216 - 'Half empty' means pessimism, 'half full' means optimism

I would say it's half full.

It means I'm an optimist???

Oh, yay! I feel so positive and good and happy, and that makes me want to smile and laugh and I want to draw with crayons and paint things orange and yellow, and I want to make pancakes, and serve them with ice-cream, and eat cotton candy and candy apples at the carnival, and I want to go prancing in the meadow barefoot, and pick blueberries and daffodils, and pick up ladybirds, and lie on the grass with my teddy bears and watch the clouds go by, and spot a rainbow!  And tomorrow, we can go to the beach with our shovel and pail, and build sandcastles for our rubber duckies to live in, and we can hold hands as we kick the water on the seashore, and we'll blow bubbles at each other, and tie up each other's hair, and drink pink lemonade, and exchange home-made presents when we get home!

Because after all, if I see the glass as half full, then that means I'm an optimist.

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I would say it's half empty.

It means I'm a pessimist?

Oh, no. What ever am I going to do now that I'm a pessimist? I don't feel like doing anything anymore, I don't feel like getting up in the morning, I just want to bang my head on the wall, stick needles in my voodoo dolls, finish one bottle of vodka every two hours, and start a bonfire with my eucalyptus scented candles, and listen to 80's screamo and dark-cabaret, while I put my chains and crucifix around my neck, and line my eyes subtly, yet dramatically, in a color that suits my jet black hair, in preparation for dinner with my financially stable, middle-class, normal (in every conceivable way) mom and stepdad. I can't eat too much, though, because it'll mean I feel hunger, but I only feel pain, and I publish my poetry on my MySpace page to express that pain, and I take drugs to relieve that pain, and I cry myself to sleep in pain.

Because after all, if I see the glass as half empty, then that means I'm a pessimist.

Oh. And I cut myself.

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Please, the oldest philosophical postulation in the book is nothing but a depthless triviality that reveals nothing about one's character, so don't you dare ask me that again trying to present to me some awareness that I didn't have before - the glass of water is there, with some water in it, and it doesn't mean anything, and it doesn't enthuse me.

202 - Holding the door open

Great Britain has struck me as very, very British - it has totally lived up to the expectations of this Filipino-Chinese, Hong Konger, international student.

For example, it is true that it is habit to talk about the weather at any point of any conversation, and also, to ask each other how the other is doing thirty thousand times in a mere five days.  Tea is consumed very often, and they always make sure to wait until everybody has arrived, or has sat down, or has been served, before we begin to jab our forks into our food. All English mothers are fabulous cooks, all English fathers 'know people', and all English kids love to go out and party. Everybody loves fish and chips, sausages, potatoes, pies, pastries, roast beef, bacon, baked beans, beer, ale, and cider. Everyone knows how to make knitwear, bake cookies, garden, navigate through London via the Tube, and perform a variety of different regional English accents. English people are also very informative (and very proud to be informative) when it comes to cricket, rugby and soccer. (Not football, I write in American English.) Contrary to popular belief, though, Prince Charles, The Beatles, Gordon Brown, David Beckham, and Her Majesty, The Queen, aren't that much of a big deal in Britain - in fact, I don't think I've heard them come up in conversation once in the last three months.

One particular social rule in this country, that is lightyears beyond just 'taken for granted', is the natural obligation you have to hold the door open after you have ambled through the doorway. It is a very British thing, because throughout my time here at university, I've observed how the Italians, the Koreans and even the Caucasian Australians don't seem to possess this behavioral principle these English people have obviously spent thousands of years practicing, ever since the last Celt that entered the medieval tomb had to tactfully roll the giant circular stone back to its original position to seal the entrance.

Back in Hong Kong though, nobody expects the people of the cold-blooded public to hold the door out for others in schools, restaurants, or shopping malls. It's like only the hotels and five-star restaurants consider the hazard that is the automatically closing door. On a side note, do you think there are any insurance companies out there that sell door-slamming-into-you insurance? I think it would be a very marketable idea. I mean, with treatment for nosebleeds and stubbed toes being such cheap medical regimens to compensate, there's plenty of room to overcharge clients.

Sigh, I hate it now when people hold the door open. They are always getting in my way. Unless you're telekinetic, there is no way you can avoid obstructing the path on which I'm walking. I never hold the door open for anybody here because everyone else does it too much. Everyone slows down as they get to the door, demonstrating a continuous domino effect of stupidity from 7 in the morning until 10 at night because they're all so desperate to do a good Samaritan-deed. Oh, you held the door open for me! You're my hero! 

What about the door, huh? When does it get done a favor? Can't two sides of a door hinge be brought together anymore nowadays as they were intended to be?

I just open a door and walk through it quickly, and expect whoever's coming through behind me to think fast, walk quicker or slower, and adjust the movement of his/her arm extension. If they get slammed in the face, it's only because they have slow reactions - not my bad. *shrugs*

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I also hate it when people don't say 'thank you' after you hold the door for them. And when people try to pull open a door that's meant to be pushed. If you choose to, posts #21 and #30 are there for your viewing.

Plus, follow me on Facebook and Twitter if you aren't already!

168 - When people reckon I don't drink/smoke/dance with no good reason

The people at my work think it's funny when I drink, smoke and dance, because I don't do it at work. They saw me do all three for the first time a couple days ago when we all went out together. They just laughed, because the me at work is totally different from the me in a club.

I do drink, and I do smoke, and I do dance, when I feel like it. I simply choose not to, when I reject offers and invitations. Just because I don't drink six bottles of beer every night doesn't mean I can't hold my drink, and doesn't mean I'm some coward who listens to my mother's preachings on how alcohol causes damage to your liver. Just because I don't smoke three packs a day doesn't mean I don't know how to, it doesn't mean I care about the risks of lung cancer. And just because I don't bob my head, or tap my foot, to the beat of every upbeat song that's playing around me, doesn't mean I can't/don't/dislike to dance.

I drink and dance a lot. Everybody that really knows me, knows that. Judging by my appearance at work, where I am an employee, is not a fair assessment on the part of my colleagues. I'm there to work, not to pick up girls or anything, why the Hell would I dance, drink my body weight, or light up a cancer stick?

I guess my coming into work with a book in my hand every morning (and after every break) doesn't help my image much either. What kind of club-dancer reads in his spare time? What kind of person possesses a high threshold for alcohol, yet also knows the capital of Kyrgyzstan?

Well, how many people can even pronounce Kyrgyzstan, or point to it on a world map? (Or how about how many people there are that read during their lunch breaks nowadays?)

Bah, screw stereotypes, seriously.

Oh, but about smoking, I really don't smoke a lot. I have to really love you before I'll accept one from you. It's a weird thing, but smoking, for me, is like a special medium by which I can bond with other people, and um... if I don't take one from you, it means I don't want to bond with you over a smoke. I like the smoking, always do, but if I reject your offer, it means I don't like you.