You know how when you are on a bus, especially a crowded one, some person starts yelling at students and our supposed reluctance to move to the back of the class. I get really annoyed.
My annoyance is two-pronged. First, it is directed at these self-righteous members of the bus-riding populace targetting students. Second, it is also from the unwise students who do not move in and give the people in Category A ammunition.

I have a question: Why do people rile at students on the bus instead of older commuters like them who are also blocking the way and refusing to move in?

Strange isn't it? When we ride on the bus as students, there will sometimes be a loud-mouth who takes the onus upon himself to lecture us and yell for us to move. But when you take the bus at a slightly later time like about 0745, where all the uniformed students are gone and the bus is still crowded, and this time, the mess is made up of diverse people who are working adults or Polytechnic students. It would be even more crowded then, but nobody speaks up.

When we are uniformed and in a large group and have an identity, unlike the formless everyday strangers we have on public transport, we are glaring objects that can be hit if you wanted to throw something at us. We are also seen as juvenile, ignorant whereas they are learned and cultured and are qualified to give us correction.
And so, we are targetted.

I have this to say.
Students, please get smart fast. Just move in to the back. Before you get down, push and shove your way violently through all these hateful people who believe they are righteous.

Loud-mouths in Category A, you may yell at us students if I do see you yell at your adult bus-riders at 0745.



Image credit: http://www.objectsandpixels.com/indy/main?type=byDate&filter=March%202005


I took the picture from a site called Object and Pixels. I do hope they take it as a compliment and do not sue me. I really like the colour and relevance of this great artpiece to what I was saying above.


*

I have a treatise on Women that was inspired by the females I've had the (mis)fortune to be around and live with. It is a rather broad category of people that have led to this.


To any feminist Internet watch-dog, I am not a chauvinist.
On the contrary, I love women-many of them in-fact, and agree that they are suitable for nurturing and leadership roles. But you will have to conceded that my treatise has some substance.


Here goes:

Women are the most difficult organism to fathom and to please. Every woman wants something different and the things they want have to, and are even more different at every different time.
Confusing?


They have a wider spectrum of moods which blossoms with no schedule and can morph to become furious, ferocious entities that are cousins to demons. Maybe even closer relatives.


They want men to understand them and share their thoughts but do not help them along.


They cry, they stomp, they scream, rage and shout. They have non-specific expectations, but specific demands that aren't specific enough for us.


They may laugh, they may simper, they may dazzle but it is questionable whether this smiling dazzling woman is the real woman you are getting or is it one of her many modes.
Women are scary.


They are a bundle of distress and trauma packaged beautifully to make up a friendly visual. The real contents slowly unfurl when you've embraced this gift.


Yet we are obligated and also programmed to love and desire them.


"Women, what do they want?"-Sigmund Freud allegedly, on his death bed.

*

Managed to run again, with my new headset in place, which provided constant loud tunes and permitted no lapse in my resolve which prevented me from carrying out my runs like I intended to. I suspect I met a familiar person while I was out today.

It breaks my heart that I did not stop to exercise my good manners.
The pounding in my head, above my ears and the free perspiring was really feelgood.
Everybody should kick their own butts into action and really just run.

In parting,
Enjoy what's left of the evening.
If you have exams, I will not say foolish, vain hopeful words.
The results are directly proportional to the product of your natural intelligence and good old hardwork.
Good ol' hardwork needs to be of a higher magnitude, because our belief in our own natural intelligence incurs a deficit.

But while you toil, one important factor that contributes to our emotional stability and mental sanctity, you definitely must have humour. I am a generous contributor.

The Simpsons are an absolute funny.



I like this kinda funky tune. Induces a good mood.



This suggests that Hitler is the real owner of Manchester United.
I strongly insist you watch it.



Au revoir.

I shall endeavour to construct my post about the alphabet d.

D

I was dreaming; I have been dreaming unreal things these few nights and they have made me eager to fall asleep, which I had trouble doing during the exam spell. I reminder writing once that dreams give direction; are unbridled expression of our less public-friendly illusions and also a mad cocktail of the most diverse things.

I enjoy dreaming, and sometimes before I go to sleep I try and focus on the scenes that I want to unfurl and play through the night.

I'll include narrative excerpts from some of my nighttime wanderings. If it's not palatable to you, you should move on.

Overhead, it seemed like a parting cloud had shifted into the line where the hostile sun beamed onto them. The quick grace of chill cleared some headiness and instigated the first boy to pedal harder. His skinny bike carried also his friend who was extremely uncomfortable, both physically and also in dignity, to have to ride pillion like this. He looked up and saw that a large silhouette almost as far away and the same size as the sun loomed over them. An invisible fist gripped the spot in his chest which he thought where his heart was. His hands went cold.

Hurry up, he told his friend and driver.
Shut up-I already am going faster, the pedaller said angrily.

The rider looked back at the giant form and realised that it was a bird, and it was not a harmless bird. Nothing funny about that. He already knew it was big bird, and a bird of prey. The thing veered nearer, and he saw that it was really BIG. Oh f-, he spent one word on cussing. Pedalling boy did not bother to respond, but grunted as he tried to shift both their weights into quicker movement.

The bird above screeched. It was loud, piercing and very illuminating. Pedalling boy spared one look and the sight of the large eagle-thing gave him new strength. The rider held on to him. There was nothing homosexual about their embrace.

What the hell is that, he shouted. An effing bird, he was shouted back at. Go for the void deck, he pointed, and the pedaller listened and turn into a small path leading into the dimmer void deck of the block of flats. They dove into the void deck, just as the bird plunged down onto them and missed. They saw huge talons which could wrap around both their waists combined hiss by them.
The talons touched on the pavement, and lightly pushed off again.

Shit, the first to get up said.
Shit, the one holding the bike handlebars agreed. They knew that the big bird couldn't get to them while they remained under the large block of flats and away from the outside. They slowly pushed the bike and snuck glances up at the sky. They only felt safe if the bird was in sight. Keeping track of the bird would be difficult, and the eagle-thing weaved in and out of view. They came to a break, where the road was uncovered by any shelter. They had to run across.

A food place was there, and the back door was okay. It was quite a long way to run, and they surely would be spotted and taken. But they had no choice. On three, they dashed across, the pedaller still not willing to let go of the bicycle. Its frame writhed and hit him over and over as he ran. Hurry, the rider said. Drop the bike. No, the other grunted and held on. A massive shadow blossomed over them. It was the eagle-thing. They were almost there.

The faster runner made it through and turned to see his friend still pulling his bike along. He reached and pulled his friend in, and the bike hit the small doorway and was rejected out. The pedaller plunged in and the talons scratched at the doorway, almost brushing them. The first one across took a basket of spoons and hurled it at the bird. SPOONS!? the biker screamed at his buddy. They ran.

They navigated through the network of HDB flat void decks, and each took the roles of watching out left and right for the talons. The talons which could separate themselves from themselves. Charming. They ran and ran and almost hit two girls. The girls turned and the rider saw that both of them were his classmates, and it was misfortune that they were in this also. Get away from the outside, he warned. Why, they asked. He pointed at the flying eagle-thing outside and some of their confusion cleared. They crossed under a shelter and reached the next block. The eagle-thing was more visible, and the rider drove the girls and his buddy across. On the next block, he saw more friends he knew and he shouted for them to stay down.

They almost refused, until the eagle-thing swooped and nearly made away with one of them. They shrunk towards the centre of the void deck with the chair and tables. The rider mused for a minute and decided that this was his dream. And in his dream he deserved control. He should have a shotgun. He thought for another second, and a long, stiff shotgun with two barrels was in his grasp. He took it, cocked it and walked calmly outside. His friends cried warnings, but he ignored them. He went out into the road and knelt, and took aim.
The eagle-thing came boldly, and he fired just once.
And it was over.

I woke up. The fear I felt was genuine and I never got to see the bird/eagle-thing really, but I suspected it was based on a Pokemon. Ah. I have a brilliant mind and a tendency for heroics even when I'm non-conscious.

The other night I dreamt that I was Arvil Lavinge's boyfriend, and she was giving an interview outside my house, and I was impatient for her to ditch the pesky reporters and come to me. I strive to amuse myself. If you are amused also along the way, then good for you. I need a hieroglyphics translator to decipher this long dreaming.
I'm not being deliberately cryptic, but dreams shed meaning, I guess (and hope).

*

I think that in everyone of us, there is a dormant potential which we have not tapped into, and we must dig deep to unplug it. Once we've done it, we'll move mountains and part seas.

We need to master ourselves, and one route is self-denial. It's not denying that you haven't stolen a certain object, but rather not letting yourself gain access to gratification like that video games, like that short lapse of rest which all seems very inviting when you are caught up in the drudgery (work that is hard, menial, or tiresome) of work.

The things that are hard to do, cannot receive our numerous thoughts and considerations-'Should I do this? It's hard, yes. I'm not sure I can-' And then you falter. You must plunge yourself and dive into the thick of things.

*

The thing that draws derision from me is the dismal state of delinquency today, where young punks turn their energies into rebelling against everything and most things. I might be prejudiced, but I've often seen loud-mouthed 14 year olds who walk with the air of invincibility. Every sentence they say will include an utterance of a swear word, which is neither used appropriately or artfully.

A horde of these people congregate and strut, backed by their numbers and engage in what the law enforcement will call, 'gang activity'. My view about them is terminal and I despise them. Everything about them is childish-their purpose, their methods, and their people. Wasting their lives, I call it. Squandering their youth.

These people are essentially cowards when alone and away from their comrades, would not dare to engage in their regular operations of starting and getting into fights.
I sometimes amuse myself by imagining that I am teaching some of them a lesson.
Not necessarily a physical one.

My words and opinion might be provocation, but I seriously doubt if they can decode the waffle and understand that I am being a severe critic about their functional ways. My sophistry is God-given and exclusive.

My solution to this gang problem:
Nab all these people and make them work for dough so they may be useful people who benefit the entire community, instead of causing disturbances. Turn them into good men with good sense. Not easy though.

On a side note since we've come to discussing this social problem, I'm a semi-elistist. I see the sense behind the elitist school of thought, but I also see that tact and compassion are missing in it. Worthiness can be measured by ability and credentials, but we miss out on the importance of a good heart that bolsters these good qualities a hundred-fold. Unfortunately, the heart cannot be seen clearly in a short time, because it is covered up by many layers of flesh and also a deceptive hologram that is the image we all project.

*

I've been reading quite a bit these days and have been cowed by the literary prowess of Eoin Colfer and Dean Koontz and will have almost given up the idea of being a writer when I'm older. I've devoured Twilight Eyes, Artemis Fowl and the Time Paradox, and Michael Crichton's NEXT. Perhaps they are the reason why I'm so talkative today.



I recommend the above books for a good read, but I suggest before you get your hands on The Time Paradox, you better read Eoin Colfer's prequels first. Google it-the Internet is powerful.



This maiden is Liu Yun, who's a model from China and starrs in the 2008 remake of the Duke of Mount Deer as Mu Jian Ping. Me thinks she's really cute.

I will not talk about weights training today, because we all need some time off to stay fresh and excited all over again.

I've lost steam, and I think its justified because I've said a lot.
I only have the following references for you to peruse and hopefully enjoy and laugh.

This is from Who's Line is it Anyway?
Wayne Brady is singing a song in MJ style.



This is a compilation of great Hoedowns.



This is for people who are familiar with the Terminator story and also Jesus' story.



This is a really cool acapella group in the University of Oregon.



Finis.

I think I count on people to inspire me, or to rouse me into activity.
This post is stirred by Crystal's blog, though it cannot be said that we deal with the same subject matter.

We, comprising of Jeremy, Dicky, Crystal and myself, had a slightly less unhealthy lunch at SUBWAY eat flesh. I don't use the label 'healthy' because it is off the mark. People are misled by the associations of sandwiches being health food because of the green lettuce and capsicum, and the bright red tomatoes. It's just decoration.

Decoration misles. We get drawn away from the real content as a result of this. I myself think that the link between SUBWAY and make-up is rather faint, but I will lend this opportunity to talk about make-up. Make-up is also decoration, but it is meant to eccentuate and not cover up, ain't it. So I think it is horrible if people (not only females use make-up) become reliant on make-up and are afraid to venture outdoors without it.

The four of us talked about so many broad topics. We first began with religion, and strayed to race, and then the difference between guys and F.R.I.E.N.D.S. (I resolve to watch the sitcom.) We talked about sex, which strangely was brought on by Crystal's 'innocent' remark on wanting to check out Geylang's red light district.

I recommend that you be extremely bold or prepare a disguise before you head on down, in case a local newspaper that is widely read decides to do a feature on prostitution and snaps a picture with an 80% identifiable you on the spread.

Jeremy is super impressive in keeping things that should not be revealed, not strictly secrets. But please do not hound him with your problems, because he could be overwhelmed. He made me laugh severely with his jab at Crystal about bestiality. I remember I made a jibe at Dicky about him being a girl also. It's a small bit of payback.

It was not a bad way to spend some hours and in such company.

*

I think I am beginning to lean towards moderation, like what Jane Austen seems to advocate and also that fellow in 'Enemy of the People'. I think he is called Aslaksen.
This applies to my views on ethics and also with respect to the divide of the Church between charismatic and not-as-charismatic. Taking a pronounced stand exposes you to more hits.

Also, I'd better not broadcast my views about any violently debatable issue in case I pursue politics in future, which seems viable because my sister says I'm a scheming asshole with a penchant for power plays and all that. Because if I am like a Presidential candidate who at firsts express support for something as big as the war in Iraq and then change my mind when the war turns bad later, I wouldn't be a very credible would I?
But then again, voters, uneducated voters have goldfish memory.

I might be growing timid. I now prefer to suppress divisiveness until it is too late.
Timidity is an appendage of age?

I go against the above when now I wonder-what is our concept of (a) God?
It seems like we want a God who doesn't limit our activities and safeguards us, while granting us wishes. This God we want will have to understand and adopt our perspective and fuel our lifestyle and beliefs which are unique, erractic and very human (undivine).
So I conclude we want a fairy godmother and not a God.

*

I gave my new observation to Megan over the weekend, and it probably is harsh and unkind.
I think that people are all rotten; it's just how much we can bear the stench.

But I think it is fundamentally accurate, because few people can tolerate each of our individual eccentricites like putting back the toilet seat, capping the toothpaste, flatulence, the way we speak and gesticulate etcetera unless they love us. Or they have the allele for resistance to these sort of things.

I strangely have nothing to offer to people who are sports-orientated.
Maybe the Olympic games and regular training has saturated my interest and inhibits my expression.

I now want strong shoulders.



So I would be able to do this.



I love the tranquility at night. It's a shame that we are diurnal.



This is a new article that is called the Lamborghini Reventón. It's the most powerful Lamborghini car to date and costs 1 million euros. Only 20 cars will be released for sale, they say. The internal components are directly taken from the Murcielago LP640, but the exterior is inspired by the F-22 Raptor.

We mortals will not be able to take possession of it, so our only next available course of action would be to gawk.
I believe this is the same with some females also.