Sunday, November 30, 2008

34 - People who are disorganized

I was struggling to come up with ideas today, which is a good thing as it indicates that nothing today really struck me as annoying. As I was lying here on my bed, with my pillows alongside me and physics notes and textbooks spread out all over my bed (we have a physics examination tomorrow), I wondered why my mind had gone blank. The reason is (of course) that I lack the organizational skills. All of my posts for the past thirty-three days have been conjured up on the day they were published and because of this, I am setting myself up for days like these where I can't think of anything.

What would be wiser is if I planned ahead for my posts, but this, to me, is something that's easier said than done. I don't ever prepare for many things such as exams or for emergency situations and quite frankly, I suck at managing my own time and money. I borrow money off others when my allowance runs out at the end of the week, I always end up doing last-minute revision for my exams and I stay up late at night, for many nights, doing homework that's due the next day. It's annoying for others and it annoys me too. I have a ton of things I should be doing aside from blogging here, but procrastination and failure to prioritize has led me astray from the straight path of righteousness into the dark wood of self-deprecation.

Anyway... I am organized in some ways. I've planned a few parties and outings and they always were successful and everything went according to plan. I have considerable OCD when it comes to lists that just have to be alphabetized or numbered in chronological order or in order of preference/priority. I'm a teenager and I tidy my room at least once every fortnight, all sheets of paper in my room are filed in appropriate folders and everything on my computer is categorized and there are no stray documents. The skills that I have in these sorts of areas make me loathe the ones that lack it.

I hate it when people can't remember what homework there is or when it's due. For most of my time at school, I've been able to remember what I have to do once the teacher tells us to. I respect those that take that approach of memorizing it in their imaginary calendars and I like the people who jot it down in their diaries if they know they'll forget. But for those with chronic memory loss, they don't seem to care very much. Sometimes, it takes them forever for one of my friends to find a sheet in the lost archives within their bag. They lose things or homework slips their mind and the teachers have to tolerate it and give them additional time or resources.

Being disorganized is not a good habit to develop or to have. Organization is not only vital for students to have in order to get good results, but it's also important for parents and teacher that are held responsible for children that don't know any better and for anybody in any line of work so as to get paid at the end of each month. It's also important for oneself, because everyone needs to manage their own life in order for their lives to be sustained and for them to improve. Otherwise, the world will just eat you up.

(Sorry. Couldn't think of anything else to end it with, but that is the gist of what I'm essentially trying to say.)

Saturday, November 29, 2008

33 - The length of my... bar! (What were you thinking?)

Does the space bar on the keyboard have to be a mile long? It's name says it all. It's a 'bar', people, and not a 'key'. On my keyboard, the space bar is the size of C, V, B, N and M combined. What's even crazier is that it gives us space. That's nothing.The space bar doesn't even create anything but nothing. It's long and domineering, but it essentially doesn't give us a character. Instead, it gives us emptiness, a digital vacuum, 'space' on the screen. Observe:

[ ] <--- See? ...Nothing.

Couldn't the space bar just have been a regular-sized button like the rest of them? I mean, assuming that our fingers are in place, our thumbs are more or less in the center, right? It's not like I'll suddenly think to myself one day:
Oh, I feel like going on a whim today. I'm feeling frivolous! Perhaps instead of using my thumb to press the CENTER of the keyboard, I shall venture to the very extremities of the space bar and apply pressure to, let's say, the LEFT end of it. Oh, boy, I'm living on the edge now!

Really, why does it need to be so long? It just needs to be a small, square key. At least 'Shift' and 'Enter' and perhaps some others have more reason to be bigger, but why this space... bar, this bar of space, oh, it infuriates me!

Friday, November 28, 2008

32 - Firemen sliding down poles

Must firemen wrap their legs around a metal pole to control the speed of their descent?

The stereotype is this: they hold on to it with the right amount of traction that will prevent them from falling too fast but allowing them to descend to the bottom floor. This unique method of emergency departure is ridiculous. Although it makes their takeoff quicker than taking the stairs like regular grown men, by descending down the pole, firemen risk getting various ankle and back injuries and nasty chaffing to their hands and thighs. And it's childish. The pole has been adopted in playgrounds.

Can't firemen just play cards on the ground floor?


10 - Why being an A- or B-grade student is alright to me.

11 - Vending Machine Fail.

12 - In the end, that's death.

13 - Single worded meme.

Thursday, November 27, 2008

31 - Piss on the toilet seat

I live with my grandparents and my grandfather can't quite aim into the bowl. Being the only other male suspect living here, my family sometimes think that I'm the one that can't aim (the fact that my grandfather, in dismay, denies it doesn't help my case), which is why I wipe the seat with toilet paper for the sake of this family's wellbeing. I'm not upset with my grandfather, I don't feel anything towards today's topic. The sight of it is just upsetting, don't you think?

...If I'm being honest here, I don't know what else to say. It's a surprisingly sensitive subject. I mean, it's urine. On your toilet seat. Need I say more?

Guys, if you accidentally let a few drops land on the seat, wipe it up. Okay?

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

30 - Pulling a push-door or pushing a pull-door

Let me paint the picture for you: You're walking with your friend at the mall. A shop has a door with a sign that says PUSH. You're walking, you're walking at a semi-quick pace, your friend goes ahead of you and reaches for the door. You expect to swiftly follow him/her into the store, but your friend seizes the handle and pulls it. The door cannot quite 'bend' that way, so he/she only manages to create a gap that's about an inch wide, before the hinges of the door hit their maximum elasticity, causing the door to rebound toward your friend. Your friend suddenly realizes his/her silly mistake and looks at you with a lot of humility, smiling or laughing, expecting you to find it funny too.

Oh, man. It is funny, I have to say. I would laugh if it were me. I mean, when people push a door that says PULL, that's freakin' hilarious, isn't it? They apply the force and the door remains immobile! LOL.

NO. No, no, no. It's not funny. It's incredibly careless and unforgivable. If there's a sign that says PUSH or PULL, you should know better. If there is no sign, well, you should use your intuition. Use your sixth sense. Find the psychic in you and attack(!) that door preemptively. It really is a mistake that occurs too often. If you truly want to observe pure stupidity, keep an eye out for this.


Why being an A- or B-grade student is alright to me.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

29 - Licking the finger for some extra grip

Uh, hello, disgusting finger-licking page-turner? Do you really lack the traction required to turn a very light, very turnable-on-its-own page? Is it really that much harder to leaf through a book just because the material it's made up of is that carbon paper instead of the nice and clean, very white paper? Is it so difficult, to the point where you have to place your finger near your mouth and stick out your tongue, apply saliva to the tip of your finger, so that the sugary, sticky adhesive nature of said saliva can provide a pseudoglue that will allow you to more-than-sufficiently affix the paper to your finger so that you can turn it?

I doubt it.

I have noticed this bad habit for all my life, since the day I was sitting attentively, listening to my very first primary school teacher reading Mr.Men books to us. I always wondered why anybody would do such a thing, but when I found out that it was just for some extra grip, my first thoughts were: Are you serious? That's it? But that's ridiculous. It was ridiculous because this totally harebrained tendency has not only spread to countless numbers of the common folk who read books and newspapers, but even professionals do it.

Teachers, photographers, therapists, architects, writers, doctors, fashion designers, lawyers and business(wo)men all lick to flip through text. I mean, there are doctors out there w
ho will lick their fingers as they're skimming though a patient's charts, when they should really be the most aware of personal hygiene and the microbiological implications of such an unsanitary mannerism. Bankers and accountants will lick their fingers when they count money. Supermarket cashier ladies will lick their fingers as they reach for plastic bags. Even baseball and softball pitchers will lick their fingers just to get some extra grip on the ball. Yuck. You knows what's in the dirt those balls have been in contact with?

That's why I like post offices. A very professional establishm
ent that provides sponges soaked in water for you to dab your stamps in so that they adhere to your envelopes. Oh, and don't even get me started on how people slobber the seals on their envelopes with a thick layer of saliva. People should be laughing at videos of idiots licking their envelopes instead of laughing at... whatever else you find on Youtube.

I mean, licking your finger to grab onto a sheet and then giving me the sheet is the equivalent of spitting on the damn thing and then giving it to me.

You know the worst example of this atrocity? Bibles.

Yes, that's right. I said it. The Holy Bible. I attend weekly mass every now and then and even the occasional Christmas mass, and I'm sure you, or anybody, can examine how the Bible is the perfect prey that is subject to predatory finger-licking, because in church, they are picked up by vast numbers of people, and read almost everyday (every Sunday at the least) for God knows how long (is that considered to be a pun?).
Old editions exhibit the fading of ink where there is print near the sides, as well as the sheer fragility of the paper itself caused by so much softening-by-saliva (and that includes old New Testaments as well as old Old Testaments).

All in all, it's unhygienic and it ruins the literature, rendering the pages weaker and smudging the words.

You know what you can do to tackle this problem the next time you see it? Start licking everything yourself when you're around the finger-lickers. They'll say, "Whoa, whoa, Michael, did you just lick your finger before you reached for the phone?" Then you can reply with, "Yes, I needed a bet
ter grip. Why, is there a problem?" Or, you can pretend there's someone else that licks their fingers. For example, if Sam is a finger-licker, you can say to him, "Gee, Sam, don't you hate it how George always licks his finger before he turns a page?" Soon enough, Sam will notice that he does it too and will stop licking his own finger.

Or, if, for example, Sarah is a finger-licker, and also a frequent visitor at your blog, you can write a blog entry about how disgusting it is. Then she won't lick her finger anymore... Or she might just stop reading your blog...


Or you can get them these:

To find out more, check out Tippi Micro Gel Grips here.

Monday, November 24, 2008

28 - The sound of high heels

Hmm... what's worse to me? The smell of dog crap or the sound of high heels?

Hands down, the sounds those women make as they trot on those one-legged platforms. I'm having my exams in these next two weeks and today, I was subject to this precise noise while I was in the middle of my first exam (which was the English exam. It's good to know that it's a popular subject, as shown by my poll on the right-hand side). I know we all can recall the unsettling sound of a teacher's heels in particular, as they clop clop clop in the corridors at school.
My friend says that female teachers feel empowered and feel like even more of an authoritarian when wearing this form of footwear. Heels don't make sounds that are terribly disruptive, but I know that the sound certainly doesn't help anyone focus.

My friend also said that high heels improve a woman's posture and they make her look stronger, more calm and collected and sexier. Uh, stronger because they can withstand the terrible foot pain? More calm and collected because the high heels disallow them from actually running? And someone should get me the latest Guide to What's Sexy because in what universe are hammertoes, bunions and degenerative joint disease considered sexy?

I actually don't like it when any shoes make any sound. I don't like the squeaking that sneakers do on marble or hardwood floors, or
the squelching of wellington boots when it rains, nor do I like the flop flop flop of slippers/flip-flops, or the sound that the chinks on cowboy boots make.

It's walking for God's sake. Why does any noise need to be emitted?

Sunday, November 23, 2008

27 - The smell of dog poop

Dogs, yet again, seem to be the culprit behind my daily annoyance.

I needed some brain food and went out for lunch, and just as I stepped off the curb by my place, there was this rancid scent of fecal matter in the air that was extremely unexpected and upsetting because I'm very perceptive - I usually can spot if there's a pile of excrement in my path (key word: usually) - but I didn't see any feces anywhere. Why? Because there wasn't any on the floor around me. I stopped in my tracks to inspect the turf around me but the floor was clean. So why did it smell like crap?

I don't know. It was just this odor that lingered in the atmosphere, with no cause, with no apparent origin. Perhaps someone was walking their dog around that area, wrapped his/her dog's poop in some newspaper and dumped it in the bin nearby... only, there wasn't a bin. Hmm... the mysteries of life...

Wherever the stink emerged from, I know it's some dog owner's fault, it's their inability to have a dog in our society, while helping to maintain nice-smelling air.

Did you know the study of feces is called scatology or corprology? And you know what's interesting? The fact that dog crap has a distinct smell. We know if the smell comes from humans or dogs or cows. I mean, wouldn't it be interesting to know the exact chemical compositions of each species' crap, to find out what exactly it is in each of our diets/bodies that gives that incredibly distinguishable smell?


No, that's not interesting.


Just out of curiosity, which one of my twenty-seven posts have been your favorites so far? I've been going by my gut so far and I don't really know how my posts have been read. I know this is all just about me talking about the things I hate, but I'd also like to keep all you readers in mind as well. I'm an entertainer at heart! And perhaps after getting some feedback, I'll have a better idea of which direction I could uh... shift my hatred toward. Whether you're one of my loyal visitors and followers, or whether you're like my classmates who never leave a comment, tell me, even if you don't have your own blog, even if you don't have a Google account, what have you enjoyed reading here and what do you hate too?

Saturday, November 22, 2008

26 - Owners with loud dogs

So, I got up at seven in the morning today, and that's completely abnormal of me to do so in the weekend. I woke up early because I have upcoming exams and everyone says that learning is done best in the morning, and one should practice sleeping early to wake up early, and one should spend as much time as possible studying to fully prepare for important examinations, blahblahblah...

Okay, I didn't exactly wake up on my own accord or even with the help of my alarm clock. Instead of fully preparing for exams, I was totally prepared to just sleep 'til eleven or twelve or even later in the day. The actual reason I woke up was because the neighbor's damn dog kept barking like a...well, a dog, a mad dog, leaving me to suffer with this very fatigued look on my face and the sensation that my ears were bleeding while I laid there in my half-asleep-half-awake state of irritation, misery and drowsiness.

Like a library, the bedroom is a place that is meant to be relaxing, peaceful and quiet. Don't get me wrong, I love dogs, but when I'm lying in my bed, sleep trumps dogs (and also babies). No matter how much I love dogs, excessive noise is unforgivable. The neighbor's dog has woken me up many, many, many times before and nobody else will ever comprehend how much worse 'awakening by dog' makes my day. It's ridiculous that this happens every morning. Perhaps on the weekdays, it's alright, but at six in the morning on a Sunday? That's just too much.

I've taken the liberty to 'talk' to the owners about it politely. The lady who was responsible for buying that wretched animal in the first place laughed it off and said something along the lines of, "Oh, well, all dogs bark."


I've never used earplugs, you know? Perhaps I should...


As you may have noticed already, I've changed the layout on both of my blogs. I accidentally removed the hit and flag counters at the bottom of my other blog, but there weren't many viewers there anyway. Because there weren't as many readers on that one, I decided I might write a very elaborate post about my childhood that might interest you if you like reading about life, about children and that sort of thing. Here's a link: "My early life."

Happy blogging/reading, people. I wish you all well.

Friday, November 21, 2008

25 - Librarians who aren't quiet

There's a new librarian that came here in September at our school and I think she's loud, talkative and out-of-this-world annoying (and I think my classmates will agree upon this. Comment if you read this, guys!). You'd expect a librarian to whisper quietly all the friggin' time, but this one talks with a loud nasally Australian voice that travels to all corners of the library, enabling everybody to listen to all the bullshit she has to say.

She insists on being helpful or conversational but she always goes about the wrong way in doing so. She's nosy and she'll peer at your computer screen or at the book in front of you just to see if it's something she's at least mildly interested in. My friends were all holding Shakespeare's Othello in the library one time, minding our own business as we should be, reading the play in preparation for English class later on. The librarian asked one of my friends in a fucking patronizing tone, "It's a good one, isn't it?" and went on to share her own understanding of Othello in a loud, booming voice, "Some say it's one of his easier ones... in terms of trying to understand it. It's a good one, especially when it comes to the theme about racial discrimination against blacks"

Thanks to the volume of her voice, by the time the word 'blacks' was uttered, everybody was looking at us. My friends sitting there beside me (whom I believe have very little appreciation for Shakespeare) just nodded at her, unsure of how else to react, while I, frustrated on so many levels, shook my head in disgrace with my face buried in my hands.

The librarian's nosy like that. She once asked another one of my friends if she could browse through the website that he was reading on the Internet. She insists on asking all the young kids what they're working on and whether it's economics, English literature, history, geography, or art, you can count on her to have something to say.

There's a girl three years below our class, and she had to write a hundred words on China's One Child Policy. She had already managed to cram more than a hundred words into her work with the help of trusty reliable Wikipedia, but our tragic excuse for a librarian just had to butt in. For half an hour, the librarian kept yelling at the girl, telling her to have a look at different websites like the policy report on the New England Journal of Medicine website and countless articles on BBC. I just found it incredibly ridiculous. Not only did the librarian not care about keeping hush-hush about it, but the girl that was doing her work really just didn't give a damn, making the librarian's Samaritan-eqsue deed completely futile. Sometimes, students in the younger years just don't care about their work enough to go further in their research beyond Wikipedia. In addition, sometimes, librarians should shut up.

Her behavior drives me insane and it's not just when there are loads of students there. There was one entire hour where it was just me and her and the story to come is the root of my problem with her and the inspiration for today's entry.

So, I go to the library to do some homework by myself while all my classmates either went out for lunch or had class. I couldn't believe it when I first heard her voice, but she was talking to herself, asking the air around her, "I wonder which African countries were occupied by France?"

Okay, okay, I knew she wanted to talk to me, as I was the only sitting there, but I wasn't going to let her seduce me with her useless, trivial ponderings. Nonetheless, I still had to listen to her speak for the whole sixty minutes and yes, thanks to her inability to keep her own Internet readings to herself, I now know that Benin, Niger, Mali and several others were under French rule for sometime during the French colonial empire.

Isn't that great?

Whatever. She doesn't deserve such in-depth analysis. She's overly-curious, abrasive, patronizing, uncontrolled, loud when she shouldn't be, self-involved and she doesn't take her job seriously. It's no wonder nobody's actually bothered to learn her name. Hah.

Oh, and I just remembered that I sometimes check my blog at school in the school library. She might actually read this because she's just that nosy... Meh. (Today, I heard 'meh' is now an official word in the dictionary.) Miss Librarian, if you do indeed read this, I hope that it's clear now that I hate you! ( a librarian)

Thursday, November 20, 2008

24 - Libraries that aren't quiet

I'm starting this entry in the school library now and to say the least, our school's library just has to be one of the noisiest. There are (rare) times when I sit in this place trying to read a book or do my homework, but there's always all these sounds that make it extremely hard to concentrate on anything.

Oh, damn. The bell just went off. It's time to go to class now. I'll continue this when I get home.


Hi, all. I'm home now.

As I was saying, I don't believe it sometimes just how noisy it is in a place that is supposed to be quiet. The first thing that really strikes me as being noise would be the door. Whenever someone opens the door, there's the sound of the cylindrical lock, and then the creaking of the door's hinge, then the footsteps on the hardwood floor (high heels are just the worst), then there comes the momentary silence as every head in the room turns toward the door to see who it might be. It's only momentary and that makes the murmur of voices that follows right after even more unbearable.

And it's not actually murmuring. It's more like... pattering, prattling or chattering, something with the letter 't'. The librarians really don't enforce any silence and so the kids just continue yapping on and on. Oh, and there are computers in the library too and the sound of fingers tapping keyboards is also very, very irritating. There's also the printer/photocopier that beeps five hundred times an hour, as well as the beeps eminating from the bar code scanner that the librarians use to check in/out books.

But I think the worst noise originates from the librarian herself. I'll talk more about that in my next post, but really, does nobody respect the sanctity of silence in libraries anymore? Noisy libraries: Do you hate them too?

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

23 - The British National Party

A friend of mine living in Horsham, UK, was talking to me about the British National Party earlier today. I went online to find out more about the BNP and it is basically a whites-only political party in the United Kingdom. To learn about their opinions and beliefs, have a listen of what Phill Edwards, the Press Chief of the BNP, has to say in the video below:

Brites for whites! Brites for whites!

According to Edwards, "black kids are going to grow up dysfunctional, low IQ, low achievers that drain our welfare benefits and the prison system and probably go and mug you." What ridiculous bullshit. As the lady in the video pointed out, a white child is just as likely to grow up to be a criminal as a black child is. It's no wonder that the BNP have had their freedom of speech moderated carefully in the media.

Wikipedia says,
"the BNP requires that all members must be members of the "Indigenous Caucasian" racial group."
In addition to the blatantly obvious prejudice against blacks, the BNP also go against homosexuality, interracial marriages/babies, and the immigration of Indians, Hispanics and other people belonging to different racial groups. The BNP also oppose the immigration of Muslims into the UK, and the BNP also support antisemiticism (prejudice against Jews). They are in favor of corporal punishment, capital punishment and compulsory military service. Basically, they favor the pain and killing of people (but they spare animals as the BNP are supporters of animal rights). In all, I think the British National Party is quite a poor disgraceful excuse for a party. Perhaps it is just the Press Chief that is so rude, but the whole damn party sure sounds racist to me. My favorite line was: "I mean, for instance, to put it crudely, there's no black Mozart, is there? There's no black Dickens." Wow.

As my friend kindly point out for me, the BNP was just in the news today because a complete list of all the party's members was disclosed this morning by a former employee. The BNP see it as a violation of their human rights, and it has been told that should they get power in the future, they will attempt to gradually scrap the whole idea of human rights law, thus enabling them to unjustly deport all UK immigrants and put extreme pressure on racial/religious minorites to leave. Thankfully, they only receive around 1% of the votes in general elections, and now that the full membership list has been made public, it is highly likely that workers will lose their jobs for associating themselves with such backward politics, and therefore lose money to spend on impressing the people with their campaign.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

22 - Blowing whistles

I don't know about you, fellow readers/bloggers/haters, but from the deepest crevices of my heart, I loathe the sound of whistles. Unless you're a sports referee, a policeman/woman or part of an orchestra, there is absolutely no need to use such a harsh sounding instrument. I mean, it is just horrible, noisy, cacophonous, inharmonious, uneasy on the ears, you name it, so much so that the ear-splitting, ear-piercing noise, in actual fact and study, causes headaches and mental instability. Oh, why the hell is it a toy amongst young'uns?

Monday, November 17, 2008

21 - Too little or too much gratitude for someone holding the door

So, of course, when I hold the door out for someone, I like to be thanked for it. I think I recognize when people hold it out for me, but I can't really remember. I trust that I do because people had accused me of being impolite before. Since then, saying 'please', 'thank you' and 'excuse me' has become quite instinctive for me, and it's like more of a reflex now. I benefit from an act of kindness and bam: 'thank you'. Someone thanks me and boom: 'you're welcome'. Oops, 'sorry'.

When I'm out walking around and there so happens to be a door that I can hold for a stranger behind me leaving or entering, I'll hold it for them because I can and why not? In Hong Kong, there's a general lack of common courtesy, and in my experience, people don't say thank you when you hold the door for their benefit. I didn't have to hold it out for anyone, so people could at least acknowledge the fact that I took two to five seconds out of my life saving them the time and energy they need to open the damn door themselves.

Ugh. So that's underappreciation. On the other end of the spectrum, there's also overappreciation. I took a tour of a university this summer in Canada, and our tour had around twenty people, with me consistently at the front of the pack insightfully asking the tour guide questions. Although, as we were moving around, every few minutes or so we would come to a door that needed to be opened. In total, we must've gone through close to fifty doors and me, being polite, being expected to be gentlemanly, I held the door almost every chance I could, but I actually got annoyed at hearing 'thank you' too many times, from nineteen other people, going through fifty doors. It's just a door for Christ's sake. Sssshhhh....

I guess after having lived in Hong Kong for most of my life, I'm used to the cold and bitter silence that follows my every warm, kind act. I prefer the politeness, but um, I don't really know what to think about too many people being grateful too many times.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

20 - Unnecessary hand gestures

This kind of ties in with the post about staying still in class. What prompted me to talk about this was somebody asking me for the time the other day and the person felt the need to tap his wrist twice with two fingers to indicate that the wrist is where people usually wear watches, wristwatches used to tell time. Oh, as much as I appreciate that reminder, it's a sheer waste of my brainpower having to follow the movement of his fingers when words are all one needs to express oneself.

I think this way about any gestures. It's just distracting when you constantly wave your hands left, right, front and back, up, down and around when you're telling a story. I think this especially about narratives and reenactments that incorporate "finger-men" by arranging your fingers to resemble people. That makes me so angry, I want to swear.

People should learn to be articulate enough to describe things. Hands are for picking up pencils, spoons and garbage. I can play the piano with my hands (although not well). I can hand-paint with them, I can make bread dough, and I can even place them under my pillow when I go to sleep at night. They fit in there incredibly well. I can type with them on a keyboard, as I'm doing now. I can participate in a round of applause. I can turn the pages of a book. I can turn my key inside a lock. I can even use my hands to punch and slap people that use their hands to enhance their stories.

Hands are not for enhancing oral communication. We have mouths, people, mouths, and voiceboxes in our throats. Only those that need to use sign language should use their hands for speaking, thank you very much. Argh. I'm going to go swear into a pillow now, using speech. I'll use my hands to clench on to the pillow.

Saturday, November 15, 2008

19 - Wearing Crocs

I hate Crocs.

They're hideous.

They're not as comfortable as people say they are, not comfy enough to compensate for their ugliness.

As much as air is allowed to pass through them, they still stink of feet.

The strap is pathetically insecure and poorly designed.

They're not suitable for when it rains and your feet get cold in the wintertime.

I hate seeing pictures of the Croc-pile (as pictured) and I hate that they come in an array of the brightest, most obscene colors.

Elderly people and young children are tricked into wearing them, by middle-aged people that are blind to the horrible offense Crocs cause against fashion.

I've never worn them and I never will. If they're nothing but an atrocity to the eyes, I can't imagine myself being able to bear wearing them on my own two feet. Yeuck.

Friday, November 14, 2008

18 - When someone doesn't love you the same way

As you've probably guessed, this is a serious one for a change. It's not a stupid, senseless and mindless habit this time. It's about something deep, something emotional and something astonishingly common. I've had a good seventeen years to find people to love, care for and share with. More than half the time, I've had feelings for them, feelings that I'll just group together into what we know as crushes. When someone does not love you the same way, it means they don't have a crush on you at the time you have a crush on them.

When you think about your own love, the pain and torment of said love originates from the internal struggle, and the ever-lasting wonderment about whether or not the other person likes you back. A whole list of other things can drive you to shed doubtful tears. You may think you don't deserve such a great person as him/her, or you may notice that he/she has some flaws you might not be able to oversee, or you may have external pressures from your family and your peers, or you may be afraid of a little competition, or you may be much accustomed to acting stoic, causing you to think about how you're ever going to change your personality, but the universal thing that makes us most worried about confessing your love is the fear of not getting what you wished for, and the overwhelming heartbreak that comes with rejection.

And then there is the horrible case in which you are already in a relationship, but you have lost your initial spark, and your companion just does not love you the same way as he/she used to in the good ol' days, and it hurts when there is no possible way to rekindle old, passionate flames. Whether or not you're in a relationship, you may give a huge multitude of things: care, effort, time, advice, patience, trust, consistency in character, shoulders for crying on, ears for listening, hands for holding, understanding, respect, etc... You may give all these things, but in the end, it comes down to whether or not they love you the same way - if they have the same feelings you do, and it is a pity when they don't.

I speak of this from experience and having heard many a sad story, I know of this from my friends and my family, my parents in particular as they are divorced and do not love each other in the old respect they did seventeen years ago. Sigh, I am only a seventeen-year-old student, yet life appears so much older, less colorful and more unattractive when I go from class to class. The classrooms reek of sadness thanks to loneliness and the absence of a mutual love, despite the childlike excitement and desire at school, the sparkles in our eyes we get from learning, the work that we do that distracts us from our troubles, the smiles on our faces we use as shields to hide the thoughts that lie deeper within our head.

But, really, who hasn't been rejected? Who has ever been able to escape the love spell, in other words, the curse of affection that consumes the minds of each and every person in my life (especially the important ones)? Why is it that we all want to be loved in the way we love others? What is it that makes us wish the stranger was our friend, wish the friend was our lover? How can my idea of love be different from yours if love is meant to be pure, independent and ever-lasting? Why is love seemingly unfair? Why love at all? Why bother?

This problem occurs a lot.
Do you hate it too?

Thursday, November 13, 2008

17 - Never staying still in class

Stay still. Please.

In class, stop nodding your head like a bobblehead at everything the teacher says, stop readjusting the height of your stool, stop playing your imaginary drums, or
imaginary bass, or imaginary piano, or imaginary guitar, stop shaking your leg up and down so uncontrollably, stop stretching, stop fiddling with your clothes, stop playing around with your stationary, stop dropping pens on the table and floor, stop making sounds with the zipper on your pencil case and your bag, stop rustling papers, stop mouthing the words to lyrics, stop talking, stop whispering, stop singing, stop leafing through the textbook when you're not told to, stop sneaking a bite or a sip, stop rearranging your arms and legs in this or that position, stop tucking in your chair, stop rubbing your face, stop rubbing your eyes, stop leaning, stop nudging, stop clearing your throat, stop snorting, stop blowing your nose, stop wiping your glasses, stop twiddling your thumbs, stop looking out the window, stop looking to the side, stop looking behind you, stop glancing at each other, stop breathing so deeply, stop writing so vigorously, stop tapping your fingers on the table, stop it, stop it, stop it.

Just stop it and stay still.

How hard can it be?

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

16 - Saying my blog's not funny enough

So, I occasionally get a little bit of criticism concerning my blog, and today, someone told me that I'm not being funny and witty enough on mine.

Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Omelette who?
Omelette funnier than some people may think I am and on a serious note, I took it as a very personal insult, because I know I try too hard to display my awesome levity. (Self-deprecating humor. Hahaha.) I honestly haven't paid much attention to how funny I'm trying to be, but you know, I have to feel in the mood for it, I have to have the cogs in my head working quick enough and the sarcasm meter pointed somewhere high.

But for my blog to be acknowledged for not being funny enough really flips my lid, blows my fuse, gives me kittens, drives me up the wall, drives me crackers, drives me bananas, oh, I'm sorry, am I boring you because I'm not funny enough?

From now on, I will strive to sharpen my wit, and show my good sense of humor. I mean, I know I seem like I take things too seriously, because I get angry at things that are meant to be funny (like school pranks).

But the fact that I felt bad 'cause I fell to the ground in maths class isn't a sine of me not being funny, or not ever having sum fun. To judge me by my blog is just mean because I'm a far more complex fellow than just a blogger. I'm positive that there is, in fact, an inverse relationship between how 'serious' I am on my blog and how carefree I really am in real-life. I'd like to add that humor is a natural thing for me, as easy as
But if I was to derive whether I wanted to be serious or be funny for the rest of my life, I would definitely pick being serious. If that makes me a negative person because I just can't have a laugh, then so be it, because at least I know I'll continue being rational and real.

Can my friend honestly think that I'm not funny? Cosecant.

Anyway, my point is that I'll try to integrate more of my witticisms into my blog. Get it? My buh-log.

By the way, it's getting quite chilly here in Hong Kong. If I wasn't typing this post, my fingers would be a lot number. It's getting so cold in the morning-time, that it's making it extremely hard to wake up. To solve this problem, I can either sleep earlier, or I can sleep late, wake up late and end up rushing to school. I think I'm going to sleep earlier, 'cause in my mind, it goes rise over run.

Besides, I'm really getting tired of all these puns, so I'll draw the line there (probably should've made some graphing joke). Thank you all for following my trains of thought for the past fifteen days! I bet you're all tired from all of these puns too. In great apundance, puns just ain't punny.

(To my friend who said my blog posts weren't funny enough: I hope my blog will satisfy you from now on. Thank you for reading as well, and thanks for trying to tip me. You were actually suggesting some pretty interesting blog ideas, but this was the best inspiration you could provide and I know you saw this coming. Hah.)

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

15 - Pulling your chair away as you're about to sit down

I didn't know how much I loathed this age-old prank until I was made a victim of it today. The exact reasoning behind my hate is vague, but I've pondered. Was it the feeling of embarrassment I got after others laughed at my downfall? Was it the fact that my respect for the guy, like myself, had instantaneously fallen so low? Was it the sense of injustice I experienced seeing as I hadn't done anything to disturb his life in the recent past? Or was it just me being over-sensitive on one of those days?

Ah, yes. It was one of those days. A dreary physics class, a very joyless chemistry class, an uneventful Mandarin lesson and a wearisome English class reading Shakespeare's Othello. A boring maths class was all I had to look forward to at the end of the day, and so, a downward drop easily caused my spirit to drop downward too.

I think more than anything, it was the fact that I really didn't do anything to deserve it; unlike our Shakespearean friends Othello, Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet, I should not have to undergo a downfall without doing anything foolish or unjust. Argh. I'll just sum up my issues with this something rich: pranks are stupid.

I just don't see the point in pranks, or in general, I don't understand humor that comes at the expense of another person's well-being. There probably will be more of these entries concerning various school-based pranks, but, oh, dear God, I hope I don't experience it first-hand.

Do you hate it too? (or did you hate it too?... This probably hasn't happened to people in a while... a long, long, long while...)


By the way(!), check out my newly launched second blog: and comment!

Sunday, November 9, 2008

14 - Neglecting the world around you because you're asleep

I do this every Saturday and Sunday morning. My family are the usual victims. They'll call me to see if I can make lunch in the weekends, but I'm seriously never going to answer their calls because I'm sleeping in after a long week of school. It's funny to me, but I'm pretty sure they don't think so.

You see, every night, when it's time for me to sleep, I'll lock my door. This is to prevent anyone from entering and disturbing my very important sleep, but, of course, people can still knock on my door, call the phone in my room or call my mobile phone. I also have my laptop beside me as I sleep for convenience's sake, so people can also find me online.

Oh, but the thing is. When I'm asleep, I really do not hear the knocking on the door, or the phone in my room ringing. And you will never vibrate me to consciousness if you call my mobile phone. My laptop is muted, and shut anyway. So there is no possible way to reach me immediately because I'll ignore it.

I have a friend. He tells me that he falls asleep in his chair in front of his computer all the time. He also can't hear the alarm when it rings in the morning. And um... He falls asleep on his sofa too. It's funnyish, but only ish because it is quite annoying to have him appearing online when he's actually in dreamland.

Similar situations I can recall are the times where I've been to parties and accompanied a few people home and such after some drinking. In the morning, when everybody is asleep and too hungover to get up, I, being observant and all, found that being asleep is really such a powerful state to be in.
When people are in the land of nod, you just cannot get to them. They swat your hand away when you tap them on the shoulder. They mumble and moan the words, "shut up" and "go away" when you try to talk to them. They put their pillow over the head, they conceal their whole body under a blanket. They do everything possible to prolong their sleep and maintain that euphoric feeling of well... not feeling anything at all.


And that ends the week of dissing myself!Now, I can finally get back to dissing others. :D

13 - Losing one's temper and being childish about it

A seriously bad habit of mine is my tendency to lose my temper easily, otherwise known as flipping my lid, throwing a fit, hitting the roof/ceiling, flying off the handle (what?), going mad, flipping my wig, blowing a fuse, having kittens (huh?), blowing my stack (...whatever that means), 'combusting', going ballistic, going crackers, going bananas and being driven up the wall.

The word 'temper' comes from the Latin word,
, and it used to refer to the balance of certain elements within a mixture that would soon be 'tempered' into metal. People later used the word to refer to mental balance, and when one loses that balance, they are said to have 'lost their temper'.

I guess it's not the getting angry part that I dislike. What I dislike is the childish behavior that comes with it. I'm talking about the long, quick, dramatic strides while walking around, the loud slamming of the door, the exaggerated heavy breathing accompanied by larger nostrils, the obvious glares one sends towards the guilty party, the pounding of books, canteen trays, coffee mugs, pencil cases and other items upon the table, the refusal to speak, the crossing of arms and just the general temperament that radiates one, single message to everyone around you: I'm f***ing pissed, living in my world SUCKS, I'll make YOUR world suck, by SLAMMING doors and POUNDING books on the table, so that YOU can have a taste of the suckiness I'M experiencing.

All of that is really immature, don't you think?

I remember I had this one birthday, where I got this cool, new watch as a present. I was trying to put it on myself, but then my grandmother offered to put it on for me. She took the watch right out of my hands, and started to help me, but I just lost it completely. My independence must've been a big deal, even then, 'cause I threatened to step hard on to her foot if she attempted to help me a second time. My mother made that mistake, I slammed my foot onto hers and stormed out of the house crying. Crazy stuff.

I guess if you do get mad, you need to have good reason. I remember there was one occasion where I was trying to throw a paper CD case to my friend. It ended up hitting a girl in the face and she got really mad at me for... a day or so. I apologized on the spot, but she still had good reason to be angry for a while. And I know she reads this blog. Sorry again!

When you win a game, you still get your sore losers though, and at school/work, you get the rebellious classmates/co-workers that don't get treated 'fairly'. Oh, and when people do any of the things that I've discussed in this blog, I can get quite irritated if my mind dwells on it for too long.
When things don't go our way or when they irritate us, handling it is quite a test of patience, tolerance and character. I lose my temper a lot and it does get quite awful at times.

What do you think? Do you hate it too?

Saturday, November 8, 2008

12 - Not knowing how to touch type

I feel like I've been losing my edge lately. I think I've been having a more positive outlook, a perspective where I'm not noticing many of the littler annoying things that exist out there. This has led me to write posts about very general problems such as gluttony and forgetfulness. Everyone talks too much at some point, everyone forgets some things, everyone gets greedy some times. So today, I thought I might focus on something a bit more specific.

This is another bad habit that I have, as we countdown the days 'til I stop displaying what a hypocrite I am. The habit is not typing the 'proper' way, the proper way being touch typing. This is where all ten fingers rest upon the keys on a keyboard. The main advantage of this method is your capability to keep your eyes on the screen at all times.

Now, obviously, I've taken lessons on how to type, and I can touch type, but I do it reeeeeeeeally slowly. I'm just used to my own system of 'use the finger that's most comfortable for me to use for each respective key'. I don't look at the keyboard, and I don't type slowly either. It's just the way I do it, and I do it well. I just wish I could do it the proper way though, but it's a difficult habit to get rid of.

I guess the thing about typing improperly that I hate is when people type slowly, because they're too busy looking down at the keyboard, up at the screen, back down at the keys, and back up the monitor, head down, head up, down, up, down, up... It's annoying to watch. And annoying to talk to someone online when you know they're being slow because of their improper typing methods.

It's even worse when people type slowly because they're using the proper method, since touch typing is meant to provide efficiency. I think you should just find the method that provides you with the best accuracy and speed. But then again, I wish I could touch type. I'm obsessive about having things done the right way for things like this that we do on a daily basis. I hate that I don't do it right. And I dislike seeing others that can't either.

Friday, November 7, 2008

11 - Forgetfulness

Oh my, I completely forgot about my blog today. Totally slipped my mind. Strange.

So, let's talk about forgetfulness. I hate it when my mother forgets when my exams are or when I go on holiday and I hate it when my friends forget what I've told them before about my life, things that I expect them to remember. It's like conversation gone down the drain if I have to repeat everything a second time just to remind them.

Also, I absolutely hate it when my classmates keep forgetting what homework they have yet to complete (sorry guys). Then they ask me what it is every single day and I get really irritated. As students, we should remember this kind of thing.
We're expected to remember a lot if we're going to be any good at school. It is difficult trying to cram everything into this tiny, tiny brain of mine, but we have to do it, especially during the exam period.

I used to pride myself in remembering everything around two years ago, but recently, maybe I'm getting older or I've been eating a lot of memory-killing food lately, because I keep forgetting it all. I once had this phase where I remembered a lot of birthdays. My huge family, all my classmates, my friends outside school and even celebrities. I also remembered a lot of people's phone numbers, and I was a total information sponge that could remember everybody's details. I also used to be able to recite the full list of all the
. And, I learned the Greek alphabet over the summer. Oh, and I know the plots and characters to so many television shows, it's insane.

But I keep forgetting all of this stuff and it bugs me to the core. It's worse because I know my memory is slipping. I mean, I forgot my blog!

I don't like forgetful people. Why bother being given information if the information will get lost?

Oh, and there's that thing known as conscious forgetfulness, where people 'block out' traumatic or undesirable things. I don't believe people can do that, but to some extent, that does happen. If something is completely scarring for life, forgetting it may be a good thing as opposed to dwelling on it. But, if someone doesn't remember something because he/she doesn't really care enough about what you say, that's just inconsiderate. An awful lack of consideration, especially if you do it naturally.

I'll end here.

...Can't believe I forgot my blog...

Thursday, November 6, 2008

10 - Dominating conversations

So obviously, yesterday's post was a bit of a joke. Some people around me do consider me to be a bit too talkative, but I don't think so. For those that didn't catch on yet, I was delibirately writing a short entry yesterday in protest to these wild accusations. I guess now I'll talk about yesterday's and today's at the same time, as they are somewhat similar.

I find people who talk too much, and people who dominate conversations, both annoying, but of course, only when I'm not the one doing the talking, or the dominating. They're different, but the people who talk too much and the people who overpower others in conversations, both have a set of commonalities: a compulsive uncontrollable need to talk, a fair amount of creativity, some irritability brought about by silence, a dash of pride, and most of all, no awareness whatsoever. I'm glad to say that I have recently tried to cut back on talking more than others.

Just to clarify the difference between the two. When you're around a person that 'talks too much', you participate in the conversation too. It's just that their points are really, really long. You experience a surplus in the amount you'd like to know about them, and it's often what we call 'verbal diarrhea' (...mmm). On the other hand, when you're around a person that 'dominates the conversation', you are incapable of joining in the conversation, because their statements are either very loud, or very bold and almost always interruptive. It's like large, unusual, and abrupt diarrhea.

At rare times though, people will actually listen to a conversational dominator like me, but at other times, they're either:
(1) nodding their head at me every two seconds,
(2) laughing for no reason,
(3) asking me "then what happened?" when I've already finished my story,
(4) falling asleep and if I'm lucky, they'll drool, or
(5) they're staring at me with a blank face, which always makes me incredibly uncomfortable, because I think they're picturing me naked (which I really hope is not true) (and there's that creativity I talked about earlier) (...and pride). As you may observe by this list, conversational dominators can get annoyed at all the incessant nodders, the erratic laughers and the possible perverts too! But we probably deserve it for pressing our own lives on to others so much.

I remember a time where I was on the other end of the conversation spectrum, the end where I get talked over and subdued, that is. Since I couldn't possibly make this guy shut up, I took the liberty to observe him and his 'listeners'. The 'listeners' really do drool. And he really is completely unaware that nobody is listening. He was talking about... cars... or stars... I wasn't really sure. I remember it was boring. I also remember several of us trying to speak up, but he would just go on and on. He just wouldn't listen to any of us. It's like diarrhea all over the place.

Anyway, as I mentioned earlier, I'm trying to cut back on talking so much. I don't like seeming insensitive and self-involved. It is strange though. Recently, my friends have been calling me up, starting conversations with me online, finding me at school to talk more often. When you shut up, do people finally notice you've been a lil' quiet? In fact, I used to talk so much that I've had people ask me to fill in the silences when topics are lacking. Guess what?

I hate that too, and that's another story.

So do you hate people that dominate conversations? Is it even possible to convince them not to dominate conversations (refer to blog number 5)? Do you consider 'verbal diarrhea' to be a very vulgar phrase? And how are all of you readers out there? Just thought I might ask you all these questions. I wouldn't want to come across as if I'm talking too much, eh?

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

9 - Talking/writing/typing too much

I talk a lot around others, I write more than I should for school and I type very long blog posts and go off on tangents.

Do you hate it too?


Tuesday, November 4, 2008

8 - Gluttony

After a week of complaining about other people's misdeeds, I thought it would be interesting for all of my readers, followers and random pop-by visitors to learn more about some of my own bad habits. I said a week ago that everybody has dysfunctional behavioral tendencies and myself is included! To my good friends that know me outside the blogging world: you knew a self-dissing post was bound to be written some day. But instead of just one, I will be writing a full week's worth of posts demonstrating the hypocrisy in me. That's right. Seven entries about the things that I hate doing, and I hate the fact that I do them too. (I'm getting a little bit scared of where this might lead...)

As you've probably shrewdly figured out already, one of the annoying things that I do, but don't condone myself is being greedy when it comes to food. I remember an end-of-year party we had at school, where everybody in the class brought in candy, nachos, Lay's, Pringles, tortilla chips, soft drinks, Cheetos and pretzels to celebrate the fact that we had successfully completed another year of school. We moved the tables together to the middle of the room, and laid down all the food in the center. The teacher put on a movie and turned on the projector, and we sat down around the table of junk food and began to watch it.

Being the end of the year, we had no work to do, nothing to stress us out. Of course, the movie was nice, but we took this opportunity to chat as well before the summer holidays would separate us for two months. While everybody was chatting, I sneakily moved the food around so that I could sit right in the middle amongst all the food. Like an octopus, I reached in all directions, grabbing different potato chips and other snacks to keep my mouth interested and my stomach constantly at work. My classmates, one by one, began to see my dreadfulness, but they just let me be and in the end, I distinctly recall a Coca Cola chugging contest with one of my friends, although I don't remember exactly how that happened...

I can remember many times where I have asked the waiter to bring me more food than I actually needed (often, when the food is not going to be paid for by me). I will hog the popcorn at the movies, seize four-sixths of a whole pizza and take advantage of buffets by giving myself very generous portions. When I'm on a plane, I will press that button twenty to thirty times, thus summoning the air stewardess so that I can ask for peanuts and tomato juice for the entire flight's duration.

I hate seeing this greediness in other people, and looking back at my own gluttonous behavior, I hate seeing it in myself too. I'm surprised nobody has ever accused me of this before... I guess my friends and family are all being kind to me. I like spending time with others that love to eat as well. That way, I don't feel so guilty and I have someone else that can't control their appetite, however, when dining with people that can moderate their hunger, I find myself very unjust and self-indulgent.

It is a matter of self-control, self-control that I have never been able to find in myself, self-control that I have never needed to have because food is there for me whenever I want it. Even if people can have food whenever they want it, they still shouldn't eat more than their fair share, or eat more than they actually need to make them full.

What do you think, readers? Do you hate it too?

Monday, November 3, 2008

7 - Nudging your chair from behind

You probably have had similar situations happen to you before, where a person sitting behind you nudges you from behind. Those are common, but have a listen of the following story and tell me if you've had this ever happen to you before. :D

I was sitting on the bus to school, minding my own business, and some guy, older than me, sat down, not in the seat behind me, but in front of me. In front? Not behind? That's odd, you might think, but what I experienced was, indeed, sort of odd. This man managed to sit down and have his back nudge me by sitting down forcefully. He not only did that, but for the whole trip, he kept squirming in his chair, causing me to be uncomfortable and squirmy as well. He was nudging me whilst he was in front of me. In the moment, I just thought... wow.

And in the usual case (where people nudge your chair
with their knees from behind), whether we're on the bus, at the movies, sitting in a classroom, or taking a flight in economy class, the most annoying thing of all is that this so small and petty, yet it can irk you so much. The mere force of one man's knees on the back of your chair is something that is so insignificant, yet it can distract you, anger you and ruin your day.

I can remember two or three times when I asked the person behind me to try to stop pressing his legs into my chair. People in Hong Kong usually comply, but they get annoyed at me for asking. I instinctively avoid little things like that. Walking in the street slowly, talking on the phone loudly, giving people free massages through the back of their chairs... anything that strangers in public would possibly find annoying. I'm sorry if I don't find a person's knees digging into my back pleasant, however, because I try to consider others, I (wrongly) expect the same in return and a mutual relationship between me and the community is proven to be non-existent nearly everyday.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

6 - 'Clinginess'

You know who I'm talking about, right?

I'm talking about the clingy type. They constantly ask to hear about your opinions and your life. They follow you everywhere you go like a puppy. They tell you about their life because they think you care about them enough to listen. They find every opportunity to talk to you at school or at work. They try to sit next to you when you're at the movies or when you're eating in a restaurant and worse yet, they calculatingly forbid others from taking 'their' place. Even in the privacy of your own home, they call you up, they text you, they talk to you online, they comment on your blogs, they come over in the morning, just to be with you, just to talk to you, just to live alongside you.

I'm talking about the clingers.

So, the inspiration behind today's thoughts. On Halloween night, I went out with a few friends of mine to have a few drinks and a bit of dance.
Within our little group of friends was one girl and five guys, one of the guys of which was the girl's boyfriend. He wasn't much of a dancer, probably insecure for whatever reason, and he stood there, stiff as a rock, while the loud music played. I asked him if he'd like to go have a drink with me at the bar if he wasn't going to dance with us, but he said he was going to stay with his girlfriend. And I just found it really weird. He was a clinger.

I've known several couples in my time, and there's always a few couples where either one of the partners is clingy. I can also think of a clingy friend or two, and I can sadly say that I know I have been clingy on many occasions. While it's very kind and affectionate to get so attached to someone so deeply, one still needs to find the balance between treasuring a relationship and over-treasuring it.

The brutal truth is, it's only annoying when the feeling isn't mutual; when one starts to cling on to the other with a significantly greater intensity. My most loyal friends and I, I reckon, have formed a variety of different systems that work for us, in order for us to interact smoothly and avoid the least arguments. Even though I am deeply satisfied (and incredibly fortunate) having them to brighten up my world, I at least try to keep an open mind toward those that try to lay the brickwork for a new and friendly road into my heart. I try to look at the good side of people (that's irony for you on this blog) and I find that bonding with other humans is the most humane thing people do in the world (as I am, again, ironically trying to do with you, using this blog).

In my experience, however, I have had a few clingers and it has been difficult rejecting them, not rejecting them per se, but just trying to incorporate my feelings of you're coming on a bit too strong into my everyday body language, by intertwining my arms across my chest to barricade myself from them, slouching as a sign of boredom and averting my gaze to demonstrate disinterest. It isn't easy telling them to take a step back and turn it down a notch using honest words, but I guess clingers are simply something we all have to deal with at some point in our lives, advisably in a friendly and humane manner for the sake of human compassion, or perhaps in fear of karma biting us in the ass.

Saturday, November 1, 2008

5 - Doing things that people have specifically told you not to do

The main source of inspiration for this hate of mine is rooted in a particular dinner I had, at which my mother and I ate at Ruby Tuesday (mmm). If I remember correctly, we had salad, potato skins, spare ribs, beef lasagne, fries and garlic toast, which were all in great, big portions and in addition to that, I drank a lot of Coca Cola, since you know, you can ask for refills. As the night went on, I ingested more and more food, to the point where I felt full, to the point where I took off my belt and put it in my bag, to the point where I had to stand up and take deep breaths, and finally to the point where I just couldn't possibly eat anymore. I ate so much, I couldn't move and I was in a lot of discomfort. I had to take ten minutes just to stand up, to physiologically prepare myself for the journey home.

We stepped outside and my mother put her arm around my waist since I'm tall and that's what mothers do to their tall, teenage sons. I told her, "Don't press on to my stomach" lest I might vomit. Can you hazard as a guess as to what she did the very second she heard my warning?

...that's right.

My dinner went splash.

Why is it that people have this compulsion to do what is contrary to what other people have requested?

You start off an embarassing story with, "Don't laugh at me, but there was this one time..." and then they find it amusing and laugh anyway. You tell someone, "Oh, I don't want to talk about it" and they reply with, "No, tell me! Come on!". You ask for your friend to stop that incessant whistling and they take it as a sign of your appreciation for their music, prompting them to put their face closer to yours and whistle even louder. You ask someone, "Please don't feel sorry for me, it's not your fault" and however convincingly they reassure you that they aren't, they do.

Why do people do this? Does the message not get across to them? Do we need to punch them in the face, cry our heart out, or regurgitate our dinner in order for them to get the idea?

Who knows?