234 - Noise

There are very, very, very few times in your life where you will hear the sweet essence of silence. I love going to the beach or the swimming pool and diving into the water just to drown (pun intended) out all the sound in the world for as long as I can hold my breath. It's amazing how much noise can come out of one simple action - for example, each instance my finger pushes a key on this keyboard. Even if I try really hard not to make any noise, there's an inevitable sound emitted when the key rebounds back upwards.

That paragraph was roughly 500 characters, which means there were roughly 500 soundwaves that came out. That's just one action, repeated over and over again, by one person. Now imagine the computer room that I'm in. It's seven in the morning. There is only one other person in the room aside from me perusing a computer. He's typing right now, and it annoys the life out of me. Of course, I'm typing too, but here is why I believe I'm not a hypocrite here.

The other person doesn't only make typing noises. He fidgets too. He thinks he's being quiet, but he's not. I can hear the wheels at the bottom of his chair make slight moves, shifting a little bit here and a little bit there on the hardwood floor. I can hear him inhaling quickly, almost desperately, and then letting out each puff of air steadily, with an air of relief. I can hear him scratching, and I know that the slow, but determined reptition is him scratching his forearm, and that the gentle, fast itching is him scratching his back. I can hear him move his mouse along the surface of the desk. I can hear him sniff.

I am fully aware of the fact that it's impossible to be completely quiet all the time. However, one can strive to be, especially when it's fairly obvious that others in the vicinity are trying to get some work done. This is all almost second nature to me, but I make sure that I'm comfortable in my chair when I first sit down. I see no need for any noise to be made when breathing, and I see no need to scratch at all. I hold in my sneezes, I hold in my yawns, and I sniff only when I'm alone.

And even though some noises are inevitably to be made, I try to do it in a way that is pleasing to the ear. While I'm typing this, I type full paragraphs continuously until the very end, and take longer intermissions between paragraphs. There's no need to stop if you learn how to organize thoughts in your head. Why is there any need to be so sporadic and choppy when you type, that's so cacophonous.

Trees rustle, coins jangle, doors creak and printers sound like they're about to explode. But hey, we have controls over our own bodies. So what if other people are making more noise than you? So what if it's just the sound of you tapping some keys? The fact that it's a small amount of noise doesn't mean it isn't pollution. Who needs to graze the floor when they're walking? You're going to make all that noise just so you can get some gum out of your bag? Who needs to hear rap music come out of your phone when you get a call? No, not everybody wants to hear how you flirt with girls over the phone. And explain to me this: why the heck is it that I can tell the difference, when you're scratching your damn arm, and when you're scratching your friggin' back?!

223 - Being noisy while I'm blogging

I'm writing this post to the sound of Santana's Nothing At All. Not that it isn't great, but it pretty much distracted me so much as I was trying to type what I originally wanted to type. I'm sitting in a computer room here at university, because my laptop hasn't been working for the past few days. This computer room is so great because the lights are always on, the internet access is free, there are no restrictions on online games or anything, and it's always very peaceful and quiet...

...between the hours of 10pm and 6am.

At 6am, the cleaner lady comes along, and I don't know what she's doing, but she makes a lot of noise for something like six hours non-stop. She's always pushing the vacuum cleaner with wheels around, or her little trolley thing that holds her brooms and mops and cleaning stuff, and it rattles inside the trolley, and it feels like she's cleaning the place again and again and again and again. After noon, it's then around ten hours of students coming in and out, talking on their phones, talking to each other, grumbling in frustration at their computers, stomping, coughing, sneezing, ruffling through their bags...

...and I can't bloody concentrate on my blogging during these hours. And right now, this doofus two rows in front of me thinks it's cool to play music loudly. What if I was to watch my American Idol episodes loudly, huh? It's not fair.

Okay, it's Santana, but even though it's good taste, I can't concentrate in the presence of any noise. I just can't.

There are also two guys seated on my right that are chatting about cars. One guy appreciates Lambourghinis for their design, but prefers Ferraris as it suits his personality. The other guy's favorite brand is the Maserati.

If you ask me, my favorite brand of car is Shutthehellup. I can't blog properly, damn it!

217 - Belittling what other people choose to learn or do because we don't understand it

I'm acquaintances with a guy who I haven't been to school with or spoken with in a while. I think the reason we drifted apart and no longer talk came down to my fondness of contemplating different subject matters in great detail, for long periods of time, while he preferred to keep conversations simple and avoid overthinking the things we talked about. He would complain to me about the work we had to do in class, and ask me why we had to read Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy or 500-page Dickens novels, and when I asked him in return why he was having such an awful time, he would tell me that it was because he hated authors who went to great lengths to describe the different sceneries, writers who kept the plot going for far too long with all the twists and turns, and who used old-fashioned and unusual vocabulary and sentence structures, and incorporated themes and symbolism that he couldn't grasp without someone else pointing them out to him.

I respected his way of thinking, I understand the appeal of it, and I wish the world was simple too. The bigger the phenomenon (e.g., love, life and the pursuit of happiness), the simpler I wish it was. But I believe from a very early stage in our lives, we are meant to learn to adapt to the complicated, mazy reality we live in. And one cannot be afraid to expose oneself to knowledge and experience, because otherwise, we will forever be naïve.

A lot of people tell me that they hate science and maths because the concepts are so abstract and dealing with numbers and equations is just too confusing. Some people tell me they don't get art, because it's hard for them to grasp on to the idea of actually reading an artist's expression and finding meaning through their painting or sculpture. One person once told me they disliked economics, because the way economies work most of the time is in a sporadic, seemingly senseless manner - prices rise, productivity falls, import spending increases, but government taxation decreases, consumer spending goes up, then prices go down when they were going up to begin with...

As for me, I find the study of politics and history very complicated. The same goes for music theory. I'm actually afraid to expose myself to theoretical music, because as a kid, I never played any musical instruments and it was just too hard when I finally tried it. Musical theorists and skilled instrument players astound me and I could never do what they do.

On the topic of music, I have another old acquaintance that once said to me he hates music, all forms of it, in all genres. He thinks it's all noise, and he thinks it's stupid that mankind have conceived of 'such aural abuse', as he called it.

It really, really gets on my nerves when people disparage what other people do and know just because it's different. It's definitely not okay to undermine what science, art, economics, politics, history or music does for society, just because it's too complicated in our point of view. Without any academic facet of the humanities, and the sciences, and the arts, our world just wouldn't function properly. Although it is alright to state your disinterest in particular subjects, calling psychology pure crap, or art pupils too stupid to do anything else, or science and maths students too geeky, or the study of philosophy too convoluted, does nothing but demonstrate a great deal of insensitivity and narrow-mindedness.

Without all the other people in the world that don't lead your life, you'd be dead. The world ain't simple, and they make sure it works for you. So, be a bit more acceptant, please.

212 - People staring at me carrying a big suitcase

(I'm a little drunk right now, so bear with me.)

Over the course of my life, I've been traveling very, very frequently. Every country is different, every country brings its own unique personality, its own people, its own language, its own food, everything is special. However, there is one thing common to all my tourist destinations, one thing that pervades all communities, all nationalities, all people from different countries - and that common theme is the act of staring at a foreigner when they're dragging a large suitcase around town.

Yesterday, I came back to university. I had to lug around a suitcase, filled with books and clothes and other things, heavier than I was. It took me around three hours, and the whole way back, people in the train, in town, at the bus stop, and at the university, were staring at this weird Asian guy trying to push around a suitcase 6kg heavier than he is. (An incredible feat for a human being and something I'm quite proud of, I must say.)

While they were staring at me, all that was going through my mind was, "Why are all the English people staring at me?"

You know, when I have such a big suitcase with me, being Asian, being a new immigrant to this country, with nobody in Canterbury I knew from before to go through this with, there's nothing that makes me more humiliated and self-conscious then having fifty people observing every little thing I'm doing.

Anyway, before I go off on an outrageous tangent in my drunken state of torpor, I'm going to stop here and just wish you all a good time. Hahaha.

203 - Unceasing grumpiness

Hello bloggers, happy holidays to you all, whether that means you're cozied up to a significant other on the couch watching Christmas specials, or visiting relatives finally after a few long months of school, or even if that means you're working even harder at your jobs, taking advantage of the holiday spirit and the accompanying increase in expenditure. Or crime rates, if you're a cop. Or frequency of car accidents, if you're a doctor.

I, myself, am staying with my aunt and uncle and their five kids in Gravesend. The entire journey took about four hours of lugging around a 30kg suitcase, a tremendous level of perpetual anxiety, and a good many four-letter words whispered under my breath. Blame it on the bad weather, snow shrouding the train tracks, ice adding an indomitable amount of friction to the rails. Blame it on bad luck, the first train I took didn't arrive in time at the station where I was supposed to change over to my second train. And I guess we should also blame it on my bad attentive skills for getting off at the wrong station once or twice.

Ah, well. I'm here now, safe and sound. A little chafed, but still around.

I'll tell you who was chafing - this grumpy old man sitting on the train near me. He was mumbling to himself as I took my time bringing my thirty kilogram baggage on board. I'm sorry I don't go to the gym more often. 

I couldn't get a good listen to what he was saying. He was probably exclaiming his disdain for people who bring large luggage on to the train. Or teenagers who wear eyeliner (...I'm trying something...). Or maybe Asians. Maybe he's an Asian hater. Shame on him.

Then I sat down, waiting for the train to begin moving. And as you naturally do on public transportation, I looked out the window to avoid awkward gazes.

Then I heard him suddenly exclaim, "Oh, just get this train bloody train moving already, will ya?!" so everyone could hear him. That did not work because the conductor was three carriages away. I wonder if the man knew that.

Of course, it took another twelve-ish minutes for the train to start up, and for the whole time he continually murmured to himself, grumbled about the weather, kvetched about the National Rail, and bellyached about the delay.

Just as the train started moving finally, someone a couple of seats behind us had taken out their PlayStation Portable, playing Grand Theft Auto: Chinatown Wars, judging from the music and the foul-mouthed character sound effects. The volume was turned up high, but I didn't care, I don't mind rap music.

After several shakes of the head, glances up at the ceiling (God?) and a slight reddening of the face and a light quivering/vibrating (lol?), the grumpy old man turned his head around and shouted, "COULD YOU KEEP THAT BLOODY NOISE TO YOURSELF, PLEASE?"

The person with the PSP and his friends all had a chuckle, as did I to the cold scenery outside, then the guy with the PSP lowered the volume by the slightest, slightest, most minuscule degree possible that would achieve the change of being 'quieter than before'. Grumpy probably did not appreciate this move but it was very funny to me.

Grumpy kept mumbling to himself, "bloody disrespectful youth these days", "bloody delay", "bloody repetitive train information announcer", "bloody climate", "bloody many stations...", "bloody, bloody 'ell"...

And damn, I really wanted to tell him to keep the bloody noise down himself. He's freakin' annoying himself as well. Does he expect everybody in the world to keep quiet just for him? Does he expect me to give myself a fractured spine just for him? Does he expect the train service to risk busting the wheels just for him? Does he expect Mother Nature to make it snow elsewhere just for him?

It was kind of amusing, a little annoying, undoubtedly entertaining, and a tad bit sad. The guy's face was so scrunched up, the lips and cheeks that formed his frown so pronounced that it looked like he had never smiled in his life. He looked absolutely miserable, he looked like he had never laughed before, like he didn't know how to see the good side of anything. I hope I don't ever turn into someone like that. 

I probably won't, even though I could see where he was coming from, getting annoyed at just about anything and everything.

If you ask me, he should try blogging.

199 - Sore winners

My best friend in Hong Kong was playing games with me online during the weekend, and although I hate sore losers and boastful winners, this special type of person that my best friend was pretending to be angered me the most, and made me want to blog about all three in the first place. I can only describe the kind of annoyance I'm talking about with the words, "sore winning".

My best friend will win, right, and then he'll say how he was lucky that time. And that I'll win next time. And he goes, "there, there, don't worry, man. I just got lucky. I'm going to lose next time, you'll see."

To which, my reaction is TAKE THE DAMN VICTORY AND SHUT UP ALREADY. It's so annoying by itself when you lose, and to rub salt on the wound, the opponent patronizes you, and encourages you. They're not your coach, or your personal trainer, or your best friend at that point - they are the opposition, so just act like it! 

198 - Boastful winners

Contrary to sore losers, which I blogged about a couple of days ago, on the other hand, there are also those that boast a lot about winning. They like to shove their victory in your face, whether it be a vainglorious checkmate on a chess board, a full house full of hot air in a poker game, or a highfalutin hotel bought and set in place on Boardwalk (if you're American) or Mayfair (if you're British) when you're playing Monopoly.

There is also the kind of bragging that comes with showing your support for a particular sports team. I actually personally don't mind this - although feel free to disagree. I've just been exposed to many displays of gasconade when people come into lectures, classrooms or the workplace gloating over Manchester United's defeat of Liverpool, India's triumph over Australia in cricket, and Jenson Button's domination of the Formula One World Drivers' Championship. Although I don't participate in the shouting and cheering myself, I get it - I would cheer for television shows, or books, if they ran around a pitch passing a ball to each other in front of millions of people.

But when it comes down to personal bragging rights - people tend not to have any in my eyes. To show off with or without substantiation is annoying nonetheless. Nobody cares that much if you win - a good game is a good game, and that's that. I tend to see it as an act of ego-boosting. A truly confident person doesn't need to advertise his skill. A truly impressive demonstration of achievement waits for others to do the congratulations.

Although this was true in the case of Kayne West's shout-out to Beyoncé a couple of months back, sometimes, some people, like Taylor Swift, deserve a minute of glory time. I've heard of having insecurities - but Kayne West... God knows what's wrong with him.

A pat on the back is nice, but a continual 24/7 patting of one's back is bravado that's clearly going overboard. Tell me, dear loyal readers, do you hate it too?

196 - One word: __________!

I never quite understood this emphatic technique, placing a single adjective after a certain place, person or thing, to stress how great a quality that place, person or something has.

"Last year's Christmas party, one word - Amazing!"
"Russell Peters, one word - Fuuuh-uuuh-neee!"
"The argument they had last night, one word - draaaamaaaa!"

How do you reduce the gravity of a given incident to a single adjective?

Have you ever heard someone say that, only to give you a different number of words instead?

"Oh, my God. That dissertation I did last night, one word - a headache!"
"There are only two things you need to pass these exams - hard work, and more hard work!"
"You know what those kindergarten kids reminded me of? One word - Lord... of... the... Flies..."

Even "awe-inspiring", and "cringe-worthy" are stretching it with the hyphen.

I also never understand how anything can be "epic", "legendary" or have "biblical" proportions. That's an insult to Odysseus, Jesus, Moses, Beowulf, the kingdom of Atlantis, and the Knights of the Round Table. I understand people are trying to be creative. I will admit it's a step up from having a "nice" day, "good" times, and "great" fun. 

But, uh, nothing in our reality is truly epic or legendary, unless you climbed Everest or can swallow your own nose or something. 

And when you begin with "One word...", you're effectively saying three words, are you not? Maybe people should disclaim it, like this:

"Three words - One word - Cringe-worthy!"

And then we can take it a step further:

"Five words - Three words - One word - Brilliant!"
"Seven words - Five words - Three words - One word - Crazy!"
"Nine words - Seven words - Five words - Three words - One word - A pain in the arse!"

189 - When people complain about the weather

It's so damn annoying when you hear people complain about the weather. 15°C is too cold, 20°C is too hot, and when it's 17°C, it just so happens to be too windy for one's liking. They don't know hot until they've been to Brunei or the Central African Republic, they don't know cold until they've been to Norway or northern China. Face a drought in central Australia, or a snowmelt flood in Minnesota, or a negative 24°C hailstorm in Munich, before you start complaining about the climate where you live, and perhaps blurt out your opinion and vague understanding of global warming. You don't know how good you have it until you've been to the extremities of the world, meteorology-wise. If it's cold, wear thicker clothes. If it's raining, bring an umbrella with you. You don't need your mother to teach you that much. Grumbling on and on about it isn't going to change the weather, so quit complaining!

163 - When people complain about being tired

When people tell me they're tired, I don't know what exactly they would like me to do to help them. Is this just something that is a 'problem', an 'issue', a matter that deserves multiple people's attention? Does it make them feel better if they confide in me about their exhaustion? Or do they expect me to make them a double espresso, made with extra strong-tasting Coffea arabica beans, and with an additional dose of sugar/sweetener added? Or do they expect me to sing a lullaby to them? Perhaps count sheep with them? Get them home and in their jammies and tuck them in?

It's annoying how people say they're tired in the morning, although, it is understandable since they just woke up. But then again, people also say they're tired after they finish their dinner, and when they' realize just how late it is when they stay up in the middle of the night, and the next day, they complain, yet again, about their tiredness after vigorous exercise during the daytime, and after a good long afternoon of playing games, or work, or day out with the family.

You see, I am tired, if you want me to be frank. I work from 11:30am 'til past midnight for six days a week as a bartender. I have to keep a smile on my face, and talk to customers, my coworkers, and my boss constantly, as if I enjoy washing and polishing a thousand glasses a day. I have to pour over a hundred glasses of wine in a day, over twenty cups of coffee, and over two hundred glasses of beer. I have to remember the names of over fifty different beers, and what their corresponding bottles, glasses, and coasters, look like, as well as memorize each glass and bottle's locations amongst the shelves in the bar, their brewing methods and distinct features, their country of origin, and their prices. I have to remember all the food on the menu, all the ingredients in each dish, how they're cooked, what the chef recommends, what the manager recommends, what wine goes well with what meat, what sauce goes well with what meat, and to which customer every dish coming out of the kitchen should be served. I also need to know a lot of miscellaneous crap, like where to find the spare limes to make garnishable lime wedges, where to find the milk, where to find the various kinds of tea bags (English Breakfast, Earl Grey, Green, Peppermint, etc...), which dial or switch adjusts and controls which light in the restaurant, what music to play at what hour and with what atmosphere, and which credit cards we take and which we don't.........

Uh, of course, I'm tired.

But I don't complain about it, because that doesn't help anybody. It never helped me when I was primary school, 'cause that just made my parents bring me home earlier to put me to sleep. It doesn't help at school, it distracts you, it gives you a reason to not pay attention. It also gives you a reason to be lazy at work. And It doesn't help when you run, when you swim, whenever you do exercise, 'cause that one breath spent on expressing your fatigue could've been used instead on invigorating you one breath bit further.

I suggest people should just suck it up. If you're that tired, if you're really tired, then forget about your work, or your studies, or your friends and family, all your responsibility, and just go home, go to bed, go relax, go to sleep, go take a break, go rest your eyes, until you're not tired, and generally, just shut up, 'cause I get most of my tiredness, from listening to that one line too often: "I'm tired~"

Argh. People can be so damn whiny. (Oops, was that a bartender's pun?)

157 - People who never meet their deadlines

I'm not the only one who's bound for University College London in the UK. I have a classmate who also plans on heading to that institution for university. He's an interesting fellow, someone who I feel privileged to know. He's very conversational and straight-forward, and tells a lot of fascinating stories. He doesn't really know how to complement people, though, and he's not the kind of person you would typically look to for consolation. But that doesn't bother me, 'cause I appreciate his cynicism, however, the thing that does annoy me about him is the way he leaves everything 'til the last minute.

No, let me make a correction: he leaves everything 'til after the last minute, after every deadline.

The university wants us to apply for accommodation before the thirty-first of May, and he hasn't done so yet. At the point when I heard this, I was already quite annoyed because I thought I didn't have to think about university applications ever again, as I had managed all the paperwork a while ago now, but apparently not - I have to help this guy out.

He says he didn't receive the application forms from the university. He realized two weeks ago that it's the only university he applied to that hadn't mailed him any information yet.

But it's only at this point that he thought to himself, that maybe he should have sent them an e-mail, asking why. And now he plans to write an e-mail of inquiry, one day after the deadline for the accommodation application.

Seriously, then what? Wait another three weeks for the form to get sent here?

The deadline was the thirty-first of May. You have no guaranteed place to live in anymore.

He's been like this since I first met him, he's been late with his geography coursework, his mathematics coursework, his English essays, and his physics lab reports.

Everybody waits until the last minute before they have to do their work, of course.

But get your shit together before the deadline arrives, because if you really wanted to go to London, like I do, that's what you have to do.

153 - When websites require long and complicated passwords

I always have very simple, vanilla passwords. They've worked for me for my entire internet life, and I believe it will always continue to do so until some hacker hacks in. I hate it when a website requires you to have upper-case and lower-case letters, a couple of numerals, some punctuation marks and a space. And then to follow up with a listening of a confirmation code, or a reading of an annoyingly warped and illegible CAPTCHA. I just don't want anyone to break into my account. Are all those requirements being demanded of me really necessary?

Uncomplicated passwords are also easier to remember, and easier to type. How much time in the world is spent remembering and typing out persnickety passwords that require you to scout characters on your keyboard, one after another, that are completely different from each other?

How much of a bitch would it be to type 4$Mj@a(D< out every time you wanted to post a reply on a forum?

If you want a completely labyrinthine Daedalian password from me, then I'm not joining your website.

151 - When people laugh at you when you simply want to look good

I have no time to do everything I've been wanting to do after high school finishes. I could only manage to fit in so much in the last 24 hours, but I still haven't gotten round to reading a single blog, or a single page of any book considered a classic. I've caught up with tons of people on Facebook, I've watched a lot of TV series, downloaded an album or two, gone out with my friends, slept in this morning, etc... etc... but there is just not enough time for me to sit back and read, to go to the beach, to write on my other blog, to see other people, and the list goes on forever...

Anyway, tonight I'm going to a banquet. It's funny because I don't know what the banquet is for, what host I'm going to be a guest to, where this thing is, or why I'm invited. To be entirely frank, I don't even know what a 'banquet' is and what you do there.

But my grandparents and my aunt are going, and I'm invited to go. I figured, I haven't been out with them in a while, and I haven't made dinner plans yet. A spontaneous free dinner from a random host I don't know the identity of yet?

Sure.

I tried to dress up nicely, but my aunt was snickering at me when she saw me leafing through my button-down shirts. She thinks it's funny that I wanted the blue shirt at first, then I switched to pink, then I changed my mind to the white one. Truth is, I was trying to match them with a particular pair of shoes.

I don't understand why she was laughing at me, though. I just want to look nice. God knows she's not fashionable, and I'm sorry if I don't want to dress up like I'm from the 50s. I will dress my age. So what if girls fuss over makeup, or if guys fuss over their hair? People need to be presentable in, and dress appropriately for, the given event. Do you want to look like an idiot in photographs? Do you want to be stared at by everyone around you?

You see, I was leaving you alone to dress up all old-fashioned, but if you want to laugh at me, I'll... I'll... I will...

I will BLOG about you. Humph.

142 - Occupational cockiness

I've just finished watching the series finale of ER. It's sad, not because I'm an avid fan of the show, but because I have seen quite a lot of episodes in the past fifteen years, and it's sad that a show that's been airing for so long just ends. Watching all of the fourteenth and fifteenth seasons, I just feel the hard work that's gone into this certain highly entertaining and culturally influential phenomenon.

What I really find interesting about medical TV dramas like ER, Grey's Anatomy and House is the way in which they depict doctors and surgeons. Sometimes, they're nice people, seemingly worthy of being physicians, but at other times, they're unsympathetic, melodramatic and downright cocky.

People who have been trained in the field they work in (especially those that have been educated for a long time like lawyers, doctors, engineers and airplane pilots) are always so arrogant. They think that just because they're the best at what they do, they can be rude and all high-and-mighty with everybody else. The doctor will shout at the cop, "With all due respect, Officer, this man needs medical care, he's suffering from a xanthine oxidase deficiency!" Then the cop will respond with, "And without meaning any disrespect to you, Doc, he's under arrest and we have the right to arrest you, too, under the Californian Penal Code, Section 853.6!"

It's like the taxi driver in the morning that tells me he knows which route has less traffic, when I've been going to the same school on a taxi everyday for the past three-and-a-half years. It's like the doctor, the plumber, the tour guide, the optician, the waiter, the cop, the teacher and the librarian who are just so damn impatient and inconsiderate. Aren't we paying these people's salaries with our taxes and our bills? Don't they teach them to be amiable in the services industry?

It's like the cashier girl at McDonald's who thinks I'm wasting her precious time just because I wanted barbecue sauce instead of sweet and sour to go with my McNuggets. Like, girl, look at yourself. You work in McDonald's. Are you proud of that? Are you proud, of that? And besides, I told you I wanted barbecue sauce already, you just forgot. Stop thinking you're so good.

I'm sure my perspective will change when I grow up and get a job where I have to be of service to a customer or a client. But hey, I think I'll be able to accept that the customer is always right. Why are there so many people, especially in the services and catering industries, that lose their inner, human kindness, their fundamental manners, once they are at work?

141 - People who ask you questions while you're reading

"Anything interesting in the news today?" "What book are you reading?" "Look at Lindsey Lohan on the cover of Michael's magazine, don't you think she's gotten a lot fatter?"

Our examinations are coming up, the final exams I will take in high school. Several subjects are worrying me right now, namely chemistry, physics and mathematics, so currently, I haven't been blogging as much so that I have more time to study.

This week, I've been focusing on building my vocabulary for the English exams, as well as going through my maths textbook, making sure I know how to use every single symbol and equation. I think I've mentioned this before, but to build my vocabulary, I've been reading a book named 'Word Power Made Easy'. It teaches you vocabulary primarily, by pointing out the etymology of a lot of different words, but alongside that, it touches on what is or isn't correct grammar, punctuation and pronunciation. It's a really effective means to attain a better vocabulary in the English language, for me at least.

What irked me at lunch today was when my friends asked me what I was reading. I didn't answer them, because I knew answering them would only attract more inquiries:
"Why are you reading that? Do you think your vocabulary's bad?"
"Where did you buy it?"
"How much was it?"
"What exactly does it teach you?"
"Do you actually learn anything from reading thing?"
"Dude, I haven't read a book in years, besides those we've studied in school. Can you believe that?"
"Isn't that boring?"
"What's the book called?"
"Who's it by?"
"Can I borrow it after you're done with it?"
"Why are you looking at me like that? You look pissed."

Shut up, peeps, I'm trying to read.

137 - The Secret

Oh, brother, another one of those things. Take a look:



The Secret is crazy. I don't buy it. I will never believe in something like this. The darn music, the people's faces and words and the background are probably designed to entrance us by more pseudoscientists. ...Listening to enough of this crap will surely be life-changing, as it'll drive you mad. What a load of bull.

136 - People who only answer one question when you ask multiple questions

This happens too often.

Michael: "Hey, when are we meeting up next week? What time and where?"
Person: "Ummm... the McDonald's in Times Square."
(fifteen seconds of silence later...)
Michael: "Which day and what time?"
Person: "4 o'clock"
(five seconds more...)
Michael: "Uh, huh... and the date?"
Person: "Oh, sorry. ...Um... Thursday."
Michael: "Thank you..."

When I ask multiple questions consecutively, it means I need multiple answers consecutively. Jeez.

135 - When people in the real-life read my blog

I know they're there everyday. Sometimes, I think they deliberately anger me just to see how dramatic they can make me. Sometimes, I write posts that concern them and I can just feel their eyes on my back as I'm writing. Maybe I don't hate them for reading my blog. Maybe I hate myself for fundamentally giving this blog to my family and my friends in the first place. Maybe I should start a totally new one and tell nobody in my real-life about it. But now that my blogs have become so widely read, I'm sure they'll be able to find the new one somehow, some day, anyway. And I don't want to leave this blog, this name... Do you hate it too? is the perfect title.

Does this ever happen to anybody else? Is your blog affected by the people in the real world?

134 - People who don't shut up during movies

Sorry, folks. It's been a tiresome week and I've been arriving home at around 10pm every night for the past three nights. Exhausted, your familiar hater naturally goes to sleep. I don't know what else to say. Forgive me.

Today, I was on Facebook and I found a message in my inbox from someone who I used to go to school with a long time ago. He wanted to ask me out to eat dinner, have drinks, catch up, reminisce about the good old days, that sort of thing. I remember our group of friends used to go out to watch movies every Friday. The mall we went to also had an ice-skating rink in it, and I recall that was always a lot of fun before and after seeing a film.

There was one time the class dunce (the one that poured sugar in his mouth) decided to join our group to see a movie. He chose the film for us, a terrible choice in my opinion, as he decided we should watch Bad Boys 2, a bad sequel to an already appawling first movie, starring Will Smith and Martin Lawrence, rated 23% on Rotten Tomatoes.

Anyway, our group all hated the damn movie, but the idiot in our class loved it. Since we all disliked the distasteful car chases and gun shooting, we started chatting and laughing at the back of the cinema...

...and then things got a little out of control. One of my best friends decided to stand on one of the chairs and stick his hands in front of the projector. Watching a dog's silhoutte eating Will Smith's old rusty yellow car was simply hilarious.

And then this guy sitting three rows in front of us, a white man with thin-rimmed glasses, stood up, walked up toward us, and told us to "either shut up or get the Hell out of the cinema".

And so we all got the Hell out of the cinema.

Yeah, I get it. There's nothing more annoying than, say, a young boy that exclaims "COOL!!!!" whenever Batman or Spiderman suddenly appears on the screen, or nothing ruins a movie more than a young girl that screams, or even cries, after there are loud sound effects. I think it's the worst when any grown adult doesn't understand that he/she has to switch their mobile phone off before the movie starts, people who have crappy ringtones, who have no sense of respect for the people around them, and who talk at an unbelievably high decibel.

Yeah, all of that can get pretty irritating. Those dumb teenagers in the back projecting hand-shadows on to the screen deserve to get flogged. I understand where the guy with the thin-rimmed glasses was coming from. I probably would have said the same thing, if I had the same stinking, substandard taste in movies as he did.

131 - When people say they will chip in for a big present, then change their mind

Poor birthday boy. We have so many great ideas for a gift, but the reason behind why any of them are under consideration is because we have a big collective pot of money to afford it with. From the beginning, we said to ourselves that we would chip in to buy an expensive and nice birthday gift, but no, no, at the last minute, people opt out, and say they want to get something by themselves, due to various special circumstances (i.e. lame excuses), leaving those remaining confused as to what to do next, because they really wanted to get something nice, with others that they thought they could count on.

What was the point in going shopping for a couple of days? What was the point in talking all about those great ideas? Jackets and Polo shirts and bags and belts and hoodies... Why did we even bother going out to find something if it all amounted to nothing? Seriously, what a waste of time.

We can't afford any of that without everybody in it together. It just shows you're unreliable, untrustworthy, and inconsiderate. Don't you care about the birthday boy?

Well, no, you don't. He doesn't care about you either.

I guess it was a birthday party fated to be bad, with only a select few of the presents carrying genuine sentiments of friendship, congratulations on turning 18, and best wishes for the future. Just a select few...