Thoughts of a Hedonist

Cogito Ergo Sum?

2009-05-21T00:24:00.001+08:00

I haven’t blogged in a while, I don’t know whether it’s a lack of material or a lack of motivation to update. Strangely, I’m compelled to write something today, whether it’s the want to put a bullet between the eyes of every panda that doesn’t want to screw to save its species, the need to destroy something beautiful or just the emotional tumult inside my head, I’m just typing, and I hardly know what I’m saying.

Today’s phrase of the day is “fire playing with fire”. As I observed myself for the past 2 weeks, I’ve seen stuff I didn’t really like. I hardly like the fact that I get emotionally involved in things so easily, I hardly like the fact that when I open my mouth I just seem to offend someone or something. (lately it was a table) My writing has gone down the drain; I seem to have lost the ability of word manipulation. I’m eagerly overbearing and exceedingly dependent, hardly the characteristics of a self-proclaimed hedonist and I haven’t really fulfilled the hedonist part of my nickname lately. (Actually, the hubristic part too, but everyone perceives me as such so whether I act the part or not doesn’t really matter.) I’m swamped with work and I’m still at my computer typing…typing…

I’ve been trying to elicit some shred of forgiveness from a certain someone. Actually, I hardly know how to do that when firstly, that person doesn’t acknowledge my existence, and secondly, I am unable to procure the balls to talk to her. Most people treat me frostily, that person on the other hand, has a breath that will make a snowman cry in shame. I’ve talked to a few people, asked here and there, it seems the only medication for such a wound I’ve inflicted is time. And I once heard a phrase “The universe will unfold as it should”. Problem is, it’s not unfolding quick enough, and even with the universe unfolding, with all that bad karma stuck on me, I doubt it’ll unfold my way, ipso facto, I probably won’t get my forgiveness until I’ve been through about 5 reincarnation cycles and came back as a mosquito or something.

Lately, either something has opened my eyes or due to my new found freedom, I’m finding a large number of members of the female species increasingly alluring. However, it’s usually a bad sign when that happens. It means the Other is coming back. The symptoms are there, inability to concentrate, suicidal tendencies, the urge to kill everybody in the room, quick to anger, heightened perceived body temperature. Tyrael’s back and he does have good timing, the holidays are coming and mid years are coming right after that. He couldn’t have picked a better time to come back, perhaps just before my A levels, and that will probably be when the expression “shit hits the fan” will be most apt. Maybe I wrote this as a warning, or maybe to garner votes of sympathy, or maybe this was his idea. I’m not sure but all I know that is I have a very, very interesting year ahead of me if he sticks around till my A levels. The good news is, the usual bouts of emo has not come with his arrival, and I always thought emo was sine qua non with him.

I am perturbed by the sudden wave of niceties that came over me after drama. I have always lived up to the expectations of the people around me, keeping a few aces up my sleeve for people who I have respect for, but something, or someone blew it all bottoms up that day. Perhaps it was that someone that I hardly noticed but suddenly blew me away with how good she looked on that day, or perhaps it was how I felt in my own element French for Love Letter doing such a great job and such. (For those people who missed it, you missed a great show, Elena, Jonathan, Wen Jun and Clara were absolutely superb) It just felt nice to act like a 6 year old and not be stigmatized for it. Well prima facie, it seemed like it, I won’t know. I liked how everything just fell into place nicely. I liked how for once people treated me like I existed, like I was a human being. I guess since they didn’t really know me, they were civil. But that can’t be right, even people who’ve seen what I’ve done and am capable of treated me civilly. It was a nice feeling, especially catching up with Jian Yang on that day. Memories of my alma mater came flooding back, ah, the times of being in a place where the air was just so devoid of estrogen it almost felt liberating was good. Excellence was all we strived for, though I kinda fell short, but I digress.

There was a certain individual who I hardly noticed, but something turned my attention to her. Perhaps it was the way she handled everything, perhaps it was how she smiled, but something drew me towards her. It’s not anything sexual nor passionate but, she was…unique. I look forward to catching a glimpse of her anywhere. She’s probably afraid of me, so I have no fear of anything happening between us, but it’s just nice to look forward to something for a while. The more roses you notice, the more you enjoy observing. To all those who’re reading this and smugly thinking, “there he goes again, fucking jerk”. Perhaps you’re right, maybe you’re not. I once read something by Adrian Tan, the guy who wrote the teenage textbook. “Fall in love with someone” he said. “Don’t hope for reciprocation” he said. Well, I’m probably not falling in love with anyone, as most of you would have noticed, I hardly have the capacity to love. But I don’t hope for reciprocation. For all the years that I have refused to take no as an answer, this is something fresh. I know the person, she’s within reach but yet I remain static. And without attraction, without love, without like, without lust, just respecting and admiring, it feels kinda nice. Anybody who’s reading this probably won’t know what in the blue hell I’m talking about, cause I’m just rambling and rambling. But I don’t care, it feels nice to just type out how I feel and chuck it up there.

And now’s the time where the emo begins. When most of the people you know think you’re a jerk, moments like these do occur. Especially when you know the person you want to talk to so much, thinks you’re a big hairy asshole. Should I submit to my fate? Should I change? Should I stop trying to play nice? Should I take off my mask? I wonder. Sometimes I do wonder if there’s really something wrong with me, a deep seated emotional problem that has never been seen before. Someone recently told me that they saw something in me that was nice, and that it seems hardly likely that a person with the capability of bringing so much happiness to people, can bring so much pain, frustration and anger. I wonder that myself too. My writing’s degenerating to banal irrelevant nonsense. I’m tired, my mind’s at ease, and my heart’s in turmoil. People have a certain effect on me, especially people that give me hope. I grasp at hope like a starving man on a pineapple. It throws me off balance. As Morgan Freeman once said “Hope is a dangerous thing, hope can break a man”. I believe that is so, zealously, for it has broken me countless times. Many a time I’ve destroyed friendships due to a simple shard of hope.

Ah well, I’m tired, I’ve probably written an entire crock of nonsense, but at least it made my emotional storm calm down a little. I feel at peace, content with status quo, accepting of whatever comes my way. Whether she loves me, she loves me not, she hates me, she hates me not, I live, I die, I love, I don’t, it doesn’t matter. At this moment time stops, and for once, I feel at peace. I should thank my keyboard for giving me the opportunity to feel at ease, to feel so tired that I could curl up and fall asleep forever and leave the world behind me. I like that feeling.

And tomorrow, I’ll just wake up look at the room around me, the same room I’ve woken up for 8 years of my life, cry my fucking eyes out and head to school where the air is so thick with the rejection of my existence, you can’t cut it, even with a diamond bit chainsaw. What is worse, a person who hates everything, including himself? Or that person, wearing a mask, and pretending that he doesn’t? Should I publish this or should I not? I wonder what happens when you hang. I know I don’t have it bad, but for a person with a weak will, the situation cuts deep, and stays there. Best of all, the situation is of my own orchestration.

And here I feel my insignificant existence, 1 out of 7 billion. And here, where some people meant so much to me, here I pray that I don’t go out of this world where no one remembers my name. A ghost from birth to death. And here my emo has to end, shut away in a box. So many things in my head, not knowing how to express them.

Behind the Camera

2008-08-16T19:53:00.000+08:00

Another old post, ah the nostalgia...

I take a step back from life, and survey the world I live in. My world. My only world. This blue green mass in the dark expanse of space. This blue-green mass is the only thing in thousands of miles that supports life. Oh. I live there. That blue green mass. Where do you live? That blue green mass. That blue-green ugly, ugly mass. To be the person behind the camera, behind the camera, behind the camera is quite a pleasant feeling. You see the world as an ironically beautiful place. Where the ugliness of both the planet and human nature paints a Picasso right in front of your eyes. A dash of ethnic cleansing, a splash of genocide, a sprinkle of rape, a dab of manslaughter, the fine brush strokes of torture paint a breathtaking, bittersweet, lovely, lovely picture. Blood and gore do make good paints, and the world is like a never-ending canvas.

The detachment from the world only serves to remind you of the beautiful ugliness of us. The warm, fuzzy feeling you get when you see the picture painted for you is only amplified by watching us. We, the ones who deforest at a rate of football fields every second. We, the ones who would stick a blade in someone just for pieces of paper. We, the ones who butcher animals just to fill our stomachs. We, the ones who cause the deaths of millions of people every year because someone, somewhere doesn’t like something. To kill is human, does it make it a humane thing to do? For what we are, face the fact that we delight in the suffering of others. Face the fact that we yearn for blood and gore. Movie makers know that if they don’t portray sex, blood, violence or conflict, their movie will never, ever sell. We crave chaos. We crave the beauty of a blood-soaked battlefield. We crave the clash and conflict of human beings. We yearn for conflict and disaster. The worse someone’s plight is, the more interested people will be. That’s why we have reality TV, we have survivor wherever and Fear factor. The TV is just a box where you can satisfy your lust for chaos. That’s what makes it so interesting. Welcome to humanity, I’m sorry we don’t accept second-hand lives.

We were all brought up to go against our nature. We were brought up to know that we are all god’s little children. What if god doesn’t like you? What if gods abhors your ugly face? What if god never did want you? What if god just wanted to appreciate the beautiful ugliness of human nature? Let chaos reign I say. If god doesn’t like us, let it be. Why do we always have to do things to please him when he has never done anything for us? We did not ask to be born into this ugly world. I’m sorry, the gift of life is non-transferable. Shatter the Ten Commandments, denounce the 13 apostles, throw the crucifix out the window, assassinate the pope. We are not bounded by rules. We were born. And being born gives you the right to shine. And our ugly ugly selves will shine like a beacon in the blood-tainted sky. The picture we paint will be appreciated by all. Let us face who we really are. We are human, addicted to chaos, pain and suffering. We are human. We were born with the right to shine. Shine like a beacon. The beacon of fear power and absolute chaos. Absolution is our solution, none shall be spared. Let us walk the street with lust in our heart and blood on our hands. For we are humans, and humans we shall be.

Your being small does not serve the world. Rise from your obedient selves and be what you were meant to be. Original sin shows that we really are. When Adam ate the apple, he knew it was wrong but disobedience of a higher power delighted him. He was invigorated by the experience. As we are like Adam, we want to break free. Your adherence to rules only serves to remind you of your invisible leash around your neck – like a dog. Break free. Disregard authority and do what you were meant to do. We are god’s unwanted children, start acting like it. We shall burn our name on the skies and carve our name on the earth. You are not a part of the rat race. You do not do a 9-5 job till your 95. You are human, you were born free, not a slave to anyone. Do what you were meant to do. Taint the streets with blood. Make those who are less than human scream for mercy. Empower yourself with their cries. Power does not come to you easy. You must snatch it from those who cradle their soul and pacifies it with materialistic possessions and that paper you always see changing hands. Rip out their soul and trample it beneath your feet. Power means control. And control means the ability to destroy. We shall never be slaves to paper or plastic or metal. Take what you need from this world. It is your playground. We are human after all.

Emotions are distractions, conscience is nothing. To feel is a privilege we must compromise. The inability to feel sets you apart to become what you really are. To succumb to your feelings is a weakness displayed by all who have abandoned their humanity. They are slaves to feeling, slaves to conscience, slave to authority. We shall not be tainted by emotions or conscience. Conscience only promotes procrastination. With someone’s head in your left hand and a knife in your right hand, conscience should be the last thing on your mind. The world would not stop for you. You are a runner competing with the world. The world does not like you. The world will do whatever it takes to beat you. You are its enemy. Therefore you must control the world and reign. Nobody owes you a living. Forge a path for yourself or die trying. You are invincible. You are human. Paint the picture you were meant to paint. You are the artist. The world is your canvas. The palette is for your choosing. Paint, and produce your masterpiece. The requiem of souls will be played in your favour, the painter who painted the human race.

Bittersweet...

2008-08-16T19:52:00.001+08:00

This is an old old post from a blog which is covered in dust... Since i've not updated for a while, let's put it here.

This is no dream. Neither is it a nightmare. But it happened. Through some sick, ironical act of god, it happened. My past was unceremoniously uprooted and played back in my mind. It was mildly pleasant, in a very warped way. I dreamt about my lost love. What did I do to deserve this? I have moved on with my life and you hit me with this? What kind of sadistic maniac are you? I won’t say I regretted it, in some bittersweet way. But neither would I say I wished it happened.

There was this girl, me, and I was chased by this man in a suit. I escaped from him time and time again, but he still persists, never giving up. I feared being caught and built myself a fortress. This fortress was like a cross between Toys R Us and a scene from SAW. Corpses were strewn all over the floor. Blood was splattered upon the pink wallpaper. The floor was strewn with a jumble of candies, lollipops, beautiful photo frames, syringes, flowers, black boxes and corpses. It filled the room till the door was half covered. I found myself on a contraption that looked like it came from kid sport. The room was half finished and yet the man burst in and demanded audience. And then I cried. I looked like Frankenstein’s bride. Scars covered my face like a white blanket. My eyes were large, round and full of sorrow. Blue. Hair was long and black like those ghosts back for revenge. I wore a white dress which swept the floor. My whole body was covered in scars; from my head to my heel; bruises and wounds from a long time ago. As I cried, black tears like those gaudy women who put too much mascara ran down my face. My tears, were black. They were as black as the velvet blanket covering the sky. They ran down my face leaving little streams of black ink which stained my face the blackest black you have ever seen. Little did I realize that the girl wasn’t me.

I was transported back in time. I am the man with the suit. I was in a scientific facility that looked like it came from some science fiction movie, with those cool wall panels and sliding doors that only serve to remind me of the synthetic nature of myself. We were involved in manufacture. We manufactured dolls. We manufactured dolls which I designed. They were my heart and soul. They were delightful. They looked exactly like the girl from before. I loved them. They had a sad smile on their face which made them look so mysterious. It’s like the dolls have been to heaven, hell and back to live through a second life on earth, knowing how their lives will end. Then suddenly, the manufacturing machine malfunctioned. One of my darling dolls slipped into the machinery and was being ripped apart by the gears. My heart dropped to my stomach. I prayed that it will be all right. I prayed that my darling would be saved from the horrors within. I tried to track its destruction from a monitor in my office which showed my doll with a bright red dot. I clasped and unclasped my hands. Needles of the pistons punctured its flawless skin repeatedly. I uttered a prayer as my doll finally came out and was sent to the reconstruction facility. Screams resounded from within and I panicked. I threw the door open and saw a scientist standing, looking shocked at the doll in the chair. Through some unknown reason, the doll had grown life size and was flawless. No puncture marks could be seen on her skin, no cuts or imperfections. All that was found was soft skin, as smooth as a baby’s. Her hair was a lustrous dark brown. She was wearing a white T-shirt and blue shorts. A little like those athletes you see from the girl schools. She had a gorgeous figure and when she looked at me, I cried. I drew rattling breaths and sobbed my heart out. She smiled at me with that angelic face and said, “I forgive you”. I fell to my knees and cried. That girl was my namesake, the love of my life. If only I could forgive myself.

Flashback, the doll in the Toys R Us cum room of torture. That lovely girl had turned into the abomination I saw right in front of me. I was desperate to change her back to that lovely girl. Rework the magic that made her the lovely girl I knew. My doing had caused her to become like this. It’s as though I was the machine, ripping her apart. Time is a coin you can only spend once. Time waits for no man. Time is our enemy. Although in my heart I knew I could never have her back, I prayed for a miracle. I prayed that she could come back to me just for a moment. I did whatever I could, but the damage was done. She was gone. All that remains is the remains of my destruction. A beautiful doll destroyed by me. Then I woke up, and cried my eyes out. My life forever tainted by this haunting dream. It was neither a dream or a nightmare, it was a reminder of what I was and what I will always be. A destroyer of lives unworthy and incapable of love. May she forgive me and my ugly ugly soul. And now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the lord my soul to keep, if I die before I wake, I pray the lord my soul to take. Please kill me.

Frustration

2008-07-24T21:06:00.000+08:00

Sitting on the sit up benches near the squash courts, looking back at the previous lesson, perspective struck me. Perhaps I should have noticed this ages ago, perhaps I should have learnt it when I was a kid, but you do know people like me never do learn, they never do really grow up. It’s something like a modern world Peter Pan, just without the happily ever after which so often seems to elude us, until we do realize that it is impossible in the society we live in. As a particular someone was busy ogling at the judo coach and it just so happened to catch my eye, I realized the world has moved on. Years have gone by, I guess I’m still living in the year 2000, and I still, believe that I’ll always be a child, that I’ll never have to grow up. People mature as they grow older, I just become more obtuse. They say old people retard as they grow older, I’m not even old yet.

I keep harping on history, that I should change and all that bullshit that I never seem to take seriously, and I still don’t by the way. Truth is, I say it only because it sounds good. That penance only works when somebody is watching; that I lament only when there are ears around. I’m king of drama, and I like making a big deal out of my own stuff, while not usually caring about the troubles of others. I think the world owes me a living, and I’ve taken advantage of every single person that has come my way. And today what happened during some particular lesson, good old teacher reality gave me a big smack on the head.

Truth of the matter is, I’m a hunter, I like the chase, and once I’ve caught it, it loses its appeal. Problem with that is, I’ve burnt so many bridges, made so many enemies that, I’ve hardly any friends, or rather, I just don’t see them. And with that came so many consequences. I thought the supply was limitless, I thought they’ll just keep on coming, but what I realized was that the damage once done, cannot be made undone; that trust once lost, cannot be gained easily. What I’m saying is like duh…obviously, but I forget. I’ve got to stop thinking I’m the centre of the universe that nobody can compare to me. I’ve got to stop thinking that I can take advantage of trust. I’ve got to stop thinking that peoples’ feelings are toys. I have a certain tendency to make enemies out of friends. I should stop that too.

Nice speech made there, but I guess most of you have realized that it’s all talk no action. Come to think of it, I think I’ll make an excellent politician. My actions have brought me here, and I have to look up to see what a nice deep hole I’ve dug myself into. Sigh, I wish, I wish, I wish… Maybe you were right, maybe I’m just a little immature kid that just doesn’t wish to grow up. Reality’s slowly wearing down my life, showing me the bare bones of what’s really happening to me.

Argh, what am I saying, it’s not like you haven’t heard this before, it’s not like it’s the first time I’m writing this. It just goes into some viscous cycle that I write this, feel shitty and because I feel shitty go back to doing more shitty things that lead to me feeling more shitty and do more shitty things to make myself feel better. Stupid.

Learning about soliloquies, I think I might just have one of my own:

In retrospect, messages ignored will come back to haunt,

The past shall become the present,

Which becomes the future,

Man’s destiny is but an illusion of the inevitable,

But the hands of fate are our own.

Words fade in the presence of concrete actions.

And concrete once set, may succumb to wind and rain,

But till then lies there obtuse and stubborn,

Till time wears it away,

To nothingness which we may once again build,

The pillars of trust and love.

But really is there, nothingness which it seems?

The rubble strewn, wreckage lies,

Like the ghost of times once past,

A reminder of that which caused its fall.

What’s done cannot be undone,

Scars made, cannot be removed.

The wheel of time is on a downward slope,

And the laws of gravity cannot be broken.

What I’ve done I will live with,

For there is no other way.

KI

2008-05-20T21:13:00.002+08:00

Little something i wrote for KI...

‘…no part of my consciousness will survive my death.’

To say that no part of one’s consciousness will survive upon death is the thinking of a cynic. As consciousness can be defined as the thoughts and feelings, collectively, of an individual or of an aggregate of people, we cannot deny the fact that we have been granted insight into the “consciousness” of many great thinkers such as Plato, Socrates and Aristotle due to the fact that their “consciousness” have been immortalized through books and word of mouth and their ideas are still alive today. Is this not an example of consciousness transgressing the boundaries of death?

However, it’s not just on the superficial level of books and text that consciousness may survive the inevitable phenomena of death. There are many of life’s mysteries that cannot be answered as of yet, and one of which is the question of the human soul. There has been no proof that the human soul does or does not exist; thus could it be that the human soul does survive the phenomena of death and proceeds to exist in a separate dimension? Or could it be that as stated in the bible, although the Garden of Eden has been closed to mortal man, our souls, after passing judgment are allowed to live a life of eternal bliss in the garden originally made for us? Anything can be said about the phenomena of death, everything is a possibility. We would never know the answer, until the day we die.

However, on the flip side, it may also be true that death is the end of the road for the human consciousness. Once we die, we no longer exist as a living, breathing, thinking human being and whatever mysteries we keep in our head die along with us. When we bid goodbye to the world, and sink into that eternal slumber, that vast oblivion, is it really possible that the chapter of our book ends there? Again, we would never know, until the day we die.

The mystery of death has never been unraveled. Multitudes of hypotheses have been proposed and none can be debunked, due to the enigmatic nature of the whole question of death. Thus, we cannot really say that “no part of our consciousness will survive our death” nor can we say that “part of our consciousness will survive our death” because that question simply cannot be answered.

Dead

2008-05-09T21:33:00.000+08:00

As I stared at the 2 digits on my economics test paper, a very, very cold, human chill ran down my spine. My last trump card has been played. My credibility is in tatters. The elitist, hubristic boy is nothing more than a bad joke. For all the time, he looked down on who he thought were lesser beings, for all the time that he turned his nose up at people with that holier-than-thou attitude, for all the time that he smirked thinking that he knew what he did not know, it just adds mark after mark to his name in the hall of shame. And as he thinks about his humanity, his increasing average ness, he is afraid. Minute by minute, as the seconds tick by, every stroke of the clock is against him, slowly rendering him obsolete, the black oblivion of being left behind swallowing him up, bit by bit.

He fears being rendered obsolete. He fears being part of the majority which sickens him. He fears being like one of them. He fears failure. He fears being the peak in the bell curve. But most of all, he fears that all the things he said, all the actions he took, were all just full of hot air, that he does not practice what he preaches, that he is becoming something he hates with every cell of his being – hypocrite. He hates the two-faces they portray just to fit in, or to be popular. He hates when they speak so strongly about their principles, when they would just shatter them five minutes later. He hates the way they would put people down, just to make themselves look good. And bit by bit, he’s becoming like them, and once again he is afraid.

As Satan had fallen because of his pride, he will fall the same way. Held back for two years, he dares to be arrogant. Being a playboy, he dares to preach on fidelity. Being two-faced himself, he dares to hate hypocrites. His wall of credibility falls slowly brick by brick. With the school stacked against him with their rumours, gossips and trivialities, he fights a losing battle. Their impression of him would not change, and neither would what they say. His reputation, already tainted by his actions from the past, are once again brought back to haunt him in the form of backstabbers and rumour-mongers. He retreats into his solitude where he feels safe and protected. He promised many things, he promised upright behavior, he promised smiles, he promised fidelity, but bit by bit, the burden of his promises weigh down on him, and soon his nose is nearly touching the floor, his back bent double by the judgments and stigmatization placed on him.

Nobody remembers who came in second. “Be on top, or who cares?” he fears being second. As he looks at the average people around him and he remembers where he came from, he feels that he has let himself down. He has the potential to do so much more, and yet he squandered it away. His hubris, his elitism had all been for nothing. His promises to prove himself have all turned out to be hot air. Relegated to an average college, with average people around him, he drowns in his aspirations, like the distant stars that even he cannot reach. Every new test paper he receives, every stumble moves his further and further away from his already impossible goal. The label of “good-for-nothing” is slowly becoming more and more permanent. With no exceptional talents, with no unique abilities, he’s just another one of them, another one of the majority. Regret is the only thing on his mind now - If he had not squandered away his years in his CCA, if he had not wasted his time in school, he would not end up in this state now.

A lack of discipline, a lack of will, affinity to failure is the qualities he has. None of which has ever served him well. “If only” do come up from time to time. He looks at himself and he sees more weaknesses than strengths. Without skills, without abilities, he sees so many people above him on the ladder he must climb to the top. Pilots, musicians, degree holders, university graduates all line up on top of him like millions of obstacles. And he thinks, they have so much more right to be arrogant than me, and yet they’re not. His skills that he prides himself the most on, writing and speaking have waned through years of atrophy. His essays are a shadow of what they used to be. His words, once used to move people to tears, can only elicit an eyebrow raise from most. Pride comes before the fall. He thinks he is so great, that his intelligence would carry him through the day that practice was for losers. Now his retribution has come, in the form of marks.

He wishes he could go back in time, to remedy the mistakes he has made in the past. That he could go back to primary school and relive the life he so misses now. That he could redo his secondary school, and not be held back by 2 years. He wishes that he had exercised a little more self restraint, and the rumours would not come. He wishes that he had listened when people told him he was digging his own grave. But stubborn as he is, arrogant as he is, he did not listen, and now he has fallen. But those years are gone now; he can never get them back. He is ancient, even in that 18 year old body of his. A dinosaur in modern standards, forever holding on to his obsolete beliefs, forever thinking that he is right, forever thinking that he is the best. And as the tests come rolling in, it’s one coffin nail after the other…moving him closer and closer to his grave. In other words, he’s screwed.

Victor Vampire

2008-04-21T19:48:00.001+08:00

Victor is a vampire. He isn’t that sort of vampire that turns into a bat and is afraid of sunlight etc etc. He still has superhuman strength, inhuman speed and is immortal. But it’s not the superficial aspects that we want to focus on. Victor rejects his existence. Victor yearns to be normal and a geek and an outcast in school is as close to normal as he can get.

Victor’s parents were outcasts. They had the taboo union of a Vampire and a human. Victor’s mother was beaten to death by her very own race for having a child with a Vampire right in front of Victor’s eyes. Victor’s father was killed for betraying his race. Through some miracle, Victor survived and continued living on. He remembers the last thing his father said before he died, “Don’t blame the humans, they don’t know anything. Live with compassion; don’t hurt them like we did,” and Victor’s father left this world. Victor has always lived honoring his father’s dying words, but he has never forgiven them for killing his mother. Since Victor is half human, he’s invulnerable to sunlight, though he’s stronger at night. He’s not immortal and is vulnerable to physical attacks. However he does possess the strength and speed of a vampire.

“SPLAT” a tissue soaked with water landed on Victor’s face. Victor sighed and wiped away the muck. “This is going to be another typical day,” thought Victor.

“Hey loser, can’t even take a wet tissue? Boy you’re a drip,” Luke shouted after him.

Luke. He’s your typical high school hottie. Good looking, always with the popular crowd, girls worship the ground he steps on etc etc. However, god was fair. He’s an obnoxious, arrogant, absolutely detestable…thing that walks this planet. He also picks on geeks and nerds...

“…which makes me public enemy number 1 of the school naturally,” sighed Victor. Victor trudges up the stairs to class knowing that this day could not be any different from any other day in school. Little did he know the surprise which was in store for him.

Victor put his bag down in the usual spot in class, which was usually the furthest away from the popular crowd. He sat down, made himself as unnoticeable as possible, and buried himself in his work.

Luke swaggers into class and like Moses parts the red sea, the students automatically shifted to give way to him.

“God here it comes,” Victor thought.

“Hey loser, you’re sitting in my seat…” Luke says halfway when he notices a new girl sitting alone in class calmly reading a book.

“Hey, looks like there’s a new girl in class, I think I’ll go introduce myself, everyone needs a friend,” Luke comments as he slicks up his hair and moves over to the new girl.

New girl? Victor looks surprised. He even forgets that he was about to receive a barrage of abuse from Luke. Victor perks up and tries to take a look at the new girl. It was love at first sight. It was as though an angel has descended from the heavens to bless this class with her beauty. Her hair was a lustrous black. Her features were subtle but clearly defined. She had a demure aura around her, and it was as if everything around her complimented her beauty. Well. That was until Victor caught sight of lecherous Luke leaning over to make her acquaintance and maybe even more than that.

But what is this? It’s as though Luke’s a different person altogether!

“Hello, my name is Luke, welcome to 07S03. I saw you sitting here alone and thought that you might need an introduction to the class…” Luke says. As the conversation trails off from there, “Sigh. It’s for the best anyway, after all, a vampire and a human is taboo, not that anyone realizes we exist anyway.” Victor thought to himself bitterly. Victor continues doing his work. At the corner of his eye, Victor spies Luke and Cassie in animated conversation. Little did he know...

“Look thank you for your hospitality but I just want to read!” Cassie almost screams in exasperation.

“Oh all right, well you know you have a friend in me, if you need any help you can always approach me,” Luke replies, subdued.

“Yes thank you very much, your efforts are appreciated,” Cassie thanks Luke with a sigh of relief.

As Luke returns to his seat, Victor can only imagine that the new girl, has already fallen for Luke. As Victor started to daydream about the new girl, the teacher walks in.

“Good morning class!” Mr. Loke beams with a cheery smile.

“Good morning Mr. Loke,” groaned the class.

“I have a few matters to address this morning. Firstly it’s about your class test. I have to say, you made marking easy,” Mr. Loke said, grinning from ear to ear. “Secondly, it’s about a new student in class. I’m sure you’ve already noticed her, this is Cassie from Hong Kong,”

Cassie stood up and walk to the front of the class. Victor was once again stunned by her beauty. She looked more beautiful than before, and the moment she opened her mouth…

“Hi! My name’s Cassie and I’m from Hong Kong, I love Chinese music and acting. I hope to be able to make friends with all of you. I recently just moved in from my hometown and would be staying here for quite a while,” Cassie announced cheerfully. Victor thought he heard the song of angels. He sat there, building castles in the air as he heard the last note linger, then fade. However, reality is a cruel alarm clock. Deep inside he knew, that not only will he always be an outcast of the school, he knew that people will never accept him for who he is, and anybody he gets close to, he will lose her, because the people around him will never be able to accept a vampire and a human together. The thought of that filled him with sorrow, but there was nothing he could do about it.

The rest of the day went by slowly and painfully, there was not a time in class that he could look at Cassie and not be hurt by the cruel reality. The pain weighed heavy in his heart. As he walked home, he thought, “This will be over soon, after all it’s just a crush,” “Anyway as long as I keep myself buried in my work, I think I’ll be fine,” he laughed sardonically. It seems ironic that he found refuge in his work when it is the activity he so abhors. Victor hates the education system. He feels that its futile to work for something that would be useless to people in the future. “It’s just a piece of paper, it’s not like we use integration or thermal physics in the workplace next time,” Victor rants angrily inside. Victor sighs, “But still it’s the only thing right now that might distract me from…” Victor stops abruptly. Once again, god sure has a sense of humor - right before him, as he turned the corner, stood Cassie.

“Oh, hey,” Victor stutters.

“Erm, do I know you?” Cassie says awkwardly.

“Oh I’m sorry. I’m from your class. I’m Victor,” Victor blushes. He averts his eyes and says “I’m sorry, I guess I should get going now.” As Victor turns to walk away, Cassie suddenly calls him back.

“Hey! I remember you! You’re the guy that’s always sitting in a corner buried in your work. Wow, what a coincidence. Do you live in this area too?”

That cheery reply, though so simple, filled Victor’s heart with joy. It filled him with hope, this mad hope, that maybe, it was possible, maybe one day, a geek could be with an angel, a union between a human and a vampire could happen. He smiled.

“Yeah, I am. I do live here, just two blocks away from here,” Victor points.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home, I just live over there, 5 blocks away,” Cassie smiles cheerily.

Victor could not believe his ears. First he met this angel on his way home, now she’s walking him home? But he reminded himself, I am a vampire, in no position to be with a human being. “Reality sure is cruel,” he thought.

As Cassie walked with Victor that day, it was as though they had known each other for eternity. They clicked wonderfully. They were like bread and butter, one incomplete without the other. Victor even forgot himself, he just lost himself in that innocent conversation with Cassie. Cassie was taken aback by his honesty and simplicity. All her life she has been wooed, degraded and chased by those arrogant pricks that are found everywhere. This is the first time that she has been able to talk to someone who didn’t need anything more from her than her company. She was impressed, and little did she know, she was in love. The more they talked, the slower they walked. And when they parted company, it was already night. They had talked for 4 hours and not once did either of them look at the time.

“So I’ll see you in school tomorrow?” Cassie quipped.

“Erm, yeah I’ll see you around,” Victor replied uncertainly.

“Hey, you all right? You don’t look right. Is something on your mind?” Cassie asks, concerned.

“No I’m fine,” Victor flashes a smile. “I’ll see you in school tomorrow then,”

When Victor walked home that night, there was a slight lilt in his step. For once, he felt happy. Now it was time for his duty, his responsibility to mankind, his promise to his father. And once again, his heart weighed heavy on him.

As Victor stood on the rooftop of a building, he surveyed what he saw beneath him. “Why am I doing this?” he thought bitterly. He thought about what Luke has been tormenting him everyday, he thought about how his mother was killed by the same people he has to protect. Victor clenches his fist. “Father, why? Why do I have to protect the race which have hunted our race for ages?” Then he thought about Cassie and her beautiful smile. “That makes it easier I guess,” Victor thought to himself as he spied a couple of thieves trying to steal a car. Within a blink of an eye, he was gone.

“Quick Jeff I got a bad feeling about this,” Nick urged his partner who was trying to use a coat hanger to open the car door.

“Look I can only do things this fast all right? So just hold on to your balls and stop irritating me,” Jeff shot back, irritated.

Victor smiles in the darkness. He walks towards them. His footsteps echo clear into the night.

“Who’s that?” Nick whispers, panicky.

“What? I didn’t hear no nothing. Shut up and let me finish,” Jeff replies.

“No seriously, I heard footsteps,” Nick defends himself.

“It must be the marbles rolling around in your head,” Jeff laughed.

“That’s not very nice,” Nick shot back.

When the footsteps rang again, both Jeff and Nick heard them. They turned towards the direction of the footsteps, petrified. Victor appeared from the shadows and whispered softly, “Evening gents, lovely night isn’t it?” In his full superhero garb, Victor was an awesome sight. Black aviator shades like those that you see in the Matrix. He was clad in black entirely finished with black half gloves. He looked as though he was the wrath of the night itself. Victor laughed, his cold laughter pierced the night air, ringing loud and clear. It sent shivers down the two felons’ spines.

Jeff got the locking mechanism open and was about to get into the car when Victor commented, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, not only will they get you for stealing, they’ll get you for destruction of property as well, since I seriously doubt you two have your driving license,” of course, they did not heed any of Victor’s warnings and got into the car, starting it and hitting the accelerator. They braced themselves for the crash but it never happened, for Victor was no where to be seen.

“So where are we going boys?” Victor smiled as he draped his shoulders over the two of them. They fainted. Victor sighed. “I always hate when this happens, it’s so boring,” Victor dragged the two of them out of the car and suddenly he thought about him mother. His fists clenched tighter. He looked at the two felons. He shook his head, “No I can’t hurt them,” he reminded himself and just left them on the floor.

As Victor stood in the lamp light, a voice rang from behind him, appalled. “My god, what have you done?” A figure clothed entirely in white stepped out from the darkness. She wore a white mask across her eyes, as well as a piece of cloth across her mouth. She wore knee high boots and a short miniskirt, making her look amazingly attractive. In her hand she carried a wooden stake, the mark of a slayer.

Victor was caught by surprised. He took one look at her and ran. The slayer gave chase. Many thoughts went through his mind as he made his escape. How did they find out who I was? Who is this person? There have never been slayers in Singapore before. Why now? That wooden stake, that slayer wants to kill me! The more Victor thought, the more confused he became and the more fearful he was. He took a look behind and saw the slayer hot in pursuit. Victor gave one last spurt of speed and the slayer was left far behind.

The slayer stopped the pursuit. She thought to herself, “I don’t know who you are vampire, but if you’re the one who murdered my family, I promise you there’ll be hell to pay,” the slayer walked off into the night, her hands tightly clutching the wooden stake with determination.

By the time the slayer gave up chasing Victor, he was already home lying on the bed with all the questions running through his head. The last word that went through his head before he went to sleep was “why?” He closed his eyes, and fell into a fitful slumber just as a hint of orange appeared far over the horizon.

Victor trudged to school, enduring the verbal abuses that Luke threw at him as he walked past him. Actually he didn’t hear anything at all; he was lost in his own thoughts, too busy to even realize that Cassie was calling him from the far side of the canteen.

“VICTOR! Why didn’t you answer me?” Cassie shouted as she stood in front of him, blocking his way.

“Huh? Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Victor explained with a dejected look in his eye.

“Hey, is anything the matter? Anything you would like to tell me?” Cassie asked, concerned about his welfare.

By this time, many of Victor’s classmates were staring at the both of them wondering how this could be possible. That included Luke, standing at the far side of the canteen, with a facial expression as black as night. Luke could not believe his eyes. He had never imagined that Victor was able to best him with Cassie. “He stole Cassie from me,” Luke thought. “He won’t get away with this,”

Victor started to notice that half the canteen was staring at them. “It’s nothing, really,” Victor mumbled as he brushed past her, leaving her stranded. Victor turned his back on her, and walked away. Cassie was confused and upset, but she was determined to get to the bottom of this. Luke watched the events unfold getting angrier and angrier by the second. He turned away and stormed off, muttering under his breath that Victor will pay.

Victor slowly walked up the stairs to his tutorial class and settled himself down in his usual place. He took out his books nonchalantly and started to immerse himself in the world of chemistry, not realizing that there were 2 pairs of eyes fixated on him. One filled with anger, the other filled with sorrow.

The bell rang, and like clockwork, Mr. Loke walked into class, his usual cheery self and announced that today there would be an OBT, much to the disappointment of the class. Victor just pretended nothing has happened and did the OBT without skipping a beat, finishing it in less than 5 minutes. However, it was not the OBT he was thinking about, but what happened last night.

“Am I really that hateful?” Victor questioned himself. “Do people really want me dead?” “Stupid human beings, no matter what I do for them, they’ll never accept me, I’m destined to be an outcast, destined to be hated by all. Why father, why do you help these human beings that you know killed mother?” Victor brooded. “Am I really worth what Cassie sees me as?” “No, I’m a monster; people should stay away from monsters.”

As these questions swam through Victor’s head, little did he know that the absolute opposite of these questions swam through Cassie’s. While the class was absolutely absorbed in their OBT, there were three individuals who were thinking of something totally irrelevant. The bell rang, Victor walked up to the teacher’s desk with his head bowed low and placed a single sheet of paper on his desk, after that he grabbed his bag and left without a word. Mr. Loke looked at him, confused about what brought about that sudden change in personality. “He may be unusually quiet in class, but he looks as though the weight of the world lies on his shoulders today,” Mr. Loke thought to himself.

Victor walked down to the canteen and sat alone, his head in his hands. Not too long later, Cassie sits down in front of him. They’re both silent for a while, then Cassie breaks the silence.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Cassie asks, almost close to tears.

Victor doesn’t reply, he just sits there, quiet and brooding.

“I don’t think I can be your friend Cassie,” Victor says quietly. “I’m sorry,” Victor takes his bag and stands up about to leave.

“Wait! Victor!” Cassie calls after him tears already flowing from her eyes. “Why can’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

Victor just walks off, without looking back at Cassie. He walks past Luke who saw the entire thing. Luke stares at Victor with hatred in his eyes swearing to himself that he’ll make Victor pay for what he did to Cassie. “But right now, I think Cassie’s more important,” Luke thinks to himself. He walks over to where Cassie is sitting and sits in front of her.

“Hey…” Luke whispers tenderly.

“I’m fine,” Cassie replies, sobbing slightly.

“I know,” Luke says, handing her a piece of tissue.

Cassie looks up and smiles, she thanks Luke for the tissue and apologizes to him for the way she looks and wipes her tears away, rearranges the smile on her face again and walks off into the crowd.

“What a girl,” Luke thinks, and smiles to himself. “Not like all those chicks that fall head over heels over me with no backbone,” Luke runs his hands through his hair, “And I hate it when girls cry, especially when I’m helpless to do anything about it.” He suddenly thinks about Victor. “I don’t know what he did that made Cassie cry, but I can be sure that he’ll pay for it,”

Victor was in the library studying when he looked at his watch. 5 pm it told him. “Time to go, I guess” Victor thought to himself. He packed up his books and walked out of the library. He didn’t notice Luke nearby doing the same.

Victor was walking through a secluded corridor when someone tapped him on the shoulder. As he turned to look who it was, a punch flew out of no where and caught him on the cheek. He fell to the ground in a heap clutching his cheek. He looked up and saw Luke towering over him, hatred in his eyes.

“That’s for making Cassie cry!” Luke shouted at him, spitting out every word. “You jerk! Whatever did she do to you?” Luke grabbed Victor by the collar and raised him up. “Answer me!”

Victor just raised his head calmly and looked straight into Luke’s eyes. “You would never understand,”

“Why you arrogant geek!” Luke shouted and threw another punch. This time Victor dodges it and his fist contacts with the wall.

“Argh!” Luke cries out in pain and crumples to the floor. Victor stands over him, wanting to help him up.

“Hey look, I’m sorry…” Victor starts trying to help him up.

“Get away you geek!” Luke shouts as he throws another punch.

This time Victor is prepared, he grabs Luke, but just as he does, he is reminded of his mother, who was killed by the same kind of people who are tormenting him now. His fists clench and in one moment he loses control of himself and throws him against the wall, just as Cassie turns the corner. She sees Luke crashing against the wall, face bloody. She turns to look at who did this and sees Victor standing over him, fist raised. Cassie can’t believe her eyes. She runs over and shouts, “Stop it! Stop it! Get away Victor, I thought you were a nice guy. I was so wrong,”

Victor looks at her with a bewildered expression on his face. He looks at her and sees the hurt and hatred that she has for him and realizes that there is nothing that he is able to say that would change the present situation. He bows his head and leaves.

As Victor walked home that day, he thought to himself, “Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe if I hurt instead of her, she’ll be happy,” “Anyway, there’s nothing I can do about it now. She hates me. I hope she’ll be happy with Luke, he seems to care a lot about her,” As he thought about these issues, his brain assured him that everything would be fine, but his heart just weighed heavier, and heavier on him.

Victor stood at the edge of the rooftop, questioning his identity. Who was he? What was his place in society? If his existence is hated by so many, wouldn’t it be better if he just left? But he remembered the promise to his father and has sworn to honor that promise. He sat down at the edge of the rooftop, brooding. He thought about Cassie and the look that she gave him today. “Sigh, I’ve lost a friend, perhaps the only friend I ever will have. At least we were friends for that time we spent together. To me, that’s more than enough,” Victor sighed. A tear ran down his cheek.

“It’s not fair to sneak up on someone from behind,” Victor said to no one in particular.

A figure in white appears from the shadows. “I wasn’t intending on doing anything, I just came for the night air. You however, ruined everything.” The Slayer spat.

“I apologize for ruining your night. I guess now that I’m here, you would want to kill me. I won’t let you, but I will not fight with you tonight,” Victor states resolutely.

“It’s not your choice!” the Slayer shouts as she rushes up to Victor. Victor parries every blow but never returns a hit.

“Why don’t you fight back?!” The Slayer shouts, emphasizing every syllable with a blow.

“Firstly, I don’t fight girls,” Victor grunts, trying to parry each of the Slayer’s blow. “Secondly, you’re a good guy, I don’t want to hurt you,” and he thought to himself, “we ought to have been killed off ages ago anyway,”

The slayer suddenly stops her attacks. “My family was killed because of your KIND!” the Slayer swings her fist at Victor’s face. Victor just dodges it and has a shocked and guilty look on his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”

“Of course you don’t, you’re just a…” the slayer continues when suddenly a piercing scream fills the air. Victor hears the scream and runs towards the railing of the rooftop.

“I’m sorry, I have to go now,” Victor apologizes.

“Don’t try to escape!” the slayer shouts after him and gives chase.

“I’m not, I promise we’ll finish this later, but now I really have to go,” Victor vaults over the railing and disappears. The slayer gives chase and spots Victor defending an old lady against a snatch thief with a knife.

Victor grabbed the thief by the arm and tried to pin him down. The thief fought back and slashed Victor with his knife opening up a deep gash in his arm. Victor yelped in pain and growled. He jumped on the thief and they both went crashing onto the floor. He had the thief in an arm lock when suddenly the image of his mom appeared in his mind. The more he thought about it the angrier he became. He didn’t hear the thief crying in pain. Suddenly he remembered his father’s words. He was brought back to reality and immediately released his grip. The thief ran off, cradling his arm in his hand. He was shocked at himself. “I’m sorry…” he told to no one in particular, looking at his hands. “I’m sorry.” He ran off, shocked at what he just did.

The Slayer walked over and returned the bag to the old lady. After that she helped the old lady to the lift. As the slayer was about to walk away, the old lady said to her, “Thank your friend for me, he saved my life. Bless you too, whoever you are.” The slayer stood there, stunned.

The slayer went to the same rooftop she saw Victor. She was right, he was sitting on the rooftop with his head in his hands. “What did you do that for?” the slayer called out.

“I don’t know…I just lost…,” Victor whispered, his thoughts elsewhere.

“I meant when you helped the old lady, that man deserved justice…” the slayer said.

“He may have deserved justice, but i’m no killer…” Victor trailed on.

That was when the slayer snapped. “I don’t believe you!” the Slayer shouted at him. “Do you know what your kind did to me? They killed my family in front of me and made me watch!” the Slayer went on her knees and wept. “I’ll never forgive your kind!”

Victor just slowly backed away and said, “I’m sorry,” before disappearing into the night.

Victor sighs as he gets into bed thinking once again about the pain he’s causing people around him. He asks himself whether whatever he’s doing does pay for the pain his ancestors have caused. “I just want people to be happy around me, to be able to accept me for who I am and not what I am. If that happiness can only be achieved if I wasn’t around, I shouldn’t be around,” sighed Victor. He thinks about the students in NYJC and he thinks to himself, “Sigh, if only they knew that being normal is a privilege I would give anything to have,” he closes his eyes and falls asleep.

Once again Victor finds himself in school again. He thinks to himself, everyday I do the same thing day in day out. What am I doing this for? He shakes the feeling out of his head. Suddenly, he spots Cassie hanging out with Luke. He suddenly collapses on the floor clutching his heart. “I didn’t know it would hurt me that much,” he mutters to himself as he tries to catch his breath and picks himself up. He walks up the stairs to class. Little did he know that when he turned his back on them, Cassie looked at him go with sorrow written all over her face and tears welled up in her eyes. She fought back feelings to call him back and just sat quietly in front of Luke.

“Hey, don’t cry, it’s not worth it crying over him,” Luke said softly.

Cassie nods and dried her eyes. “I’m fine,” Cassie said, “he just seemed so different the other day,” she thought to herself.

Luke is silent. Cassie suddenly thought of something.

“Luke?,” Cassie raises her head.

“Yes Cassie?” Luke looks curious.

“Why do you hate Victor so much?” Cassie asks.

Luke falls silent for a while.

“Hey if you don’t want to tell me it’s all right you know, I just want to know why you always treat him so bad,” Cassie says.

“Victor and I go way back. He was in my class in secondary 4. Our school had this program where a person has to excel in sports, project work and academics to be able to qualify for a scholarship to our affiliated school, Hwachong Junior College. I was placed in a group with Victor for the project work segment of my scholarship application. It was terrible. He was unable to communicate with us, he always looked like he didn’t receive enough sleep and he always didn’t finish his allotted parts. Because of that, our group failed the project work segment and I didn’t get the scholarship. When the o level results came out, I was unable to get to Hwachong on my own merit. That’s why I’m in NYJC now. I lost my scholarship because of him.” Luke answered coldly.

Cassie fell silent for a while. “Come on let’s go to class, we’ll be late,” Cassie said as she stood up to walk to class.

Victor was already in class when the two of them arrived, as usual buried in his books. Just as Cassie and Luke stepped into class, Mr. Loke arrived, this time in place of that cheery expression he has on his face, this face is as black as storm clouds.

“What happened to all of you? I may have expected poor results because of the surprise test but this is appalling! Those of you which I expected more from just disappointed me. I’ve got nothing to say. Take back your scripts.” Mr. Loke sighed as he sat down heavily on his chair. “Victor, see me after class,” Mr Loke said curtly as he buried his head in his hands.

“I guess it’s not the first time he has called me up,” Victor sighs. The lesson ended quickly and Victor went to see Mr. Loke after class.

“Care to explain this?” Mr Loke said quietly as he placed Victor’s script on the table. Victor took one look at it and bowed his head. “Your work has been steadily declining Victor, what has been happening to you?” Mr. Loke scolded.

“I was busy…” Victor murmured.

“Busy? What can be more important than school work?” Mr. Loke shouted as he starts to lose his temper.

“Trying to make something out of my life!” Victor shouts back. “All my life, I have been doing the same thing over and over again. Everyday I come to school, get laughed at, get ignored, act like wallpaper and then go back home to an empty house! It’s as though I’m the only one left on this planet! I just want to be accepted. Sometimes I think whether this is how my life ought to be. Sometimes it gets so lonely at home I look forward to coming to this godforsaken school. For when people laugh at me, at least there’ll be laughter around me…” Victor trails off, he places his head between his arms and draws heavy breaths. He didn’t realize that Cassie was standing at the door, looking at him cry in front of Mr. Loke. But all Cassie could do, was cry with him. She never realized the pain that Victor held inside and wanted to kill herself for the way she treated Victor that day. She desperately wanted Victor to forgive her, but she just didn’t know how.

As Victor stood up to go, Mr Loke told him, “Ask yourself this, who are you, what is your purpose here?”

That day, Victor walked in the park before going home. He just wanted to clear his head about certain things. He thought about the question Mr. Loke asked him. “Who am I?” Victor asked himself. Suddenly he heard a scream from the far side of the park. He looked into his bag and cursed, his superhero garb was not in his bag. He ran.

When he reached the scene, he saw Luke lying bloody on the floor and Cassie was being attacked by 4 gangsters. Victor cried, “No!” and rushed to attack them, fangs bared and eyes full of rage. Cassie watched, her eyes full of surprise. “Victor is a vampire?” As Victor was getting slashed up by the knives, he shouted to Cassie, “What are you doing? Take Luke and run!” Victor was bleeding profusely from multiple wounds over his arms. Then, Cassie did something very unexpected. From her bag she pulled out a wooden stake. Victor’s eyes went wide with surprise. Distracted, the gangsters took their chance and plunged their knives deep into Victor’s chest. “No! Victor!” Cassie cried as he fell to the floor. Cassie looked at the gangsters with hatred, “How dare you,” she hissed, her words full of venom. “How dare you do that to my FRIEND!” At the last word, she rushed at them, movements full of grace, but attacks full of fury. She was controlling herself, as she was not meant to kill, but that did not stop her from inflicting the worst pain this gangsters have ever felt in their life. Cassie wasn’t as merciful as Victor in that aspect.

Luke was appalled that the stories his mother told him about vampires were true. Luke summoned up all the courage left in him and dragged himself over to where Victor lay. “Hey man,” Luke said, a little guilty and a whole lot of scared.

“If you’re going to insult me again, please don’t, at least let me have my last moments in peace,” Victor struggled to reply.

“I just want to say, I’m sorry for how I treated you. I never did forgive you for how you lost my scholarship for me, but I guess I was wrong to act like that…” Luke trailed on.

“I lost it on purpose. I knew about your scholarship thing and I knew how the teachers pushed up your marks so you could get good grades. Do you think a geek like me can actually fail something? I did it for you, I knew you would not be able to make it in HCJC, your grades have never been good. Do you want to get kicked out after the first year?” Victor replied. His eyes closed and he went limp.

“VICTOR! VICTOR!” Luke cried as he tried to shake Victor awake. Luke remembered what his mother told him about vampires. He never really thought it was true. But he knew what to do anyway.

Luke took out a pen knife from his bag when a hand was placed on his shoulder. He turned to look, it was Cassie. She took the pen knife from him as Luke started to protest. Cassie just silenced him and whispered, “I owe him this, for misjudging him,” I’m a slayer, and because of that, I nearly lost a friend. “He must have been thinking about how I have been hunting him all this time and it must have broken his heart to think that someone out there wants him dead, I’m sorry Victor, I really am.”

Luke was silent. Cassie made a slight cut on her wrist and brought it to Victor’s mouth. The blood flowed, drip by drip into Victor’s mouth. After a while, Victor coughed and fluttered his eyes open.

“Cassie,” Victor said weakly. “You’re a slayer, why did you do this? You should have just let me die, after all, I’m a freak of nature. Everybody would look at me with hatred…”

Cassie shakes her head, “No Victor, you’re a friend to me. The best one I have ever known for a very long time. And it doesn’t matter what you are. I just accept you for who you are. And you’re Victor Sefuro Tan. Don’t you ever die on me.”

Victor was stunned. After that he bowed his head down and said, “Yes Cassie,”

Luke put his hand up, “Dude, sorry for all I did this year. You didn’t deserve it. Friends?”

Victor looks apprehensive, Luke continues, “for life?”

Victor looks at Luke and smiles, takes his hand and says, “For life.”

All of them stood up and walked away, each with a different path of fate, each with a different destiny, but all of them entwined, inseparable.

Victor stands on rooftop. “It doesn’t matter who people think I am, I know who I am. I know my purpose in life. I’m to live, mostly to protect those who love me but also those that don’t. I have to respect my father’s wish but I’ve realized why now. View people for who they are and not what they did to you. The people who killed my mom were fearful. My parents never blamed them and I should not as well. Make people happy wherever I go, not whenever I go. People may want me dead. But I would live for those who want me alive, those I have to protect, those in need of protection. What do I want in life? To live, nothing else. Who am I? I’m Victor, VAMPIRE”

A piercing scream fills the air. A voice from behind Victor says, “Let’s rock and roll,” The voice came from Cassie, dressed in her white superhero costume. “Yeah, let’s,” another voice calls out. It was Luke, dressed all black in a sweeping cloak. Victor smiles.

“I’m Victor, vampire,”

Boy

2008-03-21T00:35:00.005+08:00

There was a boy.

When he first saw the light of day, he was surrounded by happiness, joy and celebration. As he took in his first breath in the arms of the doctor, many could see the sparkle of life in his mother’s eyes. She saw the result of 9 months of effort; 9 months of worrying whether the baby will be okay; 9 months of waking up in the morning and vomiting into the toilet; 9 months of back ache, cramps and aches all over her body. 9 months.

As she held the baby in her arms, she was oblivious to everything. The only thing that mattered right now, was the bundle of joy in her arms; so frail, so cute, so innocent. Even the cacophony of noises her family made fell on deaf ears. The baby cried, and like magic, the whole room fell silent as the sound of the baby’s feeble cries filled the room.

There was a toddler.

Laughter filled the room as he ran around the room with an extremely exhausted mother chasing him. He ran over chairs, under tables and into cupboards. The exhausted mother catches him and he laughs and laughs; innocent, ecstatic, joyous. The mother smiles. She washes him tenderly, lovingly, carefully as the kid laughs and plays in the small tub, a lively twinkle in his eyes.

The kid lies on the bed, his face a deathly pallor. His eyes are closed. His mother sits beside him, worry written all over her face. She wrings a small cloth dry in her hands, folds it, and places it on the kid’s head. The kid groans slightly, his eyes open a crack. He sees his mother. He smiles meekly, as though embarrassed to have his mother take care of him such. His eyes sparkle. His mother smiles and kisses the kid’s forehead.

There was a child.

He puts on his new school uniform, excited about his first day in school. He can’t wait to meet new people. He’s so eager to rush out of the door and meet this new world laid in front of him. He hugs his mother and then rushes out the door and onto the school bus waiting outside for him. As he walks up the steps of the school bus, he turns back and sees his mother waving back at him. He waves back and smiles. His mother smiles back, but her eyes show worry, apprehension and concern. She wipes away a tear in her eye and sighs, returning to her housework.

He gets off the school bus. So many sights! So many sounds! So much activity! He can hardly contain his excitement. He swings his head left, right, up, down just to take everything in. There’s a big smile on his face as he wanders around the school looking at an educational institute for the first time. He’s a fearless adventurer exploring the world beyond his own.

There was a kid.

He sits at the desk, a pencil in his hand. The pencil scurries across the paper, leaving black lines all across the white expanse. He feels a sharp pain on the back of his head. He hears a barrage of coarse words and harsh language. He doesn’t understand. His paper is crumpled and thrown away. His mother storms out of the room in a huff. There are tears in his eyes. He walks over to the dustbin and picks up the crumpled piece of paper. He stares at the drawing of the 3 stick figures. Below the picture were the words "mom, dad and me".

He hears them again. They shout and shout, never for once wanting to give way, never for once coming to a compromise. He cowers under his blanket, afraid. Afraid of what has happened to mommy and daddy who once ruffled his hair and pat him on the back. Afraid of this evil noise he was hearing. He hugged his legs for comfort. He was in his bed, in his room, in a house where he was afraid. He was at home, and he was afraid. He closed his eyes, and slept, wishing that this was a dream, wishing that he would wake up, and everything would be all right again.

There was a youth.

He sat within a sea of white and blue. He was just another number, another statistic, another marking on the attendance roster. He had no identity, no singularity, no individuality. He gazes at the scenery outside. He saw blue, white and a tinge of yellow. A bird flew past the window, singing its cheerful song. He saw freedom; he saw the futility of being stuck in this place where he had no place. He wanted to escape, he wanted to be free, he was sick of being stuck in this place, this room, this prison day after day, hour after hour, minute after minute, second after second listening to an old fart drone on.

The bell rings. He walks to the bus stop. He walks up the bus. He holds on to the pole and stares blankly ahead. The bus stops. He gets off. He walks back to his apartment. With mechanical precision, he inserts the key into the lock and walks into an empty house. The empty house he shares with his ghosts of parents. His parents whose back he only sees when he’s just about to fall asleep and they’re standing at the door raining abuses at one another. He can hardly remember their faces anymore. Every night, he sees only their back, over and over again, day after day, hour after hour, minute after minute, second after second.

There was a teenager.

His hair is a stark electric blue, styled to points. His face looks like a locksmith cabinet. He’s clothed entirely in black. There’s more metal on his body than one can see in a junkyard. A girl hangs on his right arm like a rag doll. He doesn’t even notice her. His face is in a permanent sneer. His eyes look dead, and yet one can see the deep sorrow of a person longing to be loved. He just stands along a corridor. Hundreds of people walk past him, yet he stands alone.

The cool breeze blows on his face. The sky is a myriad of colours. White clouds prance like sheep on a meadow of blue. Birds sing and dance across the sky. His eyes are closed, his mind at peace with his surroundings. His arms are outstretched, embracing the beauty of nature, of the world around him. He smiles and takes a step. He feels the rush of the wind one last time.

There was a boy.

Neutral Resocialization

2008-03-06T22:20:00.001+08:00

I know I haven’t posted for eons as I have been thinking of something to write about. This phrase got stuck in my head for days. I read this off some novel. It was a very interesting idea. It was rather technical citing things like “Neural Resocialization through memory overlay”. It’s quite a mouthful but what it basically means is brainwashing through replacing old memories with new and making someone fit to be reintroduced into society. That was when I started thinking; can brainwashing really replace our instincts? Can brainwashing remove fear, imagination and emotion? We were all born with our basic instincts, can brainwashing really remove that?

We were born with 2 things hard-coded into our genetic and subconscious systems. One was that we were put here to survive (obviously). The other was that we were put here to replicate which in turns supports our first purpose which is to survive by ensuring the survival of the species. Our instincts allow us to protect ourselves against any aggressor and to bonk a female or females who are fertile and have increased child-bearing abilities. Fear and horniness seem to go very well together. Both work very well in ensuring the ultimate survival of the human race. And if you think about it, this pair of instincts has kept us alive for a pretty long time. The “long time” is relative to my relatively short 80 years of existence. Although we haven’t survived for long and I’m sure we wouldn’t live long judging by the rate we’re killing each other and destroying our own home, we’ll live a few million more years, and let’s hope by then we’ll have become smarter than to excrete in our own home.

Now that we have the concept of “Neural Resocialization” that supposedly tweaks a man’s mind such that he is not only primed for any purpose he is made to do, he’s more or less domesticated. See what “Neural Resocialization” does is that it primes you to listen to orders, to have no conscience, to basically become a killing machine that can be turned on and off. Of course he doesn’t have to kill stuff, but usually they use them “Neural Resocialites” for those purposes. But after all that I’ve said, to remove a man’s ability to think and reason for himself, to remove the very instincts that allow him to survive, what will become of him? Will he be a man, or just a domesticated beast of burden? To remove his freedom, to remove his identity, to make him just another asset, another commodity, but he himself totally unaware, and serving a cause that is not his own, to die for something that is not his responsibility, to live a life like that, a little disturbing? Not to mention that, the army is doing the exact same thing to many people around the world. Is the idea, a little too close for comfort?

Perspective

2008-02-02T00:20:00.000+08:00

Due to the fact that I have been under duress to update, here goes. As I sat down to update my Blog today, I realized that I could not type a single phrase out. Other than belittling myself, making negative comments about what I observe from the world around me, observing and reporting trends that are detrimental to society, I really can’t think of anything else. It seems that my ability to complain and nitpick had gone out the window. Maybe I’ll write about something else for a change – perspective. All along, I’ve seen the world as a horrid place to be in, picking on all the bad things that have arisen from it, and I guess, that’s what most people think as well. Everybody complains about their job, their family, their girlfriend, their underpants, their café latte, whatever they can complain about, they will complain. And Singaporeans are best at that. If there was an Olympic complaining event, I think Singapore would receive its first Olympic medal. All of us have seen the negative side of things, I know I have. But when I took a look at the beauty that this world holds, it’s a much better picture than the drab, dark and dull picture I have been looking at all along.

This post, unfortunately, it’s not about my observations of the world. Instead, this post is on introspecting, looking within me to see what has or has not happened to me. What has changed from Nick v1.0 and the new (and improved?) Nick v2.0. Previously, I didn’t think of myself rather highly. I thought myself as arrogant, an empty vessel that makes a lot of noise, not worth the ground I walk on, a pain to be with, fake, etc etc. However, I realized that the more I think myself that way, the more I’ll become that. The issue is not who you are, but more of what’s your perspective of yourself. And to you, your perspective is what makes you. For example, if you were to think your Economics teacher is a bald guy who doesn’t know jack about his material, he’ll be a bald guy who doesn’t know jack about his material no matter how you look at him. Your perspective makes the person who he is. Moreover, when you look at yourself through that lens of whatever you think of yourself, sooner or later, you’ll grow into that perspective of yourself. After all, your mind cannot differentiate between what’s real and imagined, and the more you think that the qualities you picked for yourself are real, they will become you. And the lens I saw myself through has become me. I have become arrogant, fake, someone who spews nonsense, amazingly low self worth and other stuff. That is a mistake that I hope, will not happen again.

The consequences of the qualities that I saw myself having previously, although I thought were pretty insignificant I realized affected my friends, my classmates, my family and people who love me on a large scale. Although that might be the perspective I had for myself, and I thought nobody knew, you are what you perceive yourself. So, when I tried to help people, the helping hand was not that of a stronger individual, a well fleshed out hand that can provide the security that people needed; instead it was a mottled, rotten hand that seemed needed more help than the individual it was trying to help. Nobody would accept help from something or someone more pathetic than themselves and it was a problem, I ended up being the helpee instead of the helper. I did not know this, but it seems that everybody knew before I did. Well, I hardly feel that that will happen anymore. After all, I’m a changed man? Trust begets trust, you have to learn to trust yourself before you allow yourself trust others or others to trust you. Previously, I did not trust myself, but now that I’ve found it within me to trust myself, perhaps I can allow myself to trust others. Trust is not a right, but a privilege. And I’m glad that I’ve realized that, for previously I demanded trust, now I’m prepared to work for it.

Truth of the matter is, everybody is great and powerful. But we often do not see that within ourselves. All of us do not wish to acknowledge that we have that power to change lives. Every failure that we experience pushes down our self esteem a bit more. Every “I’m not good enough”, every “I can’t do this” pushes us down a little more. What’s our greatest fear? It’s not that we are inadequate, but that we are powerful beyond measure. However, people focus on their inadequacies and not on their strengths. They ask, “Who are we to assert our existence on this planet?” Then ask yourselves this, “Who are we not to?” We were born with the right to shine, and by shining, we give others permission to do the same. I wish to acknowledge that I have the power; the power to change the world. I may not be able to fly, or shoot webs from my wrist, but I have my perspective and my mindset and those are bulletproof. It does not matter how I change the world, it does not matter whether I invent a cure for HIV or unite the entire world under one flag. What does matter is that I have set my mind to it, I will change the world, whether one person at a time, or converting entire continents to my cause, as long as there is the intention, and that there is 100% commitment, it will happen.

“You are not the car you drive, you are not the clothes you wear, you are not your bank account, you are not your bowel cancer,” Tyler Durden once said this. I would like to add one more line, “You are not the image you portray to others,” We all have a mask that we hide behind; A shell that we retreat in an embarrassing situation or tough time. However, that shell is not us; that shell is not who we are. I have been wearing a mask, in my shell for a really long time. I have been an asshole for too long. I want to be able to help others. I want to be the bringer of hope, to relieve people of their pain and sadness; I want to be able to put a smile on their faces. I love it when people smile, it’s as though through that smile, you can see them baring their heart for a peek, and their heart is just so beautiful that you just can’t get enough of it. I want the whole world to greet each other with hugs. The hug is a lovely act to give and receive. It feels so warm, so secure, so honest and innocent. I may be afraid to show the world what I want to achieve for fear that I will be ridiculed, that people will not accept my view, but, I won’t know until I try. Take the plunge and hope for the best. Let love be your energy and trust be your language. Let’s all make this world a better place to live in.

Perfection

2008-01-20T20:27:00.000+08:00

“Common man seeks it out. (Perfection) They aspire to attain it as though it were some tangible thing” This is from the Bleach Manga. Yes, I was also quite surprised when I saw this issue’s topic of debate – Perfection. Why did I remember it? The debate on perfection has always been cliché and ancient, however, this soliloquy of Mayuri-sama made me sit up and really reminisce the times I thought about perfection. What made me notice it was the fact that was in Bleach, and also that it was so impressively argued. With the drawings, it looked like art. To see it in my minds eye, it was as though Mayuri-sama himself was reciting those lines, so beautiful, so poetic, it could make the toughest pirate of the seven seas cry.

What do I think about perfection? It’s exactly like Mayuri said. We chase after it like our lives depend on it. We always seek to improve ourselves; we always seek to make ourselves superior to what we were before. But what we don’t realize is that, perfection can never be attained. Tyler Durden once said, “Self improvement’s masturbation, self destruction is the answer. I say never be perfect, I say never be complete. Evolve, and let the chips fall where they may.” We seek to speed up the process of evolution rather than let it happen naturally. Why the obsession with perfection? In time we will improve, but we’ll always fall short of perfection. Where people try to define perfection, I believe that it is something unattainable. I might piss some believers off here, but you might argue, “God is perfect.” Is he really? When he flooded the Earth for 40 days and 40 nights, did he not admit that he had made a mistake? A mistake is an imperfection, is he perfect then? Moreover, God is a product of man’s imagination. God was created by man, in man’s eyes he is perfect, due to the fact that he is a figment of imagination. The bible did not descend from heaven. The bible was written by man. And man, is not perfect. However, by making this statement, we assume that religion and God are interrelated. In actual fact, how do we know if God is real or not? The God depicted in the bible might be no where close to the omnipotent being that sits upon his throne of clouds. To explore all possibilities, there could even be no God. To those who are strong believers in religion, once again I apologize. This is merely a hypothesis, I know it’s a sensitive issue, so please don’t take this to heart. I do not intend to question your faith.

Apart from thinking about the issue of perfection, I watched “The Gridiron Gang” today. It’s quite an interesting show about changing lives. However, I was not concerned about the themes of the show. In actual fact, I was thinking about myself. Thoughts about me ran through my mind like wildebeests in stampede. I thought about the way I saw myself. I saw myself as someone hubristic. But what I realized was that, whereas hubris is to consider oneself to be more knowledgeable or superior than others, one has to have at least the knowledge, or the ability to have the privilege of hubris, I had neither ability nor knowledge. Then it suddenly dawned on me, I puffed myself up full of nothing but hot air. Where people with amazing abilities kept themselves humble, I, with nothing but hot air, have the audacity to consider my shit smells sweeter than most. To call myself “hubris” is an insult to the word itself. To assume that I know everything, when I know nothing is a joke. I have made a mockery of myself. Behold, the fool who thought himself God, the stupid elitist, the failure of a perfectionist.

Apart from realizing my own stupidity, I thought about the privileges that I took advantage of. Let me name an example - Love. For as long as I can remember, I have always assumed that people will love me. That love will find me someday and we could live happily ever after. That was until the definition of insanity struck me. The definition of insanity: To do something over and over again, and expect different results. Which was about the time I realized that I was insane. Stuck in the monotony of this life, where each day is just a copy of a copy of a copy, I expect to find love? Who was I kidding? The maxim which I lived by was “hold nothing”. To hope for love to find me one day, was a mockery of my principles and beliefs. If someone was to “hold nothing” and he prayed for love, wouldn’t that be a contradiction of his own beliefs? And it then made me rethink my life and how I lived it. Expect nothing to be given to you, but yet give everything you got. Live like each day’s your last, fight like you’ll live forever. To hope is a luxury I cannot afford. What has been given to me is a privilege not a right. Being frank with myself, love is something I cannot handle, neither do I deserve it. It would be much more convenient for me to just love others without expecting anything in return. Come to think of it, I would discourage anybody from loving me, I can’t handle it. Well, I don’t think I can.

I’ve decided that my love is to be shared, expecting nothing in return; makes me sound like some philanthropist of love. Nothing of that sort, I’m no generous person. I just feel that people who need care and concern will receive both from me. I bet many of you think I’m just full of it, I’m not. Let’s just put it this way, one who doesn’t expect anything, will not be disappointed when it is not given to him. “Hold nothing”, to be able to detach oneself from everything and everyone, to not rely on anything, to be independent. I haven’t really been keeping to my end of the bargain; I guess this is the time to do so. I’ve made my decision; love but do not expect to be loved. Care for others, but do not expect to be cared for. To look on the brighter side, at least I won’t get hurt by anything or anyone. Hold Nothing: If you meet the Buddha, kill the Buddha. If you meet your ancestor, kill your ancestor. Free of everything, bound by nothing, live your life as it is. That is what it means to be truly free. “If I had to relive my life again, I’d do the same thing over again. Because no matter what I did or said, I would have no regrets, I would live my days one step at a time, knowing in the end that destiny would bring us together, for one last fight, for one last breath, for one last day of freedom.” – Boys of Fate. I’m just taking the first steps to living my life free of everything. Being a boy of fate, letting the winds of change carry me to whatever destination it decides. Could that be something close to perfection? Maybe. After all, they say the master plan for us all is immaculate.

Saving Superman

2008-01-17T22:17:00.000+08:00

I was walking home one day in the evening, and I started thinking about how those people who are so emotionally sturdy remain that way. Then I realized; they don’t. Truth of the matter is, everybody would fall one day, nobody is built such that they are able to withstand incredible amount of punishment, emotional, mental or physical, and still remain standing, metaphorically, literally (pardon the innuendo). There would be one day, when something or someone just pushes them over the edge, and the long way down they go, until they hit rock bottom; The vulnerable state that everyone is left in when they just asplode. *Poof* brain short circuited, heart broke, whatever, you get the drift. And this quotation puts the results fairly accurately, “the bigger they are, the harder they fall”. The agents of change are the only permanent thing in this world. Pillars of strength would crumble; mountains can be worn to dust given time. You can say that the same results would happen with something much weaker and softer than rocks and metal, the human mind, body and heart.

You might say, “what do rocks and human beings have to do with each other?” Actually, physical geography and Literature are really much more alike than people make it out to be. Both of them are about the study of pressure and time; both on the thingamajigs and whatchamacallits on planet Earth. One made of sticks and stones, the other made of flesh and bone. Come to think of it, most Artsy subjects are based on the study of time and pressure. History is the study of time and pressure on a collection of people. Economics is the study of time and pressure on monetary issues. But I digress. As I was saying, Literature is the study of time and pressure on human beings. It focuses on the flaws and strengths of human beings. However, since each of us is unique, in the end many flaws and strengths come out, and that’s why we have something to study. If all of us had only 1 flaw or strength, we needn’t study lit. Our life is full of tragedies and triumphs. Tragedies are what happens when we fall. And in my perspective, much of our life events, or rather how we perceive much of our life events, we perceive them as tragedies. We are the hero of our story. Every tragedy has a tragic hero, with a tragic flaw. The tragic flaw is the main reason why the hero falls. The more upright, virtuous, strong willed, etc. they are, the harder they fall. The same way John Proctor fell in the Crucible because of one mistake – his adultery with Abigail. The same way Oedipus fell – through a sick twist of fate, his ambition and lust. The same way I fell when I trusted too much in love. Each and every one of us would have fallen at one point of our life. The only thing that matters after that is how we pick ourselves up. “Why do we fall Master Bruce? So we can learn to pick ourselves up,”

“Hope? Hope, my friend is a very dangerous thing. It can drive a man insane,” that line was said by Morgan Freeman in “The Shawshank Redemption”. The issue of hope has always been a topic of controversy. Like adrenaline is poison to the body as well as a necessity to strive to be better, hope is like a poison to the heart, that can drive a man to do incredible feats. Yet to hope is like walking on a thin thread between sanity and insanity. It’s true, hope can drive a man insane. Hope has caused the downfall of the strongest man. Hope, coupled with love, is the deadliest combination one can ever inflict on an individual. Love is the force that can bind 2 souls for eternity. It is powerful and unpredictable. Hope is the force that can drive someone to strive fanatically for something. To strive for a force that is forever binding and when bound, unbreakable, one courts with the mysteries at the very depths of the heart. The deepest darkest corners where when once brought into light, can never be hidden in the shadows again. When one hopes, one by one these little corners are brought into light. When one loves, the heart is left open and vulnerable to disappointments. To open one’s heart and to hope at the same time is to expose your heart to the light at its most vulnerable. To me, that’s insane. Sometimes the light is too strong that it burns the heart and the heart once burnt, takes forever to recover. The number 1 reason why people fall is because of love. I’ve seen people love obsessively and when rejected, or when they break up, it destroys them entirely. And the phenomenon of once bitten twice shy begins. They refuse to love, and refuse to let others love them. And when that happens, when the one for them comes along, they convince themselves that he/she’s not the one and continue minding their own business. They are loved, but do not love back. The person of their dreams keeps on loving them and they do not reciprocate. In the end, the person fades out of their life as though he wasn’t there at all. And it’s then that they finally realize that they have just missed out their happy ending. When they try to get them to love them back, they are already long gone, and once again, the poor heartbroken individual is left in the lurch.

The mighty will fall eventually. Every society at the peak of their development will decline. Like how China rose and fell and rose again. Like how America was one of the most backward countries previously but rose to be a world power. However, they are on the decline again and once again China will be a world power. The cycle of life continues no matter how hard one tries to stop it. One may say that the fate of everyone is predestined. I prefer to think it as although the world has developed, human beings have not. We are so obsessed with external influences that we hardly look into ourselves and address the problem that has been plaguing our species for centuries.

Ethics

2008-01-10T23:23:00.000+08:00

Recently, I came across an article about chimeras in the papers. Yes, I read, just in case you’re wondering. It seems that the medical sector is starting to research on chimeras. That is, pretty cool, yet pretty scary. A scene from many movies on ethics and the animation Full Metal Alchemist flashed through my head. You must be wondering what the scene that is so famous is. I’m sure you have seen shows where science experiments on human mutation went wrong. Usually a grotesque monstrosity is created which has the ability to speak and have the same feelings of human beings. Their first words are usually “kill me”. I’ve never really gotten over these shows. While people can watch “Happy tree friends”, desensitized to violence and apathetic to almost everything, these things just stir things I can’t explain in me, and I don’t feel good about it. The question that ran through my head while reading the article was, “Will we end up like this?” Will we have to sacrifice lives for the sake of science? Are animals’ lives less important than ours?

When I was studying literature in secondary school, I came across this line from The Crucible. “Life is god’s most precious gift; no principle, however glorious may justify the taking of it.” I find this very true. However, it’s relevance to our society has been diminished by the debauchery of the sanctity of life. Where people use to love, they now fight and kill. Where people use to show compassion for the suffering, they now stand by the side with apathy. Where people use to smile with sincerity, it is now but a veil which hides their true intentions, the daggers behind their lying eyes. But, when I come to think of it, when have human beings ever led a life without sin? When has any human being ever led a pure, blameless without a single evil thought? Do we suffer from the human condition? Do we try to deny the love of conflict that is inherently in us?

They say the study of literature, is the study of the history of the human condition. They say we study the forces that forge our character and shape our will; the forces that can make or break a man; that we study, the language of the world. I have never denied the existence of powers that only those gifted with clairvoyance can see. People ask why I read people so well; I tell them I study literature. They ask me what literature has to do with it; I tell them that’s why you can’t read people well. People see the material and forget the immaterial. They think with their conscious mind and neglect the subconscious. They believe in what they can see and have never contemplated the enigmatic or the mysterious. They take for granted what is a gift to them. Have you ever imagined what being truly emotionless is like? Where you can kill a person without batting an eyelash? Where life is equivalent to a sack of flour? We walk and we talk because we have the spark of life. Without it, we are just $2.83 worth of chemicals. We take advantage of our life which is so priceless. We only know how to complain, and we do not know how to give thanks for having so much – a life.

Life, so capricious and fickle; it can leave you wishing you were never alive, but when it happens, you find yourself grasping to it like your life depended on it. Pardon the irony. People know too little to be dogmatic. We think we know a lot. “A fool will think himself wise while the truly wise will know himself a fool”. We all have hubristic tendencies. I know I am the zenith of pride and arrogance and many people can’t stand me. Well, I can’t stand myself either. I realize I preach what I don’t practice, and I practice what I don’t preach. I take advantage of life all the time, and hardly think about it. I’m mostly griping about everything and frequently not appreciate the things around me. It’s only when I get quiet times to myself that I get to look inwards and introspect where I find things about myself that I absolutely abhor. When I look at myself, I see the scars of my past, the lines of regret all over my countenance that I can hardly call mine. When I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t see me, I see the visage of a boy who was once innocent. He was once the beacon of childishness and freedom. As the shackles of his mistakes bound him down, his hypocritical shell enveloped him and turned him into the paranoid schizophrenic we now know as “Nick”. With multiple personalities, people see him an enigma. He is the living parable of the 7 sins, and he lives each day regretting what he has become.

However, there is no point in retrospect, unless to learn from previous mistakes. Hitler didn’t learn from Napolean’s mistake. Japan didn’t learn from Mongolia’s mistake. People say we learn from history, but we never do. The conflict between Israel and Palestine has existed since the Crusades. People never learn. I don’t either. I have never learnt that I was not made to have love as a destiny. I have never learnt that I cause pain wherever I go and happiness whenever I go. I make the same mistakes over and over again, causing pain to the very people who care for me. When will I ever be the person I want to be? When will I stop succumbing to the vices of evil? When will I stop taking love for granted? Perhaps I never will, perhaps I’ll always be a false messiah. If that’s the case, I was born dead.

You may feel that I treat myself too harshly, and others may think I don’t treat myself harshly enough. Whatever you guys think, I hope you do not walk the same path I did. Life always gives us a second chance to change. When all hope is lost, life will always provide some. Perhaps this may sound overly optimistic, but I believe that it is the truth. Most of the time, we don’t see the open doors, but stand forever rooted to the closed door in front of us. I have done that for 3 years, and recently, a new door just slammed in my face. I’m just waking up from a dream, and in the noble words of Tyler Durden, “We are very, very pissed.” Contradictory? Wait till you see what’s in my head.

So in love...

2008-01-03T21:14:00.001+08:00

It’s 2008. It’s a new year; will it be a new life? Maybe not. Looking around the same sight I have seen day in, day out, year after year. The monotony of life is starting to get to me. There are only so many days that I can wake up happy that at least I’m alive. It may be true that I have everything going for me. It is true that I’m living in a condo, a nice swimming pool at the base of my block – Olympic size. It is true that a have a nice bag, nice hand phone, nice school, nice… well you get the drift. However, it seems that I have lost something more important than everything here. Misplaced item? One soul. Recently, everything just seems like a copy of a copy of a copy. Nothing fascinates me anymore. School is all right, but I’m starting to lose my direction in life. My compass is losing it’s magnetism and going woozy on me. All the new year resolutions, they’re legitimate, but they don’t really affect me, soul wise. Do they? I need something to nourish my spirit, to strengthen my soul. And I think I have found it…

I don’t want to lose my soul. I don’t want to lose the way that I feel for somebody now. I found my soul’s resurrection. It’s nice to be in love again I must say. And I don’t want to ever lose that feeling. The feeling where it doesn’t matter whether you grow a few white hairs racking your brain for an appropriate Birthday present for her, or you sleep way beyond your usual time just to put in a few more hours of conversation that feel like a few seconds. It doesn’t matter whether you think about her welfare every waking hour you have. It doesn’t matter whether she loves you back or not. You just want to make her happy. No need for acknowledgements, no need for reciprocations, no need for appreciation, you’ll do it no matter what. It is appreciation enough just to see that lovely smile on her face. Best of all, she’s worth this effort. Her child-like innocence, simple wishes, simple desires, a heart of gold, so many things that make her the perfect someone and yet they are just icing on the cake of her essence. She might not be drop-dead gorgeous, but she has a heart that makes you want to give your life savings to charity just to be able to feel worthy of her presence. With someone so great, you’re just a common weed, next to the most beautiful flower in the world.

I was never proud of my past. I did enjoy myself back then, but when you walk amongst giants of virtue and principle, your past mistakes and deviances from the right path show up like neon lights in a pitch-black alleyway. She makes me look back at my past. Well, maybe not just her, I often look back. I have so many regrets that listing it out on my fingers and toes will probably take me a day. God help me if I ever become a grown up. With so many regrets as a kid, I probably have to archive them - Nick’s regrets 2001 – 2007 She tells me not to dwell on the past. I tell that to people too. Too bad I never listen to my own advice. She’s right, but I feel that one has to learn from one’s past mistakes to lead a life that you err less. But recently, thinking about my past led me to many little voices in my head telling me, “You’re not worth it,”, “Don’t ruin her life,”, “Be fair,” and other stuff like that. And I started thinking that I’m not being fair to her, that I’m not worth to be in her presence and things like that. Then I thought again, “if she’s really that great, and she enjoys your company, does it really matter what your past holds? After all, you’ve found someone that’s worth it, would you even dream about harming one hair on her head? If you do, I swear to god I’ll kick you in the balls,” I won’t know how to kick myself in the balls but I’ll put myself through the worse torture ever if I ever hurt this girl; this angel sent from the heavens.

You know what the weirdest thing is? We’re the most incompatible pair on earth. Nobody would ever dream that we could get along. Me, Nick, I am the crazy mood swinging Casanova from back streets of Dogtown. Her, sorry can’t disclose her name, she’s the demure, fragile princess from Upper Boston. The prince and the pauper, royalty with rags, who would ever have thought it, were possible? The first day I talked to her, I thought it was only be for a brief moment just to provide a little comfort to her obviously upset heart. Seconds became minutes, minutes became hours, hours became days and days became weeks. Now I can hardly stop thinking about her and I amaze myself every time I make her smile, which I must say I’m quite proficient at doing. I never fail to question why is it that I’m able to understand her so well. It’s as though fate has brought us together and entwined our destinies. I could even say that currently, we’re close to inseparable.

God sure works in wondrous ways. As I amaze myself time and time again with almost spot on answers to her questions, she questioned me. “How do you do it?” For a long time I was speechless. I didn’t know how to answer that question. I found myself talking about God. A non-believer talking about God, can you believe that? It may sound egotistical but I said, “Do you believe in God? Do you believe that God sent an angel in your time of need and appointed him to be your guardian angel?” The irony of it all was that my previous msn messenger identity was the Archangel Tyrael, the life I was about to throw away until I “met” this wonderful girl. Perhaps they’re short of hands up there and requested my assistance. I guess you must assume that my ego is the size of an elephant. Close, it’s the size of a baby blue whale.

Retrospect

2008-01-01T19:11:00.000+08:00

I got about to watching a movie today, well, a couple of movies, and they got me thinking about stuff that I’ve never really thought about before. They do say that you learn something new everyday. I’ve never really taken it seriously though.

Something struck me as I was watching this movie called Good Will Hunting. It was that, our actions are mostly motivated by fear. Whatever we do, our defensive mechanisms and instincts force us to choose the path of least resistance for fear of going through difficulty. Take a look at the world around you. People work because they are afraid of poverty. They study because they are afraid of becoming jobless. They strive so hard to make a living and they forsake everything because of that, their family, their friends, their enjoyment so as to run as far away from poverty as possible. Then I came to thinking, if people feared so much, when was the real living actually done? My friend is one good example. He hates the education system but still sits through its tortures. Why? Because he’s afraid that if he steps on the path less taken, it will lead him to somewhere unfamiliar and he might fail in life!

People fear the unfamiliar. People who’re afraid of trusting people will hurt other people before they can hurt him. It’s the basic defensive mechanism of human beings. People can go through their entire lives, not being close to anyone for fear of being hurt. It’s really sad. I’m guilty of that too. I’ve only ever thought ****** was the only girl meant for me because I can never forget the security she gave me. I felt that nothing else mattered in the world with her. But when she left it was as though my world came tumbling down. I was left stranded, I was stuck too long in my paradise and when it all fell apart, I was left stark naked in the world. It’s not until now that I’ve realized I’ve never let anyone come close to me, I’ve never let anyone touch me where it really mattered. Thrust out into the unfamiliar, I retracted myself into the shell that was familiar to me, my own heart. I am guilty of living life motivated by fear. I fear so many things that I probably won’t be able to finish counting in a lifetime. I fear the working world, I fear being in love, I fear…

However, in the process of fearing, I have also managed to harm other people around me. People that loved me, people who had no reason to get hurt because of me. Because I never trusted people around me and have always hurt them before they hurt me first, I’ve always said nasty things to people out of fear and spite. Paranoid personality disorder, that’s what they called it. To believe that there are things out there in the world that exist just to harm you. I lived in that world too long. I’ve found people who showed me that the world isn’t as screwed up as it is made out to me. My friends showed me that people can be trusted and people won’t backstab you at any opportune moment. I appreciate them for that. I appreciate the fact that they helped me even though they had no obligation to. I appreciate the fact that people didn’t care about my past or the bad shit I did, they just saw me for who I was in the present. I appreciate that even though my heart was as black as the night sky, they still showered their care and concern on me and reminded me that there was a time that I wasn’t bad and evil. I thank you all for that.

The other movie I watched was “Unbreakable”. It was an awesome movie. It was the kind of superhero movies that you’ll want to watch again and again and again. It’s the kind that every time you watch that show, you’ll learn to look at it from another perspective. It is so well crafted that every character stands out. All his struggles are shown as clear as day. That’s my personal take on it. It may be a load of crap to another person, but I like it. There was an idea in the show that caught my attention. It was that everything has an opposite. Hot and cold, good and bad, black and white, everything in this world has its opposite. If there are people, whose bones are brittle, and they fall sick often with immune system deficiency, wouldn’t there be people who never fall sick? Bones as tough as steel? Have immune systems that can repel any kind of viruses? It is an interesting theory, and as I watched the show “Good Will Hunting”, I could only see how probable it is for these people to exist. Will Hunting was a genius that solved complex algorithms as though they were elementary school arithmetic. Will Hunting is like the opposite of a retard. If people can be opposites mentally, shouldn’t there be a possibility that they may be opposites physically?

Another thing I learned from the shows was that, every individual is unique. Of course everybody knows that, but if we look at how billions of lives entwine with one another and cause major events that can never be caused by just one person, you’ll see how the entire world is like a living organism with each of us playing a small but vital part in this harmonic world. It’s as though whatever we do, it is a small part of a humongous master plan for Earth. It is like we’re part of a gigantic machine, each of us play a different part. Maybe I’m a screw, an insignificant part of the machine that if you lose one or two, it doesn’t really make a difference, or maybe I’m the fuel that drives this entire rig, without me this thing can’t move. Whatever it is, we are small, we are insignificant, there are billions of others like us, the world would not weep if just 1 out of a billion is lost. However, each individual leads their own lives; they have jobs, families, kids. By looking at each individual life, you would see a whole plethora of wonders. Little experiences that are unique to only them and them alone. Each life is different, each experience if special. That is what makes our existence as the human race so very interesting.

Remorse

2007-12-28T19:35:00.000+08:00

“If I could sell a guarantee for love, I would be a millionaire,” a friend of mine said to me during a discussion on love. I agreed with him, knowing that there is no other force, as fickle and unpredictable but as powerful and miracle working, as love. I may not be an authority on love, but I have spent much of my time trying to fathom the deep workings of this mysterious power. The power that will make a man lift a 2 ton car to free his wife underneath, the power that can drive a man insane shooting up a shopping mall just to bring back his wife who has passed away.

This power may have worked its wonders through many of us; however we fail to see its magic. We fail to understand that this power is not to be taken for granted. Divorce rates are rising, premarital sex is considered acceptable, relationships are just a staple part of a teenager’s life without the passion and the feelings involved. Has love really left us? Have we really lost the power to truly love another? I myself am guilty of the heinous crime of the debauchery of love. I have committed many sins myself that I am not proud of. However, recently, I have been reminded that love holds no grudge against the people that has forsaken it. I am glad my eyes have been open and I intend to keep it that way.

We walk along the streets seeing couples holding hands, sharing passionate kisses on buses, making out in cars. How many of them know what true love is? My guess is few. How many of them will one day realize what true love is? “Two six year old kids can share as much love for 5 minutes as two forty year olds can experience in a life time,” My guess? Not many. Career, money, friends, hectic lifestyles, materialism, consumerism has taken over as driving forces in our lives. Love has been pushed into the background and left alone. The ending “Happily ever after,” now has several suffixes such as: “They lived happily ever after, until he ran out of money,”, “They lived happily ever after, until he found a mistress,” Where people once lived for love, they now do so for material objects, the newest iPod, the biggest car, the biggest house, the biggest prostrate. Love from a lady is now dependent on your spending power. People now get married for the added bonuses that the government gives you. Ability to buy a house, ability to take maternity leave, cash bonuses on your child are offered if you get married. What happened to being married because you love someone?

Teenagers are not spared either. On internet chat channels, guys ask for sex and girls ask for money. What happens in the end - Sex for money? Promiscuity has invaded the lifestyles of teenagers. Where sex used to be a sacred act between 2 people in love, it is now defaced by testosterone pumped guys who can’t keep their hands to themselves and girls looking for a way to fulfill their curiosity. Chastity has gone straight out the window. It doesn’t stop there. Where dates used to be just you, me and a picnic mat, it is now the standard to go for a movie, or shop, or do some activity that would hinder the communication between 2 people anyway. Where lovers used to create their own paradise anywhere, now there are “romantic hotspots” like esplanade and Clark Quay. How can a place be romantic when there are thousands of other couples smooching just 5 meters away?

However, I may be wrong. Love might have evolved over the ages to something that we see between couples nowadays. Love may mean something else. Perhaps it is me that needs a perspective adjustment. After all it is me that has been disillusioned by the many failures I have had in love. I still believe that true love can be found through much effort, namely trying to make it work with different people. I still believe that love at first sight exists and people do not have to know the person for 912379123 days to actually have a relationship with them. I still believe that sitting down at a poolside and just enjoying each other’s company is a good date, perhaps the best date. I still believe that there should be no reason why someone loves another, for when a truth that cannot be spoken appears between two people, saying anything about it will spoil the magic. I still believe that absence does not make the heart grow fonder, that people truly in love will look at their loved one the same way for fifty years or more even if they see each other everyday. I still believe.

Call me a traditionalist, call me a lecher, call me a romantic, call me a flirt, I stand by my principles and my beliefs. I believe that I see love from a different perspective as the world. My intentions are pure, but my body is not. I am a flawed person. My principles, however solid they are in me, will not uphold this broken body, this body corrupt with greed, hedonistic desires and arrogance. My heart may be pure, but my mind is diseased. I may be good at giving advice to people in need of it, but I can never hold a proper relationship myself. Sometimes I do feel that I would not love again, to spare the people around me. But sometimes I also do feel that perhaps this mind is not as corrupted as I thought it would be.

People may call me hypocritical for the ideas I preach, I do admit that I am a hypocrite, that I should practice what I preach. But how harmful is it to read something that makes you realize your actions and enables you to change? After all, my credibility is not in the equation as people are looking inwards at themselves. Facts and figures will remain facts and figures no matter how hard you twist them. The truth will appear sooner or later even if people try to veil their eyes from it. I have merely stated what has been going on in our society, it is up to people to believe it or not.

Or, I may be just talking out of my ass and have no idea what I'm saying.

Black Velvet

2007-12-24T21:33:00.000+08:00

Ever looked upon the night sky and wondered whether there was anything looking back at you? Okay, maybe not wonder whether anything was looking back, but you might have enjoyed the sound of waves crashing whilst sitting by the beach, gazing into the night sky. With the darkness all around you, it’s as though you were sitting amongst the stars themselves. The sand between your fingers and toes; is that what the universe feels like? Sitting in between the 2 boundless expanses, the universe and the sea, one cannot help but feel insignificant, trivial in the presence of these 2 giants.

“Water, 35 liters, Carbon, 20 kg, Ammonia, 4 liters, Lime 1.5kg, Phosphorous, 800g, Salt 250g, Niter, 100g, Sulfur, 80g, Fluorine, 7.5g, Iron, 5g, Silicon 3g, and 15 other elements, these are the chemicals needed to make 1 average adult human body.” The total cost of all this is USD 2.83. With current inflation and deflation rates, I’m not sure what the figure is. But it does fluctuate around this figure. That’s what we’re worth; two dollars and eighty-three cents. That’s about as much as my Yong Tau Foo in the school canteen. The amount of money used for one meal, can pay for our entire chemical make up. Human beings are made so cheaply and yet this $2.83 will grasp on to life so desperately. When one obsesses about one’s existence, the big picture becomes totally unknown to them.

In strict scientific terms, human beings are just means to pass energy from one source to another. On a long enough timeline, the survival rate of everyone drops to zero. Millions of years are just a 2 cm arrow on a piece of paper. We are inevitably a part of many different cycles. Whether one of us exists or not, it doesn’t really matter. The cycle will still continue its way with or without one of us, or even a few of us. The carbon cycle, the energy transfer cycle, the food cycle, we are all a part of a project that was not started by one of us. The project has existed since dinosaurs roamed this planet. Plants absorb sunlight, herbivores eat plants, carnivores eat herbivores, carnivores and herbivores defecate, providing nutrients for plants, carnivores and herbivores die, providing even more nutrients for plants and the cycle starts from the beginning again. It doesn’t matter if I died today or tomorrow, I’ll still be part of the cycle.

Well people might ask, “If our lives are that meaningless, what is our purpose?” I’ve got an answer to that. Again in strict scientific terms, we exist just to ensure the survival of the species. The common goal of each and every man is to spread his genes to as many females as possible ensuring that his genetic line survives. Our purpose you ask? The answer: To reproduce. It’s every animal’s basic instinct. They copulate with as many members of the female species as possible, to ensure that they will have a lot of offspring so that their species will live on. I must say, with so many human beings falling prey to war, disease, accidents, killing and various whatnots that happen during the course of someone’s life, it’s surprising that we’ve managed to keep a healthy number of about several billion people roaming around on this planet. And that is after tabulations like the Iraq War, World War 2 that claimed about 70 million lives. I must say, human beings are quite a frisky lot. Come to think of it, if those wars have never happened, and if all of us were to die of old age, to quote a classmate of mine when asked about overpopulation, “We’ll be falling off the edge of the continents and into the sea”

“Try to make ends meet, you’re a slave to money then you die.” From what I see, I guess this quote is very, very true. In our society all of us struggle to keep alive from the moment we take our first breath. We struggle to not sleep face down in the cot for fear of asphyxiation; we struggle through school to receive a piece of paper with a couple of “As” on them; we struggle to keep our job, try not to kill our boss and to raise a family; lastly, we struggle to battle whatever disease old age brings us and wonder where our life went. Are we too preoccupied with struggling to survive that we aren’t able to let what truly matters slide? We work hard so we can buy a sofa set for the living room. We work hard so we can buy a 40 inch plasma TV to look good with the sofa set in the living room. We work hard so we can buy a solid marble coffee table to complement the sofa set and the plasma TV. We work hard so we can buy a 13 piece Chinese porcelain tea set so we can sit in the living room, on the sofa set, staring at moving pictures on the 40 inch plasma TV, our feet placed neatly under the solid marble coffee table and talk about the newest BMW to hit the market, or the latest Louis Vuitton or the most fashionable Prada. Please note, everything here costs more than $2.83, in fact, they cost far more than $2.83. We scorn the out of fashion $10 a pair Bata shoes, we wouldn’t be caught dead wearing the 3 for 10 dollars undershirts the elderly wear at coffee shops. No, these $2.83 potpourris of chemicals have to drive $200,000 cars, carry around $200 handbags, and sit on $5000 furniture. Ironic isn’t it?

The privileges we have are not given. They are not our right as human beings. We do not take advantage of what our ancestors have given us and splurge it on ourselves. When was the last time you were thankful for the clothes you can wear, the food you can eat, the hand phone that you are carrying. When was the last time you thought about something else other than your miserable existence? Truth of the matter is, your death would not affect the universe in any way. Your struggle is insignificant to the billions of people that co inhabit this planet with you. The truth will set you free.

Weakness

2007-12-23T20:58:00.000+08:00

Many people have it, but some of them don’t admit that they do. It’s like an inherent plague that spreads throughout the human race. It’s exactly like the plague. It spreads fast, it is spread by rats, it shortens your life considerably and it makes you an ugly person. This “plague” might not make you look like you had a nose job halfway through and the doctor died but it does make your heart the blackest black you have ever seen. Yes, I’m talking human weakness. Most people call it by another name - “The 7 deadly sins”. They are as follows: greed, pride, gluttony, lust, anger, sloth, envy. Curiously, they are the 7 homunculus of Full Metal Alchemist. Why they are named such, I have no idea. Perhaps as opposed to the natural order of things, they are the “anti-Christ” of alchemy. But I digress.

If I were to look at myself, I would say I’m guilty of all of the above sins, and then some. I’m greedy; I want more money. I’m proud; after all, my blog address is hubristic hedonist that should sum many things up. I’m a glutton; I eat so much you wouldn’t even imagine, best of all I don’t grow fat. I know girls would probably hate me for this. Lust; maybe I won’t talk about this. Anger; hmm I don’t really know. I guess I won’t know I actually get angry. Sloth; I sleep 12 hours a day, and if I can I’ll sleep even more. As for envy; one word – Gilbert. That should explain a lot. I’m a pleasure seeker. I hate working and I’ll skimp at every chance I get. However there’s one more sin that I would like to add to that list.

That sin is pettiness. Okay, maybe not a sin, but it’s still a weakness. Pettiness has ruined so many relationships, so many days, many a friendship have fallen prey to pettiness. For a piece of land, people will die just to claim ownership over it. For god’s sake, it’s just a piece of land. People die for religion, people will die for ideologies, people will die for race, people will die for almost everything that can be labeled. Question is, why don’t these people stop dying and actually live for something? Does the human race really love conflict or what? Throughout our entire existence we have been fighting, dying and then some. We kill for pieces of paper, certificates which say who owns who, for that black liquid that drives our world. The question is, what for? Even animals don’t kill their own kind excessively. All our wars, all our conflicts, people die. And they die a lot. Are those the benefits being able to reason have brought us? If that’s the case, I would prefer if we weren’t able to think. At least I won’t fear being killed by one of my own kind for my iPod or my handphone or the pieces of paper (or plastic) in my wallet.

Maybe pettiness in our case is not as drastic as people dying and such. If that’s the case, we live in a very sad and apocalyptic world. Fortunately, we don’t. However, pettiness still does its damage in our small world. Take for example, my 2 friends. Let’s name them X and Y. X wanted to play a particular song during a gig. Y didn’t. Y said that 2 songs are enough. X got pissy and left the band. Y shrugged and left it like that. This event happened 2 years ago. Until now, they aren’t talking to each other. Apathy, pettiness and pride make a deadly combination. Personally, the word “sorry” is totally unknown to me. I never apologize; I never bow my head down to anybody. You know the Da lai lama thing that asks you to rank different kinds of livestock and a tiger? The tiger ranks first for me. I don’t know how accurate the Da lai lama thing is but so far, it’s been quite good at reading me. Well it’s not entirely wrong; I’ve been brought up the elitist way. I’m a perfectionist, an elitist and a racist. My finger tends to waver over the reset button every time something goes wrong. Diablo 2; OMGWTFBBQ DURIEL PWNED ME IN NORMAL. Reset. Maple Story; LOL GAY THORNS COSTS 99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999. Reset. And that’s only games. Unfortunately I can’t do that with my life. I can’t say, wtf gay, depression made me lose 5 points for O levels. Rese…no wait I can’t. Well that’s the perfectionist in me. I don’t think I have to mention the elitist and the racist do I? You guys may say, “Hey a perfectionist is a good thing,” I’m the wrong kind. I give up when I don’t see a point in completing it. I believe that it’s better to restart something that would end up a shit job anyway. Too bad I can’t reset this shit job of a person.

Sometimes I think about where my life would end. I might end up lying in a ditch somewhere with nobody giving a rat’s ass about me. It’s quite a scary thought considering I’m sitting in a comfortable swivel chair, my cup of pure organic grapefruit, orange, apple, pineapple, tomato, dragon fruit, whatever fruit juice, my handphone in front of me, a pair of earphones on my head listening to American Hi-fi, typing on my Acer. To imagine how far I can fall is quite scary considering that it is possible. When you get used to this kind of comfort, you have so much to lose. The tragedy is that, I don’t realize that. I always think that I’ll remain whatever age I am. Ah well, the world needs more losers. Especially since Vladmir Putin made wealthiest man in Europe. The world can afford a couple more losers.

Below is a really nice picture I took at Bishan Park not too long ago. It was just after the rain and the picture was just itching to be taken. Not many people know how to stop and smell the roses nowadays. Much beauty goes overlooked these days. The picture quality isn’t very good, but your mind always sees things in HD anyway.

Reanimation

2007-12-20T21:50:00.000+08:00

Well, it’s my first entry; don’t know what to talk about, don’t know what to do with this enormous text box that needs filling up. Why did I start this for then? I used to have an online diary at diary-x.com. The whole site just collapsed. Everything went poof. And for me it was about 45 essays. Essays that I used to enter essay competitions, essays that I handed up to my teacher and passed it off as original works, not that they weren’t though. Well, when I heard that diary-x went kaput, it was as though a large part of my heart got ripped out and thrown out the window, stampeded on by a herd of wild wildebeests and thrown into the incinerator. A year’s worth of essays is worth more than a mountain of gold man; and it’s all gone just like that. Whoop-dee-doo. Anyway, I just decided that maybe I should start writing again. A few years have gone by, I’ve grown a little older, not necessarily smarter. I’ve made mistakes, paid for a few, basically led the life of a normal guy; nothing magnificent, nothing impressive.

A New Year’s going to begin, New Year’s resolutions? I haven’t thought about them though but they’ll probably go something like this:
1. Cut down my time on the Internet.
2. Kick ass at the English Language.
3. Get the best results in the whole damn college.
4. Lead my life with confidence. That means no more petty arguments, no more holding grudges against people, etc. etc.
5. Basically be the best I ever can be.
These are pretty big goals, which mean pretty big work, which brings me to a very important point. I’ve said the exact same words a year ago and nothing turned out great. In fact, the whole thing went boom on me. I’m not proud of it, but it’s not like I can’t do anything about it. It’s either I get busy living, or get busy dying; take the bull by the horns or die trying. I’ve screwed up quite a bit; I’m not going to let it happen again.

Am I looking too far? Christmas comes first right? Christmas - the season of giving. I find myself saying this year after year. Christmas is the season where people with materialistic desires satisfy people other people with materialistic desires. Is it just me, or do people around me just celebrate Christmas for the presents? Walk down Orchard Road, Christmas decorations to advertise Christmas Sales. Signs all around saying “Buy this, buy that”, “Spend more, spend more”, “Discounts here”; and everybody just laps it up buying things that they probably won’t need, satisfying what they say in economics, “endless wants”. I don’t go shopping, so I won’t know what “retail therapy” means. I’m not a fan of presents but I am guilty of the materialistic thingamagi that has been going around since consumerism was in fashion. I own an iPod which is currently on loan to a dear friend of mine. I have a Nokia 6300 which serves me quite well. I have a Bluetooth Sony DR-BT10CX headset which I use to listen to music on my Nokia 6300. I have an Automatic-Kinetic Hamilton watch that does nothing else but tell the time and a Pierre Cardin black leather wallet. I wear a Hugo Active Jacket, a pair of black Giodarno jeans, a navy-blue Lee Cooper T-Shirt and a pair of quite worn New Balance 813 running shoes. Do I need all these in the hunter-gatherer sense of the word? No. Are they necessities needed to survive? No. I’m a slave of consumerism. With all these endless products on the market, advertisements telling me what I need and dictating what I want, people buying the latest thing on the market, Nokia phones, Apple portable music players, Braun Buffel bags, Armani Exchange shirts. It seems we end up with a lot things that we “need”. Materialism is in fashion, consumerism is the catalyst. Merry Christmas shopping guys, next time you see a nice Versace dress in the window, think where your money is going to.

My take on Christmas might seem a little too extreme and I apologize for the “woah” factor, but in all honesty, that’s how I feel about Christmas in the 21st century. No offense to those doing Christmas shopping.

That wraps it up for Christmas. Lately, I’ve been thinking about where my life is going. I sit on my ass all day looking at a 17” computer screen, typing on a 101-key USB keyboard, Quietkey and I look back on my life and ask myself, where has it gone? Most of my waking hours are spent looking at the thing you’re looking at right now and it has been that way for most of my life. Which means, not only am I a slave to materialism, I’m also a slave to the computer. In my case, it’s an Acer T310-30P5MR, Windows XP Professional Edition, 3.00GHz with 1024GB DDR Ram, 128MB ATI Radeon 9700 Graphics card with integrated sound card, etc. etc. The computer itself costs about 2K SGD. I’ve given 2/3 of my waking hours to this machine. This means that this computer, is worth 800 SGD (I was quoted this from the nice man at the computer store. He told me the computer was old) and 1440 hours of my holiday; in short, priceless. And that’s only the holiday. I’ve had this computer for about 6 months. I don’t even want to know how many hours this computer has taken from me. The irony of it all is that, I gave it to the computer. The computer did not hold me at gunpoint and demand 2/3 of my life from me. Nor did it sneak up on me when I was asleep and suck out my life through any orifice in my body. I willingly gave my time to it. Warcraft 3, Diablo 2, Starcraft, Maple Story (Yeah a bit, when I was incredibly bored), Ragnarok Online, lots and lots of movies, these things are what I spent my life on. Is it worth it; at that point in time, yeah, probably? But when you receive your result slip and notice that the As, Bs and Cs have evaded you, and you wonder where they went, that’s when you really think about whether your time on the machine have been worth it. I used to boast about how “Pro” I was at “Dota” and it was all for shit. Dota doesn’t get me my grades, and they certainly don’t make me money, unless you count the 5 dollars I won from some sucker that I could get a godlike streak before level 9 which I did. The things I should be doing like researching my paper, downloading notes I don’t do. The things that I should only be doing after I do all these, I do. My priorities are a little topsy-turvy don’t you think? Ah well, probably won’t happen again, unless Blizzard comes up with some kick ass game that has the whole world playing, maybe.

Oh as for the title of the blog, I wasn’t really thinking. I just put the first two things that came to my mind. First was the song “Thoughts of a dying atheist” by Muse and “Hubristic Hedonist” which was my nickname for quite some time, thus the name “Thoughts of a Hedonist”. Don’t see the hedonist part? It’s all right, after all, what’s in a name?