In Continuum.

I wanted to title this blog entry as "Restroom Regulations", or "Restroom Etiquette". I find the rules that we observe while being in public restrooms rather amusing, to be honest, even though there aren't papers plastered on the walls to reinforce these rules. There are rules, while others are just strange and horrific things that happen in restrooms all over the world. But, it suddenly occurred to me that I haven't got enough experiences with the female restrooms. I've only been inside a female restroom twice in my life, and one of those times was because the boys were punished to wash it. I think it was my primary three or primary five camp in school when the boys conjured up a ghost story to scare the girls. The teachers found out about it, and the boys were all divided into groups to wash the restrooms in every floor. I was tasked to wash the female restroom, I remember, and that was the first time I stepped into the pink-colored restroom that posed as a stark contrast from the blue one next door. The second time was done because my friends and I thought it'd be fun to take a picture of ourselves in it, and let's just say that we were rather nervous about being caught. 

So anyway, I haven't got enough experiences inside a female restroom to tell you how it is like in there. I've heard stories of course, horror stories to be exact, when it comes to female restrooms. The girls almost make it sound as if it is a good thing that their restrooms are worse than the boys', because of something that they have and we don't - sanitary pads. Yes, gentlemen, those things can become pretty repulsive to look at once they are drenched in blood and covered in flies. It isn't helped by the fact that cleaners tend to be slow in clearing away the trash can designated for sanitary pads, and they tend to pile up pretty fast during peak hours. It is made worse when girls are inconsiderate, and think that it'd be convenient to try to flush them down the toilet bowl. What they don't know is that when the toilet bowl get all choked up, it is the cleaners who have to reach in to dig those sanitary pads out from the pipes, and you really don't want to be in their shoes when that happens. So anyway, I give it to the ladies when it comes to restroom horror stories, but it's not like the boys don't have our fair share of horror stories and strange rituals that we observe. For those with weak stomachs, do not proceed beyond this point. Vivid details of male restrooms are as follows. 

First of all, male restrooms are probably the most distinct for one thing - the urinals. Yes, the urinals are the signature ornaments of a male restroom, not found anywhere else in any public building, whatsoever. Due to the fact that men typically have the in-built capabilities of urinating while standing up, people have designed the urinal for speedy and efficient expelling of waste liquid. OK, it just makes pissing much easier for the lot of us who don't want to spend too much time in an enclosed space with strangers while our penises hang out from our pants, is that honest enough for you? So, it is either the cubicles or the urinals for you, if you are a man, when you enter the restroom. Let's head over to the cubicles first, and this is where most men would go to for their number two, though some men use it for their number ones as well. I'm not sure why they'd do that, but I know of guys who'd insist on using the cubicles even for their number ones. I think it's because they are not exactly comfortable with showing off their privates, or maybe they have had bad experiences with people that stared. Either way, I suppose it is OK for you to use the cubicles for your number one if you wish, just make sure you have a good aim of things when you are in there. 

Because really, aiming can be quite a problem in public restrooms, especially when you are the type who'd prefer to use the cubicle for your number one. I mean, most people use them for number two, and they need to sit down to do so. You don't mess up the place with your piss and then expect others to sit on it, right? I think most men are fine in that respect, but there are some who cannot seem to aim straight. I'm pretty sure your fathers taught you at a young age when it comes to what you should do in front of a toilet bowl, right. You take the pants off, the underwear off, you pull the foreskin back and you aim for the little patch of water down below inside the bowl - easy. Some men start off urgent, while some men start off drunk. Some men start off eager, while some men are just stupid. It doesn't matter how you start out, some men are going to screw things up for other men, especially the number one men. They are going to pee everywhere other than the little patch of water down below, and that includes the seat and all the tiles around the toilet bowl itself. That is also why you are advised to run away from the premises, and I mean run, when you see a puddle of water in front of the toilet bowl. Don't suspect that it is a pipe leakage, just assume that it is piss. Run! 

I don't really know why it is so hard for some men to be so careless. You take it out, you have a good grip on your willy-willy, and you open the floodgates - easy. By "good grip", I mean a gentle enough grasp though, and not as if you are holding a crowbar and trying to open a manhole (manhole, get it?). It hurts if you do it that way. Anyway, it really isn't that difficult, and any man should never have to be reminded that they should aim properly, at the urinals or in the cubicles. You do get a lot more privacy in the cubicles, because you don't get other men standing around you and doing their businesses while you do yours. You can take your time there, make sure everything is clean and nice before you move along. You don't feel exposed, I guess, though I didn't really have a problem when I went to the urinals myself for the very first time. I don't know how I did it, but I probably just imitated what all the adults around me were doing, and it felt rather natural. I mean, they surely didn't see anything wrong in showing off their privates in the public, though it was still pretty hidden front sight for the most part. The thing is, if you are going to use the cubicles, aim properly please. Thank you. 

Now, let's move on to the urinals, the more interest part about our journey through the male restroom. First of all, you want to give yourself a bit of space when you are standing in front of the urinals. There are rules to follow in a male restroom, for example the rule that states that no man should expose his penis freely in the presence of other men. It's true, because you could be charged with indecent exposure I'm sure, even in a public restroom. You want to be close to the urinals so that you are not too exposed, but at the same time not so close that your face is plastered to the wall in front of you. Someone should really reinforce this rule, because there was this time when a man flashed his penis at me in a public restroom. Well, he wasn't flashing at me, but it was hard for me to not notice it when he was washing his penis at the sink. Yes, it was at Bishan Junction 8 when it happened, and I was just minding my business at the sink when an indian man came up to the sink next to mine with his penis hanging out from his pants. He started washing it in the sink next to me, and I just kinda looked on in shock because no one has ever done it in front of me before. So, you want to keep it as hidden as possible, but not so hidden that you cannot do your business properly. 

Now, urinal selections are very important in a male restroom. You walk into a restroom, and there are rules as to which urinals you can go to, and which you should stay away from. For example, if there are nine empty urinals and one that is being used by someone else, the two urinals next to that man are automatically out of bounds. If he is standing in the last urinal, then the one directly next to him is even more strictly out of bounds. When faced with a lot of urinal options in a male restroom, you do not - I repeat, you do not - pick the one next to the only other user. It gives that person a disturbing feeling that you may be wanting to compare assets, take a peek, or hit on him. Only use the urinal next to somebody else when you haven't got much of a choice left. As much as you can, also, try to keep an urinal in between yourself and all the other men around you, because you never know when they might be peeping over your urinal. Of course, in return, it also prevents them from thinking that you might be peeping over into their urinals. It's true, because some men can't help but look at other people when they are urinating at the urinal. They can't stand the sight of the wall in front of them, so they look sideways at someone else's business. The moment when your eyes meet is probably some of the most awkward moments in a man's life. 

Let's say you walk to the section of the restroom with urinals, and you find that the urinals are all mounted on different walls, there are rules to that as well. Let's say there are three walls in front of you: one directly in front, and one on the left and the right. There are three urinals on each wall, and someone is on an urinal directly in front of you. It is suggested that you should never pick the same row as the man on that urinal, because that'd make things weird. Pick the other two walls on your left and right, and not the one in front of you. Also, if two men are chatting while they are urinating next to each other, don't go to the one directly next to them as well - it's weird. Unless, once again, you haven't got an option left because all else are taken up. But at any rate, the rule of thumb is that you keep your eyes to yourself and not anywhere else. Not to your left, not to your right, not at the belt buckle of the guy next to you, or his t-shirt, or his shoes, or the ring on his finger even if he has two penises and one testicle. You keep your eyes to yourself, and make sure that you get the aiming right. Because seriously, you'd think that men pee better when they are that close to the urinal - you are wrong. Some men, for some reason, do worse. 

I don't know why it is so difficult to control your urine at the urinal, it's just unbelievable. It's not like you have to measure and calculate the angle of trajectory when you are urinating. You don't have the measure and calibrate the amount of force needed in order to project the stream of urine into the urinal. You just do it in a very natural way, it's not rocket science. I think all men are built to be able to control their bladder, unless you are old and you can't hold your urine very well, then that's fine. I'd suggest to people that cannot urinate properly at the urinal to wear adult diapers, because in that way you wouldn't need to worry about aiming, and you can pee anywhere - and I mean, anywhere. Then there is that disgusting thing that men do when they are at the urinals - they spit. Why do you have to spit before you pee? Is it because the spitting motion is a password of sorts for the floodgates to open, or does it somehow facilitate the expansion and contraction of your bladder? I don't get why some men have to spit first before they piss, and worse when they miss altogether while spitting. Yes, the spit lands on top of the urinal, and it is disgusting when you are the next in line and you see a gob of spit on top of the urinal. It's second worse to seeing a gob of spit in a water dispenser, that one is just sickening. 

I appreciate a good clean restroom, but I appreciate it more when they make the effort to encourage more accurate aiming. For example, some restrooms have the "fly" in the urinal for you to aim at. You know, every urinal has the picture of a housefly printed on the porcelain for you to aim at, and you can't go wrong if you are aiming at it and trying to drown it in your piss, so to speak. I think it is pretty useful, though it loses its charm after a couple of times trying at it. I remember the urinals and cubicles in my army camp had notices in front of us, all reminding us to aim properly or pay the consequences. But then again, we all have to wash the restrooms anyway, we take turns to do the dirty work every once in a while. But that is not stopping some guys to miss, to spit, to do all sorts of ghastly things at the urinals and inside the cubicles. Once again, I have no idea what goes on in a female restroom, but I suppose only a girl can fill me up on that one. In the mean time, this is what happens in a male restroom, completely from a male perspective. There are unspoken rules that we follow, and things that you just don't do. Others puzzle me to no end, but I suppose some things are never meant to be answered, especially the ones that happen in male restrooms. You just don't question some things, they just - happen. 

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

I think there are a lot of ways to get famous these days, and you no longer have to have the talents any longer. I think how famous you are depended on how talented you are in the past, no matter what industry you are talking about. The film industry and the music industry for example, all banked on people who were great at what they did. Those people were why people used the expression "stars" to describe these celebrities. They are truly like "stars" in the skies, faraway and distant, and yet admirable to no end. But these days, you don't have to be good at anything to become famous. In fact, you could be really bad at something and still be famous, just as long as enough people enjoy what you do over the internet. There is such a thing called "internet celebrity" right now, when it is possible to be famous on the internet just by being, well, pretty. Or you could make lame videos of yourself doing stupid things to get famous. If you have a giant shredding machine, you could also gain some fame by shredding really large things, like a piano or a fridge. Or make a video of you crying in a funny way about another celebrity, or sing in a funny way that no one has ever seen before (don't forget the strange song title). In the worst case scenario - that is, if all else fails - make a sex tape. Or, you could just jump to that, it is a sure win. 

I am sure you have heard of, or seen people going to great lengths just to get famous. Everything from having your nipples being beaten by a crocodile, to urinate into an electric fence, to post a video of you pulling a prank on your friend while he is passed out, to post a gallery of you posing in front of the mirror completely naked. People do all sorts of things to get their fifteen minutes of fame. Actually, let's make it two minutes of fame, because even those two minutes are in hot demand right now. Two minutes is better than no minutes, and fifteen minutes is just way too long for anybody retain a long enough attention on just about anything. So, two minutes is just enough, or the length of an average video on the internet. Do something outrageous or crazy and make sure you hit about one million viewers over at YouTube - and you will be famous. Yet, I've never expected anybody to pull the stunt that Lashundra pulled to her classmates in her high school. She actually told people that she was possessed by God, and I think that is the mother of all desperate attempts to get famous. I think it is cheaper than, say, joining American Idol when you obviously cannot sing. I think trying to sing, even if you can't, is a legit way of getting famous. Faking a divine intervention - not really, no.

So let's put things into perspective here, and see if things work out logically by the end of this entry. First of all, I'm not sure why anybody in the high school actually believed that she was possessed by, well, anything at all really. When you hear a man on the streets blabbering about the end of the world, everybody dying, or at times in a strange language you do not understand, we pretty much assume the very same thing like any other sane person would assume: he is crazy. I'm not sure why the students in the school jumped from "she is crazy" to "she is indeed possessed by God like she claimed she did". It is quite a big jump, but people swallowed up her crap anyway. It amuses me so slightly, just how gullible people can be. Wouldn't it be fun to go onto the streets tomorrow and tell people how they are going to die, and then add a bit of strange made-up language into the mix just to mess with people. The first thing that is going to happen to you is to be handcuffed and arrested for disturbing the peace in a public environment. It is going to be a perfectly legitimate reason to arrest you, because you are disrupting the peace of the people that passed you by on the street. You are not predicting the future, or some kind of messenger from God. He isn't talking to us through some dimwit imbecile like you. You are just making everything up. 

It's kind of funny, also, how the people who believed her never actually considered the usage of alcohol or drugs when she started sputtering her "tongues". By the way, the expression "speaking in tongues" merely means that a person is speaking in a language that you may not understand, like Latin or Greek, or something. If it isn't a real language, you are not speaking in tongues, you are making things up. Anyway, it's strange how those believers never actually considered the fact that Lashundra could have very well gave herself a generous dosage of drugs before she came to school, or was suffering from some kind of hangover from the night before. If I am not wrong, which I doubt that I am about this, alcohols and drugs could sometimes mess with your head quite a bit. Have you ever heard the words of a drunken man? They kind of sound like they are delirious don't they, the way they stumble here and there while trying to articulate a sentence when they can't. They kind of also sound like they are speaking in tongues, and talks as if he knows anything about everything in the world, right? By anything and everything, sometimes they would go into vivid details on how you would die, when you would die, exactly like what Lashundra did in the classroom. I'm just surprised that those people never actually considered the fact that maybe she was just stoned, high, or both. 

For argument's sake, let's just assume that she was not on drugs, and she was not on alcohol, and she was completely sober on the day that she was supposedly possessed. Now, put yourself in the shoes of the Devil and/or God, and think about it. You wake up one day, and you decide that you want to tell the students in a random high school in America about how they are going to die, and when they are going to die. You don't really know why you want to do it, but you can do anything you want because you are the Devil or God, whichever you prefer in this assumption. So, you want a way to transmit that idea to the desired targets in this high school, how would you make your presence and message known to them? If it was up to me, I'd probably just tell them straight away through their thoughts, like the voice in the back of their heads that they are about to die. Or maybe I will leave a note, appear in a dream, burn a bush, or part their coffee while they are just about to drink it. I'd perform some kind of miraculous act just to make them listen to me, and not transmit everything through... a classmate? Wait, why would I want to do that? This person doesn't seem very credible, and she surely doesn't seem to be the kind I'd be choosing to convey my holy (or unholy) messages! 

I think especially in the case of the Devil, you'd have to be pretty smart to be the enemy of God. I think that applies for humans too, that you have to be pretty damn smart in order for you to be a formidable enemy. As evil as Osama Bin Laden is, he is probably a pretty smart man if I may say so myself. I mean, he was smart enough to plan all the terrorist attack, down to the littlest details and then succeeding in the end. Given, he probably had a lot of help, but you can't pull something like that off by being a complete idiot. So, just like you have to be smart in order to be America's most wanted, you have to be really smart to be God's most wanted as well. If you are smart enough to deceive the world that you never existed, then I am pretty sure your human resource skills would be fairly good, or at least decent. If I am the Devil, I'd probably pick somebody with a wide enough influence, someone who is substantial enough to spread my message in the most efficient and persuasive method possible. I'd pick a politician maybe, or the leader of a religion. I'd probably corrupt their minds or, the easier way out, possess their bodies. Seriously, am I going to be stupid enough to pick a random girl from a high school in Mississippi called Lashundra, which isn't even a legitimate name?

But, of course, Lashundra doesn't believe that she was possessed by the Devil. She felt that she was possessed by God, which makes things even more absurd than it already is. So she is saying that the all mighty being that lives in the skies chose her, of all people, to be the one to bear her message? I think if I am God, though I am clearly not, I'd probably pick something more important to announce to the world, you know. Like, I'd probably announce to the world the date and time that the world would be ending, or a coming drought or famine. Maybe I'd warn people of great balls of fire falling from the skies, or that it is going to rain boots in two weeks - something along the lines of that, which are actually more substantial. You don't tell people that they are going to die, WE KNOW! I know that I am going to die, I know my friends are all going to die, I know my parents are going to die, I know my dog is going to die. Everything dies, so that is a given for the most part. Going around telling people that they are dying is like predicting that they are never going to stop breathing until they die. And as for the "how", you really only need a really bombastic method of death in order for them to believe. Like, you are going to choke on a frog while being in a sinking boat in the middle of a reservoir. If that happens, they believe you even more than they already do. If that doesn't, they are relieved, and happy that you warned them about it. 

God clearly did not possess her to tell them the obvious. I'd imagine Him to have a lot more important things to tell the world. Like, "STOP FIGHTING!" or "STOP KILLING EACH OTHER", or something along the lines of that. And, if I am God, I'd probably just tell those people straight away, and not leave it up to an ordinary high school girl with half a brain screwed on in the wrong direction. Or I could break through the clouds, because that'd be way more dramatic. Either way, my theory is that our dear Lashundra was probably never possessed by a demon, the Devil, God, or any of that. She was probably stoned, high, both, or just wanted to get famous somehow. She probably thought, maybe somebody from halfway around the world would blog about me because he believes in what happened to me - that'd be great! I'd be, like, so famous! Seriously, if your classmates believed you, that doesn't mean that everybody else in the world would. I happen to  not believe anything that you said, and you were probably just some attention seeking imbecile who wants to make the headlines. Here are some tips: rob a bank, kidnap a baby, run around naked, run around naked some more, make a sex tape, or join the American Idol auditions. A divine intervention? That's so, like, 16th century. 

A lady looks into her handbag for a box of cigarettes and a light. She cupped a hand over the tip while she lit the cigarette, afraid that the wind would catch the flame and extinguish it. She's breathing deep on the cigarette now, with the smoke escaping from between her lips, and she does so again with a deeper breath just so that she'd finish the entire length of the cigarette before the bus comes. The boy in the corner is reading a book, going through the pages just to kill time, as if it was a creature to slaughter just to save the princess. The girl next to him was on her feet, looking into the reflection in the glass window, the one mounted on the bus directory box. She combed her hair with her fingers, adjusted her bra straps and then combed her hair some more. I was on the other side of the bus stop, just watching the people there and tapping my left foot gently to the music in my ears. I went through my playlists one by one, and then followed by the list of artists I'd like to listen to for the rest of the journey to the train station. Though we were all doing very different things in the same bus stop, we were all, for a period of time, waiting together in the same place, for a same purpose, to get to different places. Isn't that how life is, now?

The title of this blog is the first line of the song "Waiting" by City and Colour, a man with a beautiful voice to match the equally beautiful song. There is yet another line that speaks of how we are all, in fact, just waiting to die in life. It isn't particularly encouraging to think that way, in fact it is rather morbid if I may add. Yet, if you think about it, life is about waiting to die somehow, and it is always about what you do during the waiting time that matters the most. You know, make the best out of it, and kill time and do something productive. That is probably what your parents have told you before during your holidays, on the second day at that, when they want you to get a job and stop lazing around the house and live off their retirement funds. The truth is, even when you are not lazing around while waiting for something to happen, doing something in the mean time is still an act of waiting for something else to happen. The truth is, I think, we are all waiting for something to happen while waiting for something else to end. There seems to be a duration for everything, a time tagged to all things in our lives. Some are visible, like the length of a song we are listening to right now (15 Steps by Radiohead runs at three minutes and fifty-seven seconds), or the film you just watched the day before (The Reader runs at one hundred and twenty-four minutes). Everything has a duration, a time stamp when it will run out. Like life, like death, everything is so absolute and definite. 

I had this thought while being on the cab home today, with the song "Waiting" plugged into my ears, and the car traveling down the expressway at five past eleven. It was a smooth ride, but it still took some time. The first line struck me as being true, in a somewhat disturbing way. A coma may indeed feel better at times, than waiting all the time, you know? There I was, at the back of the car, just waiting for it to bring me to wherever I wanted to go. Before that, I was at the side of the road, just waiting for a cab to come pick me up. Then it was off the cab and to my lift lobby, where I had to wait some more for the elevator to come down from wherever it was to bring me up to my floor. Everything just seems to be a series of waiting, you know, even the really small and trivial things like turning on your computer or waiting for a SMS to load on your cellphone. We are almost always waiting for something to happen, and for something else to end. They almost come hand in hand now, those two things, like the way you are waiting for death to occur and for life to end all at the very same time. We are just passengers underneath a taxi stand, just waiting for the cab to come pick us up. In the mean time, we do whatever can to kill time, because it just seem like this really horrific creature from the depths of darkness, or something. 

The people at the bus stop, we weren't so different from each other, really. One was reading a book, one was smoking a cigarette, one was tending to her hair, and I was tapping my foot away at the song I was listening to. We jumped from a series of waiting to another series of waiting somehow. From waiting for your hair to dry in the morning, to the elevator, to the walk to the bus stop, to the bus waiting. Then it is queuing up for the bus, waiting to get a seat on the bus, then even more waiting to get to wherever you want to go. We always talk about how much we have accomplished in life, about our achievements and everything like that. Isn't that what the society preaches though, how it emphasizes on the measurement of our value by the amount of achievements that we have. But when you take all the waiting time into account, aside from all the time spent sleeping and doing nothing at all, what are we left with really. We are always waiting in line for something to happen, and it's not like the queue you find outside ticketing booth or video game retail stores right before a launch. Most of the people in life are not exactly in the know of what they are waiting for. So we wait for something to occur, something to happen. And when we get there, we figure out more ways to wait for something else.

I started to wonder how it'd be like to live in a world without waiting, you know, if the world would go by at a blinding speed. I mean, think about it, it'd be something like having fast food pop out from your table when you want them, that'd rid you of all the waiting time at the counter, or the delivery guy to come to your house. Everything will be almost instantaneous, whenever you want and wherever you want, because waiting is no longer an option in this hypothesized world. You don't wait for anything to happen, because you don't have to. Everything will be crafted to what you want and what you need. No more waiting ladies and gentlemen! Get the latest version of iPod just by thinking about it! Credit transfers will be done automatically, and you'd hardly need to wait - allow me to correct myself - you won't need to wait at all! Thank you for shopping with Apple Mr. Tan, here is your brand new iPod. Everything will be going by at a blazing speed, and public transports won't be needed at all. Hell, private transports would be obsolete as well, since teleportation would rid everybody of the need to wait. And as for that whole life and death thing, humans would invent pills for you to take in order to live forever, and that'd mean that life would no longer be about waiting for death. Life goes on for eternity, and no more waiting! Press "Buy" right now for our exclusive "Immortality Pills" and get a lifetime supply of sponges absolutely free! 

But I don't want my life to go by that fast, you know? As much as I hate waiting time for the most part, I don't think a world without waiting has to be about lightning fast fund transfers and immortality. It'd probably appeal to the working class people, the office workers who are almost always rushing for time. But that doesn't have to be the world without waiting, because the term "waiting" almost always involves a period of time. Like, while you are waiting in the dental clinic for your turn, there is an amount of time. While you are waiting for the escalator to bring you down to the MRT station, there is an amount of time. Waiting involves time, and waiting is only a terrifying thing when you recognize that time is involved - it doesn't necessarily have to, in my opinion. I mean, time is really a creation by mankind to, well, tell time. The sun comes up in the day and then disappears in the night, and then we have the four seasons every year and then the planet rotating around the sun. It just seems as if the concept of time has been built into the entire system of nature, when it is not! I have blogged about my concept of time before, and I feel that it is merely an invention of the humans and nothing else. It is no more sophisticated than, say, an electric shaver or a can opener. Time is an invention, and it doesn't need to exist for time to carry on. 

I don't think we are moving forward at all. In fact, I feel, we have always been stagnant ever since it all began. Time just makes things easier for us to choose a date to meet, pick an hour of the day to see each other, give history a perspective, so on and so forth. But I think time does not have to be about things that were, things that are, and the things that have not yet come to pass. I think we just are, if I am making any sense. I think we exist, and that is about everything that goes on in this world. The moving of the sun in our skies and the orbit of our planet around the sun is merely an illusion of time, and we gave those celestial movements a name - time. If you could recognize that time does not exist, and that we are just staying still in one moment that lasts forever, then the idea of "waiting" isn't all that scary any longer, now is it. I mean, constantly waiting for something to happen can be a scary thing, or at least incredibly frustrating somehow. Nothing in this world ever happens when you want it to occur, and you just have to get to the back of the line and wait for it to happen to you. All this waiting can really get on your nerves, unless you eliminate the need for time and acknowledge the fact that there is no time at all, just a single vivid moment that lasts forever into eternity. It is a very there-is-no-spoon concept, but at least it makes sense to me.  

I think a world without waiting - a world without time - would be slow and yet, astounding and beautiful. It wouldn't involve things moving at blinding speeds, but rather a chance for us to sit back and observe the world around us. That is because, without waiting, we no longer need to wait for something to happen. Then everything is happening right here and right now, and this very instant would last till eternity. Do you get those flashes at times, those moments in your life when you know that it is happening right now, and will last forever? When you look into the eyes of your loved ones in the dark, when you catch a glimpse of her staring at you lovingly just because she loves the way you talk about the world, the universe, and whatever happened in a dream of yours last night. That look in her face and eyes, you almost feel as if time freezes and stops, and that moment would last forever? I think that is the magic of the world without any waiting and time, when you feel as if something would last for a long time to come. It may not last for a long time in real time, like a split second thought and it is over. But still, I believe, it is still happening in a parallel universe, you know? 

It is a very warped post, I know, and I don't expect you guys to really understand what I am trying to say. A lot of things could come out from a song coupled with a cab ride, I can tell you that. One thing is for sure, though, is that amidst all this waiting in our lives which are inevitable, we really should try to make the best out of things by eliminating the "waiting", you know? To do something while waiting is the only way to make the waiting feel less like a wait, if you know what I mean. That is also why, in truth, I am really thankful for so many beautiful people and events that have happened to me, these people coming into my life - into my waiting line - and sharing the hours and the days and the weeks. Some of these people eventually leaves your line and joins another, but a handful of them always stays behind, they always do. Some become friends, some become more than friends, and these people give you a reason to believe that time does not exist, in fact, and that you are just in a beautiful moment with these beautiful people, that lasts on forever and ever into an infinite obscurity. I like the thought of that, and it comforts me to no end. 

I think relatives are like medicines, the right prescription usually amounts the right amount, taken at specific times of the day and over a specific period of time. Any more than the recommended amount, at more times a day than told, you are probably going to end up with a bad stomach, a worse flu, or just worse in general. I think relatives are like that for the most part, tolerable in small dosages but never a good idea to visit them collectively. They seem to be the most powerful when they all come together in one room, and the worst part is that there really isn't a place for you to run for the most part. This room is being taken up for temporary child care services, and that room is being taken up for private touring sessions. You are left with the corner of the sofa in the living room, and that spot exposes you to the ruthless questioning from the relatives, with questions you may not necessarily want to answer. You know, like how old you are, do you have a girlfriend, are you in university now, questions that you've answered them a dozen times over, in which they've never really bothered to remember. I am expressed my distaste for collective dosage of relatives last time, and festive seasons never fails to bring up such memories. 

But that is the basis of Chinese New Year, it is an excuse for the adults of the family to come together, while the younger members of the family play cards and get dumber. There hasn't been a research being done, but I am sure a day of continuous gaming and relatives can make a person a couple of IQ points dumber, I'm sure. I am glad, at times, that I am not there in Taiwan for Chinese New Year, because that'd mean that I'd have to meet with the relatives. The word "intolerable" does not suffice anymore, because they are more than a bunch of people I "cannot tolerate". I love the word "insufferable" in contrast, because it means that "you are so distasteful that I do not even want to suffer the consequences of being in the same room as you", type thing. Like I said, I can stand them when they come in small bursts, sometimes even take a liking to them. But you know how it is with relatives, or with people in general. Sometimes you just want to run away from everything. The downside is that I am stuck at home for the most part, but then again I am not exactly complaining about things. I get to spend some time with the parents and the sister, and I suppose anything more would cause a major meltdown in my head. 

So, the majority of the time has been spent at home with the parents, over tea and formulaic television specials on television. Those aren't exactly the most exciting things to do, but it was really the time spent with the folks that mattered. Thankfully, we have the Australian Open to entertain us this year, and damn I love to watch tennis matches! Anyway, Chinese New Years are meant to be boring, and I have long ago settled down with that fact. At the age of twelve, I spent Chinese New Year playing approximately fifty rounds of Solitaire, followed by stacking the cards into pyramids in my parents' bedroom afterwards. I remember that Chinese New Year distinctly, because I was down with a high fever and I had absolutely nothing to do. It helps that my red packets get air mailed to me, but back then I couldn't really appreciate the times spent on my own, all alone. You know, when you get to do the things you want for a long period of time, that's kind of how it is like for me right now. It has been all about movies and TV shows, videos of people being "tazered" on the internet and face plants. Yes, those are some of my guilty pleasures, but I suppose during Chinese New Year, it would be inauspicious to judge others on what they are doing or not doing. Oh, don't forget the rule about not saying "death", and also the one about sweeping inwards, if you know what I mean. 

Maybe the reason why I stay at home most of the time is because everything outside during this period of time can really rub me the wrong way. You know, all the shopping malls playing the exact same horrid Chinese New Year songs every single year, as if they are supposed to play them to boost the festive season from the rock bottom that it is in right now. And the lot of us thought that Christmas songs are repetitive enough, Chinese New Year songs are not only repetitive, they are plain bad. At least we have the variation of Christmas music once in a while, a saxophone version of Jingle Bells or a jazz slash blues version of it. You never get that kind of variation with Chinese New Year songs, they almost always sound horrible. Nobody ever bothers to write better songs for the occasion now, and I do wonder who wrote the originals in the first place. They are probably dead by now, and their children are probably living off the songs played in every mall across the country, or the world, every year. To tell others that you are living off songs like that, it isn't exactly the proudest thing I'd be telling my children. "Did you know that your great great grandfather wrote that?" I'd be so ashamed. 

This is the same for many festive seasons around the world though: the broadcasting stations assume that when it is a festive season, people don't want to watch their normal television programs anymore. We do! You know that period of time when all the good TV shows from the States were halted because of Christmas? It's something like that even during Chinese New Year, and it's annoying. Though that is not to say that Singapore produces anything that is worth watching for the most part. So the normal television shows are not aired, and they are usually taken over by New Year Specials, which are just repeated movies disguised with the name "Holiday Specials". They aren't really that special, and the advertisements in between those not-so-special shows are, well, special in a very bad way. It's funny how in Singapore's tradition, local celebrities have to appear in horrid commercials on television, promoting the same brand of food every single year with that plastic smiles. You know, the same Ba Kwa every single year, over and over again, with the same celebrities saying the exact same thing. I wonder if they get bored of doing it, or do they actually feel that it is some sort of obligation to do so. Because really, it is now at a point whereby I don't want to contribute money to the company, just so that they'd stop making those ads in subsequent years. 

I still have quite a lot of days left in this holiday before this ends for good. I welcome the red packets, but everything else just seems a little hyped up for me. I suppose other than the bit of casual reading that I should be doing for school as well as some researching, it is going to be yet another uneventful year. No surprises though, it's not like it hasn't happened before. Perhaps next year, I should go somewhere for Chinese New Year, for kicks. You know, not Taiwan or Singapore, but just a place where they hardly even know about Chinese New Year. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. 

That's a picture of a Brazilian model, Mariana. There is no questions about the fact that she is a beautiful woman, but I can't help but look at this hands and feel sad for her somehow. It isn't because they are oddly shaped, or because she has one less or one more finger compared to everybody else. I bet you looked at the picture when I mentioned about her hands, and you may want to direct your attention to her legs as well, though the feet has been cut off in the picture. Cut off, how apt are those words, if you know what happened to her recently in a hospital. You see, she suffered a disease called Septicemia, a disease triggered by a bacterial infection that leads to the rapid deadening of body tissue. In an act to save her life, the doctors decided that it'd be wise to amputate her feet to prevent the virus from spreading to the rest of the body. Then it was discovered that she'd have to have her hands amputated as well, and that was what the doctors did later on in the day. I can't help but feel sorry for her, despite never knowing her before reading about it in the news. She just died in the hospital, though, succumbing to the disease at the age of just twenty. I feel sorry for her, and I am just thankful for the fact that I have both my hands to type this entry right now. 

I think what saddens me isn't so much about this random model I haven't heard of dying, but rather the idea of someone going through that kind of ordeal, you know. Death is frightening, surely, but it is just so far away from me, and most of the people around me right now, you know? It isn't something we worry about, or should worry about everyday. I sometimes ask myself what would be the most frightening medical condition to have, other than the ones that lead to imminent death. I thought about losing my senses once, all of it or just one of it. I tried to rationalize as to which sense I would rather lose, and it's just so difficult to actually pick one and say "You can take this", because we've all grown so used to it, you know. I settled with taste eventually, because it just seems like the only thing I'd be willing to give up. I mean, losing the sense of touch, how weird is that going to be? We'd be physically disorientated somehow, feeling as if we are floating around in space all the time, perhaps. Losing my sight would mean that I'd be rid of all the beautiful things in the world, and there is only so much our imagination can do. I can't live without my music, and to live in an environment without sound is terrifying, at least in my mind. So it is left with taste and smell, and I think I can deal with eating and not tasting the food. I'd suck, but I'd probably be able to win competitions out there that involves obscenely spicy Buffalo Wings. It'd be fun, in a way. 

I think that is one of those questions people tend to ask a lot, which of your senses would you rather lose, or which one would you want to keep if you have to lose everything else? But I think the idea of being amputated, especially when you have to be rid of every limb, it's just such a scary thought, you know. On some levels, it just sounds worse than not being able to use them, like when you are paralyzed or something. At least they are still there when you look down, you know, and not stumped like the end of a chopped up sausage. It is worse that you have to wake up to such a terrible sight, and I can't imagine how it is like to be told "we have to take them away". You can't help but start to think about how we have taken these little things for granted sometimes, you know, even when we are just talking about something we were born with. I mean think about it, it really only takes a mother with a alcohol problem or a few sticks of cigarettes a day to cause you to be deformed. Of course, if you are reading this entry, you are probably doing just fine. But it is so easy to have been the other way around for you, for me, for all of us out there, you know?

It just makes me feel really vulnerable somehow, as human beings, as compared to everything else. You know how it is when you watch Animal Planet, those animals being forced to stand on their own legs moments after their birth. Then they have to survive out in the wild, and they are able to survive in so many conditions. But humans are just so vulnerable, you know, we get sick so easily. Try blasting a fan into your face overnight some time, it's probably going to make you sick. Or, just the simple act of walking from a really hot day into a really cold room, that's going to give you a flu as well. It's just so easy for us to fall sick, and who knows what that flu could lead to eventually. My little flu a year ago developed into Bronchitis, which really wasn't too fun a thing to go through. I'm not saying that Bronchitis is, in any way, more serious and horrific than being amputated. I'm just saying it really is that easy for you to be, well, in that condition. I can't imagine myself without my limbs, you know, it's frightening to consider the consequences of it all. The things that I'd be missing in the process, everything. When you come right down to it, insects are probably going to be the only ones that thrive in this world, when everything else rots away. Humans first, of course, because we are always so vulnerable against little microscopic enemies. Bacteria, germs, viruses, and all those things. Yeah, we are like flowers in the storm, or an ice cube in a volcano.

For one, I'd probably not be typing this entry right now, if I lost my arms. I could still, but I'd probably need somebody to help me out with the typing. Or, have one of those sticks in between my teeth to press the letters one by one. But that'd take a lot of time, since I usually have a lot to say. I'd not be playing my guitar anymore, and it'd just sit there with that gaping hole in the body, like the mouth of a wailing man, asking me why I have left him behind to gather dust, to rot away. Then there are the legs, and the places it has taken me. You know, the different countries, the different places in Singapore, the jungles and the comfortable bedroom of loved ones. I'd be bound to a wheelchair, or my bed most of the time, not being able to go to places that I want to go, not being able to have the kind of freedom I want. It's kind of like the character in The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, only that is probably ten times worst than this. 

Of course, there are more things to worry about at this time of the night. You know, Palestinians being bombed, people being killed and thrown into pits, stuff like that happening all over. I read the comments on Digg.com, and the indifferent population of the world scoffed at the idea that so many people were concerned about this model, and couldn't really be bothered with her death. Sure, it's true that people care about celebrities as much as they care about you. It's true, but do we really have to look at them that way, or just another human being. How do you measure the value of a person anyway, between those tragic deaths in Gaza and that of a twenty year old model who died from a horrible disease. How do you say one is sadder than the other, when the result is the same? You know, a broken family and heartbreaks, they are all difficult to deal with. I don't think they are any different, because they are all tragic and sad to me. It's just that, losing my limbs just seem like a closer threat than being bombed in this country right now, you know? It just seems a whole lot closer to me, and worse if it could happen to my loved ones. I don't know, at the end of the day, how do we put value to things like these hands and feet, or our lives anyway? 

The setting of the film is a simple one: It begins in the Saint Nicholas Church School in the Bronx, and four main characters are involved in this story. Father Brendan Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman) is a friendly priest that everybody in the church likes. He is nice to the students, cares about them, and that does not sit well with Sister Aloysius Beauvier (Meryl Streep). Sister Aloysius has her own rules to keep as the principal of the school, ways in which to run things, methods in which she deems to be closest to God. Under her command is Sister James (Amy Adams), the young nun of the church who is also a teacher. One day, she informs Sister Aloysius about an incident she noticed between one of her students and Father Flynn, when they had a private talk in the office. Suspicious of what Father Flynn may be doing to this child, Sister Aloysius begins her investigation on Father Flynn, based not on evidences but on her own certainty of the heart. She accuses of Father Flynn of "advancing" on the child without the slightest proof, and yet Father Flynn's own habits and history does not exactly tear him away from being guilty. Sister James, caught in between the struggled, then, has to decide. The mother of the child, Mrs. Muller (Viola Davis), then explains a shocking history of her son that changed the game for all the characters in the story.

The film is an adaptation of a Tony Award and Pulitzer Prize winning play of the same name. Interestingly, though, is that it has been adapted by the same man that wrote and directed the original play in the first place. John Patrick Shanley does a masterful job and adapting his own stage play onto the big screen, and he has chosen all the right actors to play the major roles in this story. His direction somehow reminds me of Stephen Daldry's style in The Hours - a subtle film that emphasizes on the beauty of its details, and one that sometimes explodes onscreen with emotions and tension. There is a reason why the original version won the Tony Award as well as the Pulitzer Prize - it's just that good. John Patrick Shanley's story about righteousness and justice is honest and truthful, and the investigation into how far a person would go to seek those two things by abandoning reason and compassion astounded me to no end. By the end of the film, I was practically in awe of how amazing the film was on so many levels, and I don't suppose a single film review would be worthy of its brilliance. Nonetheless, I shall try. 

Let's begin with the obvious - the actors in this film are the best in the industry right now. Everybody is at the top of their game, doing their best, at their best. If there is one thing you should buy the tickets to the movie for, it'd be for the acting alone. As much as I hate to use the cliched words "tour de force" to describe a film, this film is exactly that. Meryl Streep pulls off one of best roles she has ever undertaken, in my opinion, this time around. In fact, I have seen all the performances in the Best Actress (Drama) category at the Golden Globes, and it is really shocking that Kate Winslet won over her. As much as I love Kate Winslet, I don't think her performance was, in any way, better than Meryl Streep's nun. Behold, when I say that the final confrontational scene between Father Flynn and Sister Aloysius is going to blow everything you have watched out of the waters. I had chills when I saw it, and I had to watch it a couple of times just to take it all in. Meryl Streep is at the top of her game, acting without trying, speaking without talking, and the very last scene in the film saw her ability as an actress completely shining through. 

If your main actress is someone like Meryl Streep, you better make sure the rest of your cast can hold a candle against her might. There is no question about the fact that Philip Seymour Hoffman is one of the best actors ever, and he holds his candle alright, and at times surpasses Meryl altogether. The sparring between the two actors were frightening and enjoyable at the same time, that I found myself in some kind of movie nirvana. Hoffman gave the character so much depth, the way he disclosed to Streep's character towards the end concerning the "things" he did in the past, and how he has already confessed to them. His portrayal of a man who made mistakes in the past was believable and, you almost feel sorry for him. Yet, that doesn't mean that he actually did what was accused of him, because we never actually see any solid evidences. Amy Adams, being the younger one of the lot, puts up well with the powers at be from all sides. She provides the neutral standpoint in this film, an innocent attempt to look upon things from the most objective point of view. Both parties have an agenda to make, but not her. She tries to remain neutral, but she battles her own morals and feelings as she is caught in between. 

This is the reason why the film is so great: doubt. That's the title of the film, and it encompasses the entire gist of the story. It asks the question on what happens when you doubt someone without evidences, and the doubt in your heart towards your faith when you have to do what needs to be done despite being morally incorrect. At the end of the film, we realize that even Sister Aloysius is in doubt of her own actions, and she questioned if doing what she thought was right was also against the nature of her religion at the same time. This is somewhat of a spoiler, but let's just say that the film never actually reveals to us whether or not Father Flynn did whatever that he did. The film ends on a somewhat ambiguous note, and you never actually find out. You get clues along the way that he did it, and yet clues that he did not do it. You see both sides of the coin, but you can't be sure until you are presented with the evidence. I love how the film's title also explains the emotion that we feel throughout the film, no matter which side of the argument we choose to believe. By not telling the audience outright in regards to what Father Flynn did or didn't do, it keeps the audience constantly in doubt, and you start to question if doubting someone without knowing is the right thing to do as well. 

This film also brings out the danger of stereotyping people in our society. More than the fact that Sister Aloysius was unhappy about the way Father Flynn was running the school, she saw him as being the kind of priest who would do horrible things to children based on the most trivial things. Like, the well-groomed nails and the pressed flowers in his Bible. She didn't like him also for how open minded he seems to be in regards to sugar cubes he loves in his tea and cigarettes. She based her accusations and certainty on these things, and never on anything that is solid. She then completely disregards the fact that Father Flynn could merely be a nice person to the boy, who is a black student in the school and constantly being bullied by the other students. He cares for this boy, but Sister Aloysius refuses to see that as being something purely innocent. But yet, you can't say that Sister Aloysius' accusations are completely baseless and untrue. There are conflicting clues and ideas all around, and some people may find it tiresome to piece them together despite never knowing the truth until the end. But I don't see it as being manipulative, but brilliant and masterful filmmaking. 

This film also asks question about faith, particularly in the religion context. It acknowledges the fact that vigilance is a good thing, that we should embrace that form of righteousness in our hearts. Yet, it also cautions us against embracing absolute and biased certainty, because it clouds our judgments and the truth. Faith does not necessarily work in the path to the truth, and that does not only pertain to the story, but the whole idea of religion. There are so much to digest in this film that you really have to watch it to take everything in yourself. It does not flash itself out in broad daylight, but in its subtleties to you see its genius. Doubt is an intellectually and emotionally draining movie, and yet everything is ultimately rewarding. This is a film of the highest calibre, one that is shaped by the best acting, best directing, and best screenplay I have seen in a while. To me, this film is above Slumdog Millionaire and The Dark Knight for 2008. This is the film to rule them all, and definitely my favorite film of last year. 

10/10

But Wednesdays, Wednesdays have been getting progressively worse over the past two weeks, since the new school semester started. I used to be nice though, it was a day in the week everybody looked forward to. I remember PE lessons in primary school landed on most Wednesdays for me, and everybody liked PE lessons. We could play basketball, badminton, soccer, or whatever kind of games just as long as we followed the rules. Of course, the usual warming up was pretty damn boring for the restless kid that I was back then, but the wait was ultimately rewarding. Every body liked to get all sweaty and dirty out under the sun, and the girls mostly preferred to play a more tamed version of the games that the boys were playing. Nonetheless, we all liked PE lessons, until Junior College PE came along and ruined everything for us. So, Wednesdays became awful, because Junior College PE lessons weren't all that fun. It's not that PE lessons landed on Wednesdays in Junior College as well, but it was just somehow imprinted in my mind that Wednesdays are supposed to be good fun day. You know, like dress down days in the offices, it makes sense. But PE lessons in Junior College were so health and fitness based that we hardly ever touched balls at all, despite the amount of them in the storerooms. So much for the funding. 

So anyway, here's a breakdown of the reasons why I'd usually prefer one day over another in the course of the week. I think Fridays and Saturdays are the best for obvious reasons, and I suppose everybody would agree. Unless you work on those days, they are supposed to be your last day of work and the first day of the weekend. It's great to know that you haven't got anything to do, other than the things that you want to do. Sunday isn't very good on my list, because you can't exactly stay out late on a Sunday night. You have to worry about tomorrow - Monday - and if you forgot to do some assignments or study for a test. Mondays are obviously  bad for most people, but I think it isn't half as bad as what people tend to make it out to be. Monday Blues is what people would usually call it, because it is the first day of the work week. But to me, there is still that little remnant from the weekend on a Monday, like a kind of hangover, but in a good way. Tuesdays are traditionally the worst, because the hangover has worn off and you are left with the rest of the week to deal with. On a Tuesday without the remnant fun of the weekend, it is the farthest away from a weekend as you can get. 

But that has changed around a little bit because of how dreadful Wednesdays have been so far. Wednesdays are usually the neutral days, because you are kinda stuck in between the first day and the last. So, you are not particularly elated about the distance left, yet you are relieved about the distance that you have already covered. That's how Wednesdays are like usually, unless you have a timetable like mine, which involves three classes packed into the same day from nine in the morning till four thirty in the afternoon. That is not to mention the project meetings that I have been attending for the past couple of lessons, and it isn't making things a whole lot easier, truth be told. Wednesdays are such long days that you can't help but scream at the sight of it on your calendar sometimes. I'm sure you get those mornings as well, the feeling you get straight after realizing that you have woken up from a dream. I think we are programed to review what we have to do in any given day at the moment of waking up, and it sucks when it has to be a Wednesday morning. I've spoke of the morning traffic before, and I have a lot of things to complain about in regards to the morning. But recently, things have gotten worse. 

I was just reading an article online that explains why highways come to a stop when the traffic is heavy. It may be hard to believe for non-drivers out there, but it is true that it really only takes one single vehicle to screw things up for everybody else. Let's say one vehicle drives far below the speed limit, then the cars behind all have to drive at an even slower speed just to avoid crashing into this one car. When the second row of cars slow down, the one behind has to slow down as well in order to avoid any collision. Imagine throwing a rock into a pool and watch the ripples spread from the epicenter - that's kinda how it works. One slow vehicle leads to another, and you'd eventually get a few miles of vehicles all jammed up on the highway, with the culprit nowhere to be seen. It is true, you know, and it happens every morning on highways around Singapore, and it isn't helped by the fact that there are always accidents just waiting to happen. You know, cars crashing into one another, drivers falling asleep, or dead cats. They are happening all the time, and these things cause an even greater jam than anything else, save maybe a giant fallen tree. Just this Wednesday, I was held up in traffic for one and a half hours just because three cars and a motorcycle decided that they'd like to have some physical contact in the middle of the road. The jam was from the Clementi Road exit on PIE to Eunos - yeah, that's half the country's length. 

There is a reason why the climax of movies are usually at the back of the film at not the front. It doesn't hurt when you bookend the film with two climaxes, but you don't want to start the excitement high and then end off with a cold bucket. You see, that's Wednesdays for me, with the first class being the ever-so-interesting Public Speaking class, and the last class being the Written Communications class. There was a time when Nina was actually the lecturer for COM300, but not anymore. She isn't a fan of teaching the techniques of research papers, let alone reading each and every one of them. So she has been replaced with you know who, and she isn't the most exciting person that I have encountered. I am still very much disturbed by how she just stares at us for twenty minutes before the class starts, with her cold dead eyes for the most part. Naz said that she reminds him of some villain from the Super Mario games, that giant turtle with spikes on the shells. She just walks with a strange strut, I guess, as if she is burdened down by her own weight. And someone has to explain to her that it is impolite to have your drool hanging by the edge of your mouth constantly when you talk. OK, it's disgusting. 

Wednesdays are a drag, and I am starting to hate Wednesdays already. It is made easier with the friends I get to hang out with in between classes of course. But for the most part, I have to endure the trip to school, the lessons, and then the trip back home. Oh, the trip back home, they are always so dreadful, you can't imagine it. It isn't a good idea if your school is located almost at the end of a long strip of high schools, junior colleges, and universities. By the time it is your turn to board a bus, half the students from all the schools before yours would have already boarded the bus. That kind of also means that you'd probably have to squeeze in between a whole lot of people with sweaty armpits, and stand all the way back home unless you get lucky with a seated passenger getting off the bus before you. It isn't helped that buses packed with people tend to smell funny, and air-conditioner tends to work at a quarter of the rate that they'd usually operate on, making the entire journey extremely difficult to bear. That is the way home for me usually, and it is insufferable to say the least. But it's not like I have much of a choice on Wednesdays, because it's just such a horrible day to begin with. 

Right now, I am sitting in my air-conditioned bedroom, enjoying some good music and blogging this entry at the very same time. It is Friday, and I have to emphasize that again. It is Friday, and I just don't care. It's Chinese New Year next week, but I don't suppose a lot of us are really looking for the festive season as much as the short break and the money. Those are probably the things that I will be looking forward to anyway, not so much about the whole "festive spirit" thing. That's what Jeremy and I talked about today in school, we have both accepted the fact that getting older just takes that excitement out of you, somehow. The new year, Christmas, they hardly mean anything more than just "that next day" to people like us, and I suppose I can kind of see why. When you think about the week after the next being the same week as all the other weeks, you'd start to see that there really isn't much to celebrate about, really. Because Wednesdays will never stop coming, like this endless flow of enemies in some epic fantasy novel. Oh, Wednesdays, I do dread you so very much.  

You have to be a Star Wars fan to appreciate this. 

It is the entire original trilogy, retold by someone who hasn't seen the whole thing before. 

Star Wars: Retold (by someone who hasn't seen it) from Joe Nicolosi on Vimeo.

You know, the thing about public figures, it is difficult for you to truly admire or respect a lot of them, even if you may claim to like their work. There is a line between liking a celebrity, for example, and respecting a celebrity for what he does and what he stands for. It is easy to say that an actor is a great actor, or that it is easy to relate to a role that actor has played in, or anything of that sort. Perhaps it is easy to respect somebody in his profession, but to whole-heartedly say that you respect an actor, for example, as a human being - that's a lot harder. After all, we don't see public figures as who they want us to see most of the time, right? I mean, you could respect your father, for example, because you know the man, and it is infinitely easier to relate to him, more than anybody else. But public figures, most of the time, have an image to uphold. They'd only want you to see what they want you to see, and that makes it difficult for us to say "I respect him as a human being", because everything is clouded behind the persona he wants to be known by. For example, I think Tom Hanks is a great actor, but do I respect him as a human being? On a basic level, sure, but not in the admirable sense, you know? 

There are only a handful of public figures, or entertainers, that I truly respect. Amongst them, they come from a variety of different professions, but one profession seems to have a high predominance over the others somehow. Amongst the rest, Ewan McGregor would probably be an actor that I respect, despite not being a particular fan of his work in the movies. I mean, he did ride a motorbike around the world, and recently completed a trip that ran from England to South Africa. I also respect Bear Grylls, and I really don't care if his show is staged or not. Find me another man who jumps out of an airplane, swims in the Arctic, eats from an animal carcass, drinks his own urine and an elephant dung, and I'd show you another man that I respect. So we have an actor and an adventurer (though he is more like a television presenter now), but there are really only so many out there. Here are three men that I respect a lot in life, and I look to their ideas as my own personal guidance at times: George Carlin, Eddie Izzard, Bill Maher and Al Franken. Sure, they may have other professions aside from the actual stuff that they do, but it still comes down to one talent at the very end, and that is to make people laugh. Yes, they are comedians, and I respect these comedians a lot (Al is more of a politician more now, but he started out as a comedian anyway). 

We live in messy times, people always tell you that. I think humans can never be truly satisfied, which is why they are always telling you about the "good old days", when everything was supposedly better. Your grandparents would tell you that the food was better, the drinks were better, the snacks were better, and the music was better. But I think in a few decades, we are going to say the exact same things to our children and grandchildren, that our times back then were much better. We almost always seem to be living in a chaotic time, and humans never seem to be satisfied with when and where they are, all the time. Some other country is always better, some other time almost always seems simpler. So, in our chaotic time, humans try to make sense of it all, you know, we try to find reasons to explain why we do the things we do, why we avoid the things we hate. It is a natural thing to do, but yet we try to explain things. But there are aspects of a human life that cannot be explained if you attempt to look at it objectively. But absolute objectivity is almost always impossible, so the closet thing to it is probably to look upon this "freak show" with a smile on your face. To see everything as a joke, or a gag, like a bystander that just watches and never interferes. That's a comedian's job, to shed light upon what we have all taken for granted. 

The picture I posted above is that of The Comedian, or Edward Blake, from the graphic novel Watchmen. The quote below is something he said in the book, in regards to why he chose to be a comedian amidst the madness of things. And I think it is true for the most part, because there are times when you just can't help but laugh at whatever is happening our world, you know? I mean, just look at all the bombing in Gaza these days, all the people dying because of an age old conflict between the two conflict over religion. When you come to think about it, it really is the dumbest reason in the world to go to war for, and neither sides are really trying to seek peace because they are just like little kids on the playground. You hit me, and I hit you back. He gets hit and he's not going to be happy about it, so he hits back - ad infinitum. It is a vicious cycle that goes on and on unto infinity, and that's all there is to it. It's all a big childish playground fight - with bombs. When you read about such news in the newspaper or the internet, you ask yourself what can you do to make things better. You feel sad about it, almost guilty because you are living such a good life. But there really isn't much you can do, and you realize just how incapable you are to change the world. So you laugh about it, because that is the best way to deal with something as stupid as this. You laugh, because there isn't anything else logical to do anymore. 

You see the way human beings are disillusioned all the time in all walks of life. You know, when you think to yourself "Just what in the world are they thinking?" When that question comes to mind, you know that the people or person you are looking at is completely out of his or her minds. You can't make sense of these people, and so you laugh about it with others. A comedian's job seems to have changed a lot over the years, from the days of the jester in the court to the stand-up comedians of today. They have evolved from ball juggling clowns to people that comment on social issues, political issues, education issues, and everything that concerns us in life, and more. They are like commentators with a twist of humor, and most of them are not just stand-up comedians alone. They engage themselves in other forms of work, like being a writer or an actor. Sometimes they publish books, or they become politicians, and sometimes they go on talk shows to share their political view points. But they are never too far away from what they do best, and that is to add a little bit of humor to the madness that is today. You can't help but realize the irony that in times of chaos, the person that could laugh about it is also the one who sees it the most clearly. 

I wonder when the power shifted, you know, from the authorities in the government to the comedians on stage. It used to be the smart people running the country, or at least we just hope that they are smart enough to handle such a task. They are supposed to, because they are qualified in every which way, and voted into office at that. But throughout the years, you see mistakes being made by politicians and religious leaders, for example, and you can't help but wonder - is this the best that we can do? The supposed "elites" of these country, screwing everything up because they are, in fact, too stupid for the job? When you have a president that is an utter idiot and comedians speaking the truth in stage, you know you are living in an interesting point in human history. It is kind of like the jester in the court making more sense with his jokes than the orders of the king. Humor just seems to be the clearest way to see the world now, like some ultimate magnifying glass that allows you to see everything in the finest details. That is when you see the flaws, the problems, the ridiculous and absurd things that make us go "Just when in the world were you thinking?" I don't know what either, but I laugh about it. 

I think these comedians that I respect, they have a distinct way of looking at life as compared to a lot of others. You know those vile comedians, talking about genitals and sex all the time as if their lives depend on it. I have little respect for someone like Carlos Mencia, if any, because his most political jokes are mostly racist. These comedians, however, are like observers on the moon, just enjoying the chaos caused by humans down below and having a laugh about it. I can imagine the three of them sitting together and laughing about how stupid we are - because we are. They take what we know to be "ordinary" or "normal", then tear it apart and question it on a level that stimulates one's mind. They help us to think, to question, to analyze, and then think some more. They don't just answer the questions, or question the answers. These people are also questioning the questions, and that to me is what make them so powerful and admirable. With the power of words, just words, they are able to convey some of the most complicated thoughts, and to see the world in high definition quality - yeah, the tech-geek in me is speaking right now. You really have to applaud them for that, and seeing everything as a joke is the only way out, it seems, right now. 

I heard a quote before, that the man with all the answers is the man who can't do anything about it. You may argue that with all the "solutions" proposed by these comedians, they are also the ones who are merely procrastinate, right? Not many comedians can be like Al Franken, I believe, jumping into the politics and actually trying to make a difference, one step at a time. If you want to get yourself involved, then you are somehow going to be a part of the madness, and you are at the butt of the joke as well, at the end of the day. There is a point whereby you realize that there aren't solutions to problems, that it is just better off to laugh about it. You know, there are times when two person can't seem to solve their conflicts, and they just kind of start laughing about it because it's just ridiculous, sometimes, don't you think so? At first you'd ask why, and then you'd ask why with a series of laughter behind it. You can't help it, I can't help it. Because when you see the whole world being consumed by their illusions, laughter is indeed the best medicine after all. You give up that sense of humor within you amidst this time of madness, what else are you left with, really? 

So, comedians in our chaotic times, I truly respect them for that. Even if they are not getting down and dirty and doing something about it, they are inspiring a whole lot more people out there to think and do something about it. There is a saying in Chinese that goes something like, if you can't give money to the poor, then do something physically for the poor. If you can't be a politician, you inspire others to be politicians in order for them to change what is all messed up right now. I admire their courage to speak up, I admire their bravery to think differently. And my life has been shaped by these men, one way or another, and it feels great to know that. I respect these men, not just for their unique thoughts and brands of humor, but also their courage to stand up against all that is ridiculous and wrong about this world and this disappointing species. Yeah, we all laugh about it, but it's true you know - sometimes, that's all we can do in this mad, mad world. 

Hint: He isn't the crazy idiot that interrupts others all the time. 

That's my copy of The Haunted Tower no one is going to take away from me! At this day and age, books like that are already considered somewhat of a relic, and I don't intend to dispose of it until it upgrades to some kind of national treasure. You see, everybody was crazy about puzzle adventure books like that, and all the children in my school wanted to have one. Everybody wanted to be involved in the story somehow, and it was fun going through all the puzzles and the mazes just to get to the bottom of a certain mystery as depicted in every book. I loved the series as a child, and I'd bug my mother to take me to this book rental store in the neighborhood just to rent a couple of them each time. I haven't read every book in the series, but I have definitely read more than half of them. Everything from Murder on the Midnight Plane, to The Incredible Dinosaur Expedition, to Agent Arthur's Jungle Journey, to The Emerald Conspiracy - I've read them. Even the advanced level puzzle books, like Codename Quicksilver and Cobra Consignment. I've read them all and solved them all with, well, a bit of help from the answer key. But still, those books were great fun, and that kind of innocent childish fun isn't around anymore. 

There are a lot of things that they don't make anymore, and one of them are books like that. You know, books that require the reader to think before they move on with the story. There isn't anything wrong with traditional novels, with page after page of books. But books like that can really get children to think by getting them involved in the puzzles and the mystery solving, all that stuff. Especially when these books have all the required ingredients to make a non-book lover, a lover of books. We have murder, mystery, ghosts, haunting, little boys and girls saving a town or accomplishing a mission, what more do you want? This is a great series, and they don't make books like that for children any longer, or at least I don't know too much about it. Back in my days, books were so popular amongst the classmates that I became the library of sorts, and I had to lend people books every now and then, just because we were so obsessed with these stories. Usborne Puzzle Adventures, to me, was an unique way to get myself involved in the story, and my mother was supportive of me all the way, as long as it has got to do with reading something. I liked to be a part of the mystery solving team, to immerse myself in the adventures and then saving the world from evil. It felt awesome, in the childish sort of way. 

I remember buying this book from the school book fair. You remember how it was, when they'd come down to our schools to sell books, and then they put this big red chop on the first page which said "PAID", just to make sure that you paid for the books. I bought a bunch of Bookworm Club books there, and a couple of Hardy Boys and Nancy Drews. The Haunted Island was picked up by me really because of the title. Now, to be honest, I was fascinated with anything that had to do with ghosts, monsters, and dinosaurs when I was younger. If the cover of the book had any of those, I'd be jumping for it like vultures on rotten meat. I'd buy anything that had ghost stories in them, or at least supposedly true ghost stories. Russell Lee is this ridiculous local writer that puts a bag on his face whenever he appears in the public, but I didn't see it as some marketing gimmick back then. It was cool, because all his books were just downright creepy, and creepy meant good amongst the children. And this book is called The Haunted Tower, and the word "haunted" bought me over without any hesitations on my part. Seriously, that was pretty much how I bought books back then - based upon three repetitive themes that worked on me, every single time. And no, I was never a fan of Archie. 

Somehow, the topic of the Usborne series came up between Neptina and I the other day, and I am glad that she knows what I was talking about when I tried to describe the format of the book to her. She was a big fan of the books as well, and remains a big fan of the books even now. We have vowed to find the books in Kinokuniya or Borders and then buy them just for old times' sake. Seriously, these books are just so fun that even adults can enjoy. I know I did today, when I went through this book with her, and it was just great fun picking our way through the maze at the beginning, and then try to figure out which way to turn the gears and where the secret door is hidden. As much as I love my graphic novels, stuff like that really brings a smile onto my face. Because everything about my childhood has been embedded in books like that, and I grew up with these book, one in my hand every day of the week. Admittedly, I wasn't exactly patient with the story, and I'd jump right to the bolded words at the end of each page that signified a puzzle waiting to be solved. But it was good clean fun, and I had a lot of great time reading as I went along. 

We were just talking about how awesome the book The Intergalactic Bus Trip was when she said something that hit it home for me. She mentioned, passionately I might add, about how children these days are obsessed more with video games - what's up with that? You know, you get onto a bus or a train, and you see a row of children tapping away on the buttons on their handheld consoles, staring intently at the screen even as their parents are half dragging them out of the doors. Suddenly, all the entertainment in the children's lives are reduced to an up-down-left-right button, and a couple of other buttons for options, selections and such. You know, the shapes with PSP and stuff. We don't read enough anymore, because "reading is boring", as so many of the people I know would say to you. Reading is boring, and writing is even more boring, and it's tiring. So when you don't read enough, you don't write well, and everything translates to our speeches and our writings. That is why a lot of younger people these days can't even pronounce words more than three syllables long. But they know all the cartoon and anime characters, and they certainly know everything about Pokemon. 

I wonder when our young generation started to decline, you know, I wonder when they decided to abandon the books and go for the video games. I think it was when television took over, when the likes of Teletubbies took over and polluted the minds of young ones. Not all children who watched Teletubbies turned out that way, of course, but the obsession with television probably started young. You know, it cultivated a certain need to want to have moving pictures, instead of those inanimate ones in books. So they turned to television, and later on to video games because you have much more control. Oh yes, instead of the remote control that merely controlled the volume and the channels, now we can make our pixelated characters shoot bullets and fire balls! It was an awesome time, and the lover of books graduated retreated into the background, because they - we - were labeled with names like "bookworms" or "nerds", while the video game lovers had names like, well, "video gamers". They had the cool name, while the rest of us became more and more uncool, and less and less relevant. Therefore, books like The Haunted Tower suddenly became obsolete, and it it disappeared off the shelves of Popular bookstore. No prizes on guessing why though: because it isn't "popular" anymore.

Video games killed children's books, I swear. I want my children's books back, you know, I want the children in the next generation to start loving books again. Not just the Harry Potter type of fantasy novels, but books like that which really requires you to think, and think harder. That was what my mother always bought for my sister and I when we were young, books that required us to solve puzzles and to answer questions. She is an avid fan of books, and she believes in the necessity of exposing children to books at a young age. So we had a lot of books when we were young, and I was particularly into them from a young age. There isn't anything wrong with wanting to shoot aliens in a television set, or to collect monsters in a ball on handheld consoles. It's just kind of sad that a lot of children these days are more consumed by television and video games than anything else. You know, what happened to the good old fun that used to happen in between classes and during recess? I'm not even sure what happens in an ordinary primary school anymore. Do they still have hopscotches and catching? Do they even know what I am talking about? 

Primary school, it was all about hopscotch and catching. There was the occasional soccer and basketball, but hopscotch was just really fun. Then there was that tennis ball throwing game, the covered walkway game, the erasers, the marbles, and all those things that we did in primary school that didn't require batteries. All we needed were our legs, our hands, and our minds to play those games, and they were good games. Games that encouraged team building, leadership, sportsmanship, and all those ships. Video games really put a child into a corner, you know, it isolates him from the rest of the world. Unless it is an online game, then perhaps you have something to argue about. Handheld games are still pretty restricted to just the size of the monitor, and you are playing the game by yourself in a small corner most of the time. Then you turn off the game, you get back to work, and you really aren't that heroic character you were just playing a while ago now, were you? At least you take something away from puzzle adventure books. Not so much from video games though, not really. 

So, my kids are going to read the whole Usborne Puzzle Adventure series when they are old enough to read. As much as I won't like to control my children too much, I think the television and the games of the future are going to be too perverse and twisted for an average child to handle. I love my shooting games, don't get me wrong, but leave some time for the books yeah? Don't let your child be consumed by the video games, don't let it replace everything else in their lives. Because really, all those glory and all those excitement ends with the pressing of a button. You really can't bring those items and treasures out from the game, it doesn't work that way. It just doesn't.