When I first created this blog, I was positively filled with ideas, since I found myself shaking my head in frustration whenever I came across any flaw that belonged to the individuals in society that just piss me and a lot of other people off everyday by simply existing because of how mind-numbingly stupid they are, how much slower and more painful they make our days, and how damn angry and lost they made me feel thanks to the fact that it is the people in society, today and everyday, that irk us on the streets, in our restaurants, at school and in the office, at home and everywhere else, but ironically, are also the same people, and the same society, that hold us responsible for being civil, polite and accepting around others.
Over the past four months, I have grown a little tired of this to be honest. I find that people aren't as annoying as I thought they were, and as I have more time to reflect on my own behavior now that I don't focus on that of others, I become aware of a lot of my own flaws.
And I think it's for my own good. I have flaws, a lot of them, and my time on this blog has shown me that other people aren't that bad, and from the mixed feedback I get, with comments like, "That doesn't bug me so much" or "I have grown used to this" or "I completely disagree with you on this one", I find that complaining about things like what I have complained about isn't necessary, and isn't necessarily humorous. I mean, being hateful is a pretty stupid, senseless, dim-witted, annoying, ridiculous, laughable and mindless thing to do, too, don't you think?
To my fans, don't worry, I'll still keep posting. I love doing it, for people's entertainment, for myself to vent. Trust me, I can find a lot of other pet peeves, superficial and serious, to rave about for another couple of years.
But one of the things I really hate is, in fact, being around people who are hateful. Someone once told me that this is the most ironic thing I could possibly talk about on my blog, but I think I've touched on it before, when I talk about people who disrespect others, people who are argumentative, people who hold grudges, because those are the various ways in which people can show/express their hate.
Undoubtedly, you've heard of the phrase 'everyone's a critic'.
But there's never a need to judge someone negatively (in their face or not). It's mean. It doesn't better anybody's day. And who are you to be so high and mighty, better and holier than everyone else?
I'm aware that I'm digging my own grave, planting my own crucifix, and paying for my own funeral.
But I'm just saying, I hate people who hate. I'm allowed to be a hypocrite on this.
...right?
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
118 - Cruelty toward bears in the domestic setting
Man is the most powerful creature on the planet.
And boy, we're arrogant.
When we think of bears, Winnie the Pooh (or Pooh Bear) comes to mind. As a character intended for children to appreciate, often found in children's books, don't you think it's a bit wrong for him to not be wearing pants, like in this picture for instance, especially when he's sitting there in such a laid-back, innocent manner:
Who comes up with this stuff? How is a stupid, ignorant and overweight bear with no claws or sharp teeth supposed to inspire children and teach them a moral lesson? (The same goes for Eeyore's depressing existence.) How demeaning for the bears in the wild, 'cause they are, in reality, agile, strong and very tactful predators.
Winnie the Pooh is famous for loving honey, and we as an audience often get a long, comfortable look at his bare ass when he manages to get his head stuck in some beehive, or some cave full of honeycombs, because he's that stupid. Like Pooh Bear, real-life wild bears also like honey, and so what do we humans do, us oh-so-self-righteous and powerful humans?
We serve honey out of a bear. We steal the honey from the environment in which the animal that likes it lives, manufacture little plastic containers grotesquely shaped like bears, and squeeze its favorite sweet substance through a tiny hole in its head.
Jeez. That's sick.
And what do you think about a bearskin rug? Because I think it's so unnecessary.
"Hmm, you know, I think the living room looks great, but it's just... missing something."
"...Really? What?"
"Hmmmmmmmmmmmm... The back of a dead bear perhaps? Like laid out in the shape of him? I think that would be awesome."
"Wow, I never thought of that. Do you really think so?"
"Oh, yeah, I highly recommend it."
"Should I keep the head on?"
"Yes, definitely. We want to remember where it came from. It's head is the best pillow when you lie on the rug."
How despicable.
And boy, we're arrogant.
When we think of bears, Winnie the Pooh (or Pooh Bear) comes to mind. As a character intended for children to appreciate, often found in children's books, don't you think it's a bit wrong for him to not be wearing pants, like in this picture for instance, especially when he's sitting there in such a laid-back, innocent manner:
Who comes up with this stuff? How is a stupid, ignorant and overweight bear with no claws or sharp teeth supposed to inspire children and teach them a moral lesson? (The same goes for Eeyore's depressing existence.) How demeaning for the bears in the wild, 'cause they are, in reality, agile, strong and very tactful predators.
Winnie the Pooh is famous for loving honey, and we as an audience often get a long, comfortable look at his bare ass when he manages to get his head stuck in some beehive, or some cave full of honeycombs, because he's that stupid. Like Pooh Bear, real-life wild bears also like honey, and so what do we humans do, us oh-so-self-righteous and powerful humans?
We serve honey out of a bear. We steal the honey from the environment in which the animal that likes it lives, manufacture little plastic containers grotesquely shaped like bears, and squeeze its favorite sweet substance through a tiny hole in its head.
Jeez. That's sick.
And what do you think about a bearskin rug? Because I think it's so unnecessary.
"Hmm, you know, I think the living room looks great, but it's just... missing something."
"...Really? What?"
"Hmmmmmmmmmmmm... The back of a dead bear perhaps? Like laid out in the shape of him? I think that would be awesome."
"Wow, I never thought of that. Do you really think so?"
"Oh, yeah, I highly recommend it."
"Should I keep the head on?"
"Yes, definitely. We want to remember where it came from. It's head is the best pillow when you lie on the rug."
How despicable.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
117 - When another person throws a bowling ball down your lane
I have always loved to bowl, and I remember I used to go every week when I was around 8 or 9 with my mom and her boyfriend. Lifting a heavy sphere with just three fingers and throwing it at pins in the hopes of hearing that euphoric sound of a strike (or a turkey) just came natural to me like I had been born to play this sport. (My childhood asthma makes it hard for me to run around too much when playing soccer or basketball. I get shortness of breath really easily.)
I like that bowling alleys are air-conditioned. I don't like that they require you to change your shoes, but I guess the footwear is just for my own safety. I love the feel of a heavy bowling ball: it's smooth, shiny, and the mathematically perfect shape. They can come in any color, too, and as it rolls down an alley (or into a gutter), it creates one of the most beautiful manmade spectacles.
I'd like to say I'm quite good at bowling, but I haven't had any practice for about a year. I remember I used to be good enough to at least get strikes half the time. You'd think my prowess would earn me some respect on the bowling lanes, but no, apparently it's funny to 'steal' each other's turns, to throw multiple bowling balls down the alley simultaneously and challenge the machinery's automaticity, to disrespect the balls, the pins and the game itself, and just fling balls hard into the gutter because it's so damn funny when we sabotage other people's efforts.
It ain't funny to me. I will throw you to the other end of the alley. I know that my getting angry only makes the situation more amusing to the people that don't appreciate the game as much as I do, that it only fuels them with more entertainment. But you know... It's my turn... It's my lane... It's my game... Grr...
I like that bowling alleys are air-conditioned. I don't like that they require you to change your shoes, but I guess the footwear is just for my own safety. I love the feel of a heavy bowling ball: it's smooth, shiny, and the mathematically perfect shape. They can come in any color, too, and as it rolls down an alley (or into a gutter), it creates one of the most beautiful manmade spectacles.
I'd like to say I'm quite good at bowling, but I haven't had any practice for about a year. I remember I used to be good enough to at least get strikes half the time. You'd think my prowess would earn me some respect on the bowling lanes, but no, apparently it's funny to 'steal' each other's turns, to throw multiple bowling balls down the alley simultaneously and challenge the machinery's automaticity, to disrespect the balls, the pins and the game itself, and just fling balls hard into the gutter because it's so damn funny when we sabotage other people's efforts.
It ain't funny to me. I will throw you to the other end of the alley. I know that my getting angry only makes the situation more amusing to the people that don't appreciate the game as much as I do, that it only fuels them with more entertainment. But you know... It's my turn... It's my lane... It's my game... Grr...
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
116 - Burnt smell of food
That smell is rancid, wouldn't you agree, dudes and dudettes?
I bought a hot dog today at this street vendor thing, and the sausage was all burnt (and tasted disgusting by the way). I smelled the putrid odor as it was cooking on the grill, and saw the billowing smoke that wasn't really inviting, but hey, what can I say? I mean, I was very hungry for sausage. (All together now: that's what she said!)
It was just horrible, and it reminded me of all the times I've ever smelled food that was overcooked. I don't know how to make this post any more fruitful, in terms of descriptiveness, but I just really hate the smell, especially when I'm the one who burns food in the microwave. I bet you've had the stink of burned food in your kitchen emanating from the toaster, or the microwave before, right? It's terrible.
Oh, and the stench of burnt pork chops, to me, is so evil-smelling that it makes me imagine happy, innocent pigs being kicked into a big bonfire in a pit in the ground.
Oh, and the smell of charred toast is probably the last, least effective, smell on Earth to use, if you wanted to turn me on. (Have I said too much again?)
Anyway, a Google search tells me to boil one quart of water with two cups of vinegar to reduce the rank, repulsive foulness. And to swing a wet towel over my head if there's a need to eradicate dispersing smoke.
But doesn't the smell of burnt food just ruin your appetite and day?
--------------------------------
By the way, Anita Helen over at Heart Attack In A Box, managed to take a screenshot of the most fitting Word Verification ever while leaving a comment on one of my other posts. It's pretty cool. Take a look, and click to enlarge:
I bought a hot dog today at this street vendor thing, and the sausage was all burnt (and tasted disgusting by the way). I smelled the putrid odor as it was cooking on the grill, and saw the billowing smoke that wasn't really inviting, but hey, what can I say? I mean, I was very hungry for sausage. (All together now: that's what she said!)
It was just horrible, and it reminded me of all the times I've ever smelled food that was overcooked. I don't know how to make this post any more fruitful, in terms of descriptiveness, but I just really hate the smell, especially when I'm the one who burns food in the microwave. I bet you've had the stink of burned food in your kitchen emanating from the toaster, or the microwave before, right? It's terrible.
Oh, and the stench of burnt pork chops, to me, is so evil-smelling that it makes me imagine happy, innocent pigs being kicked into a big bonfire in a pit in the ground.
Oh, and the smell of charred toast is probably the last, least effective, smell on Earth to use, if you wanted to turn me on. (Have I said too much again?)
Anyway, a Google search tells me to boil one quart of water with two cups of vinegar to reduce the rank, repulsive foulness. And to swing a wet towel over my head if there's a need to eradicate dispersing smoke.
But doesn't the smell of burnt food just ruin your appetite and day?
--------------------------------
By the way, Anita Helen over at Heart Attack In A Box, managed to take a screenshot of the most fitting Word Verification ever while leaving a comment on one of my other posts. It's pretty cool. Take a look, and click to enlarge:
Monday, February 23, 2009
115 - Not being 100% economical
I usually take a shower in the morning because I'm the kind of guy that needs to go to bed once he gets home, and needs to be splashed with water in order to awaken and be ridden of his drowsiness. And this morning, I was squirting out shampoo from the shampoo bottle while I was in the shower, and after I had taken my share and artfully smooshed it all over the top of my head, I checked to see how much shampoo was left, and it was empty.
...Or was it?
You see, I knew there was still shampoo in that thing, there's always some leftover inside, right?
So, I turned the nozzle counter-clockwise until the nozzle came off, and I let water go in, I rinsed it out and poured it all over my head, so I could save what my family would probably have thrown away upon discovery of the bottle's vacancy. I was being resourceful.
But sadly, this seems to be the only way I can minimize wastage. I hate how we can never really get all the butter out of a tub, or all the peanut butter out of a jar. When the ketchup or mustard runs out, I just know there's a couple of milliliters of sauce stuck on the insides, but lack the fluidity to ooze all the way downwards to that little opening. Similarly to squeezing sauce out of the sauce packets you get from fast-food chains, all the strength you can muster and apply to a flexible toothpaste tube will never get all the toothpaste out.
Things that come in tiny granules like baby powder, cheese, sugar, flour, artsy glitter, and salt and pepper, tend to get stuck to the bottom of the container, or caught in between the lid and the rim. You never use it all up.
With food on a plate, everything on mine has to be swallowed, not a single grain of rice left, not even a little broccoli bud, not even a teensy weensy tiny puddle of soup in my bowl. I eat the lettuce, cucumbers and tomatoes salad that go on the side of satay or chicken wings. I lick the spoon, the fork and the knife (this is not allowed, though, right?) after eating. I chew on the residual ice after hydrating myself with an iced beverage.
But the one uneconomical thing that irks me the most comes from drinking drinks out of an aluminum can.
Let's say you take a sip, slowly. You grasp on to the can, and feel the cold condensation on the sides. You kiss the rim of the can, and feel how your lower lip just fits right there on to the curved edge of it. You raise your chin in a manner that looks like your hair's being pulled from behind, and you feel the liquid trickling out of the can, maybe on to your tongue (if you're French kissing the can), and down your throat so fluidly.
You set the can down, and wait ---
what's this? ---
WHAT'S THIS?!?!?! ---
there's some liquid STUCK on the rim where your lips used to be! ---
OH, MY GOD!!! ---
OH NOEZZZ!!!11 ---
oHeMGee1111 ---
lik dat iz so wacki duuuuuuuude ---
gar ban ugdgdgwengo gwengo eneeko????? ---
^!$!&&!$!$#*$!#%$# ---
.....
....
...
..
.
*ahem*
Yeah, I hate the residual liquid that comes after ever sip. I have to make sure I suck it up every single time, but it's well worth it for me.
I also have a big problem with rubbish that piles up in a rubbish bin. I reckon this is just me being weird... I usually reach for a tissue, place it on the top, and flatten everything down so that more can be placed in a given volume. Makes sense, right?
But then, I take it too far sometimes, and I guess I don't know my own strength. You'd be surprised about how much litter you can actually fit in a bin...
...Or was it?
You see, I knew there was still shampoo in that thing, there's always some leftover inside, right?
So, I turned the nozzle counter-clockwise until the nozzle came off, and I let water go in, I rinsed it out and poured it all over my head, so I could save what my family would probably have thrown away upon discovery of the bottle's vacancy. I was being resourceful.
But sadly, this seems to be the only way I can minimize wastage. I hate how we can never really get all the butter out of a tub, or all the peanut butter out of a jar. When the ketchup or mustard runs out, I just know there's a couple of milliliters of sauce stuck on the insides, but lack the fluidity to ooze all the way downwards to that little opening. Similarly to squeezing sauce out of the sauce packets you get from fast-food chains, all the strength you can muster and apply to a flexible toothpaste tube will never get all the toothpaste out.
Things that come in tiny granules like baby powder, cheese, sugar, flour, artsy glitter, and salt and pepper, tend to get stuck to the bottom of the container, or caught in between the lid and the rim. You never use it all up.
With food on a plate, everything on mine has to be swallowed, not a single grain of rice left, not even a little broccoli bud, not even a teensy weensy tiny puddle of soup in my bowl. I eat the lettuce, cucumbers and tomatoes salad that go on the side of satay or chicken wings. I lick the spoon, the fork and the knife (this is not allowed, though, right?) after eating. I chew on the residual ice after hydrating myself with an iced beverage.
But the one uneconomical thing that irks me the most comes from drinking drinks out of an aluminum can.
Let's say you take a sip, slowly. You grasp on to the can, and feel the cold condensation on the sides. You kiss the rim of the can, and feel how your lower lip just fits right there on to the curved edge of it. You raise your chin in a manner that looks like your hair's being pulled from behind, and you feel the liquid trickling out of the can, maybe on to your tongue (if you're French kissing the can), and down your throat so fluidly.
You set the can down, and wait ---
what's this? ---
WHAT'S THIS?!?!?! ---
there's some liquid STUCK on the rim where your lips used to be! ---
OH, MY GOD!!! ---
OH NOEZZZ!!!11 ---
oHeMGee1111 ---
lik dat iz so wacki duuuuuuuude ---
gar ban ugdgdgwengo gwengo eneeko????? ---
^!$!&&!$!$#*$!#%$# ---
.....
....
...
..
.
*ahem*
Yeah, I hate the residual liquid that comes after ever sip. I have to make sure I suck it up every single time, but it's well worth it for me.
I also have a big problem with rubbish that piles up in a rubbish bin. I reckon this is just me being weird... I usually reach for a tissue, place it on the top, and flatten everything down so that more can be placed in a given volume. Makes sense, right?
But then, I take it too far sometimes, and I guess I don't know my own strength. You'd be surprised about how much litter you can actually fit in a bin...
114 - When your best friend says that it's time to end your friendship
It's Monday morning now, and I am not really ready to hand in all of my homework due in today, but I think I can get by today and the rest of this week just fine, just as long as I keep my mind focused on what really matters in the long run. There has been one thing, however, that has been distracting me these past couple of days, and in addition to making my thoughts linger away from light diffraction and organic chemistry, this distraction has also hindered my ability to feel genuinely glad to see my friends at school, impeded my ability to feel truly happy for the birthday girl, and to just look on the positive side of things generally, with or without the influence of alcohol.
On this blog, I try to steer away from topics that are too touchy. This is subjective of course, but to me, this includes anything to do with marital affairs, sexual orientations and racial issues, as I am a bisexual who has divorced parents, and has learned the hard way how sensitive people can be to color and creed. But one thing that has always remained important to me was my friendship with this one individual, and this will mark the first time I ever talk about him in my blogging career.
We met in September 2002, and while I offered him a seat at my table in our first high school class, he offered me some of his food at our first ever high school lunch. Since then, we have talked for thousands of hours on the phone over the past six to seven years, and I share with him, a lot of memories, heart-to-heart conversations,and inside jokes, as I'm sure you know how typical best friends usually do.
Oh, but last Wednesday, he called me and told me that he didn't want to be friends with me anymore. He said he has grown to hate me because I go against everything he ever believes in. He wanted to 'fix' me, to make me see the 'right' way to live. He says the way I see the world is naive and impure, and while I see his rationale, at this point in time, I don't see how I can change the way I approach life to resemble his philosophies.
I am sorry that I don't care about anyone else but myself, that I am an egoist, and an egotist. I apologize for being so hypocritical, so ironic, for telling others about what I hate when you have a hatred for me that goes so much deeper. I am sorry you have had to keep all your secrets to yourself for all these years, I know it must have been hard at times because you cared about me, yet I was so difficult. And I'm sorry if I care more about money than the children in Africa.
But just because our minds don't run the same way doesn't mean we have to throw all that away. It's unfair for you to give me just twenty minutes to absorb what you have been hiding for six years. You can't just end it, because I put all my trust in you, and my care for you is all the genuine caring I can muster.
But if you want it to finish there, then so be it. As you said, perhaps our paths will cross again some day.
This isn't the first time this has happened. Various people, in my old school, in my current school, and the school I went to in between those two other schools, have all ended their interactions with me. They block online communication, they refuse to reply to my invitations to social gatherings of ten or more, they ignore my text-message, they don't pick up my calls, and they walk by me, and don't care. And to be honest, I don't care either, I mean, why bother if they won't reciprocate?
But there's something extremely wrong about breaking it off with my best friend. I feel a hundred percent guilty about this one, because in my eyes, there was very little wrong with him, and I must attribute this resolution to my own personality flaws. Sigh.
This has happened to you before, right?
Don't you just hate the feeling too?
On this blog, I try to steer away from topics that are too touchy. This is subjective of course, but to me, this includes anything to do with marital affairs, sexual orientations and racial issues, as I am a bisexual who has divorced parents, and has learned the hard way how sensitive people can be to color and creed. But one thing that has always remained important to me was my friendship with this one individual, and this will mark the first time I ever talk about him in my blogging career.
We met in September 2002, and while I offered him a seat at my table in our first high school class, he offered me some of his food at our first ever high school lunch. Since then, we have talked for thousands of hours on the phone over the past six to seven years, and I share with him, a lot of memories, heart-to-heart conversations,and inside jokes, as I'm sure you know how typical best friends usually do.
Oh, but last Wednesday, he called me and told me that he didn't want to be friends with me anymore. He said he has grown to hate me because I go against everything he ever believes in. He wanted to 'fix' me, to make me see the 'right' way to live. He says the way I see the world is naive and impure, and while I see his rationale, at this point in time, I don't see how I can change the way I approach life to resemble his philosophies.
I am sorry that I don't care about anyone else but myself, that I am an egoist, and an egotist. I apologize for being so hypocritical, so ironic, for telling others about what I hate when you have a hatred for me that goes so much deeper. I am sorry you have had to keep all your secrets to yourself for all these years, I know it must have been hard at times because you cared about me, yet I was so difficult. And I'm sorry if I care more about money than the children in Africa.
But just because our minds don't run the same way doesn't mean we have to throw all that away. It's unfair for you to give me just twenty minutes to absorb what you have been hiding for six years. You can't just end it, because I put all my trust in you, and my care for you is all the genuine caring I can muster.
But if you want it to finish there, then so be it. As you said, perhaps our paths will cross again some day.
This isn't the first time this has happened. Various people, in my old school, in my current school, and the school I went to in between those two other schools, have all ended their interactions with me. They block online communication, they refuse to reply to my invitations to social gatherings of ten or more, they ignore my text-message, they don't pick up my calls, and they walk by me, and don't care. And to be honest, I don't care either, I mean, why bother if they won't reciprocate?
But there's something extremely wrong about breaking it off with my best friend. I feel a hundred percent guilty about this one, because in my eyes, there was very little wrong with him, and I must attribute this resolution to my own personality flaws. Sigh.
This has happened to you before, right?
Don't you just hate the feeling too?
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
112 - Fingerprints
A week or so ago, I was using someone's iPhone to check my e-mails, until I started to notice that I was creating tiny impressions on the screen with the small ridges and minuscule valleys located on my fingertip. It bothered me, and I attempted to make it all better by simply 'wiping' it off, wrongfully with my fingertip. This only achieved a smudgy gash of fingertip oil (is it actually oil?) spread out diagonally across the display. So then I reached into my shirt, poked my shirt from the inside, and tried to wipe the screen. The weave of my shirt's fabric just made it the smudge worse.
I hate fingerprints on television screens, mirrors, cutlery made of stainless steel, magnifying glasses, snow globes and paperweights, vases, marbles, calculator displays in mathematics class, scalpels in biology class, beakers and conical flasks in chemistry class, lenses in physics class, rulers, protractors, metal keys, CDs, aluminum foil, glasses/spectacles, computer monitors, metal doorknobs, windows, anything laminated, iPod screens, the front-faces of alarm clocks, lighters, sunglasses, glass cabinets, glass doors, those plastic lids that protect airplane food, those plastic cups on airplanes, airplane windows, the walls of greenhouses, shiny Rubik's cubes, tiled floors and walls, coins, pianos, knife edges, good-quality playing cards, beads, light bulbs, photographs, mahjong tiles, the faces of some wristwatches, folder slots, guitars and other instruments, especially drum cymbals, hard covered books, et cetera.
I think just prints in general peeve me. The worst case for me just has to be lipstick (or lip oiliness in general) on the edge of a glass.
No, no, scratch that. The worst occurrence is when people sit down when they're sweaty, so they leave giant butt marks with their perspiring posteriors.
Actually, no. The worst instance of fingerprints for me simply is a bunch of kindergartners deliberately painting their hand in order to make prints. It's intentionally done. And that's appalling.
I hate fingerprints on television screens, mirrors, cutlery made of stainless steel, magnifying glasses, snow globes and paperweights, vases, marbles, calculator displays in mathematics class, scalpels in biology class, beakers and conical flasks in chemistry class, lenses in physics class, rulers, protractors, metal keys, CDs, aluminum foil, glasses/spectacles, computer monitors, metal doorknobs, windows, anything laminated, iPod screens, the front-faces of alarm clocks, lighters, sunglasses, glass cabinets, glass doors, those plastic lids that protect airplane food, those plastic cups on airplanes, airplane windows, the walls of greenhouses, shiny Rubik's cubes, tiled floors and walls, coins, pianos, knife edges, good-quality playing cards, beads, light bulbs, photographs, mahjong tiles, the faces of some wristwatches, folder slots, guitars and other instruments, especially drum cymbals, hard covered books, et cetera.
I think just prints in general peeve me. The worst case for me just has to be lipstick (or lip oiliness in general) on the edge of a glass.
No, no, scratch that. The worst occurrence is when people sit down when they're sweaty, so they leave giant butt marks with their perspiring posteriors.
Actually, no. The worst instance of fingerprints for me simply is a bunch of kindergartners deliberately painting their hand in order to make prints. It's intentionally done. And that's appalling.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
111 - "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!"
What is up with mommies in public who ignore their children's pleas of "Mommy, look outside! Mommy, Mommy, look! Mommy, Mommy, Mommy! Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy! MOOOOOOOMMYYYYYYYYY!"?
Lord, I loathe these 'darling little angels'. They're so darn cute, and worse yet, innocent, but kids are like the spawn of the Devil himself. I mean, I want to sew their lips together whenever they open their mouths and emit sound. (Huh, perhaps I've said too much.)
I know we're all overworked, and the economy is bad, but really, a simple word of motherly recognition can go a looooong way in keeping the harmony.
Plus, it saves you from other people's disdainful looks. Like mine.
I absolutely abhor these callous mothers.
Or perhaps they're more deaf than they are insensitive and they can't hear their kids' beckoning in actual fact. Their eardrums have probably been shattered from years of adorable high-pitched screaming.
Lord, I loathe these 'darling little angels'. They're so darn cute, and worse yet, innocent, but kids are like the spawn of the Devil himself. I mean, I want to sew their lips together whenever they open their mouths and emit sound. (Huh, perhaps I've said too much.)
I know we're all overworked, and the economy is bad, but really, a simple word of motherly recognition can go a looooong way in keeping the harmony.
Plus, it saves you from other people's disdainful looks. Like mine.
I absolutely abhor these callous mothers.
Or perhaps they're more deaf than they are insensitive and they can't hear their kids' beckoning in actual fact. Their eardrums have probably been shattered from years of adorable high-pitched screaming.
Monday, February 16, 2009
110 - Saying goodbye to someone, then leaving in the same direction
I'm sure you've said goodbye to someone after a party or a dinner with an old friend, only to feel silly soon after when you discover that you're actually going to leave in the same direction as the person you chirpily chirped toodle-oo to. As you walk side-by-side, in the same direction, you're then faced with the agonizing dilemma of whether or not you should bid each other farewell once more when you do, in fact, part ways for real.
While you take one slow step after another, it's painfully awkward walking alongside them. Is it inappropriate for you to exclaim 'bye-bye' again after saying it earlier?
As you stare downwards at your feet and their feet, and notice that their steps are synchronized with yours, the tension of the situation is making your shoulders a little stiff and it's sending chills down your spine. Do you express the second goodbye with the same vehemence as the first time? Or will that just make it sound like you're happy to be leaving them?
Really, though, you just can't bear to walk beside them any longer. It's too painful. This is a station on the Social Line that your train usually doesn't stop at. Is my friend thinking the same thoughts? Oh, my God, what if we say goodbye a second time and then it happens again? Quick, quick! Recall a joke to break the ice! Say something! Grasp at straws!
As long as you interact with people, this very vexatious situation is bound to come up. It just happens, no matter how high our IQ is. I mean, a lot of us have this foolishly preconceived notion, with no substantial premises, that nobody else will exit in the same direction we do. Some of us don't know where people are going after an event because we're too self-involved to ask. Some of us know where people are heading afterward, but lack a directional sense.
Or perhaps what's most likely the case is that we're just too carelessly eager to flee, to escape some grueling group gathering, to break away from a bunch of buffoons that you can no longer stand. It's when an interntionally swift goodbye backfires that makes things most excruciating.
Remember what we're talking about here:
I hate it when I say goodbye to someone, only to be leaving in the same way afterward. Someone shoot me the next time that happens.
While you take one slow step after another, it's painfully awkward walking alongside them. Is it inappropriate for you to exclaim 'bye-bye' again after saying it earlier?
As you stare downwards at your feet and their feet, and notice that their steps are synchronized with yours, the tension of the situation is making your shoulders a little stiff and it's sending chills down your spine. Do you express the second goodbye with the same vehemence as the first time? Or will that just make it sound like you're happy to be leaving them?
Really, though, you just can't bear to walk beside them any longer. It's too painful. This is a station on the Social Line that your train usually doesn't stop at. Is my friend thinking the same thoughts? Oh, my God, what if we say goodbye a second time and then it happens again? Quick, quick! Recall a joke to break the ice! Say something! Grasp at straws!
As long as you interact with people, this very vexatious situation is bound to come up. It just happens, no matter how high our IQ is. I mean, a lot of us have this foolishly preconceived notion, with no substantial premises, that nobody else will exit in the same direction we do. Some of us don't know where people are going after an event because we're too self-involved to ask. Some of us know where people are heading afterward, but lack a directional sense.
Or perhaps what's most likely the case is that we're just too carelessly eager to flee, to escape some grueling group gathering, to break away from a bunch of buffoons that you can no longer stand. It's when an interntionally swift goodbye backfires that makes things most excruciating.
Remember what we're talking about here:
I hate it when I say goodbye to someone, only to be leaving in the same way afterward. Someone shoot me the next time that happens.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
109 - Bombarding vegetarians with questions
I don't know if there's a handful of vegetarians out there that actually nibble on a chicken wing every now and then, but seriously, "So you don't eat any meat?" has to be one of the most idiotic questions to ask a vegetarian, or a human being.
Some would say I'm just jealous of the attention vegetarians get, but really, I mean, asking them when they last ate meat, what they think meat tastes like, why they chose to be a vegetarian, what do they do to get protein, what do their friends and family think of vegetarianism, what happens if they eat a hamburger, will they encourage their kids to be vegetarians, blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblah... I don't think it's really that great a topic. I don't think it deserves that much focus by a pair or a group of individuals.
Come on!
Are you really that interested? ... Really?
Sigh, well, as they say, small things amuse small minds.
... I suggest you just shut up, and drink your soup.
Some would say I'm just jealous of the attention vegetarians get, but really, I mean, asking them when they last ate meat, what they think meat tastes like, why they chose to be a vegetarian, what do they do to get protein, what do their friends and family think of vegetarianism, what happens if they eat a hamburger, will they encourage their kids to be vegetarians, blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblah... I don't think it's really that great a topic. I don't think it deserves that much focus by a pair or a group of individuals.
Come on!
Are you really that interested? ... Really?
Sigh, well, as they say, small things amuse small minds.
... I suggest you just shut up, and drink your soup.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
108 - A conversation about the difference between a vegetarian and a vegan
One of the most repeated discussions I've ever been involved in is the discussion that concerns the difference between a vegetarian and a vegan. I get sick of people asking what the difference is, and I get even more tired of all the people that claim to know what the difference is, pretend to be a smartass, only to present an incorrect answer or an answer that is sort of correct, but not quite.
So here it is: Vegetarianism is the dietary practice that excludes meat, fish, seafood and poultry. Veganism is a form of vegetarianism which excludes all animal products, including meat, poultry, seafood, eggs, dairy products and honey. Vegans usually do this out of support for animal rights, and therefore, tend to disapprove of the use of fur, leather, wool and silk.
Please, I do not want to have this discussion again. Please, please, please, not again.
So here it is: Vegetarianism is the dietary practice that excludes meat, fish, seafood and poultry. Veganism is a form of vegetarianism which excludes all animal products, including meat, poultry, seafood, eggs, dairy products and honey. Vegans usually do this out of support for animal rights, and therefore, tend to disapprove of the use of fur, leather, wool and silk.
Please, I do not want to have this discussion again. Please, please, please, not again.
Friday, February 13, 2009
107 - People who eat loudly
When I was seven years old, I spent my winter holidays in Toronto, Canada. I have two aunts there, and one of them once took me to the movies to see The Prince of Egypt.
On the car ride to the cinema, I was chewing gum, and my mouth was open, so my aunt could hear that horrible sticky snap every time my upper jaw and lower jaw moved away from each other.
When we reached a four-way junction, she stopped for a red light and turned around suddenly and screamed at me, and told me to stop chewing so loudly. She looked so angry, and I cried, and I never chewed gum with my mouth open again.
This goes for all food, in fact. I don't slurp my soup. I try not to make those horrible noises with my straw when I've nearly finished a beverage. I don't create nails-on-a-blackboard sounds when I'm using a knife to cut food on a plate. I don't make sucking noises when I'm trying to get all the meat off a chicken wing. I eat crackers, and potato chips, without crunching. I don't suck up long pieces of spaghetti. Even something as simple as gulping water has to be silent as well.
My best friend says that these noises make a meal more enjoyable. The noise adds an acoustically pleasant component to the dining experience.
I think that's a load of bullocks. Eating should be quiet.
A lot of things should be quiet for me. I hate the sound of high heels, and whistles, ruffling sheets of paper, dogs barking, people sniffing, everything.
My best friend jokes that in my ideal world, everyone would be ninjas.
And you know, that is precisely what I want. Don't you think that would be awesome if the world was all as stealthy as ninjas?
On the car ride to the cinema, I was chewing gum, and my mouth was open, so my aunt could hear that horrible sticky snap every time my upper jaw and lower jaw moved away from each other.
When we reached a four-way junction, she stopped for a red light and turned around suddenly and screamed at me, and told me to stop chewing so loudly. She looked so angry, and I cried, and I never chewed gum with my mouth open again.
This goes for all food, in fact. I don't slurp my soup. I try not to make those horrible noises with my straw when I've nearly finished a beverage. I don't create nails-on-a-blackboard sounds when I'm using a knife to cut food on a plate. I don't make sucking noises when I'm trying to get all the meat off a chicken wing. I eat crackers, and potato chips, without crunching. I don't suck up long pieces of spaghetti. Even something as simple as gulping water has to be silent as well.
My best friend says that these noises make a meal more enjoyable. The noise adds an acoustically pleasant component to the dining experience.
I think that's a load of bullocks. Eating should be quiet.
A lot of things should be quiet for me. I hate the sound of high heels, and whistles, ruffling sheets of paper, dogs barking, people sniffing, everything.
My best friend jokes that in my ideal world, everyone would be ninjas.
And you know, that is precisely what I want. Don't you think that would be awesome if the world was all as stealthy as ninjas?
Thursday, February 12, 2009
106 - Leaving the potty seat on the toilet bowl
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I've had seven hours of school, which luckily featured the mundane Othello, mind-boggling mathematical set theory, a very boring hour-long physics class about how a CD works, and major grilling by my chemistry teacher about some missing assignments.
I've had a long day. I don't need to find my three-year-old cousin's potty seat... there when I simple would like to satisfy my urge to pee. I just - want - to take - a piss.
I don't need it.
I don't need it, I tell you. I don't need the horridly happy horses, and the creepily cute cats, and the foul, funny frogs, and the damn distasteful DOGS, welcoming me to my daily urination after school.
Who the Hell left it there?!?!
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
105 - Breaking a promise
When someone says they're going to do something, they should do it, and do it with good and full intention. It irks me whenever people promise to do things for other people and then don't follow through.
I can understand when something important or out of their control keeps them from doing it but to just break the promise for no good reason is uncalled for. Especially when you are depending on them and there is no other way to get the task done.
I don't understand why people make promises and break them. They can't be trusted again. You can't put confidence in them. If someone isn't sure they mean a promise, they have no right to make it.
Some people just have no sense of responsibility.
But who am I to talk?
I can understand when something important or out of their control keeps them from doing it but to just break the promise for no good reason is uncalled for. Especially when you are depending on them and there is no other way to get the task done.
I don't understand why people make promises and break them. They can't be trusted again. You can't put confidence in them. If someone isn't sure they mean a promise, they have no right to make it.
Some people just have no sense of responsibility.
But who am I to talk?
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
104 - How friendships fade away
There is someone in my class that I used to be fairly good friends with. Not good per se, but we talked. Our school is located on a high hill, and I remember how we used to walk down together every day after school. We were able to communicate, we were able to share some laughs, talk about different aspects of our lives and enjoy each other's company or conversation. I remember how we talked about girls, I remember telling them about some of my personal secrets, I remember how we grew to respect each other and trust each other. I remember we were friends.
It's funny how friendships fade without you even knowing it.
I don't know what happened to my friendship with him. I don't think he cares about me anymore. He looks at me each day in passing, and I glance at him in class. He seems to be doing well. He seems to be happy. But we have nothing to do with each other. We don't know how each other's lives are really going, we don't know what we each had for lunch, or what our life philosophies are, or how our families are doing, or which girl we like in that way, or what we have planned for the future.
Many times, I get inspiration for this blog from my classmates. And for each time, I wonder if the people that inspire me actually read my posts, if they actually notice that this blog refers to them.
It's funny how what I've said here can actually apply to two people. I used to call them the two 'leaders' of the class. They were the people that seemed to stand out, the people I looked to for help in my early days of being in this school. They're both incredibly smart, and applied to top universities in the world. They achieve well, have no bad relationships with people, obedient towards their parents.
They're both very different, but I respect them very much 'til this day. It makes me feel like I'm not good enough to be their friend.
And I hate how friendships disappear in the blink of an eye.
It's funny how friendships fade without you even knowing it.
I don't know what happened to my friendship with him. I don't think he cares about me anymore. He looks at me each day in passing, and I glance at him in class. He seems to be doing well. He seems to be happy. But we have nothing to do with each other. We don't know how each other's lives are really going, we don't know what we each had for lunch, or what our life philosophies are, or how our families are doing, or which girl we like in that way, or what we have planned for the future.
Many times, I get inspiration for this blog from my classmates. And for each time, I wonder if the people that inspire me actually read my posts, if they actually notice that this blog refers to them.
It's funny how what I've said here can actually apply to two people. I used to call them the two 'leaders' of the class. They were the people that seemed to stand out, the people I looked to for help in my early days of being in this school. They're both incredibly smart, and applied to top universities in the world. They achieve well, have no bad relationships with people, obedient towards their parents.
They're both very different, but I respect them very much 'til this day. It makes me feel like I'm not good enough to be their friend.
And I hate how friendships disappear in the blink of an eye.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
103 - Following tons of blogs that you don't read
So, this weekend, I tried to limit the number of blogs I follow because I realized that I wasn't actually reading some of them. I followed some that haven't been updated in a long time, I followed some that I wasn't interested in, I followed some just because they followed me. It got to be so much that every time I went to my Dashboard, the long list of posts would make blogging a hassle, a time-devouring endeavor and a bore. It totally turned me off reading other people's blogs in the past two weeks, and yesterday, it sort of worried me because I once proclaimed to the world that I was a loyal, dedicated blogger. I have Nymphoblogmania.
I think that I quite like the list I have now, so for those of you who made the cut, congratulations. Hail To The Thief, a blogger whose entries I really appreciate, did a post a few weeks back on how she selects which blogs to follow. I try to follow pretty much the same principles, and I encourage all of you to go check those out and actually try to follow them. The people who follow so many blogs but never read them or comment on them can be quite annoying. What's the point, you know?
I know I haven't been visiting a lot of your blogs lately, but hopefully, I'll be in full throttle again by next weekend. I've realized that in addition to Nymphoblogmania, I have Obsessive Compulsive Blogging Syndrome, too. My grades have been slipping, I'm not doing my homework on time, and yesterday, I conjured up a schedule for me to follow that includes sleep, work, some free time and time for blogging. It's my attempt to sort myself out and manage all my priorities. I start this new regime tomorrow, I'm very excited about it and I hope it works.
But yes, with this new schedule, I've included time to blog each day, so I'll be stopping by your blogs soon.
Does it annoy you to go to people's profiles to find a MASSIVE list of blogs they're following?
I think that I quite like the list I have now, so for those of you who made the cut, congratulations. Hail To The Thief, a blogger whose entries I really appreciate, did a post a few weeks back on how she selects which blogs to follow. I try to follow pretty much the same principles, and I encourage all of you to go check those out and actually try to follow them. The people who follow so many blogs but never read them or comment on them can be quite annoying. What's the point, you know?
I know I haven't been visiting a lot of your blogs lately, but hopefully, I'll be in full throttle again by next weekend. I've realized that in addition to Nymphoblogmania, I have Obsessive Compulsive Blogging Syndrome, too. My grades have been slipping, I'm not doing my homework on time, and yesterday, I conjured up a schedule for me to follow that includes sleep, work, some free time and time for blogging. It's my attempt to sort myself out and manage all my priorities. I start this new regime tomorrow, I'm very excited about it and I hope it works.
But yes, with this new schedule, I've included time to blog each day, so I'll be stopping by your blogs soon.
Does it annoy you to go to people's profiles to find a MASSIVE list of blogs they're following?
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
101 - Singing badly
There's a person in my class who is oblivious to the fact that he is annoying. I preach honesty but I don't have the heart to tell him to his face that he sounds horrible when he sings. I'm absolutely positive he knows I hate his singing. There's no way he can't take the hint. I walk away, push him away, turn to someone else for mercy.
I ignore his singing, I don't join in. I shake my head in irritation, but he seems to think I'm joking, which only gives him greater incentive to sing further because it's apparently funny.
Everyone else in my class can't stand the way he sings randomly around others. They're not songs that everybody knows and they're not songs we typically listen to. He's tone deaf, and he can't keep the rhythm or the beat. He's off key, and can't remember the lyrics or how the tune goes sometimes. He tries to create instrumental noises with his mouth and thinks his whole performance sounds good.
I used to think I sounded good, until someone told me to record my own singing on a tape. Boy, I sounded bad, and I never thought I would sing again. In the past year or so, though, I have a new-found confidence in singing. I believe I can join in with the gang at the karaoke place if I don't lose complete control of myself. Singing is fun, at the karaoke place, if you know you sound okay. But it's not good to sing at school, for Heaven's sake. It's not good to sing when you don't sound good.
The person in my class also has boundary issues, verbally and physically, a whole range of them. When he sings, he sticks his head closer to yours to maximize amplitude, moves his chair closer to you to offer a greater acoustical advantage. Every time he starts singing, I feel my guts twisting because I want to be bold and tell him to shut up, but wow, I have a bigger heart than I initially thought I had.
Do you know anyone like this? Do you hate it too?
I ignore his singing, I don't join in. I shake my head in irritation, but he seems to think I'm joking, which only gives him greater incentive to sing further because it's apparently funny.
Everyone else in my class can't stand the way he sings randomly around others. They're not songs that everybody knows and they're not songs we typically listen to. He's tone deaf, and he can't keep the rhythm or the beat. He's off key, and can't remember the lyrics or how the tune goes sometimes. He tries to create instrumental noises with his mouth and thinks his whole performance sounds good.
I used to think I sounded good, until someone told me to record my own singing on a tape. Boy, I sounded bad, and I never thought I would sing again. In the past year or so, though, I have a new-found confidence in singing. I believe I can join in with the gang at the karaoke place if I don't lose complete control of myself. Singing is fun, at the karaoke place, if you know you sound okay. But it's not good to sing at school, for Heaven's sake. It's not good to sing when you don't sound good.
The person in my class also has boundary issues, verbally and physically, a whole range of them. When he sings, he sticks his head closer to yours to maximize amplitude, moves his chair closer to you to offer a greater acoustical advantage. Every time he starts singing, I feel my guts twisting because I want to be bold and tell him to shut up, but wow, I have a bigger heart than I initially thought I had.
Do you know anyone like this? Do you hate it too?
Thursday, February 5, 2009
100 - Holding grudges
It's my 100th post, people, and I am quite happy to profess that.
Today, I will be talking about people that hold grudges. Personally, I hate them, I hate them a lot. If I had to rank everything I've talked about so far, this would be in the top ten. In my life, there are four people who have a grudge against me. They hang up as soon as they hear my voice on the phone, they ignore me at school and in social arenas, they block me online and do not, under any circumstances, respond to your text messages, e-mails or even verbal communication. If you live far away from each other, and don't work with them everyday, it's highly likely that you won't ever see them again. If that's not the case, it's awkward whenever you're forced to be around each other.
This keeping-in-mind of who has a grudge on me wracks my brains painfully. It annoys me throughout the day if they're there right in front of me, refusing to acknowledge me in any way whatsoever. It gets on my nerves for years, wondering how what was once an okay relationship turned into a relationship I wish never sparked so that I wouldn't have to go through what I'm going through now.
The four people ignore me for different reasons, some valid, some not so much. In chronological order, those reasons are: homophobic, fed up with someone that lies as much as I do, I didn't take someone's serious insecurities seriously, and as for the last one, well, I don't really know.
For the first one, being homophobic perturbs me about people. The second one annoyed me and I ignored him, my bad. For the second and third ones, I said sorry, but they don't seem to care. For the fourth one, perhaps I shall talk about him a bit more on my other blog...
Whatever the problem is, though, getting the answers to why people were ignoring me was like pulling teeth out. I dislike that bit the most. I wish people would just talk, and tell me what is it about me that's bothering them. Honesty is always the best policy for me, even if it's ugly, even if it's hurtful.
It's no wonder I'm such an ass to so many people, doubly. On one hand, I'm the one going around criticizing people (even though I have the intention of helping them change for the better). On the second (but equally unsympathetic) hand, I'm also the one that will never change for the better because I have no idea what's wrong with me.
Today, I will be talking about people that hold grudges. Personally, I hate them, I hate them a lot. If I had to rank everything I've talked about so far, this would be in the top ten. In my life, there are four people who have a grudge against me. They hang up as soon as they hear my voice on the phone, they ignore me at school and in social arenas, they block me online and do not, under any circumstances, respond to your text messages, e-mails or even verbal communication. If you live far away from each other, and don't work with them everyday, it's highly likely that you won't ever see them again. If that's not the case, it's awkward whenever you're forced to be around each other.
This keeping-in-mind of who has a grudge on me wracks my brains painfully. It annoys me throughout the day if they're there right in front of me, refusing to acknowledge me in any way whatsoever. It gets on my nerves for years, wondering how what was once an okay relationship turned into a relationship I wish never sparked so that I wouldn't have to go through what I'm going through now.
The four people ignore me for different reasons, some valid, some not so much. In chronological order, those reasons are: homophobic, fed up with someone that lies as much as I do, I didn't take someone's serious insecurities seriously, and as for the last one, well, I don't really know.
For the first one, being homophobic perturbs me about people. The second one annoyed me and I ignored him, my bad. For the second and third ones, I said sorry, but they don't seem to care. For the fourth one, perhaps I shall talk about him a bit more on my other blog...
Whatever the problem is, though, getting the answers to why people were ignoring me was like pulling teeth out. I dislike that bit the most. I wish people would just talk, and tell me what is it about me that's bothering them. Honesty is always the best policy for me, even if it's ugly, even if it's hurtful.
It's no wonder I'm such an ass to so many people, doubly. On one hand, I'm the one going around criticizing people (even though I have the intention of helping them change for the better). On the second (but equally unsympathetic) hand, I'm also the one that will never change for the better because I have no idea what's wrong with me.
Monday, February 2, 2009
99 - Floating tea bags
So, I was about to get started with doing my work, but something worth blogging about just had to get in the way. I made myself a cup of jasmine tea, but then I found that the tea bag I had chosen floats. Take a look:
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If you're wondering about the cup, I'm very patriotic and England rules.
Why do bad things happen to good people?! I was trying to sip my tea ever-so-innocently, then this damp, saggy thing collides with my upper lip and I'm like, whoa, whoa, whoa, back off, Floatsy.
What are you doing in these shallow parts of town?
This surface ain't big enough for the two of us.
I have a dense metal fork, and I'm not afraid to use it...
Seriously, what tea bag floats? Can my life get any more difficult?
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If you're wondering about the cup, I'm very patriotic and England rules.Why do bad things happen to good people?! I was trying to sip my tea ever-so-innocently, then this damp, saggy thing collides with my upper lip and I'm like, whoa, whoa, whoa, back off, Floatsy.
What are you doing in these shallow parts of town?
This surface ain't big enough for the two of us.
I have a dense metal fork, and I'm not afraid to use it...
Seriously, what tea bag floats? Can my life get any more difficult?
98 - Skipping school
Hello, world. It's Monday night, and it's about to hit midnight. I didn't sleep last night and I only managed to catch around fifteen minutes of snooze in the past twenty-four hours. I don't plan on sleeping tonight either.
Yesterday, I had this essay to write, and tonight, I have three more. I would skip school to just get some rest and have more time to work on these, but I've been skipping too often now, for my own standards.
I think I have skipped school around twenty times so far since this school year began in September 2008, maybe been late a couple of times? To those studious, responsible teens out there, good for you on making it to school everyday, it's a bloody achievement and I could never do that. (I'm not being sarcastic.) I wake up in the middle of the afternoon on a school day and the first thought that comes to my mind is, "damn it, Michael, you lazy piece of shit." I loathe myself, and I hate myself for not going to school. There are several others in my class that also decide to pass when they're not feeling too eager about getting educated. I don't like their attitude to school, I don't think they should be wasting their parents' money. They often consider school to be a lameass obstacle in life that you have to get through before you reach the good stuff, the better stuff, the dream. I say, if the goals you have are not attainable through school and education, then piss off and go chase the dream. What on Earth are you still coming in to school for four days out of five for?
My aspirations can only be reached if I study, so as one of my New Year resolutions last month, I decided that I would try to stop skipping school so often. It's working a lot better than the past few years, but there's still room for improvement.
On the other hand, knowing the wide range of readers this blog attracts, there are bound to be a bunch of you that say that I should not stress so much over homework and friends at school. To be honest, I understand wholeheartedly. I hate people who think school is everything, who think that their role in life in this moment in time is and only is a student's role. Nothing else in life matters much, such as money, material goods, love and sex, leisure time and/or a social life altogether. These 'nerds' need to grow up and live a little.
I just felt that I needed to iterate that because I don't want to be seen as one of them.
But really, as I said, skipping school is just something that creates a pang in my backside. If you care about school, stop skipping it. If you don't care about school, quit. Stop wasting our teachers' time which could be better spent on present students, stop making us wonder and worry about why you're absent, and get a job, because if you ain't studying right now, by law and social standards, you should be working. Do something productive, stop wasting your life.
Yesterday, I had this essay to write, and tonight, I have three more. I would skip school to just get some rest and have more time to work on these, but I've been skipping too often now, for my own standards.
I think I have skipped school around twenty times so far since this school year began in September 2008, maybe been late a couple of times? To those studious, responsible teens out there, good for you on making it to school everyday, it's a bloody achievement and I could never do that. (I'm not being sarcastic.) I wake up in the middle of the afternoon on a school day and the first thought that comes to my mind is, "damn it, Michael, you lazy piece of shit." I loathe myself, and I hate myself for not going to school. There are several others in my class that also decide to pass when they're not feeling too eager about getting educated. I don't like their attitude to school, I don't think they should be wasting their parents' money. They often consider school to be a lameass obstacle in life that you have to get through before you reach the good stuff, the better stuff, the dream. I say, if the goals you have are not attainable through school and education, then piss off and go chase the dream. What on Earth are you still coming in to school for four days out of five for?
My aspirations can only be reached if I study, so as one of my New Year resolutions last month, I decided that I would try to stop skipping school so often. It's working a lot better than the past few years, but there's still room for improvement.
On the other hand, knowing the wide range of readers this blog attracts, there are bound to be a bunch of you that say that I should not stress so much over homework and friends at school. To be honest, I understand wholeheartedly. I hate people who think school is everything, who think that their role in life in this moment in time is and only is a student's role. Nothing else in life matters much, such as money, material goods, love and sex, leisure time and/or a social life altogether. These 'nerds' need to grow up and live a little.
I just felt that I needed to iterate that because I don't want to be seen as one of them.
But really, as I said, skipping school is just something that creates a pang in my backside. If you care about school, stop skipping it. If you don't care about school, quit. Stop wasting our teachers' time which could be better spent on present students, stop making us wonder and worry about why you're absent, and get a job, because if you ain't studying right now, by law and social standards, you should be working. Do something productive, stop wasting your life.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
97 - Procrastination
That's it, I've spent a whole week of Chinese New Year holiday doing absolutely nothing and tonight, Sunday night, it is going to kick my fattest body part (i.e., my bumbum).
I have spent the last few hours Facebooking, going on CNN News, watching TV series and movies on my laptop and blogging. I initially put my laptop on my desk for once, instead of next to my pillow, so that I wouldn't lie there slothfully like I have for the past few days. It hasn't gone well because there are just so many things to distract myself with on the computer.
Throughout this whole thing, I've been turning my head and glancing at the books, files and paper piled up on the bed next to me, and every time I take a look at the amount of work I have to do, I have a tiny panic attack, then I sigh. I just did it again, oh, my God, it's dreadful.
So, in an attempt to reduce distractions, I've exited my Gmail Notifier, so that I don't get told that I have people on Facebook to talk to, and blogs to comment on. I'm going to rely on myself to stop watching stuff while I'm working, and I'm turning off my phone, and hiding my iPod and my Nintendo DS. I need to concentrate.
I hate going to school and seeing my friends struggle with all the work they have to do. They ask for extensions from the teachers, and calling it by a fancy-pants name like 'extension' doesn't make it sound any more like responsible action, it doesn't make it sound any more mature. I feel sorry for my teachers, who have to deal with this kind of thing for hundreds of students every year. I feel sorry for all the students who are ruining their lives being late, handing in rushed work and all. I have another point to add to this, but it's too much to talk about now, I'll post about it in the next few days.
Which brings me to my end-point: I will not be visiting your blogs in the next few days, you can expect the daily post on Do you hate it too? But that's it. It's nearly the end of the year, and I have a lot to do, but I'll be here on Wednesday or Thursday night to check back with all you lovely people who write so incredibly well.
Procrastination: Don't you just absolutely hate it when it gnaws at your fat butt?!
I have spent the last few hours Facebooking, going on CNN News, watching TV series and movies on my laptop and blogging. I initially put my laptop on my desk for once, instead of next to my pillow, so that I wouldn't lie there slothfully like I have for the past few days. It hasn't gone well because there are just so many things to distract myself with on the computer.
Throughout this whole thing, I've been turning my head and glancing at the books, files and paper piled up on the bed next to me, and every time I take a look at the amount of work I have to do, I have a tiny panic attack, then I sigh. I just did it again, oh, my God, it's dreadful.
So, in an attempt to reduce distractions, I've exited my Gmail Notifier, so that I don't get told that I have people on Facebook to talk to, and blogs to comment on. I'm going to rely on myself to stop watching stuff while I'm working, and I'm turning off my phone, and hiding my iPod and my Nintendo DS. I need to concentrate.
I hate going to school and seeing my friends struggle with all the work they have to do. They ask for extensions from the teachers, and calling it by a fancy-pants name like 'extension' doesn't make it sound any more like responsible action, it doesn't make it sound any more mature. I feel sorry for my teachers, who have to deal with this kind of thing for hundreds of students every year. I feel sorry for all the students who are ruining their lives being late, handing in rushed work and all. I have another point to add to this, but it's too much to talk about now, I'll post about it in the next few days.
Which brings me to my end-point: I will not be visiting your blogs in the next few days, you can expect the daily post on Do you hate it too? But that's it. It's nearly the end of the year, and I have a lot to do, but I'll be here on Wednesday or Thursday night to check back with all you lovely people who write so incredibly well.
Procrastination: Don't you just absolutely hate it when it gnaws at your fat butt?!
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