .
Just so you have some inkling of an idea, Cloris Leachman (Scary Movie 4)and Rob Lowe (Thank You For Smoking) were stars in their own right once upon a time (here I go again penning history). Cloris played her catatonic role superbly and Rob is so "youthful" after all that ravages of time?
For a knock-out stunner, the China-born actor looks real cute and bulgy in his knickers (430, which could be a conundrum when you ask for the movie and the ticketer thinks you want that time slot but keep insisting you specify the film title instead). So much for the myth that their pants are pulled up to the navel or nipples.
We assume everyone is gonna enjoy their Golden Years in relative good health. Unfortunately, I say, if we don't do the things we want now, we may never get to do them at all in our twilight years. We may not have the blessings of health on our side. *Think about it although I don't have the statistics.
Awww. Fans have been looking like a blur, claiming they can't spot moi's mistakes in his blogs. Ok ok ok. Stop bugging me. Here is a sample : Turf/tuft, adverse/averse , cross-legged and krypton is a noble gas. Some are just pure typographical errors ok. You happy now?
I know some educators are prolly holding up my piece as a subject of some academic research for both good and bad language use.
Hopefully they do understand that some parts are just meant as creative humor writing (like when I use meself, me, etc) intended to enhance the dramatic effect of the English language.
At least I dare write pieces like that and I don't normally repeat a mistake twice. What do some educators do? They are so afraid of slipping up, especially in front of their charges, they recoil into a chink armor of indifference, of fearing to write, or writing within a safe distance and only limiting their roles to editing and the like. You just miss out on a whole chunk of life, I will tell you that.
Isn't it the same too with some educators, particularly at the primary school levels, to just recommend tuition for intellectually-slower students, just to take the load off their hands and the likes of people like MR HE APE reaps the economic fruits of such a move. And he isn't even providing a decent enough education for it to be called that. Sounds like passing the buck to me.
Ah yes. Hypnopompic is a big word for some.If you experience so much pain in your life, watching your personal and family life crumble right before your eyes, I guess the only way is to withdraw and float into beautiful thoughts, tuning out all the negativity and bad karma. How do you achieve that must surely then to be in hibernation, suspended animation or alternating between sleep and awakening right?
By the way, karma is about the sum of all your good and bad actions in your former lives culminating into the net result of your present life. If you have bad karma now, you have had bad actions previously. So it isn't about doing good in the present because that only prepares you for the next life. Certainly not for the here and now.
If I wanna change my bad karma now, I prolly have to go back in time to change all the bad actions. Hope we all get this right, like we haven't when we confuse a kayak with a canoe. Someone please invent a time-machine!
Well I forgot about that tidy sum I have re-invested into the economy. Doesn't that enable realtors to build more real estate and therefore create more jobs and wealth? What about that other bit with our financial institutions? Doesn't that help seed some start-ups and again spawn employment? I am a loyalist ,am I not, in pumping back into our very own economy and not ploughing back elsewhere? *Chew on this.
There are about a million ideas swimming in me head for creation and innovation, just waiting for industry, commerce, science and academia to tap into. As I can't blog down ALL of what is happening to or sparking moi's neurons, these little bright bulbs will just lie dimming, dimming and eventually get snuffed out.
What a fucking waste! Don't you think?
Monday, July 10, 2006
Thank You For Not Smoking
Yes! I am getting careless with me language. I have been noticing it meself. I mean I meant a couple of things when I said them but somehow the words tumbled out wrongly. You would have noticed them by now, I suppose. I have also got a few facts wrong and me spelling is atrocious now. Primary school teachers, you would be ashamed of moi!
Without being too paranoid, you would be a dear now, won't you and be your own editor. Ok? *Flutters eyelashes and do a sexy belly-hoop.
Well if you are wondering why I am doing what I am doing, you have every right to know, for sure. Thing is, I have been noticing the gals quite a fair bit recently, from head to toe and back again. I am trying to catch on to their dress sense so moi can copy them. So please excuse me, won't yer! I ain't exactly hitting upon your beaux but just "noticing stuff" ok.
The whole bevy of Singapore Idol wannabes had a recent screening of their personal selves on air-time. Each had a little intimate part of themselves to share with the audience. I think it is gonna be a real tough contest, especially among nearly all the male participants, who have unusually strong vocals.
Jonathon struck the most strident chord with me , what with his patting his crinkled old dog whom he "sleeps around" alot with. If he can love his beastly-looking pet so much, I reasoned, I could actually be his dog anytime, bunking in the back of his trailer. Won't you take me in please? *Flashes forlorn and doleful look.
Perhaps all the bisexuals in the world would like to have a go at moi. If I am so hideous and deformed (as some envious souls would have you believe - a classmate once remarked unkindly about moi's face being infested with craters - CRUEL yea? And some of the yucky-looking gays flatly turned me down too - what a Freudian twist!!), wouldn't this be a kind of repulsive-conversion therapy for them?
This is mutualism. I get my kick. You get your conversion.Wouldn't I be doing my little part for saving the world from extinction and death? *Think about that.
I am also shell-shocked that nobody in the music industry had the audacity to interview Norman Then, a idol finalist, with this one killer line:
"Norman, Norman, Norman, tell me: How was the Norman Then and now?
I have been looking at myself in the mirror and it doesn't look too good. My hair is way too long and harried for its own good. I am trying to keep my hair on me upper lips and chin. I think I am actually beginning to look scruffy. Plus, my eyes are kinda red from wearing the contacts and my gym workouts must be depleting me protein so much, I have dark circles round my eyes, making me look like Count Dracula of Transylvania.
So perhaps putting on make-up may help a wee bit?. Any beautician reading this article now?
Of course moi is doing his bit for the economy. The $1.75 moi spends on a bus trip or train ride, goes into the official coffers as revenue which in turn goes into buying that nice ,neat little gantry point at another highway which then collects more income from deficiting some motorists' cashcards. Isn't this the "economy"?
Best of all there is no leak. It is all kept onshore. That means everyone in the economic loop of things benefits. So whoever says I am not economically productive?
I have been swamped by loyal fans of me blog to divulge just a little of what me Dark Ages were. Right. Just to let you in on a bit, let us just say I was hypnopompic during the Dark Ages. Would this juicy bit do for the moment?
Luck has really nothing to do with most things. Skill, savvy, design, following proper operating procedures, quality and so on, often do. I hope we all remember this. If it was a ticky-tacky in the first place, don't expect that wardrobe to last very long. Or SUPERMAN's limbs.Or even that nice camera phone back cover you got.
I have just finished watching this great American movie titled above (though I have twisted it a little). I think everyone must watch this to know what is really happening around us. Touted as a corporate ad social satire, it contains elements of political satire too. A must watch to make us aware of how men have unnaturally created problems for themselves.
Just one last thought before I head off for the gym and it does hold up hope for some delicious eye-treats or more. If I have to live the life of someone else, then I might as well be that someone else right? Then I wouldn't be me. Isn't this correct?
Without being too paranoid, you would be a dear now, won't you and be your own editor. Ok? *Flutters eyelashes and do a sexy belly-hoop.
Well if you are wondering why I am doing what I am doing, you have every right to know, for sure. Thing is, I have been noticing the gals quite a fair bit recently, from head to toe and back again. I am trying to catch on to their dress sense so moi can copy them. So please excuse me, won't yer! I ain't exactly hitting upon your beaux but just "noticing stuff" ok.
The whole bevy of Singapore Idol wannabes had a recent screening of their personal selves on air-time. Each had a little intimate part of themselves to share with the audience. I think it is gonna be a real tough contest, especially among nearly all the male participants, who have unusually strong vocals.
Jonathon struck the most strident chord with me , what with his patting his crinkled old dog whom he "sleeps around" alot with. If he can love his beastly-looking pet so much, I reasoned, I could actually be his dog anytime, bunking in the back of his trailer. Won't you take me in please? *Flashes forlorn and doleful look.
Perhaps all the bisexuals in the world would like to have a go at moi. If I am so hideous and deformed (as some envious souls would have you believe - a classmate once remarked unkindly about moi's face being infested with craters - CRUEL yea? And some of the yucky-looking gays flatly turned me down too - what a Freudian twist!!), wouldn't this be a kind of repulsive-conversion therapy for them?
This is mutualism. I get my kick. You get your conversion.Wouldn't I be doing my little part for saving the world from extinction and death? *Think about that.
I am also shell-shocked that nobody in the music industry had the audacity to interview Norman Then, a idol finalist, with this one killer line:
"Norman, Norman, Norman, tell me: How was the Norman Then and now?
I have been looking at myself in the mirror and it doesn't look too good. My hair is way too long and harried for its own good. I am trying to keep my hair on me upper lips and chin. I think I am actually beginning to look scruffy. Plus, my eyes are kinda red from wearing the contacts and my gym workouts must be depleting me protein so much, I have dark circles round my eyes, making me look like Count Dracula of Transylvania.
So perhaps putting on make-up may help a wee bit?. Any beautician reading this article now?
Of course moi is doing his bit for the economy. The $1.75 moi spends on a bus trip or train ride, goes into the official coffers as revenue which in turn goes into buying that nice ,neat little gantry point at another highway which then collects more income from deficiting some motorists' cashcards. Isn't this the "economy"?
Best of all there is no leak. It is all kept onshore. That means everyone in the economic loop of things benefits. So whoever says I am not economically productive?
I have been swamped by loyal fans of me blog to divulge just a little of what me Dark Ages were. Right. Just to let you in on a bit, let us just say I was hypnopompic during the Dark Ages. Would this juicy bit do for the moment?
Luck has really nothing to do with most things. Skill, savvy, design, following proper operating procedures, quality and so on, often do. I hope we all remember this. If it was a ticky-tacky in the first place, don't expect that wardrobe to last very long. Or SUPERMAN's limbs.Or even that nice camera phone back cover you got.
I have just finished watching this great American movie titled above (though I have twisted it a little). I think everyone must watch this to know what is really happening around us. Touted as a corporate ad social satire, it contains elements of political satire too. A must watch to make us aware of how men have unnaturally created problems for themselves.
Just one last thought before I head off for the gym and it does hold up hope for some delicious eye-treats or more. If I have to live the life of someone else, then I might as well be that someone else right? Then I wouldn't be me. Isn't this correct?
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Adulatory Phallus Impudicus (Or Simply Put : The LJ)
I have been getting pretty dirty looks recently and a mysterious call even from a law firm. I suspect these have everything to do with moi's blog on how the phallus is such an object of fascination and worhsip, it is almost a godsend.
To back up my facts, the history of paganism and mythology has attested to the pivotal role the phallus had played in erotica. Kama is a Hindu God of Eroticism and so was Amon, the Egyptian God of Fertility and Love, a god which stood out with its two curved horns leading to the word "horny" or as in the biological "phallus impudicus" which is really the scientific term for stinkhorns.
In fact phallus adulation has even featured in some homes moi has visited. I mean I know this guy has an ignormous wooden phallus nestled in a tray of hay (resemble something, yeah?), ornamenting his coffee table. By its sides, there were jasmine and lavender, accentuating the scent of sensuality even further.
So there is basically nothing wrong with moi being so taken up with dicks, so goes my line of reasoning. If you have problems with that, you have problems with anything, including how your hair looks. And if you can't live with your hair, you probably can't live with anyone to begin with anyway, right?
I know I was supposed to blog on "The Dark Ages Of Me Life" but I guess I have to defer that. I mean there are more important stuff moi should be writing about like if taxi fares should go up or should moi contemplate cross-dressing with mascara, eye-liner and nail polish all in tow.
But this poor old man under the flyover near the Redhill MRT station desperately needs me help. He is making his home there, washing and god knows what else. I can't leave an old man like this to his dire fate. Because what if one day, moi is in a similar predicament? Will Dwayne and Co do the same for moi? (*Looks at Dwayne and Co and thinks:"Yeap, they probably won't, these little brats." Muahahahaha. BURP)
Anyway, you have had a foretaste of the darker moments in my life in my earlier blog of "Dark Thoughts", didn't you? I mean it was late at night so I had to be having "dark" thoughts and not exactly bright thoughts now right? *Stares quizzically at moi's readers. "Do you get it?" Muahahahahaha. BURP again.
On all of moi's trips so far, I have been seeing so many little galls running about the place, I was beginning to think that MEN (or rather boys) do not exist anymore and that the womenfolk have taken over the world and we are now in Scary Movie 4's spoof of "War Of the Worlds".
It was only today that I saw some little boys. The boys I saw previously were, in no particular alphabetical order - a Down syndrome sufferer, an intellectually disabled and someone who couldn't hold his pants up while walking (ok ok ok, this last one was made up. Muahahahaha).
It was HORRIFYING to say the least and moi has read an article of how it seems to be now a disproportionately female-to-male birth ratio, how men's issues were not being addressed and how men seem to die earlier, have more infertility issues and thus "conceiving", have more proclivity towards developmental disorder and so on.
If all these happen simulatneously, it can only mean ONE THING : moi's phallic obsession won't be sustained (I mean keeping you-know-what erected, muahahahaha ) for long or even exist just a couple of months down the road. This is ABSURD! UNWARRANTED! EVIL! And driving moi hopping mad.
Right, moi is sexist. I shouldn't have used MR CINEMAN (oops, this spelling is cunning, isn't it? )OPERATOR. How do we all know for a fact that the persona running the cinema was a MAN? It could have been a Miss/a Mrs/a Dr, even a Tun or Tan Sri, maybe even a Sir or Baroness, right? But wait, X-Men had women among its team members so perhaps it should have been titled X-(Wo)Men.
You know what. I think the English language is such a beautiful language but it has its limitations. I wrote once how I "crossed my legs" while kayaking but this did not properly convey what I had done. I was actually drawing my legs in and tucking my feet under my buttocks, with the leg foot under my right butt and vice-versa. So perhaps a phrase to describe this would be in order: I sat "cross-bowed"? Muahahahaha. BURP (hey, if I burp a bit too much, it just means that all that digestive enzymes in me stomach just got refluxed ok? Who wouldn't after sampling all that rich and variegated food we have here?)
And it only goes to show how accented Beckham must have been in his speech in his native tongue when he announced his resignation from the captaincy of the English soccer squad, moi actually thought he was leaving England for Spain or for the dearly-departed world even. Mua hahahaha.
And you wanna impose on our local students' sense of hearing like that? What if they had been told, orally, to write a composition on "How I Won My Victory" but they wrote "How I Got My Syphillis" instead. Do you want the Cambridge stiffnecks to mark them down, ruin their future educational career and they be had all their lives doing time in the hassegows? That would be so CRUEL of you!!!!
At the end of the day, there are just a few things you must know about moi. I never return to any bad relationships I have had or even people who consistently ignore my petition for frienships. And I don't work for any company whom I have had the displeasure of ever working for.
Moi is also a very intense sort of person. Remember my "Immutables" and you get what I mean. I pour my heart, soul and about everything else in almost all that I do. My passion for work that I enjoy, a sport, a hobby, a relationship, the love of my life, food ( I won't patronise that "Roti Prata" stall anymore because I jokingly asked for a discount but got an earful instead from MR STINGY SARONG), just about everything, including "Phallus Impudicus". Muahahahaha. Hey this is the third time moi burps ok.
It is not easy trying to initiate relationships or friendships anywhere. Everyone lives in his own world. They have their cliques. They may not even want to break away from their old inner-circles to start a new one. They don't even care to.
Even when they come to gym, they come in twos, threes and fours and it is difficult to "penetrate" this tightly-woven circle. Not much different with the stragglers too, like myself. All the pretenders, gays most likely, in this buffy-gym workouts. They don't, also because they have a "typology" they will go for. Or they have some hang-ups, some insecurities, they are focussed on their workouts, etc.
As I said there are many beautiful body types and not just the beefcakes, though personally I am a little adverse to chubs, bears and older folks (even though I am a senior citizen myself. Muahahahaha). But really I think nerds and geeks (with all their pretentious spectacles) have a place in moi's heart too. Especially the really intellectually-looking ones. Guess where they are to be found? **Burp No 4.
Someone wrote how she listens in on "inane radio chatter" (how I must agree with her here) and how she dodges flyers distributors. This I don't. That poor chap is earning his commission and you can help by taking a pamphlet off his hands, literally (he usuallytries to stuff a couple down your way anyway) However, if I am heading towards the MRT, I won't as there are no bins where I can then chuck it away.
This is taking a toll on moi. Yesterday, I walked into a bookstore and "SUPERMAN" was beckoning to me yet again. This time, I had a really good "feel" and look at him. You know what, his wrists can swirl around 360 degrees too. And that lock of hair just curls nicely in place around his forehead. "SUPERMAN", I wish I could take you home. But I can't. You are just a tad too expensive and too big, since moi may be moving house again and I have to lug you along, together with my other suitcases.
People, and that include myself, just have to learn to steal their beaus' hearts away. This is what bestow longevity in any relationship. Imagine sitting down to a meal and all you have is just chatter on economics. It is INSANE. I might as well have you as a business partner then if I had wanted that. Or I could speak with the government of the day. *Wink.
I wanna chat about movies, life, current affairs, world events, school, work, love and so on. If I can't, I am just flying off to Planet Krypton where SUPERMAN and I can at least have a decent conversation without the cacophony in the background.
I sat down and had a meal with a JC dude. We started talking about JC life and how it had changed with this particular premier JC where moi studied briefly. We got onto the topic of learning Higher Chinese at secondary level and how JC students could opt not to study this at JC level.
It isn't fair that these Higher Chinese dudees can then have bonus points to gain entry to a JC (which most likely favour a foreign scholar well-versed in the language) while someone who is strong in the English language does not seem to have that advantage. Gosh, I mean I am not even in the system anymore and why should I really care as this JC dudee pointedly pointed out. Guess they are gonna shove that "Live Is Never Fair" thingtummy again.
Well if life is never fair, then make it fair. We have the duty and obligation to do this for ourselves and for others. You may, one day, be faced with the same predicament as the other unfairee sufferers have.
Again, I cannot see why we are all being pigeonholed into what others think we should be doing, or living. I mean if I say I can have galls for friends, that is about all there is to it. I LIKE GUYS (get it?). I wanna have sex with them, bag one, live with one and die with one.
I don't wanna do "special education" but gifted education (all the rich tais tais or She-Ape and HE-Ape family members can do this). I am afraid of at-risk youths because I may be at risk being with them. I may catch their smoking habits or worse, all their vices. I am susceptible and vulnerable. When you wince, I wince. When you cough, I cough too. I don't wanna work for commercial outfits, be a politician but to teach, at a higher academic level or in a all same-gender school. This is how my life is to be.
Have you got it yet?
To back up my facts, the history of paganism and mythology has attested to the pivotal role the phallus had played in erotica. Kama is a Hindu God of Eroticism and so was Amon, the Egyptian God of Fertility and Love, a god which stood out with its two curved horns leading to the word "horny" or as in the biological "phallus impudicus" which is really the scientific term for stinkhorns.
In fact phallus adulation has even featured in some homes moi has visited. I mean I know this guy has an ignormous wooden phallus nestled in a tray of hay (resemble something, yeah?), ornamenting his coffee table. By its sides, there were jasmine and lavender, accentuating the scent of sensuality even further.
So there is basically nothing wrong with moi being so taken up with dicks, so goes my line of reasoning. If you have problems with that, you have problems with anything, including how your hair looks. And if you can't live with your hair, you probably can't live with anyone to begin with anyway, right?
I know I was supposed to blog on "The Dark Ages Of Me Life" but I guess I have to defer that. I mean there are more important stuff moi should be writing about like if taxi fares should go up or should moi contemplate cross-dressing with mascara, eye-liner and nail polish all in tow.
But this poor old man under the flyover near the Redhill MRT station desperately needs me help. He is making his home there, washing and god knows what else. I can't leave an old man like this to his dire fate. Because what if one day, moi is in a similar predicament? Will Dwayne and Co do the same for moi? (*Looks at Dwayne and Co and thinks:"Yeap, they probably won't, these little brats." Muahahahaha. BURP)
Anyway, you have had a foretaste of the darker moments in my life in my earlier blog of "Dark Thoughts", didn't you? I mean it was late at night so I had to be having "dark" thoughts and not exactly bright thoughts now right? *Stares quizzically at moi's readers. "Do you get it?" Muahahahahaha. BURP again.
On all of moi's trips so far, I have been seeing so many little galls running about the place, I was beginning to think that MEN (or rather boys) do not exist anymore and that the womenfolk have taken over the world and we are now in Scary Movie 4's spoof of "War Of the Worlds".
It was only today that I saw some little boys. The boys I saw previously were, in no particular alphabetical order - a Down syndrome sufferer, an intellectually disabled and someone who couldn't hold his pants up while walking (ok ok ok, this last one was made up. Muahahahaha).
It was HORRIFYING to say the least and moi has read an article of how it seems to be now a disproportionately female-to-male birth ratio, how men's issues were not being addressed and how men seem to die earlier, have more infertility issues and thus "conceiving", have more proclivity towards developmental disorder and so on.
If all these happen simulatneously, it can only mean ONE THING : moi's phallic obsession won't be sustained (I mean keeping you-know-what erected, muahahahaha ) for long or even exist just a couple of months down the road. This is ABSURD! UNWARRANTED! EVIL! And driving moi hopping mad.
Right, moi is sexist. I shouldn't have used MR CINEMAN (oops, this spelling is cunning, isn't it? )OPERATOR. How do we all know for a fact that the persona running the cinema was a MAN? It could have been a Miss/a Mrs/a Dr, even a Tun or Tan Sri, maybe even a Sir or Baroness, right? But wait, X-Men had women among its team members so perhaps it should have been titled X-(Wo)Men.
You know what. I think the English language is such a beautiful language but it has its limitations. I wrote once how I "crossed my legs" while kayaking but this did not properly convey what I had done. I was actually drawing my legs in and tucking my feet under my buttocks, with the leg foot under my right butt and vice-versa. So perhaps a phrase to describe this would be in order: I sat "cross-bowed"? Muahahahaha. BURP (hey, if I burp a bit too much, it just means that all that digestive enzymes in me stomach just got refluxed ok? Who wouldn't after sampling all that rich and variegated food we have here?)
And it only goes to show how accented Beckham must have been in his speech in his native tongue when he announced his resignation from the captaincy of the English soccer squad, moi actually thought he was leaving England for Spain or for the dearly-departed world even. Mua hahahaha.
And you wanna impose on our local students' sense of hearing like that? What if they had been told, orally, to write a composition on "How I Won My Victory" but they wrote "How I Got My Syphillis" instead. Do you want the Cambridge stiffnecks to mark them down, ruin their future educational career and they be had all their lives doing time in the hassegows? That would be so CRUEL of you!!!!
At the end of the day, there are just a few things you must know about moi. I never return to any bad relationships I have had or even people who consistently ignore my petition for frienships. And I don't work for any company whom I have had the displeasure of ever working for.
Moi is also a very intense sort of person. Remember my "Immutables" and you get what I mean. I pour my heart, soul and about everything else in almost all that I do. My passion for work that I enjoy, a sport, a hobby, a relationship, the love of my life, food ( I won't patronise that "Roti Prata" stall anymore because I jokingly asked for a discount but got an earful instead from MR STINGY SARONG), just about everything, including "Phallus Impudicus". Muahahahaha. Hey this is the third time moi burps ok.
It is not easy trying to initiate relationships or friendships anywhere. Everyone lives in his own world. They have their cliques. They may not even want to break away from their old inner-circles to start a new one. They don't even care to.
Even when they come to gym, they come in twos, threes and fours and it is difficult to "penetrate" this tightly-woven circle. Not much different with the stragglers too, like myself. All the pretenders, gays most likely, in this buffy-gym workouts. They don't, also because they have a "typology" they will go for. Or they have some hang-ups, some insecurities, they are focussed on their workouts, etc.
As I said there are many beautiful body types and not just the beefcakes, though personally I am a little adverse to chubs, bears and older folks (even though I am a senior citizen myself. Muahahahaha). But really I think nerds and geeks (with all their pretentious spectacles) have a place in moi's heart too. Especially the really intellectually-looking ones. Guess where they are to be found? **Burp No 4.
Someone wrote how she listens in on "inane radio chatter" (how I must agree with her here) and how she dodges flyers distributors. This I don't. That poor chap is earning his commission and you can help by taking a pamphlet off his hands, literally (he usuallytries to stuff a couple down your way anyway) However, if I am heading towards the MRT, I won't as there are no bins where I can then chuck it away.
This is taking a toll on moi. Yesterday, I walked into a bookstore and "SUPERMAN" was beckoning to me yet again. This time, I had a really good "feel" and look at him. You know what, his wrists can swirl around 360 degrees too. And that lock of hair just curls nicely in place around his forehead. "SUPERMAN", I wish I could take you home. But I can't. You are just a tad too expensive and too big, since moi may be moving house again and I have to lug you along, together with my other suitcases.
People, and that include myself, just have to learn to steal their beaus' hearts away. This is what bestow longevity in any relationship. Imagine sitting down to a meal and all you have is just chatter on economics. It is INSANE. I might as well have you as a business partner then if I had wanted that. Or I could speak with the government of the day. *Wink.
I wanna chat about movies, life, current affairs, world events, school, work, love and so on. If I can't, I am just flying off to Planet Krypton where SUPERMAN and I can at least have a decent conversation without the cacophony in the background.
I sat down and had a meal with a JC dude. We started talking about JC life and how it had changed with this particular premier JC where moi studied briefly. We got onto the topic of learning Higher Chinese at secondary level and how JC students could opt not to study this at JC level.
It isn't fair that these Higher Chinese dudees can then have bonus points to gain entry to a JC (which most likely favour a foreign scholar well-versed in the language) while someone who is strong in the English language does not seem to have that advantage. Gosh, I mean I am not even in the system anymore and why should I really care as this JC dudee pointedly pointed out. Guess they are gonna shove that "Live Is Never Fair" thingtummy again.
Well if life is never fair, then make it fair. We have the duty and obligation to do this for ourselves and for others. You may, one day, be faced with the same predicament as the other unfairee sufferers have.
Again, I cannot see why we are all being pigeonholed into what others think we should be doing, or living. I mean if I say I can have galls for friends, that is about all there is to it. I LIKE GUYS (get it?). I wanna have sex with them, bag one, live with one and die with one.
I don't wanna do "special education" but gifted education (all the rich tais tais or She-Ape and HE-Ape family members can do this). I am afraid of at-risk youths because I may be at risk being with them. I may catch their smoking habits or worse, all their vices. I am susceptible and vulnerable. When you wince, I wince. When you cough, I cough too. I don't wanna work for commercial outfits, be a politician but to teach, at a higher academic level or in a all same-gender school. This is how my life is to be.
Have you got it yet?
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
A Dick A Day Maketh A Man
Look me in the eye and say this: "YOU ARE A DISGUSTING WHORE!"
Yeah right. It just shows that you do not know me well enough.
I may be blogging about hunks everywhere on my weblogs but when it comes to the crunch, I always believe that every guy has to find his own true natural body shape and tone. It looks beautiful on you if you just work on its natural definition and it doesn't have to be the rippling deltoids, latissimus or trapezius that all the muscle magazines would have you believe it should be.
For example, I find the track and field athletes' bodies to be sinewy and a bit on the scrawny side but they are beautiful nonetheless. The smooth and unblemished skin tone add to the gleam. On the contrary if your body tone is too well-sculpted with chunks of ab muscles showing, it may be a tad unnatural, bulky and hard.
And of course there is the penis which defines who we are. Made up of erectile spongy tissues that erect into varying lengths when flushed with blood, this male sexual organ is GOD's gift to humankind for admiration, adoration , fellatio and for butting into buttholes. So can you blame moi if I google a bit more in the showers or changing rooms the moment this LJ makes its debut? Muahahahaha. BURP.
And there is this one other thing you have to know about me. I dont make many U-turns, be it a bad relationship I have had or a company I have worked for. What is over, to me, is truly over and done with.
I also take this opportunity to clear the air. I said girls can be heart-thumpers for me but that doesn't mean I will love them or something. I only like the way they could decorate themselves like that satorially, imagily and so on (and I am hoping to cross-dress and emulate them *wink).
I also enjoy bitchy shows starring galls in them. It is ok just as long as I can watch from a distance, in the safety of my home, and have a few hearty laughs over the entertainment they provide. I can also be a distant friend of theirs of course. Really distant. Like a couple of thousand of kilometres or more.
But working or living with one 24 hours isn't funny. I watch only so I can model them to beat them at their own game or to fend off some dudes (the wimpy ones). So I hope you get this right.
Instant fame and success, is this fair and does this teach our young the wrong values about not having to work hard and so on? So goes a new TV program's questioning line. As far as I am concerned, there is seriously nothing wrong with this.
Young wunderkids have skipped grades, attended universities beyond their age and performed at world-renowned musical concerts. They must have that 90% raw talent plus a 10% luck and effort doo-dah to make the cut. So why deny them this. If it is real talent, it will eventually be recognised.
Hard work gets you nowhere sometimes. Isn't our education system a fine example. Did some of our educators get promoted on the sole bases of merit and talent or did some just get there by politicking, bootlicking, being in the principals' good books and the principals in turn on some higher-ups' good books and so on. I know for a fact She-Ape sucked up so much to He-Ape and she has no talent whatsoever other than her rotund belly which she could do a hoola-hoop if she would just try. That would be her one and only raw talent.
We would, as usual, attribute anything to luck. It isnt. As the movie "Just My Luck" would testify, luck has nothing to do with it almost all the time.
If a hotspot on the road is perenially plagued by accidents, it has nothing to do with luck or ghosts or anything. It could possibly be the design of the road which makes it a blind spot. I remember this blind spot at a particular junction where a bus bay and a parking lot cross paths. It is just crying out for people to ram their vehicles into one another.
My little statistical doo-dah of a 10%-80%-10% (like boys only - like both boys and girls - like girls only) cross-gender intercourse may , if looked at in a different way , be kinda frightening.
Imagine for a moment that the 80% decided they wanted to stick with just one sexuality for the moment (hey for all we know, it could turn permanent too), we would at any one moment in time, have an entire 90% of the population engaging in just one-sex intercourse. How do you like that? That would be like you venturing into a coffee-shop and there is a 90% chance you get hit on by someone of your own sex. I suggest to ward off unwanted sexual advances that you wear crash helmets and put on super groin armour guards to protect your weakest link. Muahahahahaha. BURP.
I wouldn't mind owning a unit at the estate where I am living now. The 15-year plan could hopefully be fast-forwarded somehow. Since there are plans to dam up the river to make it a reservoir, I suggest that a million beavers be released into the wild to help the process of damming. Beavers are famous for doing this well and in record-time too.
Royston Tan's film "430" had such a dark theme, I was horrified and cringing throughout the show. Its depiction of two protagonists who share parallel predicaments, one addicted to smoke, beer and sleeping pills and the other to codeine, undergoing the pain of loneliness, abandonment and struggling with life's every moment of twists and turns, reached into the psychological innards of our very inner sanctum. The murky ending didn't help either. We would have preferred a happy ending for sure.
I could identify with some elements in its plot and I shiver at how Royston had managed to rake up unpleasant memories of one's past. Royston, you made a film true to your heart that wasn't meant to be a mainstream, commercial, box-office hit. Scary!
I finally got to watch "SUPERMAN RETURNS". It had a well-paced plot with just the right amount of action bonanza. But the beginning of the show was almost like its predecessor some decades ago (after Christopher Reeves died, then did SUPERMAN make a comeback, which I suppose was out of resoect for the actor). Perhaps the reviewer was right that LOIS LANE was a bit barbie-dead in this remake. Margot Kidder was a real screamer in the earlier SUPERMAN epics.
Of course Planet Krypton doesn't exist and Kryptonite is a radioactive substance that makes SUPERMAN wobble at the knee, according to DC folklore. Truth is, krypton is a halogen and how can SUPERMAN have X-ray vision if he doesnt have a radioactive substance embedded within his crystal blue eyes? That should rightly be kryptonite then.
The Mahatir-Abdullah head-on confrontation only serves to show how politics is usually a short-lived alliance for some mutual benefits. If you remember , I have mentioned how nobody would allow himself to be handled, if only for some temporary benefits. Once that beneficient is no longer in reign, he gets dumped.
So aren't you glad you know where moi stand on most issues and you know I may not agree with some of the things you do? I dont pretend to be your friend on the surface and agree with you on everything, only to disagree at the end of it all. This is hypocritical and you have to be careful with people like that. And we have plenty of such people around.
My next blog will most likely be some dark moments in my life, especially when I was younger. Dark moments nobody knows or cares about. Royston Tan, thanks to you, these memories pop up in my head and I have to be rid of some demons after watching your movie.
Yeah right. It just shows that you do not know me well enough.
I may be blogging about hunks everywhere on my weblogs but when it comes to the crunch, I always believe that every guy has to find his own true natural body shape and tone. It looks beautiful on you if you just work on its natural definition and it doesn't have to be the rippling deltoids, latissimus or trapezius that all the muscle magazines would have you believe it should be.
For example, I find the track and field athletes' bodies to be sinewy and a bit on the scrawny side but they are beautiful nonetheless. The smooth and unblemished skin tone add to the gleam. On the contrary if your body tone is too well-sculpted with chunks of ab muscles showing, it may be a tad unnatural, bulky and hard.
And of course there is the penis which defines who we are. Made up of erectile spongy tissues that erect into varying lengths when flushed with blood, this male sexual organ is GOD's gift to humankind for admiration, adoration , fellatio and for butting into buttholes. So can you blame moi if I google a bit more in the showers or changing rooms the moment this LJ makes its debut? Muahahahaha. BURP.
And there is this one other thing you have to know about me. I dont make many U-turns, be it a bad relationship I have had or a company I have worked for. What is over, to me, is truly over and done with.
I also take this opportunity to clear the air. I said girls can be heart-thumpers for me but that doesn't mean I will love them or something. I only like the way they could decorate themselves like that satorially, imagily and so on (and I am hoping to cross-dress and emulate them *wink).
I also enjoy bitchy shows starring galls in them. It is ok just as long as I can watch from a distance, in the safety of my home, and have a few hearty laughs over the entertainment they provide. I can also be a distant friend of theirs of course. Really distant. Like a couple of thousand of kilometres or more.
But working or living with one 24 hours isn't funny. I watch only so I can model them to beat them at their own game or to fend off some dudes (the wimpy ones). So I hope you get this right.
Instant fame and success, is this fair and does this teach our young the wrong values about not having to work hard and so on? So goes a new TV program's questioning line. As far as I am concerned, there is seriously nothing wrong with this.
Young wunderkids have skipped grades, attended universities beyond their age and performed at world-renowned musical concerts. They must have that 90% raw talent plus a 10% luck and effort doo-dah to make the cut. So why deny them this. If it is real talent, it will eventually be recognised.
Hard work gets you nowhere sometimes. Isn't our education system a fine example. Did some of our educators get promoted on the sole bases of merit and talent or did some just get there by politicking, bootlicking, being in the principals' good books and the principals in turn on some higher-ups' good books and so on. I know for a fact She-Ape sucked up so much to He-Ape and she has no talent whatsoever other than her rotund belly which she could do a hoola-hoop if she would just try. That would be her one and only raw talent.
We would, as usual, attribute anything to luck. It isnt. As the movie "Just My Luck" would testify, luck has nothing to do with it almost all the time.
If a hotspot on the road is perenially plagued by accidents, it has nothing to do with luck or ghosts or anything. It could possibly be the design of the road which makes it a blind spot. I remember this blind spot at a particular junction where a bus bay and a parking lot cross paths. It is just crying out for people to ram their vehicles into one another.
My little statistical doo-dah of a 10%-80%-10% (like boys only - like both boys and girls - like girls only) cross-gender intercourse may , if looked at in a different way , be kinda frightening.
Imagine for a moment that the 80% decided they wanted to stick with just one sexuality for the moment (hey for all we know, it could turn permanent too), we would at any one moment in time, have an entire 90% of the population engaging in just one-sex intercourse. How do you like that? That would be like you venturing into a coffee-shop and there is a 90% chance you get hit on by someone of your own sex. I suggest to ward off unwanted sexual advances that you wear crash helmets and put on super groin armour guards to protect your weakest link. Muahahahahaha. BURP.
I wouldn't mind owning a unit at the estate where I am living now. The 15-year plan could hopefully be fast-forwarded somehow. Since there are plans to dam up the river to make it a reservoir, I suggest that a million beavers be released into the wild to help the process of damming. Beavers are famous for doing this well and in record-time too.
Royston Tan's film "430" had such a dark theme, I was horrified and cringing throughout the show. Its depiction of two protagonists who share parallel predicaments, one addicted to smoke, beer and sleeping pills and the other to codeine, undergoing the pain of loneliness, abandonment and struggling with life's every moment of twists and turns, reached into the psychological innards of our very inner sanctum. The murky ending didn't help either. We would have preferred a happy ending for sure.
I could identify with some elements in its plot and I shiver at how Royston had managed to rake up unpleasant memories of one's past. Royston, you made a film true to your heart that wasn't meant to be a mainstream, commercial, box-office hit. Scary!
I finally got to watch "SUPERMAN RETURNS". It had a well-paced plot with just the right amount of action bonanza. But the beginning of the show was almost like its predecessor some decades ago (after Christopher Reeves died, then did SUPERMAN make a comeback, which I suppose was out of resoect for the actor). Perhaps the reviewer was right that LOIS LANE was a bit barbie-dead in this remake. Margot Kidder was a real screamer in the earlier SUPERMAN epics.
Of course Planet Krypton doesn't exist and Kryptonite is a radioactive substance that makes SUPERMAN wobble at the knee, according to DC folklore. Truth is, krypton is a halogen and how can SUPERMAN have X-ray vision if he doesnt have a radioactive substance embedded within his crystal blue eyes? That should rightly be kryptonite then.
The Mahatir-Abdullah head-on confrontation only serves to show how politics is usually a short-lived alliance for some mutual benefits. If you remember , I have mentioned how nobody would allow himself to be handled, if only for some temporary benefits. Once that beneficient is no longer in reign, he gets dumped.
So aren't you glad you know where moi stand on most issues and you know I may not agree with some of the things you do? I dont pretend to be your friend on the surface and agree with you on everything, only to disagree at the end of it all. This is hypocritical and you have to be careful with people like that. And we have plenty of such people around.
My next blog will most likely be some dark moments in my life, especially when I was younger. Dark moments nobody knows or cares about. Royston Tan, thanks to you, these memories pop up in my head and I have to be rid of some demons after watching your movie.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
The Morning After
Mr Cinema Operator, I think you are the best! When the sign flashes "SOLD OUT", it doesn't really mean all tickets have been taken up but that there is still that one front row left, which by the way, would have cinema-goers craning their necks akin to sticking their necks out for the gullotine. But pray tell what difference do a front row and the 2nd and even 3rd or 4th row make? Don't they all make you hang up your necks?
This was the pathetic state moi was in on a Saturday evening. I was trying to catch "SUPERMAN RETURNS" and while waiting for someone I had secretly been chatting online, the orange code for "Filling Fast" were intermittently blinking before a still as a praying mantis red code proudly announces "Sold Out". This repeated for both the 19OO Hr and 1930 Hr showtimes before the orange code flashes again for the 2030Hr one.
By the time Mr Secret Admiree arrives, it was a front row seating left yet again. We had to abandon the idea of ever watching the caped crusader in his red underwear. That was hugely disappointing! But we did sit down for a real good yakkity-yak at Long John Silvers (at least I had) and the young crowd dining there was both fabulous and delectable ( I mean the dudes, what were you thinking?).
Among the crowd were a couple of dudes I met over the week elsewhere. Singapore must be really small for us to cross paths again like that.
I met two to three dudes this week, had a semblance of some good conversation (at least on my part I think) and moi sent out love feelers. No go, I think, as all are either straight aces (they would have you believe so) or bi (again I think it is a cover-up). As far as moi is concerned, metrosexuals are just "homosexuals in hiding" (HIH, luckily this acronym does not shorten to the frightening HIV one).
I don't have the statistics but it is me feeling that the world is more bi than purely straight ace or gay (both these at each end constituting perhaps 10% ). Anyone can go both ways or exclusively either.
It seems that the hiring of native English speakers' issue had not gone away. If I haven't had a fuller say than I did the last time, let me say more now. The issue seems to have centred on one imperative of "speaking better English" and that means enunciating words properly which native speakers apparently have a sharper edge?
One reader has written in to caution that many such speakers speak with their regional accents which would have our local students in stitches sooner than SUPERMAN can strip down to his spandex ( if you have heard Beckham announced his leaving the English soccer squad in his British English, you would have tickled yourself silly just listening to him).
Pronouncing words right is just one aspect. Stringing a sentence together correctly is another. Even more importantly, it about using words in the context of what it is meant to convey. In other words to know what you are trying to communicate, in your own way. This is diction in part. If only natives can do this and we can't, we must be in BIG TROUBLE. So chew on this!
When I was young, I have read about every comic book there was on ULTRAMAN. Ultraman, a Japanese invention, comes in a few types and is attired differently for each. These comic books depict the stories in full color and are of photo-quality. The TV series was equally popular with kids my age. So there wasn't just American but Japanese influence in my childhood life.
This was the pathetic state moi was in on a Saturday evening. I was trying to catch "SUPERMAN RETURNS" and while waiting for someone I had secretly been chatting online, the orange code for "Filling Fast" were intermittently blinking before a still as a praying mantis red code proudly announces "Sold Out". This repeated for both the 19OO Hr and 1930 Hr showtimes before the orange code flashes again for the 2030Hr one.
By the time Mr Secret Admiree arrives, it was a front row seating left yet again. We had to abandon the idea of ever watching the caped crusader in his red underwear. That was hugely disappointing! But we did sit down for a real good yakkity-yak at Long John Silvers (at least I had) and the young crowd dining there was both fabulous and delectable ( I mean the dudes, what were you thinking?).
Among the crowd were a couple of dudes I met over the week elsewhere. Singapore must be really small for us to cross paths again like that.
I met two to three dudes this week, had a semblance of some good conversation (at least on my part I think) and moi sent out love feelers. No go, I think, as all are either straight aces (they would have you believe so) or bi (again I think it is a cover-up). As far as moi is concerned, metrosexuals are just "homosexuals in hiding" (HIH, luckily this acronym does not shorten to the frightening HIV one).
I don't have the statistics but it is me feeling that the world is more bi than purely straight ace or gay (both these at each end constituting perhaps 10% ). Anyone can go both ways or exclusively either.
It seems that the hiring of native English speakers' issue had not gone away. If I haven't had a fuller say than I did the last time, let me say more now. The issue seems to have centred on one imperative of "speaking better English" and that means enunciating words properly which native speakers apparently have a sharper edge?
One reader has written in to caution that many such speakers speak with their regional accents which would have our local students in stitches sooner than SUPERMAN can strip down to his spandex ( if you have heard Beckham announced his leaving the English soccer squad in his British English, you would have tickled yourself silly just listening to him).
Pronouncing words right is just one aspect. Stringing a sentence together correctly is another. Even more importantly, it about using words in the context of what it is meant to convey. In other words to know what you are trying to communicate, in your own way. This is diction in part. If only natives can do this and we can't, we must be in BIG TROUBLE. So chew on this!
When I was young, I have read about every comic book there was on ULTRAMAN. Ultraman, a Japanese invention, comes in a few types and is attired differently for each. These comic books depict the stories in full color and are of photo-quality. The TV series was equally popular with kids my age. So there wasn't just American but Japanese influence in my childhood life.
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