I don't mean to complain about those who are fat, but what I'm implying is when people, either willingly or obliviously, are incredibly wide on public transportation seating.
There's always the big construction worker going home from a long day at work, who spreads his legs as far apart as he can, like he's trying to reach both ends of the bloody train. There's the kindergarten punk kid that won't stop squirming and doing somersaults on his seat. There's the old lady that's coming back from the supermarket, plastic bags filled with fish and veggies galore, laid out all over the floor in front of her and the people she's sitting next to on either side. There's the teenager with the loud rock music and headphones, his restless leg shaking up and down, nudging your leg. There's the guy with a lot of bags, or the big, big jacket, or the suitcase, who just can't help but nudge you, but really, really wants to sit down from carrying around that much weight.
And then there's me, the slight germaphobe, who doesn't really like coming into physical contact with strangers (or their fish). There's the pregnant lady who's clamping her legs together because she's afraid the teenage kid's hard rock music will transpire through the air, through her cervix and cause mental illness to her fetus. There's the aged man, who needs a cane to walk about, and who's just absolutely scared as Hell that the kindergartner might knock him in the face with his arm, or accidentally knee his bad hip. There's the mother, who has confidently placed her three-year-old daughter on her own individual seat next to her for the first time, but quickly regrets it when the guy with the big jacket looks as if he's going to completely flatten her dear little girl. And last, but not least, there's the stoic, modern-age businesswoman that's placing her leather briefcase in between her and the construction worker, because she doesn't want the cement dust on his clothes to rub off on her clean, black, formal dress.
Friday, January 30, 2009
95 - Running on the spot because something's in the way
So, I hadn't slept for the whole night and before I knew it, it was six in the morning. I was feeling spontaneous so I said to myself, "hm, perhaps I'll go jogging". And so I did, I got dressed in my hoodie and my shorts, unplugged my iPod from my computer, turned on my funky tunes and stepped out into the chilly, refreshing morning air.
The sun was slowly coming up as I ran down the hill. I live on a hill, you see. There's quite a decline from my place and running down it is pretty damn liberating. I was just running, running, running, minding my own business running, when I reached a street I couldn't cross because a car was approaching. And what did I do?
I jogged on the spot on the sidewalk.
And then I thought to myself: how lame am I? I'm here, bobbing up and down on the pavement because I want to conserve the momentum until I can proceed once more. Jeez, I should blog about how lame I was, I'm sure other people would hate the sight of me. I know I would.
The sun was slowly coming up as I ran down the hill. I live on a hill, you see. There's quite a decline from my place and running down it is pretty damn liberating. I was just running, running, running, minding my own business running, when I reached a street I couldn't cross because a car was approaching. And what did I do?
I jogged on the spot on the sidewalk.
And then I thought to myself: how lame am I? I'm here, bobbing up and down on the pavement because I want to conserve the momentum until I can proceed once more. Jeez, I should blog about how lame I was, I'm sure other people would hate the sight of me. I know I would.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
94 - Self-proclaimed maturity
A definite sign of someone not being mature is when they start to get cocky and pompous, proclaiming to everyone around them that they are mature, the golden rule of thumb is: your maturity is for others to judge. Arrogance only negates the wisdom we once thought you had. You cannot say you're mature, and automatically make yourself mature, because if things worked that way, I'm King of the World.You cannot say your ideas are more original and unique than others, you cannot tell people that you know more in life, none of us can treat her like she's just an inadequate female, you don't treat him like he's an equal, we are all just slaves to you, you think you're selfless but, again, that's not for you to judge, you believe you are kind, warm and caring, but that is for us, each and everyone of us to decide. They're your so-called 'qualities', we are the ones who call you so.
And just for your information, you are not the only one, you are not as original, experienced, adequate, open-minded, selfless or caring as you think you are, at least, in my eyes. It's for others to judge, so save it, you proud, stubborn boy.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
93 - Dirty, disgusting hardware
I'm in a very moody state right now, but I have no idea why. My hair is sort of messy as I've been in bed all day, my back feels like being curved today because I'm too lazy to sit up straight, my whole body feels tired, I'm hungry but not really bothered to go out to the kitchen, my hands and feet are cold but sweaty, my neck aches when I bend it like this and I could really use some company. I really feel like going out right now.
Argh, yuck. I grabbed my mouse just now and there's this grayish grime that's been building up on the left and right clickers. I'm just going to get a tissue to wipe it off... (that's what she said)
It's disgusting how hands sweat so much on keyboards, mouses, phones, game console controllers, iPods, and the like. I hate how keyboards accumulate the greatest mass and variety of filth, everything from hair, through dust, fingernails, staples, ketchup, dandruff and bread crumbs, to tiny paper circles that were punched out with a hole puncher. In my experience, the worst thing to enter the crevices between your keys are just liquids in general, such as tea, water, Coca Cola or coffee. The beverage, together with the other stuff, forms this sticky, yellowish guck, which is just horrible to look at, and unappealing to clean.
What's worse is that time when you come around to cleaning the back of your desktop computer, or to clean the filter in your laptop... Yuck. How dirty and gross is your hardware?
Argh, yuck. I grabbed my mouse just now and there's this grayish grime that's been building up on the left and right clickers. I'm just going to get a tissue to wipe it off... (that's what she said)
It's disgusting how hands sweat so much on keyboards, mouses, phones, game console controllers, iPods, and the like. I hate how keyboards accumulate the greatest mass and variety of filth, everything from hair, through dust, fingernails, staples, ketchup, dandruff and bread crumbs, to tiny paper circles that were punched out with a hole puncher. In my experience, the worst thing to enter the crevices between your keys are just liquids in general, such as tea, water, Coca Cola or coffee. The beverage, together with the other stuff, forms this sticky, yellowish guck, which is just horrible to look at, and unappealing to clean.
What's worse is that time when you come around to cleaning the back of your desktop computer, or to clean the filter in your laptop... Yuck. How dirty and gross is your hardware?
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
92 - Being uninspired
Oh, I lack ideas today. It was the Chinese New Year yesterday, my non-Chinese friends, and our whole family got together to eat traditional Chinese food for lunch, play mahjong in the afternoon and have a big meal for dinner. Right now, I could talk about a huge multitude of things, but I'm just not feeling too strongly about any of them. I thought of some ideas, but I knew I couldn't carry them out to make a substantial post.
Yesterday, I wore a pink shirt, and my family made a few comments about it, like pink is a girl color not to be worn by guys. I could talk about that but I don't feel like it.
I could talk about how my mother ate the last piece of food at lunch without politely asking if anyone would like to have/share it. But then again, I have already written about gluttony before.
I was also just about to write about how I won money from playing mahjong, but did not receive any because my family forgot. But hey, it's the Chinese New Year, it's inappropriate for me to demand for money or complain that I didn't get any for my mahjong skills...
Then there's dinner, at which everybody was all loud and chatty, when all I was was hungry, and all I wanted to do was eat. I had to listen to their talking, answer their questions, take care of my younger cousins all night, argh. In fact, my three-year-old cousin wet my bed for the very first time last night. I didn't get as angry as I thought I might, and so I don't want to write about that either. During dinner, my family were only eating merrily, and after dinner, my cousin was only three years old, young and incapable of controlling his pee.
So I guess today, I hate how I am uninspired. Writer's block, they call it, but I don't like that phrase either. I wish I could expand on any of those aforesaid things, but they don't seem right. I'm not annoyed today, which is a good thing, but I am annoyed at myself today.
I have some friends who never seem to be inspired for anything to do with school. They search in their textbooks, they ask more insightful friends for ideas for their essays, and their work reflects how uncreative and lacking of ideas they are. That annoys me.
I also don't like how some people are not inspired enough to travel elsewhere, or to learn new things, to learn about other people, to learn of other cultures, to understand what is not understandable to them right now. The world is much bigger, inspiration allows you to dream, to want to do things you wouldn't normally do. Why some people never feel inspired to do something saddens and irritates me.
Yesterday, I wore a pink shirt, and my family made a few comments about it, like pink is a girl color not to be worn by guys. I could talk about that but I don't feel like it.
I could talk about how my mother ate the last piece of food at lunch without politely asking if anyone would like to have/share it. But then again, I have already written about gluttony before.
I was also just about to write about how I won money from playing mahjong, but did not receive any because my family forgot. But hey, it's the Chinese New Year, it's inappropriate for me to demand for money or complain that I didn't get any for my mahjong skills...
Then there's dinner, at which everybody was all loud and chatty, when all I was was hungry, and all I wanted to do was eat. I had to listen to their talking, answer their questions, take care of my younger cousins all night, argh. In fact, my three-year-old cousin wet my bed for the very first time last night. I didn't get as angry as I thought I might, and so I don't want to write about that either. During dinner, my family were only eating merrily, and after dinner, my cousin was only three years old, young and incapable of controlling his pee.
So I guess today, I hate how I am uninspired. Writer's block, they call it, but I don't like that phrase either. I wish I could expand on any of those aforesaid things, but they don't seem right. I'm not annoyed today, which is a good thing, but I am annoyed at myself today.
I have some friends who never seem to be inspired for anything to do with school. They search in their textbooks, they ask more insightful friends for ideas for their essays, and their work reflects how uncreative and lacking of ideas they are. That annoys me.
I also don't like how some people are not inspired enough to travel elsewhere, or to learn new things, to learn about other people, to learn of other cultures, to understand what is not understandable to them right now. The world is much bigger, inspiration allows you to dream, to want to do things you wouldn't normally do. Why some people never feel inspired to do something saddens and irritates me.
Monday, January 26, 2009
91 - Having to reach into the tissue box for a tissue
Your nose is running, ketchup has accidentally dripped on to your jeans, your baby cousin's mouth is covered in chocolate and you go to the tissue box for a tissue, but somebody, some imbecile that shares your tissue box, removed a tissue for his/her usage, with no tissue sticking out of the box for you to use. You have to set the box down, shove your fingers through the thin plastic cervix of a seal, possibly scrape your hand on the teethed sides of the slot (teethed because of the way the box is designed before you open them for usage), then wiggle your fingers around until you make contact with a tissue, use the tips of any two fingers to clamp on to one tissue, and pull it out with all your might.
Okay, maybe not all your might. But sometimes, you grab more than you need because you dug your fingers too deep into the pile of tissues in the box. Sometimes, you get less than you need because your sharp nails have ripped the damn thing. Whatever the case, the tissue is bound to be creased, and your application of the tissue is less pleasing since it isn't smooth anymore like a normal tissue. The side of your hand is just a teensy weensy bit sore from the side of the slot scratching you and without even realizing it, you've wasted a few seconds of your life dealing with this particular situation.
Do you know how many seconds altogether we have all wasted on this problem?
When you pull out a tissue, make sure there's one that's sticking out for someone else to grab, so you can help them save valuable seconds of their time, and help me make sense of the world. Thank you.
Okay, maybe not all your might. But sometimes, you grab more than you need because you dug your fingers too deep into the pile of tissues in the box. Sometimes, you get less than you need because your sharp nails have ripped the damn thing. Whatever the case, the tissue is bound to be creased, and your application of the tissue is less pleasing since it isn't smooth anymore like a normal tissue. The side of your hand is just a teensy weensy bit sore from the side of the slot scratching you and without even realizing it, you've wasted a few seconds of your life dealing with this particular situation.
Do you know how many seconds altogether we have all wasted on this problem?
When you pull out a tissue, make sure there's one that's sticking out for someone else to grab, so you can help them save valuable seconds of their time, and help me make sense of the world. Thank you.
90 - Staring at others when they cry
Have I seriously had this blog for ninety days already? Because it feels like so much longer...
It must be the way that time flies when you're having fun, the way you reflect on months that've gone by without you even realizing it, as you're caught up in the everyday errands you must complete, with the school you must attend, the work you must do, the holidays you must celebrate, the meals you must have and the people you must spend time with for your entire life. We are born with nothing.
Let me illustrate this for you: when we are born, we are born with no sight and limited senses of touch, taste and smell. All we perceive are sounds, loud, loud sounds, and we cannot express how scared we are as we are exposed to the world and the world is exposed to us. We cannot run away in fear, we are incapable of speech or mobility. We cannot hold our pee, help our hunger, handle anything for ourselves at all. We are unable to hold up a briefcase full of paperwork, a schoolbag full of books or even a small toy truck, let alone our own heads, let alone support our own bodies on our own two feet. When we're born, we can't even roll over, or breathe upside down without killing ourselves. We even require help to simply burp, and all we can do, all we know how to do, is cry.
From the moment we are born, we cry all the time. We're told that there's nothing wrong with crying by our mothers, that there's everything wrong with crying by our fathers. We cry on wedding days and at funerals, at baptisms, births and birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, on good days, on bad days, in the spring, summer, fall and winter, in the rain and sun and wind, in war, in public, in hospitals, on planes, boats and trains, on beaches, when we're by ourselves in our own rooms, or when we're together with friends, family or a group of strangers. Whether we're young or old, gay or straight, rich or poor, happy or unhappy, male or female, intelligent or ignorant, alone or otherwise, we all cry at some point or another, whether we're frequent criers or not.
We all cry for many different reasons. What I sometimes do whenever I get extremely mad at someone, especially someone I care deeply about, is imagine them crying. It makes them human, the image makes me empathize. The pain, the struggle strikes me with a lot of impact and it calms me down to know that these people that are pissing me off have another side that I can sympathize with.
Whenever I actually do see someone crying, I want to help them. When it comes to people that I don't know so well, I'm not one to charge at the opportunity to dry the tears, but I will take some action. I don't want to overstep my boundaries as crying is personal, so I will just put in my effort and if they want more, I'll give more.
A few years ago, I saw an old woman on the train. She wasn't that old, she was wearing a pink T-shirt, had a sports bag, relatively 'hip' glasses and a stylish hairdo. I was sitting across from her and I listened to her talk to her son on the phone. The son, most probably a full-grown man already, according to his mother, never went home for dinner to drink his mother's soup or inquire about her back pain. The old lady was telling him how disrespectful and cruel her son was treating her after all those years in which she raised him to become a man. I was welling up from the opposite side and I shook the tears out from the corners of my eyes. The old lady's son hung up on her and I watched her bow her head and cry to herself.
It took me a while to realize I was staring at her. I looked around and everyone in their school uniforms and business suits were staring at her, too.
And I despised them all, I despised myself. What was I looking at?
When the time came for me to get off the train, I walked over to the old lady and gave her a pack of tissues, with one taken out and placed on top of the pack of tissues for her convenience, so that she could wipe her tears away. She sniffed and thanked me. She was a cute old woman... Everyone else was staring at us during this ordeal, but I didn't care.
Since I realized I was staring at her that day, I've hardly ever stared at someone else in public again.
It must be the way that time flies when you're having fun, the way you reflect on months that've gone by without you even realizing it, as you're caught up in the everyday errands you must complete, with the school you must attend, the work you must do, the holidays you must celebrate, the meals you must have and the people you must spend time with for your entire life. We are born with nothing.
Let me illustrate this for you: when we are born, we are born with no sight and limited senses of touch, taste and smell. All we perceive are sounds, loud, loud sounds, and we cannot express how scared we are as we are exposed to the world and the world is exposed to us. We cannot run away in fear, we are incapable of speech or mobility. We cannot hold our pee, help our hunger, handle anything for ourselves at all. We are unable to hold up a briefcase full of paperwork, a schoolbag full of books or even a small toy truck, let alone our own heads, let alone support our own bodies on our own two feet. When we're born, we can't even roll over, or breathe upside down without killing ourselves. We even require help to simply burp, and all we can do, all we know how to do, is cry.
From the moment we are born, we cry all the time. We're told that there's nothing wrong with crying by our mothers, that there's everything wrong with crying by our fathers. We cry on wedding days and at funerals, at baptisms, births and birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, on good days, on bad days, in the spring, summer, fall and winter, in the rain and sun and wind, in war, in public, in hospitals, on planes, boats and trains, on beaches, when we're by ourselves in our own rooms, or when we're together with friends, family or a group of strangers. Whether we're young or old, gay or straight, rich or poor, happy or unhappy, male or female, intelligent or ignorant, alone or otherwise, we all cry at some point or another, whether we're frequent criers or not.
We all cry for many different reasons. What I sometimes do whenever I get extremely mad at someone, especially someone I care deeply about, is imagine them crying. It makes them human, the image makes me empathize. The pain, the struggle strikes me with a lot of impact and it calms me down to know that these people that are pissing me off have another side that I can sympathize with.
Whenever I actually do see someone crying, I want to help them. When it comes to people that I don't know so well, I'm not one to charge at the opportunity to dry the tears, but I will take some action. I don't want to overstep my boundaries as crying is personal, so I will just put in my effort and if they want more, I'll give more.
A few years ago, I saw an old woman on the train. She wasn't that old, she was wearing a pink T-shirt, had a sports bag, relatively 'hip' glasses and a stylish hairdo. I was sitting across from her and I listened to her talk to her son on the phone. The son, most probably a full-grown man already, according to his mother, never went home for dinner to drink his mother's soup or inquire about her back pain. The old lady was telling him how disrespectful and cruel her son was treating her after all those years in which she raised him to become a man. I was welling up from the opposite side and I shook the tears out from the corners of my eyes. The old lady's son hung up on her and I watched her bow her head and cry to herself.
It took me a while to realize I was staring at her. I looked around and everyone in their school uniforms and business suits were staring at her, too.
And I despised them all, I despised myself. What was I looking at?
When the time came for me to get off the train, I walked over to the old lady and gave her a pack of tissues, with one taken out and placed on top of the pack of tissues for her convenience, so that she could wipe her tears away. She sniffed and thanked me. She was a cute old woman... Everyone else was staring at us during this ordeal, but I didn't care.
Since I realized I was staring at her that day, I've hardly ever stared at someone else in public again.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
89 - Being too fast
Contrary to the previous post about how I dislike it when people are too slow, there are some people that are just too fast and they irritate me, too. No, not like they run fast and I hate it out of jealousy, but I don't like it when some people never seem to know that sometimes, a break is good for you, that slowing things down may make things more comfortable, enjoyable and better.
I suppose it's the erratic behavior of high-speed individuals that really freaks me out. They go around always wanting to be proficient and proactive, when they're really living very primitively and preposterously, somewhat wildly as they go around everyday trying to keep themselves energized, rushing around, working on things 'til the very last second, always have to have a pen in their hand or a Bluetooth in their ear, never having a meal while seated.
You have to breathe, baby!
Sometimes, people also have this compulsion to speak quickly to sound smart. I'll rant about that in more detail some other time, but it's basically some delusion that people have that compels them to talk faster in order to make their point more valid/truthful. It's verbal diarrhea, people blabber on and on really quickly. If you're my age or younger, you know the whiny girl I'm talking about. If you're a working adult, it's that colleague or that boss that never shuts up. Sometimes, I can empathize with my grandparents, what, with the younger generations always having school or work and 'things to do with friends'. They truly know the virtues of taking things slowly and they are wise in that they know that speed isn't everything. Us people are so fast, and we're often too crazed about everything in our modern day and age.
Maybe being fast isn't really what I'm trying to get at here. I think it's the imprudent, reckless manner in which some people behave when trying to be fast that I don't like seeing. It's those people on the streets that walk quickly, dramatically, and I hate that because like I've said before, I love subtlety. Some people just lack a general grace in their demeanor and that's probably what annoys me about people that act with gusto. Meh. Being slow is more annoying, though. But haven't you ever been annoyed at anything fast?
I suppose it's the erratic behavior of high-speed individuals that really freaks me out. They go around always wanting to be proficient and proactive, when they're really living very primitively and preposterously, somewhat wildly as they go around everyday trying to keep themselves energized, rushing around, working on things 'til the very last second, always have to have a pen in their hand or a Bluetooth in their ear, never having a meal while seated.
You have to breathe, baby!
Sometimes, people also have this compulsion to speak quickly to sound smart. I'll rant about that in more detail some other time, but it's basically some delusion that people have that compels them to talk faster in order to make their point more valid/truthful. It's verbal diarrhea, people blabber on and on really quickly. If you're my age or younger, you know the whiny girl I'm talking about. If you're a working adult, it's that colleague or that boss that never shuts up. Sometimes, I can empathize with my grandparents, what, with the younger generations always having school or work and 'things to do with friends'. They truly know the virtues of taking things slowly and they are wise in that they know that speed isn't everything. Us people are so fast, and we're often too crazed about everything in our modern day and age.
Maybe being fast isn't really what I'm trying to get at here. I think it's the imprudent, reckless manner in which some people behave when trying to be fast that I don't like seeing. It's those people on the streets that walk quickly, dramatically, and I hate that because like I've said before, I love subtlety. Some people just lack a general grace in their demeanor and that's probably what annoys me about people that act with gusto. Meh. Being slow is more annoying, though. But haven't you ever been annoyed at anything fast?
Friday, January 23, 2009
88 - Being too slow
It's Chinese New Year this week and I have the whole week off school. My friends and I went out for dinner and drinks after school yesterday and had a good time celebrating the fact that school's out. The restaurant-café we went to was a pretty cool place to eat. They had Monopoly and Jenga and a Foosball table, cards, board games, an Xbox, a Wii, comic books and manga, magazines, anything you would ever want to do to pass the time when waiting for food, or to entertain yourselves while you eat. They have several of those sorts of businesses here in Hong Kong and they're quite fun to dine at.
I was playing a game of Chinese checkers with my friends and a game that would normally take ten minutes amongst four people took much longer, or, at least, felt much longer. They weren't paying attention to the game, they were taking a long time to think, much longer than necessary since there were three other people who had to take turns, too. Thinking ahead about your next move would benefit everybody and save each player's time. The monotony was so intense I had to step out of the place to breathe and calm down. I hate it when another person takes forever to make their move in games, and I hate it when it's because they aren't really focusing on it.
Being slow isn't good. I hate it when someone slow gets in my way while I'm walking on the street. People who type slow on the computer for work, when chatting, people who take forever to reply to e-mails, texts, Facebook messages or invitations to an event, people who run slowly in a basketball game, people who read slowly in language classes, people who talk endlessly at meals and take forever to eat, people who have to try on fifty different clothes at a store when shopping, cab drivers that take their sweet time transporting you, restaurants that take ages to serve you food, buses or trains that take forever to arrive at the station, movies that don't start at the specified time printed on the ticket, cashier ladies that need time to count the change, teachers that go off on tangents, speak monotonously and take a long time to present material, all get on my nerves so much.
There are some individuals that even preach relaxedness, and say that walking slowly allows you to enjoy life more, to absorb the environment around you, to appreciate the trees and the fresh air and the sounds of birds in the morning time. They say that talking slowly in heated debates help get the point across clearer, they prevent us from losing our tempers, they can enunciate words properly, and we can admire how calm their words are. They say they would rather have the job done right than have the job done quickly. They say being in a rush is too stressful, that there's too much pressure.
I prefer fast to slow. It's more efficient, and people can always learn how to get the job done right and quickly. I'm constantly annoyed at how slow some people can be. I don't know how they get anything done, because there's just so much to do out there that's just... waiting to be done.
That's just it: slowness makes people wait. I tell you, you can do everything quickly if you just get used to being proficient in life. Just because I'm not sitting at a dining table and, instead, running around on the streets doesn't mean I can't have breakfast every morning before school. People can enunciate quickly and properly if they work at it, people can train themselves to be fast thinkers. Controlling the temper is another issue. And no, it's not stressful. What's stressful is when you're pressed for time at work, at school, in life, and if you handle stuff faster, you'll naturally become stress-free. Wouldn't you agree? I mean, how many times have you been stressed out by someone or yourself being slow? How many times has procrastination bitten you in the ass? We always prefer sooner to later. The early bird gets the worm, right?
Slow people, do you hate it too?
I was playing a game of Chinese checkers with my friends and a game that would normally take ten minutes amongst four people took much longer, or, at least, felt much longer. They weren't paying attention to the game, they were taking a long time to think, much longer than necessary since there were three other people who had to take turns, too. Thinking ahead about your next move would benefit everybody and save each player's time. The monotony was so intense I had to step out of the place to breathe and calm down. I hate it when another person takes forever to make their move in games, and I hate it when it's because they aren't really focusing on it.
Being slow isn't good. I hate it when someone slow gets in my way while I'm walking on the street. People who type slow on the computer for work, when chatting, people who take forever to reply to e-mails, texts, Facebook messages or invitations to an event, people who run slowly in a basketball game, people who read slowly in language classes, people who talk endlessly at meals and take forever to eat, people who have to try on fifty different clothes at a store when shopping, cab drivers that take their sweet time transporting you, restaurants that take ages to serve you food, buses or trains that take forever to arrive at the station, movies that don't start at the specified time printed on the ticket, cashier ladies that need time to count the change, teachers that go off on tangents, speak monotonously and take a long time to present material, all get on my nerves so much.
There are some individuals that even preach relaxedness, and say that walking slowly allows you to enjoy life more, to absorb the environment around you, to appreciate the trees and the fresh air and the sounds of birds in the morning time. They say that talking slowly in heated debates help get the point across clearer, they prevent us from losing our tempers, they can enunciate words properly, and we can admire how calm their words are. They say they would rather have the job done right than have the job done quickly. They say being in a rush is too stressful, that there's too much pressure.
I prefer fast to slow. It's more efficient, and people can always learn how to get the job done right and quickly. I'm constantly annoyed at how slow some people can be. I don't know how they get anything done, because there's just so much to do out there that's just... waiting to be done.
That's just it: slowness makes people wait. I tell you, you can do everything quickly if you just get used to being proficient in life. Just because I'm not sitting at a dining table and, instead, running around on the streets doesn't mean I can't have breakfast every morning before school. People can enunciate quickly and properly if they work at it, people can train themselves to be fast thinkers. Controlling the temper is another issue. And no, it's not stressful. What's stressful is when you're pressed for time at work, at school, in life, and if you handle stuff faster, you'll naturally become stress-free. Wouldn't you agree? I mean, how many times have you been stressed out by someone or yourself being slow? How many times has procrastination bitten you in the ass? We always prefer sooner to later. The early bird gets the worm, right?
Slow people, do you hate it too?
Thursday, January 22, 2009
87 - Vulgar mispronunciations
Remember how I wrote a post about mispronunciation a little over a month ago? Well, today, the subject came to my mind again, only this time, it was vulgar. What sparked it was a pun made by my friend, while we were watching the presidential inauguration together on the phone. He said he was so excited that he got a "Presidential Erection', a play on the word 'election', of course. I laughed, it was funny to me.
I mentioned in that other post that there aren't many people that speak properly all the time. I know I don't. Some mispronunciations are awful because they're not only embarrassing slip-ups, but they can be vulgar and offensive. Imagine if Obama said 'erection' instead of 'election' during his campaign. Yikes.
All we can do is try to be careful, especially on formal occasions. But we need to take extra care with these words in particular, because these slips of the tongue contain swear words, can be offensive and/or simply don't make sense at all!
Sentence: Mispronunciation
I can't get enough of the city life in Hong Kong: I can't get enough of the shitty life in Hong Kong.
Please sit down: Please sh*t down.
Our little girl has six dolls: Our little girl has sex dolls.
We got him six toys for Christmas: We got him sex toys for Christmas.
That's a really old folk song: That's a really old f*ck song.
Could you give me a clean fork, please: Could you give me a clean f*ck, please?
Foxhounds : F*ck sounds.
Benedict: Bend a dick.
The student used his cork to seal the test-tube: The student used his cock to seal the test-tube.
Do you have an available slot, say, at 5pm tomorrow: Do you have an available slut, say, at 5pm tomorrow?
I cannot live without her: I cannot live without whore.
You can't: You cunt!
I ordered the third sandwich on the menu: I ordered the turd sandwich on the menu.
Everyone loves a good father: Everyone loves a good farter.
Brush your teeth: Brush your teat.
The professors showed us their theses: The professors showed us their feces.
There's a lot of rust inside the car: There's a lot of lust inside the car.
The entire audience clapped: The entire audience crapped.
There are lumps in my mashed potatoes: There are rumps in my mashed potatoes.
The American people elected Obama: The American people erected Obama.
The elections come and go so ever-so-quickly: The erections come and go ever-so-quickly.
The whole wall is made of bricks: The whole wall is made of pricks.
And my favorite three. They are my favorite because I've actually heard these being said:
I have to perform a piece on stage: I have to perform a piss on stage.
The beaches are really nice and hot in Thailand: The b*tches are really nice and hot in Thailand.
Feel free to take a sheet: Feel free to take a sh*t!
I mentioned in that other post that there aren't many people that speak properly all the time. I know I don't. Some mispronunciations are awful because they're not only embarrassing slip-ups, but they can be vulgar and offensive. Imagine if Obama said 'erection' instead of 'election' during his campaign. Yikes.
All we can do is try to be careful, especially on formal occasions. But we need to take extra care with these words in particular, because these slips of the tongue contain swear words, can be offensive and/or simply don't make sense at all!
Sentence: Mispronunciation
I can't get enough of the city life in Hong Kong: I can't get enough of the shitty life in Hong Kong.
Please sit down: Please sh*t down.
Our little girl has six dolls: Our little girl has sex dolls.
We got him six toys for Christmas: We got him sex toys for Christmas.
That's a really old folk song: That's a really old f*ck song.
Could you give me a clean fork, please: Could you give me a clean f*ck, please?
Foxhounds : F*ck sounds.
Benedict: Bend a dick.
The student used his cork to seal the test-tube: The student used his cock to seal the test-tube.
Do you have an available slot, say, at 5pm tomorrow: Do you have an available slut, say, at 5pm tomorrow?
I cannot live without her: I cannot live without whore.
You can't: You cunt!
I ordered the third sandwich on the menu: I ordered the turd sandwich on the menu.
Everyone loves a good father: Everyone loves a good farter.
Brush your teeth: Brush your teat.
The professors showed us their theses: The professors showed us their feces.
There's a lot of rust inside the car: There's a lot of lust inside the car.
The entire audience clapped: The entire audience crapped.
There are lumps in my mashed potatoes: There are rumps in my mashed potatoes.
The American people elected Obama: The American people erected Obama.
The elections come and go so ever-so-quickly: The erections come and go ever-so-quickly.
The whole wall is made of bricks: The whole wall is made of pricks.
And my favorite three. They are my favorite because I've actually heard these being said:
I have to perform a piece on stage: I have to perform a piss on stage.
The beaches are really nice and hot in Thailand: The b*tches are really nice and hot in Thailand.
Feel free to take a sheet: Feel free to take a sh*t!
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
86 - Talking about respect
Alright, bloggers. Think of somebody who you respect highly and by whom you are respected as well. Do you ever talk about the respect you have for one another?
In my experience, respect is a tricky thing to define, give and return, but generally, I believe the less you have to talk about respect with someone, the better. Respect, trust and liking is felt instinctively and cannot be induced by reasonable words alone. Together, they mix together to form a 'bond' known as 'friendship' and that bond can be strong or weak based on the level, and more importantly, the balance of those three aspects (and perhaps some more, please share if you can come up with another component of 'friendship'). My best friend and I mutually trust and respect each other. We don't need to talk about it. We're fine.
But recently, I have been given a lot of crap about me being disrespectful. Often when we say we're 'disrespected', it is because we have certain standards that we apply to others, and in most cases, ourselves, but others are not abiding by these standards. We expect others to meet those standards, to 'respect' your standards, because they should, because they're people that mean something to you, because they should care, but they don't listen, they don't care, and they disappoint you.
Here's where I start to get opinionated.
First, who are you to apply standards to me? What about my standards that you are not abiding by? Why should I respect you first? Why do I feel like you never respect me?
Gosh, talking about respect is a pain up my ass whenever I have to argue with someone about our 'balance' of respect and it just isn't necessary to discuss it if you really were friends that have respect for each other because you'd use your intuition to achieve that balance. You would just tell them out loud every once in a while that you have a lot of respect for him/her, or you would do something that shows you respect the way they handle things in life. And just on the top of my head, respect can come in the form of many things, symbolized by things like tolerance, acceptance, patience, advice, fun, joy, agreement, disagreement, admiration, trust, liking and love, and many others, of course. Instead of demanding for respect, learn to give some first, in the form of any of those aforesaid things is fine...
(This post is a rambling, but in the past month or so, after somebody surprised me by saying he was tired of my disrespectful behavior, I spent some time reflecting on my behavior and found that we were disrespecting each other. The difference is that I am willing to accept that and do something about it to change myself to make the relationship better. After about three weeks of me trying and failing again and again since the New Year, though, it's obvious that you need to have a mutual effort to change. Some people need to look in the mirror before they accuse others of being disrespectful...)
In my experience, respect is a tricky thing to define, give and return, but generally, I believe the less you have to talk about respect with someone, the better. Respect, trust and liking is felt instinctively and cannot be induced by reasonable words alone. Together, they mix together to form a 'bond' known as 'friendship' and that bond can be strong or weak based on the level, and more importantly, the balance of those three aspects (and perhaps some more, please share if you can come up with another component of 'friendship'). My best friend and I mutually trust and respect each other. We don't need to talk about it. We're fine.
But recently, I have been given a lot of crap about me being disrespectful. Often when we say we're 'disrespected', it is because we have certain standards that we apply to others, and in most cases, ourselves, but others are not abiding by these standards. We expect others to meet those standards, to 'respect' your standards, because they should, because they're people that mean something to you, because they should care, but they don't listen, they don't care, and they disappoint you.
Here's where I start to get opinionated.
First, who are you to apply standards to me? What about my standards that you are not abiding by? Why should I respect you first? Why do I feel like you never respect me?
Gosh, talking about respect is a pain up my ass whenever I have to argue with someone about our 'balance' of respect and it just isn't necessary to discuss it if you really were friends that have respect for each other because you'd use your intuition to achieve that balance. You would just tell them out loud every once in a while that you have a lot of respect for him/her, or you would do something that shows you respect the way they handle things in life. And just on the top of my head, respect can come in the form of many things, symbolized by things like tolerance, acceptance, patience, advice, fun, joy, agreement, disagreement, admiration, trust, liking and love, and many others, of course. Instead of demanding for respect, learn to give some first, in the form of any of those aforesaid things is fine...
(This post is a rambling, but in the past month or so, after somebody surprised me by saying he was tired of my disrespectful behavior, I spent some time reflecting on my behavior and found that we were disrespecting each other. The difference is that I am willing to accept that and do something about it to change myself to make the relationship better. After about three weeks of me trying and failing again and again since the New Year, though, it's obvious that you need to have a mutual effort to change. Some people need to look in the mirror before they accuse others of being disrespectful...)
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
85 - Poetry reading at the 2009 presidential inauguration
Praise song for the day.
Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others' eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.
Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.
A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Begin."
We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; words to consider, reconsider.
We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, "I need to see what's on the other side; I know there's something better down the road."
We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.
Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.
Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.
Some live by "Love thy neighbor as thy self."
Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need.
What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.
In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light.
--------------------------------------------
The way she read it sounded like a female Steven Hawking. Not much rhythm at all. Don't get me wrong, I like poetry and I make sure I read one everyday. The one read out at the presidential inauguration was a surprising second dosage of my daily verse, but while it was rich in content, the style was not to my liking. It was slow, and difficult to understand to common laymen, which is not what you want when the world is watching.
Did you hate it too?
Monday, January 19, 2009
84 - Folding the corners of pages
Damn, school is killing me. It's 7:07am and I'm just about to rush off to another day of tiresome school. I forgot to do yesterday's post, so I just looked around and there was my copy of Dickens' Great Expectations with the corner of the front cover peeling off, reminding me of the countless times I've seen people who fold the corners of pages to mark where they stopped reading a book. I used to use bookmarks, or simply remember the page I was at, but now I simply don't have the time to read.
I didn't like it whenever my mother and I would share books because often she would fold the corners and I was awfully distracted every time I noticed the corner was folded. It has bugged me quite a lot on several occasions and I have been angry enough to declare to my mother that we would never share books again.
I have to go print off around ten essays now... Talk to you all later...
(By the way, I had to change the toilet roll for the fifth time this year. But I didn't have to do it for about a week so my family's off the hook.)
I didn't like it whenever my mother and I would share books because often she would fold the corners and I was awfully distracted every time I noticed the corner was folded. It has bugged me quite a lot on several occasions and I have been angry enough to declare to my mother that we would never share books again.
I have to go print off around ten essays now... Talk to you all later...
(By the way, I had to change the toilet roll for the fifth time this year. But I didn't have to do it for about a week so my family's off the hook.)
Sunday, January 18, 2009
83 - Looking angry when you read
Ever seen someone who looks absolutely infuriated when he/she reads?
It's extremely hilarious but it sure is unsettling sitting next to them when they have their eyes tightly screwed, their brow intensely crinkled, their lips pouting, their body temperature rising and their gaze so fierce you can almost visualize a red line of laser beam coming from their eyes and searing through the page. It's their special method of staying focused, but it makes me highly neurotic.
It's extremely hilarious but it sure is unsettling sitting next to them when they have their eyes tightly screwed, their brow intensely crinkled, their lips pouting, their body temperature rising and their gaze so fierce you can almost visualize a red line of laser beam coming from their eyes and searing through the page. It's their special method of staying focused, but it makes me highly neurotic.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
82 - George W. Bush and Tony Blair
The other day, I was watching a documentary on what Tony Blair and George W. Bush thought of the war in Iraq and whether they now thought that it was a good idea to send their troops there to battle in the search of weapons of mass destruction. Reading between the lines, they sure seemed regretful and guilty, but they were trying hard to keep up a confident demeanor. Altogether, it was all very self-righteous and pompous. The way that George Bush has lied to the American public about Iraq, the tax cuts, the budget, the education bill and his interest in Africa, to name a few is ridiculous and careless presidential performance. Tony Blair's arrogance and misleading speeches aren't any better. He has lied about cutting taxes too, yet the financial pressures on citizens is not lessened.
Isn't this the way we always see politicians, though? Is it?
Friday, January 16, 2009
81 - Close-mindedness
My friend, Sarah, and I are at the Hong Kong Central Library and as she's currently leafing through books on the Cold War, I'm taking this opportunity to write today's post while she works.
Sarah seems a little paranoid and thinks I might be writing about her. She's asked me whether or not I'm writing about her cold sores or her boots or perhaps the way she searches for books. To be honest, I do take issue with the strolling around the library searching for the book because that's what the Dewey decimal system and the library catalogs are for. I mean, right now, I could just as easily write about her swinging her arms as she walks, the way she tiptoes to reach books on higher shelves or perhaps the way she crouches or squats to reach books on low ones. Personally, I do those things too, but much more quickly... when nobody is around... because I'm weird like that.
But anyway. Nah. I won't write about her, but she does serve as inspiration for today's idea.
One thing I've always admired about her is the fact that she always has an opinion on everything, i.e., she's never at a loss for words. Like me, she gets how it is to have a versatile taste in different areas of life and you can always count on her to speak up about something or be open-minded enough to listen to you.
There are many people I know that lack this quality. They're narrow-minded and too comfortable with being just comfortable all the freakin' time. They're happy to be another sheep in the herd and find the black sheep (me) very unsettling. A guy like me can obviously communicate with them, and can understand their points of view, but when it's the other way around, I can't tell them anything because they either wouldn't know what to say or wouldn't want to say anything. They don't care that they're ignorant, and they don't hate the fact that they are small in this world. They don't want to know or have more because what they know and have now is decent enough and they'll turn their backs on any opportunities they might have to learn something new.
I have grown from being the baby born in Hong Kong to the teenager that just loves to expose himself to more and more. I want to travel the world in the future, be a forensic anthropologist, a doctor, a Hollywood writer... I give every television show and movie a chance just for the chance to learn something new. I'll try any food, I'll read any book, magazine, comic or blog. I blog because it's a great way to meet people. I don't dislike any of my subjects at school, say it's boring or "stupid", just because it's new, just because it's difficult.
I don't give up and I like learning at school, and in life, and I think that close-minded people are missing quite a lot by being content with their experiences and knowledge that they have already. People who lack flexibility in their breadth of view and rigidly adhere to their own life need to give the wider world a shot.
This doesn't just apply to my friends and me and my little life in Hong Kong.
On a far greater scale, close-mindedness, lack of tolerance, and unwillingness to take in other ideas is the major instigation of war and political upheaval nowadays. I'm no expert, but take the Cold War as an example: communists and capitalists, both unreceptive to each other's different approach to dealing with the economy, cause a death toll that's still being counted now (does anyone have an estimation?).
Library closing, have to end here. Close-mindedness, do you hate it too?
Sarah seems a little paranoid and thinks I might be writing about her. She's asked me whether or not I'm writing about her cold sores or her boots or perhaps the way she searches for books. To be honest, I do take issue with the strolling around the library searching for the book because that's what the Dewey decimal system and the library catalogs are for. I mean, right now, I could just as easily write about her swinging her arms as she walks, the way she tiptoes to reach books on higher shelves or perhaps the way she crouches or squats to reach books on low ones. Personally, I do those things too, but much more quickly... when nobody is around... because I'm weird like that.
But anyway. Nah. I won't write about her, but she does serve as inspiration for today's idea.
One thing I've always admired about her is the fact that she always has an opinion on everything, i.e., she's never at a loss for words. Like me, she gets how it is to have a versatile taste in different areas of life and you can always count on her to speak up about something or be open-minded enough to listen to you.
There are many people I know that lack this quality. They're narrow-minded and too comfortable with being just comfortable all the freakin' time. They're happy to be another sheep in the herd and find the black sheep (me) very unsettling. A guy like me can obviously communicate with them, and can understand their points of view, but when it's the other way around, I can't tell them anything because they either wouldn't know what to say or wouldn't want to say anything. They don't care that they're ignorant, and they don't hate the fact that they are small in this world. They don't want to know or have more because what they know and have now is decent enough and they'll turn their backs on any opportunities they might have to learn something new.
I have grown from being the baby born in Hong Kong to the teenager that just loves to expose himself to more and more. I want to travel the world in the future, be a forensic anthropologist, a doctor, a Hollywood writer... I give every television show and movie a chance just for the chance to learn something new. I'll try any food, I'll read any book, magazine, comic or blog. I blog because it's a great way to meet people. I don't dislike any of my subjects at school, say it's boring or "stupid", just because it's new, just because it's difficult.
I don't give up and I like learning at school, and in life, and I think that close-minded people are missing quite a lot by being content with their experiences and knowledge that they have already. People who lack flexibility in their breadth of view and rigidly adhere to their own life need to give the wider world a shot.
This doesn't just apply to my friends and me and my little life in Hong Kong.
On a far greater scale, close-mindedness, lack of tolerance, and unwillingness to take in other ideas is the major instigation of war and political upheaval nowadays. I'm no expert, but take the Cold War as an example: communists and capitalists, both unreceptive to each other's different approach to dealing with the economy, cause a death toll that's still being counted now (does anyone have an estimation?).
Library closing, have to end here. Close-mindedness, do you hate it too?
Thursday, January 15, 2009
80 - BCDEGPTVZ
Could you spell your surname for me, please?
R-I-V—
Sorry, eh, uh, er, sorry, R...?
I...
I...
V...
G?
V...
T?
V...
B?
V!
V?
Yes!
R-I-V...
E...
T?
(hang up)
R-I-V—
Sorry, eh, uh, er, sorry, R...?
I...
I...
V...
G?
V...
T?
V...
B?
V!
V?
Yes!
R-I-V...
E...
T?
(hang up)
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
79 - School noises
I hate the chair noises that create this huge ruckus at the beginning of class when everyone pulls the chairs out from under the desks to sit down, followed by the most annoying fuss at the end of the lesson when everybody gets up again and tucks in said chairs.
I hate the paper noises that rip my eardrums whenever we have to turn the page of the same book or the same bunch of worksheets. Reading through a newspaper generates this annoyance too.
I hate locker noises the most. (1) When people either drop their bag on to the floor so they can get to their locker, (2) hurl it on to the top of the lockers with a massive thud, (3) or violently knee the lockers to balance their bag on their thigh, (4) then unlock their padlocks without the slightest bit of grace, (5) open the locker excessively so that it recoils after reaching its limit with a clunk, (6) ruffle through paper, (7) and lift books up only to drop them again, (8) slam the locker door, (9) fiddle with getting the lock back on again, (10) in addition to any talking, (11) (12) whistling, (13) humming, (14) singing, (15) sneezing, (16) coughing, (17) clearing of the throat, (18) burping, (19) farting, (20) screaming, (21) shouting, (22) laughing, (23) yawning, (24) sniffing, (25) sighing and/or (26) breathing heavily that may occur during their visit to their locker.
Oh, and any teachers in high heels who may pass by.
I hate the paper noises that rip my eardrums whenever we have to turn the page of the same book or the same bunch of worksheets. Reading through a newspaper generates this annoyance too.
I hate locker noises the most. (1) When people either drop their bag on to the floor so they can get to their locker, (2) hurl it on to the top of the lockers with a massive thud, (3) or violently knee the lockers to balance their bag on their thigh, (4) then unlock their padlocks without the slightest bit of grace, (5) open the locker excessively so that it recoils after reaching its limit with a clunk, (6) ruffle through paper, (7) and lift books up only to drop them again, (8) slam the locker door, (9) fiddle with getting the lock back on again, (10) in addition to any talking, (11) (12) whistling, (13) humming, (14) singing, (15) sneezing, (16) coughing, (17) clearing of the throat, (18) burping, (19) farting, (20) screaming, (21) shouting, (22) laughing, (23) yawning, (24) sniffing, (25) sighing and/or (26) breathing heavily that may occur during their visit to their locker.
Oh, and any teachers in high heels who may pass by.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
78 - Inappropriate physical contact with strangers in public
Oh, mother.
A minibus (pictured above), a train and a bus are my modes of transport each and every morning. It takes about an hour to get to school if I don't stop for breakfast on the way and provided that the trains don't take too long. Often, on the train, I look at the people. Hongkongers are very unique and altogether, the public is able to create a very diverse and interesting city to live in.
Very frequently, I get inspiration for this blog while on the train, but I have to say, today's topic upset me so much more than anything else and would definitely go in my top ten list of pet peeves (if I made one).
One day, around a year ago, I had had a relatively abysmal day at school due to a lot of repetitive nudging of my chair from behind and a great deal of watching people fidgeting in class. Also, someone had just sent me an impromptu invitation to see a movie, which I couldn't possibly go to, because I had promised I'd go help my mother pick out hideous Crocs. Of course, the turnstile was obstructed by some dumb ol' kid as I approached it to enter the train station.
It was the afternoon/evening rush hour where everybody's finished work/school and so the train station and incidentally the train were really, really crowded. And that's when the, uh, in appropriate physical contact happened.
So, the doors of the train open and I join in with the mass of people surging into the train, filling up as much space as possible inside the train compartment. The doors closed and I am stuck there, completely immobile except for my ability to turn and tilt my head perhaps.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the guy standing on my right, who has his chest and stomach pressed up against my side. He was in a student's uniform, probably 18 or 19, wore thick black frames and had lots of acne on his face. He was disgusting, not because of his looks, but because of his acne, and he also had a thin layer of dandruff sprinkled all over his head. (And just as an aside, I am superficial like that when it comes to appearances, at least on first impression when I'm around strangers who have their entire torso in close contact with my arm.)
I was quite repulsed by this man, because of his uncleanliness, and I could see that there was space behind him which he could have stepped into instead. So, I subtlety shouldered him to encourage him to take a step back, but no, no, this guy wouldn't budge and he had intentions of, uh, touching me. In fact, after I nudged him, he moved even closer towards me, with his left leg then touching my right. He was purposefully rubbing his body against mine and slyly disguising his movements as leaning so as to counteract the train's moving, but I was not fooled. He was being particularly physical with purpose.
I pushed him a second time, this time more obviously, obvious enough that any stranger who may not have been in the know would have backed away. He knew what he was doing, and he resisted the pressure I put on to him. And that's when I felt his ... excitement on my leg. This guy was humping my leg.
I was so in shock, at least initially. I didn't think people actually did that. I waited until we reached the next stop.
The train arrived at my station and came to a halt and just as quickly as the influx took, the outflow of people speedily stepped off the train one by one and just as the pervert was reaching his climax, God forbid, I turned toward him, swore at him and used all the force I could gather to shove him—hard. He lost his balance and gravity pulled him to the floor. He probably went into momentary shock too and perhaps took a while to look up, but how would I know ... I was gone.
If any of you are about to say I'm mean ... keep in mind that I felt his erection on my leg. ;)
A minibus (pictured above), a train and a bus are my modes of transport each and every morning. It takes about an hour to get to school if I don't stop for breakfast on the way and provided that the trains don't take too long. Often, on the train, I look at the people. Hongkongers are very unique and altogether, the public is able to create a very diverse and interesting city to live in.
Very frequently, I get inspiration for this blog while on the train, but I have to say, today's topic upset me so much more than anything else and would definitely go in my top ten list of pet peeves (if I made one).
One day, around a year ago, I had had a relatively abysmal day at school due to a lot of repetitive nudging of my chair from behind and a great deal of watching people fidgeting in class. Also, someone had just sent me an impromptu invitation to see a movie, which I couldn't possibly go to, because I had promised I'd go help my mother pick out hideous Crocs. Of course, the turnstile was obstructed by some dumb ol' kid as I approached it to enter the train station.
It was the afternoon/evening rush hour where everybody's finished work/school and so the train station and incidentally the train were really, really crowded. And that's when the, uh, in appropriate physical contact happened.
So, the doors of the train open and I join in with the mass of people surging into the train, filling up as much space as possible inside the train compartment. The doors closed and I am stuck there, completely immobile except for my ability to turn and tilt my head perhaps.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the guy standing on my right, who has his chest and stomach pressed up against my side. He was in a student's uniform, probably 18 or 19, wore thick black frames and had lots of acne on his face. He was disgusting, not because of his looks, but because of his acne, and he also had a thin layer of dandruff sprinkled all over his head. (And just as an aside, I am superficial like that when it comes to appearances, at least on first impression when I'm around strangers who have their entire torso in close contact with my arm.)
I was quite repulsed by this man, because of his uncleanliness, and I could see that there was space behind him which he could have stepped into instead. So, I subtlety shouldered him to encourage him to take a step back, but no, no, this guy wouldn't budge and he had intentions of, uh, touching me. In fact, after I nudged him, he moved even closer towards me, with his left leg then touching my right. He was purposefully rubbing his body against mine and slyly disguising his movements as leaning so as to counteract the train's moving, but I was not fooled. He was being particularly physical with purpose.
I pushed him a second time, this time more obviously, obvious enough that any stranger who may not have been in the know would have backed away. He knew what he was doing, and he resisted the pressure I put on to him. And that's when I felt his ... excitement on my leg. This guy was humping my leg.
I was so in shock, at least initially. I didn't think people actually did that. I waited until we reached the next stop.
The train arrived at my station and came to a halt and just as quickly as the influx took, the outflow of people speedily stepped off the train one by one and just as the pervert was reaching his climax, God forbid, I turned toward him, swore at him and used all the force I could gather to shove him—hard. He lost his balance and gravity pulled him to the floor. He probably went into momentary shock too and perhaps took a while to look up, but how would I know ... I was gone.
If any of you are about to say I'm mean ... keep in mind that I felt his erection on my leg. ;)
Monday, January 12, 2009
77 - Buttcrack showing
Do girls think it's enticing to reveal their crack? I wouldn't think so because that's where poo comes from. (<--- Words of wisdom, ladies and gentlemen). I see this occurring less now, however, the past is not hard to beat as I remember there used to be a time where I would be sitting at the back of the classroom, only to find, literally, seven girls' asscracks exhibited in the front row. Sometimes, I would think to myself, This is unreal, man.
I've actually had my own asscrack showing accidentally one time. I basically had just changed out of my sports shorts and into my jeans and rather unwisely didn't think my jeans were that low. I hadn't invested in a belt and the weight of my jeans brought my boxer shorts with them as I squatted to get my books out of my locker, and yeah, it was pretty embarrassing to have people laugh at me from behind.
Anyway, so let me tell you a story.
There are two girls in my class and they are twins. For confidentiality's sake, instead of using their real names, we'll call them Torey and Tess. Out of all the girls in my class, Torey and Tess would always be the ones with their buttcracks showing. It happened whenever they squatted to reach for things inside their locker, whenever they sat down on a chair, whenever they just stood there, in fact. They would often be the laughing stock of the other more sophisticated and careful girls, and since I have a keen eye, I often shared a laugh with the other girls whenever we caught sight of Torey and Tess' unmentionable crevices.
So, one day, it's a Tuesday and we've all just finished lunch. We go down to the lockers and everybody grabs their bag and their books and heads off to wait outside the next classroom. I hear the laughing, so I look toward the twins' lockers and sure enough, there was Torey, kneeling at her locker with her asscrack showing ever-so-openly. At that moment, I felt sort of sorry for Torey and her sister always being ridiculed, so I decided to be a good and mature Samaritan and just tell her that perhaps she could do with a little pulling up of the pants every now and then.
Oh, Michael...
I walked up to Torey slowly and knelt down beside her quietly and gently.
She had her head turned away from me so I took a few seconds to gather my thoughts: Torey? There's something I feel you should know...
I was ready to inform her, so I tapped her on the shoulder.
"Torey?"
And you know what she said to me?
"Uh, I'm not Torey... I'm Tess."
I've actually had my own asscrack showing accidentally one time. I basically had just changed out of my sports shorts and into my jeans and rather unwisely didn't think my jeans were that low. I hadn't invested in a belt and the weight of my jeans brought my boxer shorts with them as I squatted to get my books out of my locker, and yeah, it was pretty embarrassing to have people laugh at me from behind.
Anyway, so let me tell you a story.
There are two girls in my class and they are twins. For confidentiality's sake, instead of using their real names, we'll call them Torey and Tess. Out of all the girls in my class, Torey and Tess would always be the ones with their buttcracks showing. It happened whenever they squatted to reach for things inside their locker, whenever they sat down on a chair, whenever they just stood there, in fact. They would often be the laughing stock of the other more sophisticated and careful girls, and since I have a keen eye, I often shared a laugh with the other girls whenever we caught sight of Torey and Tess' unmentionable crevices.
So, one day, it's a Tuesday and we've all just finished lunch. We go down to the lockers and everybody grabs their bag and their books and heads off to wait outside the next classroom. I hear the laughing, so I look toward the twins' lockers and sure enough, there was Torey, kneeling at her locker with her asscrack showing ever-so-openly. At that moment, I felt sort of sorry for Torey and her sister always being ridiculed, so I decided to be a good and mature Samaritan and just tell her that perhaps she could do with a little pulling up of the pants every now and then.
Oh, Michael...
I walked up to Torey slowly and knelt down beside her quietly and gently.
She had her head turned away from me so I took a few seconds to gather my thoughts: Torey? There's something I feel you should know...
I was ready to inform her, so I tapped her on the shoulder.
"Torey?"
And you know what she said to me?
"Uh, I'm not Torey... I'm Tess."
Sunday, January 11, 2009
76 - Feeling sorry for your own bad grades
"Just keep it to yourself, for God's sake. There's nothing we can do to make you achieve better if you tell us about your bad grades. And if you're thinking that perhaps Michael would like to listen to and understand your school-related doubts and fears, I get that and I can do that for you. But sorry, I find grades superficial. If I were like you, I could go on for days analyzing my report card, but I'm not. I'm not saying don't care. I'm saying don't worry. Just shut up and do better next time." - Michael, online, talking to one of his classmates in July '08.
I'm on the fence with this one. On one hand, I tend not to worry about life in general, and I believe there are bigger, better things to worry about than school/grades/education, if you were to worry about something, that is. I mean, they're numbers and letters on a sheet.
Sure, on the other hand, grades determine the future, in terms of your career, thus, your salary, therefore, your standard of living. Grades reflect your academic ability and your intelligence and your sense of responsibility ... But come on, what is the use of complaining about it and exaggerating such superficiality right now? Tell me, what is the point in you telling me all that crap, and thinking about all that in your head?
If you're just going to sit there and complain, and not take action to improve, then you're wasting my time. Quit worrying and start caring about the future by taking action in the present.
I'm on the fence with this one. On one hand, I tend not to worry about life in general, and I believe there are bigger, better things to worry about than school/grades/education, if you were to worry about something, that is. I mean, they're numbers and letters on a sheet.
Sure, on the other hand, grades determine the future, in terms of your career, thus, your salary, therefore, your standard of living. Grades reflect your academic ability and your intelligence and your sense of responsibility ... But come on, what is the use of complaining about it and exaggerating such superficiality right now? Tell me, what is the point in you telling me all that crap, and thinking about all that in your head?
If you're just going to sit there and complain, and not take action to improve, then you're wasting my time. Quit worrying and start caring about the future by taking action in the present.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
75 - Empty tissue roll in the toilet
Today, I came to the realization that since the new year began, I have gone to use the bathroom in our apartment quite a number of times (as most people do). It has occurred to me that I have been the unfortunate one who has to had to change the toilet roll four consecutive times in a row. I have had to go in there four times this year and every time, I have found an empty or near-empty roll there in that slot on my bathroom wall. It makes me wonder if my family are purposefully timing their visits to the bathroom, and regulating the amount of toilet paper they pull out, so that I'm the unwitting victim that has to perform the chore every time I go in there to do #2..jpg)
If it happens for a fifth time, I am addressing the issue at the dinner table.Friday, January 9, 2009
74 -" !!!!!!!11"
Following yesterday's post about full stops, I figured I might as well talk about another punctuation symbol: the exclamation mark!
Haven't we all we all seen this typo: "!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111"?
It happens when one tries to create dramatic effect with the repeated use of the exclamation mark, but gets so excited, to the point where one's brain does not function properly and forgets that if one stops applying force to the [Shift] key without removing one's finger from the [1] key, a bunch of 1's show up because the computer fails to realize you actually wanted the symbol above the 1. This renders the dramatic effect ineffective and, yes, our idea of how intelligent the person who makes these errors is all gets a bit... shifty.
Okay, that was an awful joke.
Ahem, the little mistakes people make can be so insignificant, but I'm just addressing the point: why does it have to happen at all? Are we really that incapable of eradicating these small errors?
Haven't we all we all seen this typo: "!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111"?
It happens when one tries to create dramatic effect with the repeated use of the exclamation mark, but gets so excited, to the point where one's brain does not function properly and forgets that if one stops applying force to the [Shift] key without removing one's finger from the [1] key, a bunch of 1's show up because the computer fails to realize you actually wanted the symbol above the 1. This renders the dramatic effect ineffective and, yes, our idea of how intelligent the person who makes these errors is all gets a bit... shifty.
Okay, that was an awful joke.
Ahem, the little mistakes people make can be so insignificant, but I'm just addressing the point: why does it have to happen at all? Are we really that incapable of eradicating these small errors?
Thursday, January 8, 2009
73 - Not using three full stops for an ellipsis
It's three dots...
Not two..
Not four....
Three...
And if you really want to emphasize the feeling of time passing for a... pause in speech, or an unfinished thought...
...don't use sixteen, twenty-six or seventy-seven full stops. Use a number that's divisible by three...............
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
72 - Too much of a sweet tooth
I used to know a person called Ben Cook. I like to talk about Ben with my close friend for six years and recall all his special characteristics. We often laugh about this sad sticker on the box he took to music class that said, "I love my clarinet." And we remember this absolutely hilarious incident where he managed to run into a football post and hit his forehead with a loud BANG. Aside from the fact that he liked to take off his shoes during class, one of the most memorable things about Ben Cook is his sweet tooth.
He would carry Airheads in his pockets everywhere he went. We would often see him unwrapping a toffee, drinking Coca Cola or with a lollypop in his mouth. There was one time when my close friend went to Ben's place to hang out. They were sitting in his room and Ben shouted, "Mum?!!?? Is there any more cake left?!?!"
His mother replied with, "No, dear!"
And so Ben went downstairs to the kitchen to scavenge for food.
My close friend followed him downstairs and walked in on Ben pouring plain white sugar into his mouth. Wouldn't you hate the sight of that too?
He would carry Airheads in his pockets everywhere he went. We would often see him unwrapping a toffee, drinking Coca Cola or with a lollypop in his mouth. There was one time when my close friend went to Ben's place to hang out. They were sitting in his room and Ben shouted, "Mum?!!?? Is there any more cake left?!?!"
His mother replied with, "No, dear!"
And so Ben went downstairs to the kitchen to scavenge for food.
My close friend followed him downstairs and walked in on Ben pouring plain white sugar into his mouth. Wouldn't you hate the sight of that too?
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
71 - Not using the scoop to make balls of ice cream
It hasn't been a happy new year so far, folks, as you may have noticed from the subject matter of this blog's posts and those of my other blog. But I promise (myself) that that will change. It needs to change because otherwise this will just become another personal blog where my confuséd teenage thoughts mix with my writing like oil and water, where all my tears fall on to the ingredients to be used in a recipe, leading to a service of salty noodles, soggy toast and dilute milkshakes. I don't know where I'm going with this, I really don't...
Oh, but anyway, get ready to go back to the olden days of Do you hate it too? where I poke fun at the stupidity of strangers around me, 'cause I'm going to do a week's worth of fun posts. (I swear!) As the Joker says: "Why so serious?"
Without further ado, today's post is about something we all love: ice cre—wait a minute. Love? Yeesh, what's this 'love' doing on this blog?
What I meant was that today's post is about something that I absolutely loathe, and this something is the negligence to use a ice cream scooper to achieve its maximum potential. I hate it when people do not use the scoop to make spheres with the ice cream. I always make a perfectly round ball of ice cream because the sphere is such a perfect shape for ice cream, such a perfect shape.
I hate the lines you get in buffets by the freezer where boxes of ice cream are there for you to scoop for yourselves. The process is slow when there are only one or two scoops to go around and space for two to stand at the thing. What amazes me is that there are so many people that don't even attempt to make the perfect ball. They're happy scraping at the rim and on the sides for tiny shavings of ice cream, and settling for their irregularly shaped chunks of ice cream. Why pay such a long visit to the ice cream dispenser if you're not even going to try making a sphere?
Do you see how pretty that is?
Oh, but anyway, get ready to go back to the olden days of Do you hate it too? where I poke fun at the stupidity of strangers around me, 'cause I'm going to do a week's worth of fun posts. (I swear!) As the Joker says: "Why so serious?"
Without further ado, today's post is about something we all love: ice cre—wait a minute. Love? Yeesh, what's this 'love' doing on this blog?
What I meant was that today's post is about something that I absolutely loathe, and this something is the negligence to use a ice cream scooper to achieve its maximum potential. I hate it when people do not use the scoop to make spheres with the ice cream. I always make a perfectly round ball of ice cream because the sphere is such a perfect shape for ice cream, such a perfect shape.
I hate the lines you get in buffets by the freezer where boxes of ice cream are there for you to scoop for yourselves. The process is slow when there are only one or two scoops to go around and space for two to stand at the thing. What amazes me is that there are so many people that don't even attempt to make the perfect ball. They're happy scraping at the rim and on the sides for tiny shavings of ice cream, and settling for their irregularly shaped chunks of ice cream. Why pay such a long visit to the ice cream dispenser if you're not even going to try making a sphere?
Do you see how pretty that is?
Monday, January 5, 2009
70 - Keeping skeletons in our closet
I've been more honest in my comments on other blogs than I have been on even my own personal blog. After sharing something personal with another blogger in a comment, he replied to my comment saying thank you for sharing and that everybody has skeletons in their closet...
That's only too true. And I know I've kept a lot of secrets to myself from from my parents and my closest friends. I don't like this fact, because I appreciate honesty. I despise people who feel so uneasy about sharing. I pride myself in always saying that secrets are just secrets, words are just words, the past is just the past. But the past is complex and tricky. We do hide things, no matter how open or honest we are because we will always have something that's just too hard for us to forget, something that we keep inside everyday that hurts and distracts us when we think about it, something only we would understand, something we don't want others to know because we're worried that others would not understand, or would think less of us, or would meddle in our crap. We save it in our hearts and memories because that's where we believe it belongs, not across the dining table, not in a class discussion, not at the birthday party, in our heads for safe-keeping.
I wish I could let those secrets go. They're petty when looked at in another perspective. It's not worth my effort to hide them. I don't have the right to say I'm a truthful person, or to accept 'you're an honest person' as a compliment, if I can't even say the whole truth.
Oh, but I know after this post, I will continue to keep things to myself. That fact is hypocritical and is difficult to digest.
I hide a lot of things from you bloggers too. I wish I didn't. Here's an example: Why am I posting this at 1:47pm in the afternoon, when I really should be at school?
(By the way, the Christmas tree is still standing in the living room...)
That's only too true. And I know I've kept a lot of secrets to myself from from my parents and my closest friends. I don't like this fact, because I appreciate honesty. I despise people who feel so uneasy about sharing. I pride myself in always saying that secrets are just secrets, words are just words, the past is just the past. But the past is complex and tricky. We do hide things, no matter how open or honest we are because we will always have something that's just too hard for us to forget, something that we keep inside everyday that hurts and distracts us when we think about it, something only we would understand, something we don't want others to know because we're worried that others would not understand, or would think less of us, or would meddle in our crap. We save it in our hearts and memories because that's where we believe it belongs, not across the dining table, not in a class discussion, not at the birthday party, in our heads for safe-keeping.
I wish I could let those secrets go. They're petty when looked at in another perspective. It's not worth my effort to hide them. I don't have the right to say I'm a truthful person, or to accept 'you're an honest person' as a compliment, if I can't even say the whole truth.
Oh, but I know after this post, I will continue to keep things to myself. That fact is hypocritical and is difficult to digest.
I hide a lot of things from you bloggers too. I wish I didn't. Here's an example: Why am I posting this at 1:47pm in the afternoon, when I really should be at school?
(By the way, the Christmas tree is still standing in the living room...)
Sunday, January 4, 2009
69 - Laughing at the number 69
Yes, sixty-nine. Ha ha ha.
Uh, it's just a number. It comes after sixty-eight. It's not that amusing.
Yes, I know what the number looks like.
Yes, I know why it's funny, but don't you think we're a bit too mature to be laughing at something like that?
Yes, but must you point it out everytime you see the number 69?
Yes, I know...
Yes, but...
YES, I KNOW IT'S SEXUAL. I DON'T NEED YOU TO POINT THAT OUT TO ME. I GET IT. BUT I JUST DON'T FIND IT FUNNY.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
68 - People who leave when it gets uncomfortable
I hate it when other people do it, and I've touched on similar topics before in my blogs and my comments on other people's blogs.
I'm not going to be self-righteous here. I do this too, more often than anybody else I know around me (maybe because I see the most of what I do in my life). It's so frustrating for my friends whenever I just leave, just because I can't keep my composure, suck up the bad stuff and face the music. And with a bit of self-reflection, I can see how unreasonable it is and how cowardly it is.
It's funny because doing precisely this was part of my new year resolution. I knew that in 2008, staying in the heat of the moment, battling it out, opposing others and standing for what I believe in took a lot of energy, effort and time. It drove me insane and made me ever-so-tired. In addition, confrontation often made me a very unpleasant person to be with.
And I guess I just got tired of all of it, so I started to just bail whenever I got pissed. I tricked myself into believing that I can stand alone and be alright, which isn't true at all. I realize I can't just run out.
I've had three pretty intense social situations so far (and it's only Day 3 of 2009). And in a mere three days, I could see that my resolution is not practical. The problem is always miscommunication. Staying in the moment to sort it out with others is better.
I'm not going to be self-righteous here. I do this too, more often than anybody else I know around me (maybe because I see the most of what I do in my life). It's so frustrating for my friends whenever I just leave, just because I can't keep my composure, suck up the bad stuff and face the music. And with a bit of self-reflection, I can see how unreasonable it is and how cowardly it is.
It's funny because doing precisely this was part of my new year resolution. I knew that in 2008, staying in the heat of the moment, battling it out, opposing others and standing for what I believe in took a lot of energy, effort and time. It drove me insane and made me ever-so-tired. In addition, confrontation often made me a very unpleasant person to be with.
And I guess I just got tired of all of it, so I started to just bail whenever I got pissed. I tricked myself into believing that I can stand alone and be alright, which isn't true at all. I realize I can't just run out.
I've had three pretty intense social situations so far (and it's only Day 3 of 2009). And in a mere three days, I could see that my resolution is not practical. The problem is always miscommunication. Staying in the moment to sort it out with others is better.
Friday, January 2, 2009
67 - "Chill"
It has occured to me that I haven't written a post for a week (since December 26th). It's because I wrote five days of posts in advance, used photos in the sixth one and a, you know, Youtube video for, you know, yesterday's post. So excuse me if my mind appears to not be set to writing mode. It's been a while.
Many times in the past sixty to seventy days, I have realized that I actually have a surplus of ideas for this blog. In some cases, these ideas were suggested to me from fellow bloggers and friends. In other cases, I just have a bad day where everybody irritates me. But I can only talk about one thing per day because that's what I promised myself.
Sometimes, I really have to let out this anger and rant about it in front of others. In serious cases, I will confront the person that's annoying me and tell them what is discomforting to me about the way they behave. They usually, of course, argue back. I then try to reason with them, and tell them my perspective in a way they might understand and empathize with. And then they will tell me to chill.
Right now, I can't think of anything more annoying to say to somebody that's angry than to tell them to simply: chill. Perhaps I know how you feel or an insincere apology come close, but chill, relax and dude, calm down have to be at the top of the list. It just angers me so much, more than whatever they annoyed me with in the beginning. The rage burns inside you and you want to explode or strangle the other person.
I understand that being chill is good. I like things natural, peaceful and simple too. But gosh, chill is the most ineffective and unhelpful thing to say to someone that's fuming mad and wants nothing more than to release their emotions. It's funny that it has the opposite effect. It's weak advice.
Another one is just let it go. I like to fix problems. I will argue with a person until the issue is resolved. I will not let it go until a resolution is formed. I will not chill or relax and float around with an unsolved problem on my back. It's peaceful, yes, but you have to work hard for your peace to make peace. You must make things resolute by exchanging opinions so as to formulate a conclusion which all parties involved can agree with. I will not settle for peace roused by ignorance and lack of initiative.
Gosh, I need to chill.
Many times in the past sixty to seventy days, I have realized that I actually have a surplus of ideas for this blog. In some cases, these ideas were suggested to me from fellow bloggers and friends. In other cases, I just have a bad day where everybody irritates me. But I can only talk about one thing per day because that's what I promised myself.
Sometimes, I really have to let out this anger and rant about it in front of others. In serious cases, I will confront the person that's annoying me and tell them what is discomforting to me about the way they behave. They usually, of course, argue back. I then try to reason with them, and tell them my perspective in a way they might understand and empathize with. And then they will tell me to chill.
Right now, I can't think of anything more annoying to say to somebody that's angry than to tell them to simply: chill. Perhaps I know how you feel or an insincere apology come close, but chill, relax and dude, calm down have to be at the top of the list. It just angers me so much, more than whatever they annoyed me with in the beginning. The rage burns inside you and you want to explode or strangle the other person.
I understand that being chill is good. I like things natural, peaceful and simple too. But gosh, chill is the most ineffective and unhelpful thing to say to someone that's fuming mad and wants nothing more than to release their emotions. It's funny that it has the opposite effect. It's weak advice.
Another one is just let it go. I like to fix problems. I will argue with a person until the issue is resolved. I will not let it go until a resolution is formed. I will not chill or relax and float around with an unsolved problem on my back. It's peaceful, yes, but you have to work hard for your peace to make peace. You must make things resolute by exchanging opinions so as to formulate a conclusion which all parties involved can agree with. I will not settle for peace roused by ignorance and lack of initiative.
Gosh, I need to chill.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
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