200 - 2012 is the end of the world

Today is the day I publish my two-hundredth post. Congratulations to me, right? I can't even believe I continued doing this for a year, and still want to continue to do this - it makes me proud, it makes me wonder when I will stop and why, it worries me a little to know I have that much to complain about, it makes me feel hungry

Oops, typing out loud.

Ahem, 200 is a pretty special number. A cholesterol level of 200 or lower is considered to be a desirable amount to have, corresponding to a lower risk of heart disease. $200 or £200 is how much you're given when you pass "Go" in Monopoly. And the year 200 is when the Classic Period of Mayan Civilization begins.

Ah, 2012... Ever since I read an article five years ago, about Doomsday coming our way, set in stone to occur on December 21st, 2012, I knew that it was just a matter of time before all the hype about it would be generated, before the books, the documentaries, and the movie were going to be created to depict its apocalyptic effect, and before the scientists, the media, the public, the religious groups, the bloggers, the believers, the skeptics, and the government, all jumped on the bandwagon to build 2012 up and aggrandize it to something that it isn't.

I'm not going to go into the Mayan Long Calendar, or rant about how heinously flawed it is to attribute and reduce all this crap to the Mayan culture. I'm sure if you go to the library and pick up a book, or read some online journals, actually educated people will tell you how nonsensical all of this End of the World stuff is. It is true - they did predict a great end to the human race, as well as are birth of said human race, according to their specific time line. I've read about some of the theories, some of the explanations of why it's truth and why it's fiction - and whether or not I believe in the scientific word, or the words of whomever - I believe that it all doesn't matter, so long as I live today, and have plans for tomorrow, to continue living my life.

You may say that I'm conceited, perhaps a little bit too comfortable leaning back on my pillow as I sit on my bed here in my university dorm, and you may ask me, what if I'm wrong?

Truth is, I may be. The Olympics are set to happen in London in the summer of 2012. A solar eclipse is due in May and November that year. The Kyoto Protocol set up by the UN is set to expire at the end of 2012. The USA will elect a new president. It is said that Jupiter and Venus will align with the Sun and the Moon. It is said solar flares from the Sun will shift our poles and destroy the Earth. It is said a comet might hit us. It is said we might head straight into a black hole.

But I don't care. I am not going to swallow half a bottle of gin every night because there's no reason to live the next day. Nor will I live every day with no respect for my own wellbeing, or use this 2012 rubbish as an excuse to escape from my responsibilities.

And I believe it's wrong, man, how people are freaking out about it, naive, innocent people that don't know any better but to believe in these prophesies. The other day, I read something about people slitting their wrists and hanging themselves after seeing 2012, and I think that's quite messed up.

Anyway, I'm going to end there. Tell me what you think.

And here's a cool illustrated guide to how much 200 calories look like. And don't forget to follow me on Facebook and Twitter!

96 - Obnoxiously wide people on public transportation

I don't mean to complain about those who are fat, but what I'm implying is when people, either willingly or obliviously, are incredibly wide on public transportation seating.

There's always the big construction worker going home from a long day at work, who spreads his legs as far apart as he can, like he's trying to reach both ends of the bloody train. There's the kindergarten punk kid that won't stop squirming and doing somersaults on his seat. There's the old lady that's coming back from the supermarket, plastic bags filled with fish and veggies galore, laid out all over the floor in front of her and the people she's sitting next to on either side. There's the teenager with the loud rock music and headphones, his restless leg shaking up and down, nudging your leg. There's the guy with a lot of bags, or the big, big jacket, or the suitcase, who just can't help but nudge you, but really, really wants to sit down from carrying around that much weight.

And then there's me, the slight germaphobe, who doesn't really like coming into physical contact with strangers (or their fish). There's the pregnant lady who's clamping her legs together because she's afraid the teenage kid's hard rock music will transpire through the air, through her cervix and cause mental illness to her fetus. There's the aged man, who needs a cane to walk about, and who's just absolutely scared as Hell that the kindergartner might knock him in the face with his arm, or accidentally knee his bad hip. There's the mother, who has confidently placed her three-year-old daughter on her own individual seat next to her for the first time, but quickly regrets it when the guy with the big jacket looks as if he's going to completely flatten her dear little girl. And last, but not least, there's the stoic, modern-age businesswoman that's placing her leather briefcase in between her and the construction worker, because she doesn't want the cement dust on his clothes to rub off on her clean, black, formal dress.

72 - Too much of a sweet tooth

I used to know a person called Ben Cook. I like to talk about Ben with my close friend for six years and recall all his special characteristics. We often laugh about this sad sticker on the box he took to music class that said, "I love my clarinet." And we remember this absolutely hilarious incident where he managed to run into a football post and hit his forehead with a loud BANG. Aside from the fact that he liked to take off his shoes during class, one of the most memorable things about Ben Cook is his sweet tooth.

He would carry Airheads in his pockets everywhere he went. We would often see him unwrapping a toffee, drinking Coca Cola or with a lollypop in his mouth. There was one time when my close friend went to Ben's place to hang out. They were sitting in his room and Ben shouted, "Mum?!!?? Is there any more cake left?!?!"

His mother replied with, "No, dear!"

And so Ben went downstairs to the kitchen to scavenge for food.

My close friend followed him downstairs and walked in on Ben pouring plain white sugar into his mouth. Wouldn't you hate the sight of that too?

2 - Staring at others through a car window

So, the other night, I was on the bus, on my way home, and somewhere along the way, the bus stopped at a traffic light. I was tiredish and had had a long day, so I sort of had my head facing downwards for most of my ride. I looked out the window to check I hadn't missed my stop, but all I saw was a businesswoman of some sort, staring at me through the window of the taxicab she was in. She was dressed up all fine and had glasses that made her look all professional. The way she looked at me with such curiosity suddenly made my seat uncomfortable and it was just... creepy.

Why are people so interested in looking at me?

Each time I catch someone ogling at me like a newborn baby, they make me feel so incredibly self-conscious when all I'm doing is innocently trying to get from point A to point B. They're looking at me and I think to myself: Does she think my hair's too shaggy? Do I have ink on my face? I knew I shouldn't have worn this color. Do I look weird? Are my eyes too big? Is my mouth too thin? Is that old guy with the fanny pack... checking me out?

It's not like I'm a famous celebrity that actually deserves window-based attention (kudos to those of who can make out the celebrity kissing in the car — 'make out' pun totally intended). There really is nothing mildly interesting about my appearance and I actually think it's slightly uncivil to make people feel so uncomfortable by glaring at them like that.

And my standpoint regarding this issue does not only include the creepy people that invade your privacy through your car window. Even if it's the occasional 3-year-old toddler gawking at you on the train with those cute, innocent eyes, I still firmly believe that kids should be taught by their parents and teachers that staring is every bit as bad as pointing. But hey, that may just be me.

In conclusion, it's disturbing. If you do have this worrisome habitude, kindly take a nap, read a book or play a game on your iPhone instead. And if you find yourself being stared at, there are a few things you can do.

(1) Stare back and scare them away. I mean, you can be creepy too, you know? Personally, I would recommend black eyeliner to give yourself a slightly more Gothic look. (2) Move out of the creeper's line of sight. (3) Start crying and make him/her feel guilty. (4) Ask him/her a question. Quickly take out a notepad, jot down an inquiry and slap it on the window. Do you like my shirt? Have you seen the new Saw movie? Obama or McCain?

(5) Or you could just make a general comment that concerns the creeper. I looooove your fanny pack.