In Continuum.

It concerns me because whatever goes on on that side of the Pacific is related to what goes on here as well, the whole world is related in this giant cobweb in every possible way, that one movement is going to trigger a ripple of effects throughout the web. That is the way it works around the world, in this "global village" thing they love to call, and things are about to change over there in America, a giant rock is about to fall into the pond. I believe that things are going to change over there for the better, and hopefully it will be the case for the rest of the world as well. We, the rest of the world, are praying from our homes and watching through our televisions. It isn't difficult for us to see who is the better candidate for the presidency, and we all know who has the ability to truly change the country, as well as the world as a whole. You cannot deny the fact that we are deeply affected by America, and what goes on there affects us in every possible way. It is kind of like a neighbor upstairs doing renovation works with those accursed electric drills right above your head, and all the neighbors downstairs suffer from the noise. Though some get it worse while others not so, we are all affected one way or another. 

I don't remember being this involved in a presidential race, and it frustrates me a little that I cannot vote in this election because I am not a citizen over there. I still vehemently believe that the presidency of America should be voted by the world, and not just the citizens of America alone. Of course, that is merely a dream that is both unrealistic and biblical in proportions, but it does make some sense if you think about it. I'd like to be an American for a day, and make that man the president of the country, simply because he has inspired more than just the people that hold the same passports as he. He has inspired humans, ordinary people like you and I, from all around the world, to hope. There isn't any harm in hoping, and I suppose it is the purest form of all emotions out there. Everybody wants something to change for the better, and this man represents that possibility. On the other side of the spectrum, we have a campaign that subtly spreads hate, fear, and racism. On that end of things, it isn't about what they are going to do, how much better their candidate is, but more about how much worse the other candidate is. Too much emphasis has been given to comparing two rotten apples, so much that I wonder what'd happen if Mr. Obama actually does win. 

At twenty-two years old, I am eligible to vote - but I refuse. The reason is simple enough in Singapore, and you only need to wait till the election period comes around the corner. In Singapore, we actually have cases whereby there is only one candidate running for the parliament, and you only have one choice and no other. It isn't even a choice between cake or death now, it's just "death" and no other. So much for democracy, and it is funny how they threaten you with ridding you of the right to vote - as if most of us care about it. When one single party owns about ninety-percent of the seats in the parliament, you know that your vote practically counts for nothing. They decide what to do with the government, they decide what to do with you, and you don't even have another party to voice out the opposing voices. People in America are complaining about the rigidity of a two-party system. Let's see them live in a country with just one. I know, we have the opposition party in place, but do they exist - really? I cannot care less about voting in Taiwan either, because every candidate sucks in Taiwan. No matter who you choose, they are all going to mess up the country one way or another. That is why I looked the other way, I looked a little further. 

If you watch his speeches often enough, you start to hear someone you've been wanting to hear for a very long time. It isn't because he uses more fancy words, or because a repeated viewing of his videos online has caused me to grow fonder. You think about the other politicians you have seen, you remember how they were like behind the podium in the past. They were always the ones saying the same things and then doing something else altogether. They speak in a generic way that has become so generic, so predictable, that it has become easy to predict their next move. Politicians never keep their promises, they are never who you want them to be. It'd be a long shot to hope for a perfect president but, the past politicians have never been very close. When I was young, I saw politicians going into office and disappointing the world over and over again. In my lifetime, I have never actually seen a politician who truly inspired people. I mean, there have been people in the music business, in the movie business, in every field that I can think of, but not politics. The political field has been a dead zone for a very long time, and I gave up hope on it a long time ago. 

Going back to my initial point, Mr. Obama is a completely different voice. He inspires, he truly does. He speaks in a way that I have never heard of before in the past. Gone are the boring politicians behind podiums, yelling out empty promises for robots below cheering on, only to be disappointed later on. But humans never learn, most of us don't. They elected the same idiotic president twice in the past eight years, and a healthy forty-odd percent of the Americans now still want another four years of the same. I watch Mr. Obama, I listen to his words, and though most of them do not affect me directly, they move me. He speaks of what I have been wanting politicians to say, he reminds me of those inspiring speeches in black and white documentaries from long ago, people we read about in textbooks. Most of them are dead by now, assassinated or died from natural causes, but all of them left a mark in history because they were pure in their intentions, because they moved people, because they were born to be leaders. You see the shadows of all those great leaders in this man, and nothing seems to be able to stop him. Not the childish jests from his opponent, not the racial slurs or the death threats. At last, we have a man who can stand up to the crowd and become who we've always wanted him to be. 

Of course, he isn't going to be a perfect president, as he is not a perfect man. He is not going to be pleasing everybody in the country, but he is going to change things. In fact, he has already changed things in a way that we have never seen before, and that is his way of calling for unity all across the country. Now, it doesn't matter if you are a Democrat, or a Republican, or if you are not affiliated to any party in America. People are all coming together because they've been wanting a change, and this man is change on legs. He asks not the riches of being a president, or the power that comes along with it. He asks not to be trusted to make every single decision on his own, but he asks the people to hope for a better day, and a better day is indeed coming. I look forward to next week when America casts the vote without me, I look forward to the day when he is going to win the presidency for sure. I trust him, all the way from this side of the world, because the video below convinced me whole-heartedly. Still, I must emphasize, that I am not a deeply political person by nature. Yet, his words have moved me in ways that not a lot has, and this video is the testimony for that. I teared a little when I watched this thirty-minute long video he released a few days ago, and yet I am proud. Because really, this is the man. He really is. 

Our education system has taught us to accept that not knowing is a crime at school. It almost seems as if it is wrong to not know something in class or the textbooks. At least that is the educational climate in Asian countries, you are supposed to know your materials and not ask questions in a classroom setting. That is why most students here seem to be passive and non-involved at times. We have been taught not to ask questions in the classrooms, and we should try to figure out the problem ourselves. Saying something like "I don't know" makes you stupid, makes you ill-informed, it makes you a bad student, and nobody wants to be labeled as that. I suppose not knowing isn't something that is encouraged in most Asian countries, and admitting to it is like a white flag being waved on a battlefield, where you conceit defeat and you are submitting to your weakness. The truth is, however, not knowing is the most essential step to knowing most of the time, and that is the whole point of implementing an education system in the first place. Still, not a lot of people like the idea that "you don't know", or "I don't know". Some people would pretend that they know, and they say things in a way that'd convince you that they do know. It's the brilliant usage of language that makes these people so powerful in our society. After all, you don't need to pass I.Q. test to make it into the parliament, for example. 

It ties in with the fear of the unknown, I suppose. When humans didn't understand the reasons behind a lightning or a rainbow, they imagine an old man in the skies being very pissed off with, well something. Then they imagined pots of gold at the end of rainbows, and that probably sent a lot of foolish and greedy men to the ends of the world. They probably looked to the old and the wise, they expected them to have the answers to everything that happened in the world back then, and they gave them all the answers. How could they have not? They were the oldest, the wisest, and surely they should know more than anybody else about everything. So they come up with stories about the world, about invisible people in the skies and many other stories, and these stories were passed from ear to ear, from mouth to mouth. Then a group of people decided to write it down in a great big book, a book that remains as the top seller around the world in bookstores, though you can steal it from the drawer in any hotel rooms out there. All these stories were told because people were afraid to say the words "I don't know", as if those three words would doom them into the abyss of stupidity. In truth, it is easy to say the words "I don't know", and being lost is completely normal. 

I believe that the wisest minds in human history probably began with the same three words that we know of today as well. They started from not knowing, to questioning, and they eventually came to the truth at the very end. We found out that a lightning is basically an electricity discharge in our atmosphere, and the rainbows are merely the refraction effect of the light that passes through the air at a certain angle. All these answers came from the same three words people have been asking themselves for a very long time. Still, it is OK to tell yourself that you don't know, but a lot of people out there don't like to admit to it. It almost seems shameful to admit to not knowing, or that you were zoning out while the lecturer was giving the explanation in class. I think I know a lot of things, but at the same time I feel like there are a lot more things in this world just waiting for me to find out more about. I know my shoe size, in which case nobody else in this world knows by heart. I know how plate tectonic works, and I know that mixing the colors blue and yellow gives you green. Some of these are very common knowledge, but at the same time they are things about the world that we live in. Like the saying goes, the more you know, the more you know you don't know. I feel that one can never know enough about anything at all. 

So this entry is a confession, on my part, to say that I don't know a lot of things. This is me, telling the world that there are things in this world that I do not comprehend, things that I know very little of - though, I really should. First off, I am not very good with anything that goes on in the kitchen. I was at Vivo City a month or two ago when I came across a section in the shopping mall that sold kitchen utensils. I have never seen so many kitchen utensils in my life, and my mother isn't exactly a fan of having so many in the kitchen anyway. It complicates things, I suppose, and it's not like she needs so many items hanging off the walls anyway. I grew up learning only so many equipments you need to make a good meal, and they usually include the most basic of basics. A frying a pan, a pot, bowls and plates, forks and spoons, knives and really big knives, so on and so forth. And I thought the cabinets that were in the Home Economics classroom in high school had a lot of utensils to boot - that shopping mall was like the Mecca of cooking utensils. They looked more like torturing devices somehow, spoons of varying sizes and stirrers with hooks at the end of them - what's the point? Even April, who was with me at that time, knew not the purposes of all of them. It looked like the set of the next Hostel movie, and I could picture a butcher with a bloody apron picking the tools off the shelves to cut open the guts of a poor innocent victim. 

I don't know much about anything that goes on in the kitchen, and it extends to my lack of knowledge for food. I like food a lot, in fact I love food. I love the feeling of a thousand pores in your mouth opening up to the taste of whatever that you put inside your mouth after a long day of starving. You know, the feeling you get in your mouth, like the opening of a dam and the water starts to gush down the river like a tidal wave. I do feel like that with food, but I don't know them very well. That is also a part of the reason why I do so badly at NTR in school, because NTR does not involve eating - it usually takes a microscopic look at food and how it affects your body. I admire people who can take a sip of a soup and tell you what is inside and what isn't. I admire people who can pick off italian names of food off the top of their heads, and I especially admire the girl who taught me what "Penne Alla Arrabiata" is. This would be a typical way of how they'd probably describe a soup: I taste a hint of (something), blended with a bit of (something). They added a tad bit too much (something) though, they could have used (something) instead. But the preparation is really good, I can see that they (something) it. I see good food, I fork it into my mouth without second thoughts, and here we have people dissecting the food and telling you what is in it and how they prepared it? I have no idea how these people can do such things, perhaps my tongue is just perpetually numb. I have no idea how you differentiate from one ingredient to the next. To these people, I send my highest praises. 

Next, cars. I don't know a lot about cars, in fact I don't know anything about cars. I know a lot of people who can give you the model of cars off the tips of their fingers. They could tell you which model of which year, and I bet the names every part in the car engine. I don't suppose it is because I don't have a car, but because I haven't been very interested in them at all. I know of people who could talk about cars all day and all night long, and they can never get bored about arguing over whose dream car is the best. I know that a car has four wheels, a car has a dashboard, seats, a hood, a trunk, bumpers... as you can see, the knowledge is rather limited. Some people don't just know about cars, they know how to fix cars. Your car breaks down at the side of the road, you give them a call and they are going to come in, bare hands, and fix everything for you. That is how amazing these people are, and I have no idea how they do it. They probably read up a lot on cars - a lot. They can tell you down to two decimal places when it comes to how fast a car reaches 100km/h, or they could quote the prices of cars right off the bet. Another group of people I greatly admire. 

Then, we have fashion. I think I dress OK, not overly extravagant and not too overly vulgar either. Casual and comfort, I suppose, is the way to go for the most part, and I do not have a lot of clothes to go around in the first place. For guys, things are usually very easy to differentiate. We have the shirts and we have the t-shirts. We have the shorts, the bermudas, the pants and the jeans - easy. There are technical details you might want to go into, like a V-Neck or a tapered jeans but, that is as far as it goes when it comes to the details anyway. The ladies, however, they have a completely different set of names for their wardrobes, and it is so difficult to remember all of them. All the technical names start to flood in when you hear girls talking about which top to buy when you go shopping with them. To me, they were all merely "tops" and "bottoms" a few years ago, until I was introduced to the terms like "turtleneck", "spaghetti", "tank" and "cardigan". Seriously, I was that stupid. I know now, at the very least, but there is still a world of names out there for me to remember when it comes to the ladies. The shoes alone probably have a dozen different names, and those names probably have a few sects of their own as well. Of course, knowing that I "don't know", I have no idea where to begin naming them one by one. All you have to know is that when it comes to fashion, I am in shallow waters. 

So yes, I have admitted to not knowing a lot of things in life. I think I know quite a bit about music, about guitars, about the movies that I love (I have the uncanny ability to name a movie that I have watched just by seeing one second of it, tested and proven), things like that. Still, there are a lot of things out there which I don't know of, places where I'd feel overwhelmed and daunted by those who know a whole lot better. But I suppose, that is the joy of knowing, to know that you are not the wisest of them all, the smartest in the crowd. I suppose with such a mind, comes a great responsibility, and I am not a fan of that for the most part. I like to know that I am insignificant sometimes, to know that I still have another hill yet to climb. I makes me humble, I suppose, and it reminds me every once in a while that I am not in the center of the universe. We all have to step back every once in a while, to stare upon ourselves and to think "Wow, I really know so little despite so much". It's true, and there isn't anything wrong with saying "I don't know". Start now, say those words with me, and go to Wikipedia and find out more. It's fun to know - try it. 

An original composition. 

First of all, I love puns. Pun sounds cute, like a snack or a cute little brother. Here is how I see it: Pun is the second child of the family of four, with Punk being his elder brother, and Puny and Pink being his younger sisters. Their parents are Funk and Kink, and Pun is the smart and studious one of the family, the one in the best schools and the best college. OK, enough of my strange and imaginary characters, let's get right down to business. Four Tet got it right with that infectious song that goes "Oh no no, no more mosquitoes!" It's true, I truly despise mosquitoes, though I used to think that houseflies are the masters of all irritants in the world. They are like Salonpas sprayed to the eyes, only they have wings and they can never be gotten rid of unless you squash them with a fly swap. Till this day, I know of no effective ways to get rid of houseflies as they buzz around your eyes and ears, though that is not to say that they actually do any direct harm to you. They fly around animal stool and then land on your chicken rice, but the harm isn't exactly direct either. Mosquitoes, however, they tend to inflict direct harm on you in the form of a small bulge in your skin that itches like crazy, not to mention the small quantity of blood they suck without asking for your permission. At times, they are worse than houseflies, I swear. 

After the recent ant infestation in my house (which was successfully terminated after leaving four ant traps along their trail as well as burning them with a lighter), I had a mosquito problem. I blame it on the fogging downstairs, which has merely drove the mosquitoes upwards rather than killing them. It's kind of like driving all the child rapists from one state to another in a country instead of locking them up. The problem is still there, and they are not going away anytime soon. Imagine a comfortable weekday morning, and you have about two hours more of sleep before you have to get up officially for school. That was me, last week, on Monday when the night's dreams were still lingering in my head. The horrors began with a low humming from outside the window, like a small plane in the skies circling overhead. Then the wind blew in from the windows and brought the curtains up like wings, and that was when the awful stench drifted into my bedroom. They were fogging downstairs, spraying the estate for the umpteenth time in the past month, spraying poison out of those black tubes and then making the estate look as if it has caught on fire. The chemicals floated up into my room and I choked while trying to close the window. It was too late, though, my house was then filled with insecticide. Great.

So for the rest of the day, I had the horror image of stuffing insecticide puffing tubes down the foggers' throats, though it really isn't their fault. I needed someone to blame, I wanted someone to be responsible for making my room smell like a high school chemistry lab. I also wanted someone to blame for all the mosquito bites that I sustained in the past couple of days. i would wake up in the morning with bites all over my legs or my arms, and it came to a point whereby I couldn't take it any longer. Over the past couple of days, I have relied solely on those small aluminum mat to expel mosquitoes from Baygon. You know, you slot that little blue piece of aluminum, thing, into the holder and then plug it into a common socket. It'd then fill your room with a distinct smell, and the mosquito would go away in no time. It has been working pretty well so far, though they keep coming back over and over again. I'd have to check the flower pots in the balcony, since my mother has the tendency to neglect such things around the house. I mean, she even attempt to have water lilies at home in a giant bowl of water - that was a mosquito cesspool, right there. 

My war with the mosquitoes have been waging on for a long time now. It began with my hatred for houseflies out in the fields, when they'd just not leave you alone. Still, the most that they did was to fly around my face and to irritate the living daylight out of me with the flapping of their wings. They never actually caused any harm to me, though they do look so repulsive on closer inspection. Nothing beats the mosquitoes and the sandflies out in the fields, however, they were the bane of any human being's existence. Mosquitoes used to come in swarms, they don't hunt alone out there in the jungle. I remember this one time when I was sitting out in the dirt in the evening, when I thought I heard a platoon of men charging from another side of the road. But it sounded very distant and soft, but it was definitely there. So I waited for some sign of their bursting out through the bushes, but they never came. That was when I figured it out: it wasn't a platoon of men, but the sound of a horde of mosquitoes around me. That was when I noticed the thin mist around my head, a swarm of mosquitoes just waiting to suck my blood out. I've been beaten so many times in the past that I have already came up with my own defense for those winged horrors. 

It begins like this. My standard uniform would be sprayed with insect repellant all over, especially in areas like the inner thighs, the chest area, around my neck, my lower back, as well as my butt. Then I'd apply the SAF insect repellant on the exposed skin, such as my hands and my neck, and maybe a little bit in the face area, especially the forehead. With that done, I'd proceed to put on my jacket, no matter how humid the night may be in the jungles, I'd put it on. I'd tighten the sleeves around the wrists and around my waist, then I'd pull the zip all the way up to my lips so that only my face is exposed. I'd then tighten the hood to minimize the amount of surface area I have exposed to the wild. This layer of fabric then has to be sprayed with insect repellant again in the vital areas, and then I'd proceed to paste mosquito pads all around the jacket. I'd usually paste one on the hood above my forehead, then one on my chest just to get them away from my face area. When it comes to sleeping in the middle of the night, I try to tuck my arms into the pockets just so that they'd not be too adventurous and dive in for a bite. This usually takes around five to ten minutes to complete, and that was what I did every single night out in the fields. A lot of trouble and a lot of work, but it was worth it. I sustained very little bites out there, and it was all thanks to my preparations. 

I suppose the mosquitoes at home never actually met the ones that I killed in the past. I have this sadistic treatment to mosquitoes that I capture, and they'd usually hope to be dead once they are in my hands. Mosquitoes in Taiwan tend to take elevators, and I kid you not. They travel to different floors via the elevator, and then they'd infest the homes slowly and feast upon the residences. I usually live with my aunt and uncle in Taiwan when I go back, and they have three of those electrical rackets that are used to swap and kill mosquitoes. In the case whereby the mosquitoes are alive after being electrocuted, I'd carefully pick them off the metal grills, then torture them until they are dead. I'd either cut off their wings and set them free, or cut off their "needles" or "straws", and let them fly out of the window. I'd like to see how they suck blood without those, it'd be interesting to observe. I'd cut off their legs as well, and have them fly around ceaselessly without any rest. If they do not die from blood loss, they'd probably die from exhaustion, and that'd be fun to see too. Then there are times when I don't feel so patient with these winged horrors, which is also why I'd exterminate them with a hard and swift slam of a slipper. They'd be squashed right underneath, and that thrills me to no end, however cheap it may seem. 

I am, by no means, cruel to animals. I love animals, I love them too much. Mosquitoes, however, I cannot care for. If those foggers downstairs want to do a better job at getting rid of these pests, they really should find a better way because, whatever they are doing surely isn't working very well. I should really start to leave dead bodies of mosquitoes around the house, just so that they'd learn to stay away from the mosquito graveyard that is my home. You could try, try your very best. Even if you enter with a stomach full of blood, you shall never leave my home. Just you wait, mosquitoes. Just you wait. Oh no no, no more mosquitoes. 

 

The day began with the lot of us heading over to Felicia's house to make the poster as well as to dress up. Me, being the only guy there aside from Alvin, didn't really have a lot to do prior to the party. It was just a shirt for us, then a pair of jeans, and we were ready to go. But the ladies, being ladies, took a much longer time, which is understandably so I suppose. So I came up with the idea of giving him a giant cheque, Joyce filled in the awesome looking school crest, and the rest helped with the border decorations. The ladies took turns with making the poster because they needed more time to dress up, and I was really eager to see what they'd turn Joyce into by the end of the pre-party. She turned out really awesome, with Felicia's awesome make-up strokes around her eyes, and it really only took a few minutes for her to get used to it. So we were all dressed up, and then that problem surfaced all over again - food. So we had five properly dressed people in the middle of a housing estate, too lazy to drive anywhere for food and was in desperate need of it. We decided on eating the neighborhood chicken rice, and it was a hilarious sight to see five properly dressed people walking down the side of a busy road and into a chicken rice store. It was really strange, but I suppose nothing normal ever goes on with Sarah around - and I mean that with all the love in the world. 

It took us forever to grab a cab at the side of the road, and for some reason I pictured all the drivers going to Zouk, attending the party. Sarah coined the expression "Depart for the Party", and that was a brilliant wordplay indeed. The cab pulled into town, drove around Wheelock's place, and dived into a side of town that I've never been to before. And there we were on the side of the road, going pass the entrance of the Grand Copthorne, meeting the long line of people that snaked out from the entrance at Zouk. Felicia and Alvin were already there, along with Barney and a friend of Kevin's, Adrian - who was a particularly friendly guy, I must say. Jeremy arrived soon after in his car, and that was about when problem occurred. Felicia forgot to bring her identifications, not even her driver's license or any student identifications. It was a school event, yes, but it wasn't stopping the management of the club to check everybody's I.D. at the door. So Jeremy had to drive Felicia, Alvin and Ting Ting all the way back to her house to get the I.D. before coming back all over again, and it wasn't helped that the party was about to start at that time. I was rushed into the club along with Barney, her boyfriend Clement and well as Adrian, and that familiar music we heard at the rehearsals were already starting as the lights were dimmed and the party began. 

Picture a beauty pageant held at a club, then put a few hundred people into a crammed space and then have loud music being blasted through the speakers, you get what went on for nearly two hours last night. Jody usually come across as a friendly but reserved person in school, but her role as the host last night was really an eye-opener. I thought the two emcees did a great job for the night, though the games took a little too long. I mean, we didn't pay eighteen dollars to see people play musical chairs on the stage or, to have drinking competitions. Either way, at least we were given coupons for a free drink, so it hardly mattered to me. Kevin seemed a little awkward at the beginning of the contest, then again everybody looked a little awkward initially. They walked in a funny way, they smiled in a funny way, and everything just worked a little strange at first. But I suppose they got used to the stage, the crowd, the music, and everything fell quietly into place. I didn't expect the girls to do anything less than a wonderful job, and the boys were really who I wanted to see, improve. I mean, like I mentioned, the boys didn't really do that well at the rehearsals, and it is always fun to see a bunch of people exceed expectations. The boys were significantly less comfortable on the stage than the girls, but they still pulled it off anyway, and that was a pleasant surprise indeed. 

I thought the segment where the contestants were supposed to show their "wild" side was a little off with the girls though. It's not that I expected the girls to be half-naked like the boys were, but some of the girls were so wrapped up for that segment that it was just a little off, for me. As much as I was supporting Jo Ann, her feathery dress wasn't exactly flattering, in my opinion. Anyway, aside from that, the actual beauty pageant was punctuated by videos of the contestants, slideshows, as well as a few games involving the audience as a whole. Kudos to that big guy who won the beer drinking competition. He was a monster. That is not to mention Shen and BJ's awesome pole dancing, which I thought was the true high point of the night. I have no idea how those two guys can go up onto a stage and pretend to give blowjobs to one another, I really don't. Still, hats off to the both of them, though I was really eager for the pageant to move on. Felicia and gang managed to come back halfway through the show, and they were really frustrated with missing Kevin's public seduction. I kind of expected the winners of the competition, and I must say that Kevin was the only shocker of the night. I kind of expected Josh to be on the list, and Ryan, and Sarah was bound for number one with all the screams she received with every mentioning of her name. Congratulations to all the winners, and I really want those iPod Nanos you guys got. Oh, the envy. 

We hung out for a bit after the pageant, when the stage was cleared and the dance floor went back to the crowd. The music became louder, the very air around us was vibrating with the beat of the music. The crowd grew significantly with the night drawing deeper upon itself, and the artificial mist blotted out the silhouettes of the people below. We were on the third level above the bar, staring down at the crowd below twisting their bodies to the songs. I had a drink with the guys while I was there, as we squeezed through the crowd and through narrow spaces in between shoulders and and buttocks. It became difficult to hear each other after some time, with the ringing in our ears and the music growing only louder with every passing minute. It was fun for only so long, then it became the same thing over and over again. It was hard to talk, and most of us had to shout over the sound in the club. People swarmed to the bar to get their drinks, some of them drinking a little more than they could stomach. While Ting Ting, Jeremy and I were down next to the bar, a guy behind us stood up and vomited all over the floor before crashing down into it. Not until Jeremy pointed out who it was did I realize that I actually know that guy from school, and there he was drenched in his own vomit at eleven at night. That, was embarrassing. Yes, I am still paranoid if the vomit spilled onto my shoes, since it did onto Ting Ting's legs. 

Oh, it was fun taking the pictures and then just having fun with the friends. But the atmosphere was a little stifling for me, and it wasn't really my thing. Jeremy was obviously intrigued by everything, the sights and the sounds. He wanted to see some "action", though I am not sure what action he was speaking of - people dancing or people grinding each other in the crotch areas. Anyway, we decided to get out of the place after some time, and the hot air outside suddenly became so welcoming. I tried to understand why people would want to club, because nothing really goes on at a club when there isn't some kind of event. Perhaps it was too early in the night to tell, despite it being close to midnight at that time. It's the same thing over and over, and you hardly get to have a decent conversation with anybody without straining your voice. It is a wonder how people could be picked up at a club, or to pick people up in the first place. I suppose an obscene amount of alcohol was probably involved, but the activity still did not strike me as being particularly interesting. I suppose I agree with Naz, I don't like clubbing, it really isn't my thing. My ideal weekend would be spent somewhere with some friends, where we can actually hear each other in proper and just talking. A swimming pool would be nice, with some drinks and silence all around. Not there, not in a club. 

So we presented Kevin with the cheque that we made, took even more pictures, and that was the end of the night for us, mostly. Felicia was mainly frustrated with her going back home to take her I.D., only to have them not check it when she came back. It was still a fun night though, it really depends a lot on the company of people you go there with, I suppose. It is important that you get the right people, especially someone like Sarah, or else you are going to have a rather long night at a club, or end up in a puddle of your own protein spill. I hope they send their pictures to me soon, I really want to post them here as soon as possible. A random note, it is always great to fall asleep in bed after a drink - you sleep like a baby. Until the pictures are sent to me, that's that! 

This time around, I am not going wider on the surface, but going in deeper on the artistes and bands that I already know. New bands are hard to come by anyway, which is why I have decided to delve in deeper into the bands that I already know. Save for Clogs, I have known all the other four bands for a while now, and most of their recent album releases have been marked on my calendar for the longest time. So here's the tenth edition of what I have been listening to these days, and I do hope these recommendations are going to help you out in your musical exploration. 

Gossip In The Grain by Ray LaMontagne
I have been a fan of Ray LaMontagne for a very long time. My admiration for his raw sound has been around ever since I first heard songs from his first album, Trouble. It is quite a crime for his album to be released in Singapore four years after it was initially released. Though, I suppose, better late than never, and this man's voice is just so awesome that everybody should give it a listen. I mean, he could read the phonebook and make it sound awesome. That is the raw power of the kind of things he does, and it is of no exception in his third studio album. The album begins with a rather rousing and uncharacteristic song called Your Are the Best Thing. The loud trumpets in the background and the choral voices may seem a little unfamiliar to loyal fans, but he dives right back into familiar grounds with his smooth ballads and raw lyrics. Let It Be Me and I Still Care for You are signature Ray LaMontagne tracks, with his strong acoustic guitar coursing through the melodies and the lyrics. Winter Bird paints a beautiful imagery landscape that is so vivid that you almost feel as if you are present in the song. It's mostly just him and his guitar, his raspy voice tearing through the silences that are between the verses. My favorite track has got to be Gossip in the Grain, which has a very interesting arrangement I must say. To be honest, I don't quite dig the whole country-music type songs he attempted. Hey Me Hey Mama is just too thickly laced with the whole country-music vibe, and it really isn't up my alley at all. You can tell he is trying to veer away from his usual style, but country-music is just not my thing in general, I suppose. 

Whatever happened. 

It's true, the woman above is the 2008 Miss Universe winner, the most beautiful woman of 2008 until 2009 comes along. She has about a year to enjoy her status as the most beautiful woman in the world, or rather the universe, until the next beautiful woman comes along and dethrones you. She'd have to put on that plastic smile when she puts a crown on next year's winner, give her a peck on the cheeks, and then see all the limelight on her while she fades quietly into the background. Seriously, who cares about the winner of Miss Universe anyway, not to mention the past year winners. That is the harsh reality of beauty contests, your status only really lasts that long. Even if you can somehow remain the desire of photographers around the country for a longer time than all the other past winners, your age is going to catch up with you sooner or later. The crown is going to gather dust at home, and you are going to find yourself being neglected after a couple of months. I suppose being a model for Victoria's Secret makes you a little more bankable, but I suppose anything for that fifteen minutes of fame, right? In this case, a year of fame until the next winner comes along. Speaking of which, Venezuela usually does very well, whatever happened. 

Anyway, it used to be about the looks in the past, until this contestant came along and ruined it for everybody. You need to have the brains and the looks, and you thought the world was already unfair when an empty vessel could win a beauty pageant. They want somebody smart to represent the competition, someone with substance and could carry herself well with aspects of herself that are more than just her looks. We all love to watch beauty pageants, but I personally cannot care less about who the winner is at the very end. I love to watch beautiful people, of course, but you can't help but ask yourself "so what?" at the end of the competition. As beautiful as they are, the winners almost always look somewhat the same, as if they were built out of a template somewhere. They do a little alterations here and there, change the hair from blonde to brunette for one year, and then change the skin color from white to black for another year, and then you'd be able to see the pattern. If you look like that, you are probably going to win, and that is usually the case. All you need to do is to show up in an evening gown, show a little skin in the segment afterwards, smile all the time, hope for world peace. Half your work is already done. 

I have no problems with beauty pageants, but then I do have a problem with someone or some event trying to tell me who is beautiful and who is not. Every time they crown somebody as the winner of some beauty competition, I almost always do not agree with them - ever. Sure they are beautiful, but they are almost always made to look that way, to act that way, to say those words. I don't really need somebody to tell me who is beautiful and who isn't, because I have my own perception of beauty, as far as I am concerned. It is the same as how people organize those drawing competition for children, or photography contests out there every once in a while. How do you take pieces of art and compare them to each other, and say that which is better anyway? How do you decide who is number one, number two, and number three, when all of them probably has equal qualities to be the winner? I don't think beauty should be quantified like that, ranked in terms of number three, number two, and number one. So is the person who gets number four not nearly as beautiful as the first three contestants? If so, by how much? It's difficult to decide, which is why I find the whole idea of a judging penal ridiculous. To me, they are all astounding. 

In a smaller arena, a similar story lives on. This Saturday is going to be the masquerade event that I spoke of earlier, or the beauty pageant that my dear friend Kevin has been forced to participate. I suppose, however, it is for his own good, because he does have the edge over other contestants in more ways than one. What started out as him being reluctant to join has transformed into him being actively involved in picking the appropriate suit, the appropriate shirt, and just going through a full-body transformation - which includes an artificial tan. He is going all out this time, and I suppose it is a good thing for him to break out from his comfort zone. It'd be strange for him, I am sure, to take off his clothes in front of a giant crowd in the club, but I think it is only going to serve him well in the future. Anyway, with that said, the friends and supporters are all behind him in this competition, and we were even there when he rehearsed for the actual day with his fellow contestants on Tuesday night in school with a professional instructor. Remember those scenes in America's Next Top Model when you see those instructors saying harsh things about the contestants, and the girls breaking down into tears? Well, it's real, that much I can tell you. They didn't breakdown or anything, but the instructor didn't hold anything back either. 

For those people who are familiar with the whole beauty pageant thing, may I ask why are the cat-walking instructors always the most unlikely person to be an instructor? Here we have a short and stout male instructor, probably not much taller than my shoulders, dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans and then demonstrating how to walk to the contestants. It wasn't a particularly desirable sight, and it's not like he was particularly fantastic at it anyway (J. Alexander, anyone?). Anyway, it began with the contestants all doing a walk down the makeshift runway, and all of them had to walk n a certain way and in a certain shape around the "stage". It kind of reminded me of my days with the Drama Club, when you had specific number of steps to take from this side of the stage to the next, and a shape you had to follow in order to execute a certain scene. All of those, on top of remembering what to say and what to do with your body language - let's just say it wasn't easy. Which was why I knew how difficult it must have been for the lot of them, though they were fooling around for the most part. The girls were OK, in fact I was pleasantly surprised by how good the girls were. Not perfect, but good enough. The boys, however, they were "monkeys" and "geese". 

At least those were the animal analogies given by the instructor - let's call him SS, since he is short and stout, and also because I didn't catch his name. He specifically pointed out the male contestants this way," The one in red and the one in pink, and that other one in pink too. You guys are all monkeys!" So he compared the contestants of a beauty pageant to monkeys, I am sure that is going to be a morale dampener. One of the pink guys he pointed out, sadly, was Kevin, whose walk down the makeshift runway seemed just a tad stiff and awkward. It wasn't helped by the fact that the boys kept messing up where to walk, where to stand, how to stand, and all those little details that most instructors are so particular of. You see, everything becomes amplified onstage whether you like it or not, at least that is what I learned from being in the club for four years. You stand up there, and every little movement becomes crystal clear to the audience and the judges down below. You need to get everything right, and there isn't a room for mistakes. It is OK if you are going to make certain mistakes, but be serious about getting it right. What pissed SS off at that time, or rather what pisses most people off usually, would be if the people that commit the mistake cannot take things seriously. They didn't take it too seriously. 

Initially, other than supporting my friend Kevin at the pageant, I really wanted to check out the ladies - who wouldn't want to? Right now, I am more eager to see how the boys pull it off on the actual day itself, because it is going to be a herculean task I wouldn't want to miss. It'd be some kind of extreme makeover, to see how the boys turn from runway amateurs to professional models on a stage. The ladies are still going to be a highlight for me (I am voting for Nicole), but the boys - do the gender proud, people. In the meantime, I have gotten myself a new shirt from Esprit for the event itself which I like quite a bit. Speaking of which, I really should get a membership card from there, I am falling for the clothes. Anyway, I am sure most of us cannot wait for the event on Saturday, because it is going to be quite a blast. More than just the beautiful people, I suppose it'd be great for the lot of us to just hang out for one day in the weekend before we have to get down to business all over again. I mean, Jeremy is going to a club, I suppose there isn't a reason for you not to go. That alone is saying a lot. To Kevin, I hope this competition works out for you, even if you do not win at the very end. There's more to winning the competition, if you know what I mean. The very best of luck! 

Halloween is drawing near now, just a little more than a week till the ghosts and monsters rule the streets, albeit in their miniature versions. I was surprised to hear a couple of months ago that people actually do celebrate Halloween in Singapore, something which I haven't actually heard or experienced of before. I suppose it isn't exactly very wise to be prancing about the neighborhoods of Singapore behind a thick rubber mask while staying under layers of costume for hours on end with the humid weather. I keep imagining a miniature mummy collapsing at somebody's front door, or a vampire dying not from a stake through his heart, but a heatstroke. I suppose it is because I live in a condominium, or maybe it is because most people in Singapore cannot care less about this day. They don't keep a bowl of candies by the front door, just waiting for the children to come trick-or-treating. The last time I dressed out for a non-performance related event, it was because my sister thought it to be a brilliant idea to put earrings on me. That was probably my first and last cross-dressing experience, and not something that I'd attempt again anytime soon. Either way, I like dressing up in costumes, although I may seem too old for trick-or-treating. Candies aren't really my thing, after all. 

Which is why the Night Safari has organized an event to cater to us older folks, who are too old for trick-or-treating and yet, still young enough to want to have some fun. I actually didn't know about the event until I was being told, and the posters at various bus stops in Singapore with the cartoon bat hanging upside down suddenly made sense. I am not sure who thought it'd be a good idea to put monsters and animals together into one place, but I suppose monsters and a vast expanse of forest marries well together. So that was the plan last Saturday, to visit the Night Safari and try to be freaked out by the ghosts and the monsters. You  know how it is with most parties and events like that, the ghosts and monsters are probably going to turn out to be lame and, let's admit it, boring. At least that was the case for the Halloween party held by my school last year, or so I heard, when it was more about showing off some skin rather than being scary, for the most part. Despite having been to the Night Safari only a couple of months earlier this year (in January), I still agreed to head down there with Kat (an alias) last weekend. She hasn't been to the Night Safari in ages, and I suppose seeing animals is always a good excuse to escape the bustling crowds. So that was what we did. 

First of all, I must say that Ang Mo Kio Hub kind of sucks. It seems to be the common thing in between most of the new shopping malls popping up all around Singapore, they lack this flow somehow, and everybody are just running into each other like blind ants without their feelers. The same for Vivo City, the same for Central, and even Ang Mo Kio is somewhat of a giant maze of confusion. It was difficult to find our way around, and it wasn't helped by the fact that people were all disorientated at the very same time. So we kept bumping into people that gave us cold stares, and we quickly learned that the only way to retaliate was to stare them back. Anyway, it took us forever just to find something to eat in that mall, and you start to wonder why it is called a "Hub" in the first place when it is void of a lot of shopping mall essentials. I mean, it doesn't even have McDonald's, not that I am a fan of it in any way. Speaking of which, everything is a "hub" now. Singapore wants to be the education hub, the IT hub, and even the telecom company is called Starhub - what's up with that? Before this "hub" thing came along, there was the "@" thing, when every library was "@" somewhere. Then before the "@" thing, it was all about replacing every "Ex" as "X", what's up with that?

There is a certain excitement in taking long bus rides down long expressways and passing by empty bus stops. I love empty bus stops, because they mean that the bus doesn't have to stop for anybody, which also means a speedier journey to the destination. Still, there we were in the back of the bus, and it was packed with people as if we were being shipped off to some concentration camp, or being sold as human labors. I tried to imagine ourselves being dropped off in the middle of nowhere, and then asked to jump into a ditch of dead bodies. Anyway, it was really strange, because the bus was obviously traveling to nowhere, and yet the bus was packed to the brink, and I mean it. Of course you would want to go to the Night Safari with nobody in it, you'd want the whole place to yourself, and maybe whoever that is going with you. Yet, there they were with their tourist cameras and their tourist hats, looking like tourists when they are really mostly locals. There was this woman that stood next to me, and she was probably colleagues with the three younger girls, since they were wearing the same uniforms. Anyway, it was irritating enough that the girls were removing their nail polish on the bus (which explained the horrible stench), the woman was breathing onto the top of my head. I swear, I should have fed her to the lions. 

Oh, the Night Safari, I do miss this place quite a bit. It was after a brief rain the last time I came, which explained why the animals were rathe reluctant to come out from their little caves. This time around, the weather cooperated, though the place was pretty packed with tourists and, gasp, ghosts and monsters. I have to admit, the ghosts and monster didn't look half bad. Or rather, let's put it this way, most of the ones that didn't have to show their faces, did a marvelous job. The scarecrow genuinely freaked me out a little bit, and we joked about how some of the ghosts could be real ghosts, and merely blended into the crowd to have some fun. Anyway, I thought the rag doll ghost girl was pretty cool, and she had that whole Tim Burton feel to her. The ones with the cart wasn't too successful though, though she did garner the most screams. The clowns probably frightened Kat the most, and I suppose it would freak Samantha out too if she was there. Clowns are just naturally scary, which is why I refuse to watch Stephen King's IT. But the clowns, to me, were alright, they looked pretty OK. Sure, they were wearing blood stained costumes but, they were still rather tamed in my opinion. Someone should really craft a costume after the members of Slipknot. 

I don't get how the people there would scream at these so-called ghosts and monsters, knowing that they are humans to begin with. I don't know, it's not like they jumped out from around the corner or anything, they just kind of prance around the queues and stuff. Some people were cool about it, took pictures and whatnot with them, while some of the ladies just kept screaming their heads off. Seriously, I had have the mind to murder the lady at the suspension bridge because 1) she kept screaming and screaming ceaselessly because of a chinese vampire who looked very human 2) she single-handedly caused a human traffic jam behind her because she refused to move on the narrow bridge. If only the butcher knives used by some of the actors were real. Anyway, we started with the tram ride first, though the enthusiasm of the commentator was received mostly by the lukewarm response of the passengers. The tour started out as usual, with the animals passing by and by on our left and right. I loved the elephants, and it was great that we actually stopped right next to a pair of them - I was so close! I have an endless fascination with elephants, I swear, and I'd so buy one with enough money at hand. 

Then, we entered the gates of Hell. Well, not really the gates of Hell, but just an entrance decorated by fake skulls and creepy red bulbs. Then what kind of freaked me out were the mannequins being stuck on metal poles all along the trail. Mannequins scare me a little bit, with their blank plastic stares and their distorted limbs, they can get pretty creepy. But of course, I wasn't exactly showing it, and remained rather composed throughout the journey. Then the monsters started popping out and to chase the tram itself. I thought it'd be awesome to hire about thirty people, and they'd rush out of the forest and start biting planted employees on the tram. Oh, the splattering of fake blood would be so awesome! Anyway, there was a Pontianak (think of a female vampire) in the league of the ghosts as well, and I actually made an attempt to grab her fake plastic baby. Then there was that other monster, at least I think he was supposed to be one. He looked more like a man who has spent too much time in the jungle, and I thought I recognized him. So when he climbed onto my side of the tram, I asked if I knew him, and he just kind of ran away into the dark afterwards. Maybe, just maybe, I do. 

I couldn't help but laugh at the attempts to frighten me for the most part, but still I thought they did a wonderful job as a whole. I wasn't expecting much, but they did pull it off in the end so, kudos to the crew. I must say that the creepiest ghost was probably the one dressed as a dead soldier that remained hidden behind his camouflage until an unsuspecting tourist came by. The trail became a little scarier when we had to go on foot, though I actually helped a corpse to pull up his fly - someone must have pulled it down, bad tourists! Anyway, I can never stop looking at animals, I just can't. I am the same person who'd stare at my fish tank for hours when I was younger, and I'd gladly stare at the tiger enclosure until the safari closes. Still, we kind of moved from one enclosure to another, and some were rather disappointing I must say. Like the last time, the animals were hard to spot for the most part, and they'd always be in the shadows or sleeping. That kind of reminded me of the initial scenes from Jurassic Park, though I do hope that none of the meat-eating animals would escape. The lion's roar was awesome, by the way. 

Otters rock, they are just awesome. They are like hamsters, but infinitely cuter and more interactive. I suppose it was smart for the zookeepers to have otters all over the safari, because they really are fun to look at. There was a point in the trail whereby the otters all gathered onto a branch in the middle of the pond, and just kinda stared at us while we stared back. The female tourists made funny noises while I was just trying to mimic their sounds. They were so, so, so cute, and I'd like one for my birthday next year - pretty, please? Anyway, I think the safari should really somehow figure out a way to lure the animals out from the shadows, or at least make sure that the tourists don't stare at an empty space when it obviously has signs of animals printed on the map. The giraffes were definitely the greatest disappointment, because they were nowhere to be seen. There was one zebra, and that was about it. Most of the lions were sleeping, the leopards disappeared into the shadows, and even the alligators remained submerged most of the time. 

Despite those, however, I had a great time with Kat, and it is always the case for any outing with friends anyway. It was fun to see her squirm at the gates of Hell, or when the creepy loner ghost came by with her voodoo doll. I, on the other hand, kept trying to make the situation awkward for the ghosts and monsters. I am such a bucket of cold water at times, but how can you look at a clown and not shout "Why so serious" ? Anyway, it was a fun night at the Night Safari, and I had a great time. It was getting late, and she actually missed the bus home. Nothing a few dollar notes and a cab wouldn't solve, and we were home safe and sound, save for the massive amount of mosquito bites that I sustained. To the zoo next time perhaps, and maybe I'd get to see my other favorite animal: sloths! 

P.S. If I am going to make a costume this year, it'd be a downward sloping graph of the U.S. stock market. 

I am not a father, of course, but I suppose how difficult it is to bring up a child from a young age. I know how tiring it must have been for my parents, to have gone through what they have gone through over the past twenty-two years. It was about changing diapers and waking up in the middle of the night to stop my crying. Then it was about battling my asthma problem and then rushing me to the emergency room four times a week for a period of time. Then it was about migrating to Singapore, getting me used to the new life here, settling down and the setting things up. They have been through a lot, for me, and there aren't enough things that I can do for the rest of my life to thank them. I completely understand how difficult it is to be a parent, which is also why there is a fear of becoming one, somehow. We are not talking about having accidental babies here, but just the general idea of being responsible for a delicate life in the future, I suppose. I suppose those that fears the most are also the ones that truly understand the amount of responsibilities involved. Just thinking about it makes my mind boggles, which is also why I find it completely acceptable for someone to not want to have babies. Seriously, I do. 

With that said, I do also believe that it is very easy to sink too deeply into the shoes of being a parent. You play that role for a long enough time, you naturally become involved with the character yourself. The role of a parent is very much constructed by the society, the way that we act as a parent and what we teach to our children are all things that our society would like us to act. It is easy to be too involved, to become too engrossed in that role, and you start to lose sight of things when they are sitting there, glaring at you in your face. I am talking about how some people think that parents just don't understand, which reminds me of that old Will Smith rap from the late 80s about how his "Parents Just Don't Understand". They care too little when you want them too, and then care too much when you don't. It's a complicated thing, the way that most parents operate, they never seem to have the right timing for a lot of things. Some parents merely go through the motion of how it should be like as a parent, and they do not do anything more than what has been taught to them. They come home from work, they cook for their children, and then that is the end of their responsibilities. Then, of course, they stick their nose into the wrong places at the wrong time. 

As an outsider, I don't suppose anybody is ever qualified to comment about how another family operates. As a friend, as a colleague, or as a relative, you are always going to be the outsider. Still, from where I am, I sometimes hear about other families and can't help but feel sorry for the children, you know. There isn't a guidebook lying somewhere for parents to follow, every family work in their unique ways. But there are times when you can't help but question them, though you are really not in the position to do so. I hear about parents having rules like their daughters not being able to get a boyfriend until after university, not being able to go out on weekends, and then there are those who receive just one hundred dollars per month for pocket money. We are talking about an university student here, inclusive of transport fare. I don't want to judge as to what is right and what is wrong in a family that is not my own, but there are times when you can't help but wonder if things could be done in a better way. I truly believe in reasoning and talking things out with people, even if it is children we are trying to convey our messages to. That is also why I am against any forms of physical punishment to the children, I really am. 

My parents never actually hit me, in any way, while I was growing up. I remember the parents' day when my form teacher actually asked my mother if she (the teacher) could cane me as a form of punishment. I remember my friend Jeff's mother enthusiastically agreeing to such a punishment, while my mother was vehemently against it. Most parents looked at my mother and went "what?", because it was unusual of parents in Singapore to say such things, I suppose. My mother doesn't believe in physical punishment, but rather reasoning things out with us. My sister and I grew up in an environment with a lot of talks and a lot of lectures, though I suppose they were more useful than getting a tight slap across the face, like some of my friends were forced to endure. I supposed my parents cared for me as parents, but treated me in everything else as a friend, or just with the kind of respect that did not belittle me in relative to them. Sure, they are my parents, but there are times when the whole parent-child relationship can be put aside, you know? You cannot treat your child thinking that he is your child in every single situation.

The truth is, there are situations whereby a parent-child relationship works, while there are times when a friend-friend approach would be more appropriate? It isn't exactly a boss-subordinate relationship, of course, but parents are the authority of the house after all. They are, in some ways, above you in terms of decision making, and they do have a say in the house whether you like it or not. At the same time, I feel, when you need to put that kind of structure aside and just treat your children as, well, human beings. Not your children with you as the parent, but just another human being with the kind of respect you would show normally, you know? I think the reason why my parents and I have a great relationship going on is because we trust and respect each other a lot. My parents trust that I do not do stupid things when I am out, and they respect that I need to have my own personal space, that I do not like to be questioned every minute of the day as to what I did and what I am doing. Some things are just naturally understood, and they understand. That is the dynamic we share in this family, we kind of just "get it", when it comes to relationships with one another. 

The same, however, cannot be said about some people that I know. They go home to parents who cannot care less about them, but ask them to run errands for them every once in a while anyway. I remember a friend telling me about how she would wake up in a puddle of her own dried blood on the pillow without her parents noticing it at all. If it was me, my mother would have freaked and called the ambulance, or something like that. Her parents care very little about how she is, but you are always hearing about her running errands for the parents. It isn't necessarily a dysfunctional family, you don't have daughters chasing the mother around with a knife or vases being thrown around during an argument. It is this passive aggression that makes things even more stifling, I suppose. To these people, it is even more intolerable, since you are still not financially independent, you still "owe" it to them, so to speak. You are still under their control, because you are still studying and that you are living under their roof. They are, naturally, the authority, and there isn't anything you can do about it. Which is why I feel that negotiation is the best way to resolve conflict in a family, you know? Setting rules and being unreasonable is not going to help anybody, I feel. Since you are going to be you and I am going to be me for a very long time, we might as well try to talk things out, rather than you trying to impose your ideas forcefully into me, right? 

I believe that more than half of what you say is more than what you actually say. By that, I mean the content isn't the most important part of a message. That is what I learn in school as a communication student anyway, and I really don't want to go into the technical details of it all. I think all children know that most parents out there have the best intentions, or at least they should have the best intentions. When they tell you to study instead of chatting online endlessly, when they tell you to come home early and not wander around out there till after midnight, when they tell you to stay at home every Sunday, they have the best intentions I am sure. They want you to get into good schools, get good results, get a good job, get a good husband, whatever. I understand, we understand. Still, the execution of a lot of parents out there just lead us to believe that they just don't understand. They can't seem to say their "good intentions" in a way that is acceptable to us. They almost always seem like they are trying to forcefully impose an idea to us, trying to control us with rules and regulations that are only there to give them a peace of mind, with our freedom being completely disposable. It doesn't matter, at the end of the day, if you have all the best intentions in the world. You say it in the wrong tone of voice, and nothing else matters anymore. 

With that, I must say, that I am very thankful that I have my parents. In truth, thrown into a different family, I don't suppose I'd be able to survive very well. The act of negotiation may be seen as an act of defiance, and thus being "rude" to them. I could receive frequent slaps to the face, canning, or worse. I am glad that I have parents who understand, who do not judge, who accepts me the way that I am. And no, not all parents are understanding, non-judgmental, and accepting. I just think that who I am today has been greatly shaped by how my parents brought me up, and I cannot care less if people might think that I am flawed in ways that are related to how my parents decided to educate me. I am happy with who I am, and I am even happier than they are the way that they are. Your parents are your parents, and my parents are mine. I suppose at the end of the day, I just want to say - thank you, mom and dad. I love you guys.