Oh no, this couldn't be more unexpected
And I can tell that I've been moving in so slow
Don't let it throw you off too far
Cause I'll be running right behind you
Could this be out of line?
To say you're the only one breaking me down like this
You're the only one I would take a shot on
Keep me hanging on so contagiously
Dreaming can be analogous to the idea of a library closing up and librarians hard at work putting stray books back on their respective shelves. We are forming images and scenes in our heads with any deep-seated information in the darkest recesses of our subconscious mind, in our brain's bid to reconsolidate all its thoughts.
As such, dreams are not prophetic, but they're uncannily predictive because subconscious thoughts are powerfully manifesting. They're the things we believe strongly about deep down inside, and hence we are most likely to cause their occurrences and prove our own dreams right.
We played our first match of the season yesterday against FC Hobo and drew 1-1 against them, when we could've easily put in another 5 or 6 goals if our finishing hadn't been so poor. My playing on the left has been really suspect of late, so towards the end I made a switch to the right side and suddenly things started clicking, but I only had about 10mins to play so it might've been due to many other things. But at least I'm getting the drive to even think about experimenting to see what fits back. It's good to be having regular games again.
Sometimes I stop short of saying what I wanna say, because I can't remember if I've already spoken them in my dreams to you.
Audio Candy:
The Dears - The Death Of All The Romance
Sunday, 27 July 2008
Friday, 25 July 2008
Sometimes Walls Run Into You
My Chatterbox died, gah.
Social Science Camp was quite a blast, but I suppose I was lucky enough to have a really high-performing and optimally small group of freshies. And I was getting told so often that they're quite a bunch of good-lookers too, so that can't be a bad thing. :]
After watching a strings performance today, I guess as the times move along, more is said but less gets communicated. Songs of long past have moved more with less lyrics compared to music today.
I might be ready to move on to other things. Or maybe it's really about time.
The wise man can pick up a grain of sand and envision a whole universe. But the stupid man will just lie down on some seaweed and roll around until he's completely draped in it. Then he'll stand up and go, "Hey, I'm Vine Man."
- Jack Handey
Audio Candy:
Belle And Sebastian - The Blues Are Still Blue
Social Science Camp was quite a blast, but I suppose I was lucky enough to have a really high-performing and optimally small group of freshies. And I was getting told so often that they're quite a bunch of good-lookers too, so that can't be a bad thing. :]
After watching a strings performance today, I guess as the times move along, more is said but less gets communicated. Songs of long past have moved more with less lyrics compared to music today.
I might be ready to move on to other things. Or maybe it's really about time.
The wise man can pick up a grain of sand and envision a whole universe. But the stupid man will just lie down on some seaweed and roll around until he's completely draped in it. Then he'll stand up and go, "Hey, I'm Vine Man."
- Jack Handey
Audio Candy:
Belle And Sebastian - The Blues Are Still Blue
Sunday, 20 July 2008
Like A Bullet Through A Flock Of Doves
If the fish swam out of the ocean
And grew legs and they started walking
And the apes climbed down from the trees
And grew tall and they started talking
And the stars fell out of the sky
And my tears rolled into the ocean
Now I'm looking for a reason why
You even set my world into motion
'Cause if you're not really there
Then the stars don't even matter
Now I'm filled to the top with fear
That it's all just a bunch of matter
'Cause if you're not really there
Then I don't want to be either
I wanna be next to you
Black and gold
Black and gold
Black and gold
It's been a week that's characterised by pervasive little bouts of busyness, especially on the capoeira side of things, such that even though my schedule may hardly seem packed, there was very little time to really do anything else. Sports camp turned out surprisingly successful, with more people than we'd expect expressing both informed and uninformed interest in capoeira.
Today is Social Science Camp day zero, so we've all gotta report in the evening for pre-camp briefings and prop preps and stuff, and I'll be away til wednesday.
This morning I decided to run some neighbourhood errands and grab some goodies for the family, so I put on my slacks and took a walk around my heartlands. And I wasn't quite expecting this but a pang of nostalgia hit me because, honestly, I can't really recall when was the last time I took a stroll around my area and my best memories probably came from a time when I'd still be holding my mom's hand on my left and my dad's on my right, and when I hated going to the market because I had no vested interest in it but I was still forced to and when everyone in the hawker centre towered over me, their endless chatter convoluted into a drowning mass of noise.
So I dragged my feet in my flip flops, a feeling that was once lost but came rushing back to me, as I lazily sauntered through alleyways and past shophouses that have changed ownerships and patronages but have still retained that good ol' vintage touch of sorts. The landscape's changed but deep down everything still feels comfortingly the same. I squeezed my way through the narrow passages in the pathetic NTUC that has renovated at least thrice but still boasts one of the lousiest shelf selections I've ever seen.
And at once, even after having been away for so long, I felt at home again as the neighbourhood came to life this bustling Sunday morning, as I guess it always does every other Sunday morning. Such is the enchantment of community spirit.
Anyway, I decided to grab The Newpaper, something I hadn't done in a while also, and it had this interesting headline: Hey Girl, You're A Hottie: Online travel mag ranks S'pore in top 10 cities with the hottest girls. One reason: Her 'cute and sexy' Singlish. Really?
No shit. I mean I really do believe in the quality of our local ladies but because of the Singlish? Some fascinating locally-flavoured food for thought perhaps.
It's as if I'd just fitted in a final jigsaw piece, and then at that moment I thought I could run through a field of yellow and gold, and set the birds into grand flight like a medley of a thousand canons.
Audio Candy:
Sam Sparro - Black And Gold
And grew legs and they started walking
And the apes climbed down from the trees
And grew tall and they started talking
And the stars fell out of the sky
And my tears rolled into the ocean
Now I'm looking for a reason why
You even set my world into motion
'Cause if you're not really there
Then the stars don't even matter
Now I'm filled to the top with fear
That it's all just a bunch of matter
'Cause if you're not really there
Then I don't want to be either
I wanna be next to you
Black and gold
Black and gold
Black and gold
It's been a week that's characterised by pervasive little bouts of busyness, especially on the capoeira side of things, such that even though my schedule may hardly seem packed, there was very little time to really do anything else. Sports camp turned out surprisingly successful, with more people than we'd expect expressing both informed and uninformed interest in capoeira.
Today is Social Science Camp day zero, so we've all gotta report in the evening for pre-camp briefings and prop preps and stuff, and I'll be away til wednesday.
This morning I decided to run some neighbourhood errands and grab some goodies for the family, so I put on my slacks and took a walk around my heartlands. And I wasn't quite expecting this but a pang of nostalgia hit me because, honestly, I can't really recall when was the last time I took a stroll around my area and my best memories probably came from a time when I'd still be holding my mom's hand on my left and my dad's on my right, and when I hated going to the market because I had no vested interest in it but I was still forced to and when everyone in the hawker centre towered over me, their endless chatter convoluted into a drowning mass of noise.
So I dragged my feet in my flip flops, a feeling that was once lost but came rushing back to me, as I lazily sauntered through alleyways and past shophouses that have changed ownerships and patronages but have still retained that good ol' vintage touch of sorts. The landscape's changed but deep down everything still feels comfortingly the same. I squeezed my way through the narrow passages in the pathetic NTUC that has renovated at least thrice but still boasts one of the lousiest shelf selections I've ever seen.
And at once, even after having been away for so long, I felt at home again as the neighbourhood came to life this bustling Sunday morning, as I guess it always does every other Sunday morning. Such is the enchantment of community spirit.
Anyway, I decided to grab The Newpaper, something I hadn't done in a while also, and it had this interesting headline: Hey Girl, You're A Hottie: Online travel mag ranks S'pore in top 10 cities with the hottest girls. One reason: Her 'cute and sexy' Singlish. Really?
No shit. I mean I really do believe in the quality of our local ladies but because of the Singlish? Some fascinating locally-flavoured food for thought perhaps.
It's as if I'd just fitted in a final jigsaw piece, and then at that moment I thought I could run through a field of yellow and gold, and set the birds into grand flight like a medley of a thousand canons.
Audio Candy:
Sam Sparro - Black And Gold
Wednesday, 16 July 2008
Then I Would Die, But At Least Then I’d Be Free
Some clues to the physiology of happiness set the stage. One author writes, "In the normal range of behavior, 30 to 50 percent of the variance (diversity in the general population) can usually be assigned to genetic factors." ... In some longitudinal studies, "genes account for 80% of the stable variance in long-term reports of well-being." But, as we shall see, the interaction between mind and body gives a little more space to volition, behavior and changing circumstance.
The nature-nurture relationship is complex. For one thing, our genes often influence our choice of environments; what is nurture is then something shaped by nature. If people choose their own environments, they make socialization a two-way process. As one group of researchers has written, "Whatever effects parents, schools, and neighbourhoods may have had, they were either quite different in different children or [were ephemeral and] did not persist until the children grew up." Given the tendency of children to differentiate themselves so as to occupy special niches in families and schools, and given the consequent lack of the same environment for children in the same family, it is not surprising that socialization effects "were quite different in different children." The bright child pleases her father, the musical child her mother: parental treatments of the two children follow from the children's respective endowments.
... but in the meantime I note that in addition to these interactive nature-nurture relationships, there are also purely environmental influences; for example, the loss of a parent during childhood is directly correlated with alcoholism of daughters, irrespective of their genes. The complexity of the nature-nurture relationship has roots in our evolutionary histories.
- Robert E. Lane, The Loss of Happiness in Market Democracies, P. 38
Stopping short of theological philosophy on the free-will vs fate argument and assuming we're agents endowed with free-will, if a part of being happy is to know that one is in control of one's destiny, where does this leave us?
He adds in an earlier part that:
Fixity of mood also has implications for the assessing of distributive justice. Philosophers wrestle (unsuccessfully, in my opinion) with problems of justice when the outcomes of behavior are fixed by such genetic endowments as intelligence and beauty. If happiness is at least partly given by nature, philosophers like David Ross and Nicholas Rescher, who make happiness an ultimate good only when merited, are in trouble.
What happens if you're a philosopher whose work has weight and value only because the truth to be seeked is still a shady concept, and one day your work is proven beyond reasonable doubt that it is wrong and you're not dead yet? I wonder what kind of blow one must sustain to realise that a lifetime has been dedicated to the wrong end of the truth.
Or perhaps one would rather die knowing he's wrong and knowing the truth. In a utilitarian way of looking at it, one's philosophical errors can be seen as contributing to discovering the ultimate truth and achieving the all important end.
Actually, post-Euro'08 I've also been quite fascinated in a back-of-my-head kinda way about the psychology of the underdog. What's it like to be Adrian Mutu, Petr Cech or Andrey Arshavin; brilliant footballers who should deserve more but will never have the means to glory on the international stage?
In a somewhat side but relevant note, while Cristiano Ronaldo's still keeping at his cat and mouse game with Real Madrid and Manchester United, Cesc Fabregas rejected Real Madrid outrightly and declared allegiance to Arsenal and Arsene Wenger. It does say alot about the kinds of contrasting people these two are. And then you have players like Ryan Giggs, who have dedicated a lifetime of football to Manchester United, but only because Manchester United are illustrious in their own right. What if you were brilliant and loyal but your team was mediocre, like the situation the old Denilson at Real Betis found himself in?
Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city.
- George Burns
Audio Candy:
The Spill Canvas - Polygraph, Right Now
The nature-nurture relationship is complex. For one thing, our genes often influence our choice of environments; what is nurture is then something shaped by nature. If people choose their own environments, they make socialization a two-way process. As one group of researchers has written, "Whatever effects parents, schools, and neighbourhoods may have had, they were either quite different in different children or [were ephemeral and] did not persist until the children grew up." Given the tendency of children to differentiate themselves so as to occupy special niches in families and schools, and given the consequent lack of the same environment for children in the same family, it is not surprising that socialization effects "were quite different in different children." The bright child pleases her father, the musical child her mother: parental treatments of the two children follow from the children's respective endowments.
... but in the meantime I note that in addition to these interactive nature-nurture relationships, there are also purely environmental influences; for example, the loss of a parent during childhood is directly correlated with alcoholism of daughters, irrespective of their genes. The complexity of the nature-nurture relationship has roots in our evolutionary histories.
- Robert E. Lane, The Loss of Happiness in Market Democracies, P. 38
Stopping short of theological philosophy on the free-will vs fate argument and assuming we're agents endowed with free-will, if a part of being happy is to know that one is in control of one's destiny, where does this leave us?
He adds in an earlier part that:
Fixity of mood also has implications for the assessing of distributive justice. Philosophers wrestle (unsuccessfully, in my opinion) with problems of justice when the outcomes of behavior are fixed by such genetic endowments as intelligence and beauty. If happiness is at least partly given by nature, philosophers like David Ross and Nicholas Rescher, who make happiness an ultimate good only when merited, are in trouble.
What happens if you're a philosopher whose work has weight and value only because the truth to be seeked is still a shady concept, and one day your work is proven beyond reasonable doubt that it is wrong and you're not dead yet? I wonder what kind of blow one must sustain to realise that a lifetime has been dedicated to the wrong end of the truth.
Or perhaps one would rather die knowing he's wrong and knowing the truth. In a utilitarian way of looking at it, one's philosophical errors can be seen as contributing to discovering the ultimate truth and achieving the all important end.
Actually, post-Euro'08 I've also been quite fascinated in a back-of-my-head kinda way about the psychology of the underdog. What's it like to be Adrian Mutu, Petr Cech or Andrey Arshavin; brilliant footballers who should deserve more but will never have the means to glory on the international stage?
In a somewhat side but relevant note, while Cristiano Ronaldo's still keeping at his cat and mouse game with Real Madrid and Manchester United, Cesc Fabregas rejected Real Madrid outrightly and declared allegiance to Arsenal and Arsene Wenger. It does say alot about the kinds of contrasting people these two are. And then you have players like Ryan Giggs, who have dedicated a lifetime of football to Manchester United, but only because Manchester United are illustrious in their own right. What if you were brilliant and loyal but your team was mediocre, like the situation the old Denilson at Real Betis found himself in?
Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city.
- George Burns
Audio Candy:
The Spill Canvas - Polygraph, Right Now
Tuesday, 15 July 2008
Let The Good Times Roll
This curiosity is too deep and enthralling that there's almost no turning back.
"Is there a difference between a man who thinks honesty is the best policy and an honest man?"
- C. S. Lewis
Sure, an honest man is honest by habit and not by cost-benefit calculation.
Audio Candy:
Gavin McGraw - I Don't Want To Be
"Is there a difference between a man who thinks honesty is the best policy and an honest man?"
- C. S. Lewis
Sure, an honest man is honest by habit and not by cost-benefit calculation.
Audio Candy:
Gavin McGraw - I Don't Want To Be
A Guy Would Rather Hang Out With A Girl / Doing Stupid Things
This is an articulation of a somewhat backdated thought.
Cutting straight to the chase, when a guy decides he wants to go hang out with someone and it's not gonna be a group outing, he would more often than not rather ask a girl out than another guy.
With that, I will further develop that it is hence okay for a girl to hang out with either a girl or a guy, but it is uncommon for a guy to want to hang out with another guy.
This is because girls have the propensity as well as socially-accepted right to do 'stupid things'. By 'stupid things', I'm generally referring to inane, silly things such as being lame, gossiping, and any other random gay shit that, when done in the company of a fellow male or fellow males, would evoke raised eyebrows and be terribly frowned upon.
That said, it means that when guys go out with one another, there are less things they can be allowed to do. By going on a date with a girl, he acquires the socially-accepted right to act silly and do stupid things with her company.
I believe this scientifically and empirically unsupported theory is further supported by the fact that guys often only ask another guy out when he already has something in mind he wants to do, and the company of another male is largely a by-the-way kinda thing. It is somewhat just queer to for the average joe to ask another dude out just to 'talk', or go chill out. Often, guys interact by doing things, such as going out for drinks or to play pool, and conversation comes about as a by-product of the predominant activity.
I have been in the crappy situation of being with one or two other guys with no aim in mind and we always end up standing in the middle of nowhere trying to decide what to do.
So inherently it is not entirely because all guys are innately skirt-chasers, but because a girl would provide a far better outlet than another guy when it comes to a one-on-one hang out, enabling for potentially more activity with the allowance for doing 'stupid things', and is thus generally a much better hang out choice with regards to gender.
Money doesn't make you happy. I now have $50 million but I was just as happy when I had $48 million.
- Arnold Schwarzenegger
Audio Candy:
Within Temptation - Memories
Cutting straight to the chase, when a guy decides he wants to go hang out with someone and it's not gonna be a group outing, he would more often than not rather ask a girl out than another guy.
With that, I will further develop that it is hence okay for a girl to hang out with either a girl or a guy, but it is uncommon for a guy to want to hang out with another guy.
This is because girls have the propensity as well as socially-accepted right to do 'stupid things'. By 'stupid things', I'm generally referring to inane, silly things such as being lame, gossiping, and any other random gay shit that, when done in the company of a fellow male or fellow males, would evoke raised eyebrows and be terribly frowned upon.
That said, it means that when guys go out with one another, there are less things they can be allowed to do. By going on a date with a girl, he acquires the socially-accepted right to act silly and do stupid things with her company.
I believe this scientifically and empirically unsupported theory is further supported by the fact that guys often only ask another guy out when he already has something in mind he wants to do, and the company of another male is largely a by-the-way kinda thing. It is somewhat just queer to for the average joe to ask another dude out just to 'talk', or go chill out. Often, guys interact by doing things, such as going out for drinks or to play pool, and conversation comes about as a by-product of the predominant activity.
I have been in the crappy situation of being with one or two other guys with no aim in mind and we always end up standing in the middle of nowhere trying to decide what to do.
So inherently it is not entirely because all guys are innately skirt-chasers, but because a girl would provide a far better outlet than another guy when it comes to a one-on-one hang out, enabling for potentially more activity with the allowance for doing 'stupid things', and is thus generally a much better hang out choice with regards to gender.
Money doesn't make you happy. I now have $50 million but I was just as happy when I had $48 million.
- Arnold Schwarzenegger
Audio Candy:
Within Temptation - Memories
Saturday, 12 July 2008
And There Is Discord In The Garden, Tonight
I job-searched and did some random calling earlier on wednesday and some company called me back yesterday while I was still at camp. Eunos, 1845h today, I was told, so I headed down for the supposed interview.
As it turned out, it was some MLM business slyly disguised as "various positions available, earn up to $800 in 2 weeks" in the Classifieds, which I suppose I really should've guessed. But it didn't turn out so bad because this is, afterall, not the first time I've been 'tricked' (of sorts) into ending up sitting at some seemingly casual round table in a lobby-like office with posters of products and good performance workers on the walls.
In fact, I ended up talking to one of the high-flyers in the company one-on-one for my interview, and she turned out to be my NYJC and SMU senior who was from SIS and had graduated already. So while she gave me her usual rundown of the MLM-skeptics' review, I guess I stunned her by throwing in some of my personal principles and philosophies and why I wouldn't wanna join or be the right person for MLM even though I don't frown upon it and am hence not a skeptic, validating my point by referencing stuff I've been reading. And then I said that it's not the first time I've been approached by MLM people and that I could probably recite to her the pyramidal staff hierarchy and tell her what products her company sells.
When I was done with what I had to say, there was a brief semi-awkward silence but I knew it was because she knew she had absolutely nothing to say that could convince me to be a part of it. So we ended up chit-chatting about school and life and all kinds of random shit, and I started dictating the conversation somewhat. I really struck a perfect chord when I pointed out that it's important that we do what we believe in and not listen to other people and end up in a "dead-end 8-5 job" and she fervently agreed. MLM people seriously like to hear stuff like that hahar. It's quite amusing when the supposed manipulator gets manipulated.
For a moment the conversation revolved around me for a bit and when somehow she asked me what I was reading, I could almost feel the thud of her jaw hitting the table when I brandished my "Loss of Happiness in Market Democracies" and "The Beauty Myth" books and I think I was smirking at the typicality when she took out her book titled along the lines of "How to Seal the Deal" or "How to Stay in Charge" or something like that.
We exchanged numbers and she said that while she's disappointed that I can't be a part of her team, she's happy that she has made a new friend. It's been a mildly fascinating evening where I felt like I simply wasted her time in the bigger scheme of things.
It's been awhile since I last took a long walk through town plugged into my MP3 player, so I zen-ed out and strolled from City Hall through to Orchard. I've always found escape in the surreality of being completely alone in a crowded place, and with the music volume up and people walking almost shoulder to shoulder at some parts along the streets highlighted by fancy lights, it recreates a sensation of being underwater, almost drowning, knowing that it's turbulent as hell around you but you can't hear a thing, like you aren't a part of it or anything at all.
I'm one-third through Loss of Happiness in Market Democracies and I'm done with Morality of Markets. It was interesting reading about how economists argue for the free market and some of their premises are actually quite ingenious. But because it is difficult to set in stone a schema of sorts for the concepts of ethics and morality, many arguments get pushed to their limits and end up being philosophical debates by virtue of their largely normative values. The gist is that any form of coercion against personal freedoms and rights, which are supposedly divinely endowed, is considered immoral and hence government intervention, which is basically seen as the right to use force, is also considered immoral. The idea is that the free market, with perfect competition and all that jazz, will provide the best form of wealth creation and ensure that people abide by a code of moral ethics in the long run because in order to survive you have to be cooperative, trustworthy, benevolent etc with the aim of serving your fellow man and ensuring that you get what you need in return.
However, I just find it hard to completely buy this argument because the reality is that there are way too many hopeful assumptions here. People are not angels afterall. I have a hunch that these arguments were formulated only because a response was needed primarily against state intervention and the generally romanticised and strict adherence to religion, which is largely perceived to be against the idea of material gain, private enterprise and capitalism.
We can point to the workings of the free market that result in shit happening like sustained poverty in third world countries and even the Darfur conflict, with the Sudanese government benefitting from China, India and Japan's trade patronage. A fatalistic balance can result if everybody's utility is met, even if these incur devastating externalities.
So far, Loss of Happiness in Market Democracies has made the very cogent point that economists equate happiness with utility, but happiness is hardly a utility because while our needs are met, we may not be any happier (would it be death by lethal injection or hanging, sir?).
A personal favourite from FailBlog.org:
Don't anthropomorphize computers - they hate it.
Audio Candy:
Gina René - U Must Be
As it turned out, it was some MLM business slyly disguised as "various positions available, earn up to $800 in 2 weeks" in the Classifieds, which I suppose I really should've guessed. But it didn't turn out so bad because this is, afterall, not the first time I've been 'tricked' (of sorts) into ending up sitting at some seemingly casual round table in a lobby-like office with posters of products and good performance workers on the walls.
In fact, I ended up talking to one of the high-flyers in the company one-on-one for my interview, and she turned out to be my NYJC and SMU senior who was from SIS and had graduated already. So while she gave me her usual rundown of the MLM-skeptics' review, I guess I stunned her by throwing in some of my personal principles and philosophies and why I wouldn't wanna join or be the right person for MLM even though I don't frown upon it and am hence not a skeptic, validating my point by referencing stuff I've been reading. And then I said that it's not the first time I've been approached by MLM people and that I could probably recite to her the pyramidal staff hierarchy and tell her what products her company sells.
When I was done with what I had to say, there was a brief semi-awkward silence but I knew it was because she knew she had absolutely nothing to say that could convince me to be a part of it. So we ended up chit-chatting about school and life and all kinds of random shit, and I started dictating the conversation somewhat. I really struck a perfect chord when I pointed out that it's important that we do what we believe in and not listen to other people and end up in a "dead-end 8-5 job" and she fervently agreed. MLM people seriously like to hear stuff like that hahar. It's quite amusing when the supposed manipulator gets manipulated.
For a moment the conversation revolved around me for a bit and when somehow she asked me what I was reading, I could almost feel the thud of her jaw hitting the table when I brandished my "Loss of Happiness in Market Democracies" and "The Beauty Myth" books and I think I was smirking at the typicality when she took out her book titled along the lines of "How to Seal the Deal" or "How to Stay in Charge" or something like that.
We exchanged numbers and she said that while she's disappointed that I can't be a part of her team, she's happy that she has made a new friend. It's been a mildly fascinating evening where I felt like I simply wasted her time in the bigger scheme of things.
It's been awhile since I last took a long walk through town plugged into my MP3 player, so I zen-ed out and strolled from City Hall through to Orchard. I've always found escape in the surreality of being completely alone in a crowded place, and with the music volume up and people walking almost shoulder to shoulder at some parts along the streets highlighted by fancy lights, it recreates a sensation of being underwater, almost drowning, knowing that it's turbulent as hell around you but you can't hear a thing, like you aren't a part of it or anything at all.
I'm one-third through Loss of Happiness in Market Democracies and I'm done with Morality of Markets. It was interesting reading about how economists argue for the free market and some of their premises are actually quite ingenious. But because it is difficult to set in stone a schema of sorts for the concepts of ethics and morality, many arguments get pushed to their limits and end up being philosophical debates by virtue of their largely normative values. The gist is that any form of coercion against personal freedoms and rights, which are supposedly divinely endowed, is considered immoral and hence government intervention, which is basically seen as the right to use force, is also considered immoral. The idea is that the free market, with perfect competition and all that jazz, will provide the best form of wealth creation and ensure that people abide by a code of moral ethics in the long run because in order to survive you have to be cooperative, trustworthy, benevolent etc with the aim of serving your fellow man and ensuring that you get what you need in return.
However, I just find it hard to completely buy this argument because the reality is that there are way too many hopeful assumptions here. People are not angels afterall. I have a hunch that these arguments were formulated only because a response was needed primarily against state intervention and the generally romanticised and strict adherence to religion, which is largely perceived to be against the idea of material gain, private enterprise and capitalism.
We can point to the workings of the free market that result in shit happening like sustained poverty in third world countries and even the Darfur conflict, with the Sudanese government benefitting from China, India and Japan's trade patronage. A fatalistic balance can result if everybody's utility is met, even if these incur devastating externalities.
So far, Loss of Happiness in Market Democracies has made the very cogent point that economists equate happiness with utility, but happiness is hardly a utility because while our needs are met, we may not be any happier (would it be death by lethal injection or hanging, sir?).
A personal favourite from FailBlog.org:
Don't anthropomorphize computers - they hate it.
Audio Candy:
Gina René - U Must Be
Social Science (,) Retreat
I think my social skills within the confines of a relatively sizeable group, especially when it is comprised of people I do not know well, are deterioriating. For some reason I just can't seem to muster up the strength to try to engage in small talk, or even the effort to be a little more smiley and pleasant looking. Aside from the random wisecrack which serves its healthier purpose of humouring people, a part of me now simply refuses to bother if what I say doesn't really mean anything to anybody.
We were sitting on rooftops under a blanket of cool night air, the darkness concealing our faces but revealing only the twinkles from our eyes. I'm reminded of the breeze - ever calm and gentle, and even playful, whistling through linen on clotheslines and raking up fallen leaves in the grass, creating wonderous waves on the shore and filling the air with a million little falling leaves. It is hard not to sing and dance along, practically a challenge not to be smitten and perhaps overawed. But it is seductively fleeting; with a foreign anonymity within what seems so familiar and difficult to grasp all the same.
Audio Candy:
OneRepublic - Say
We were sitting on rooftops under a blanket of cool night air, the darkness concealing our faces but revealing only the twinkles from our eyes. I'm reminded of the breeze - ever calm and gentle, and even playful, whistling through linen on clotheslines and raking up fallen leaves in the grass, creating wonderous waves on the shore and filling the air with a million little falling leaves. It is hard not to sing and dance along, practically a challenge not to be smitten and perhaps overawed. But it is seductively fleeting; with a foreign anonymity within what seems so familiar and difficult to grasp all the same.
Audio Candy:
OneRepublic - Say
Tuesday, 8 July 2008
3 Day Week FTW
So ends BOSS 1; first round of bidding. This is tentative, but if all goes well, I'll have a 3 day week next term.
Tuesday
1200 - 1515: IS102 - Computer as an Analysis Tool
1715 - 1845: PSYC108 - Social Psychology
Wednesday
0830 - 1145: MGMT211 - Career Skills: The Finishing Touch
1530 - 1845: SSRM001 - Research Methods in the Social Sciences
Thursday
1200 - 1515: ECON103 - International Economics A
1715 - 1845: PSYC108 - Social Psychology
I was thrown out of college for cheating on the metaphysics exam; I looked into the soul of the boy sitting next to me.
- Woody Allen
Audio Candy:
Eagles Of Death Metal - Don't Speak (I Came To Make A Bang)
Tuesday
1200 - 1515: IS102 - Computer as an Analysis Tool
1715 - 1845: PSYC108 - Social Psychology
Wednesday
0830 - 1145: MGMT211 - Career Skills: The Finishing Touch
1530 - 1845: SSRM001 - Research Methods in the Social Sciences
Thursday
1200 - 1515: ECON103 - International Economics A
1715 - 1845: PSYC108 - Social Psychology
I was thrown out of college for cheating on the metaphysics exam; I looked into the soul of the boy sitting next to me.
- Woody Allen
Audio Candy:
Eagles Of Death Metal - Don't Speak (I Came To Make A Bang)
Monday, 7 July 2008
Bantered
I had it pointed out to me regarding the Brotherhood > Sisterhood post that it is a highly debatable idea because since guys inherently lead practical lives, they cannot possibly form strong friendship bonds, or even friendship bonds at all among themselves. Because if guys are inherently practical and rational to that extent, they would be a lot more willing to compromise on their friendships over a higher goal, such as a job opportunity or some girl (debatable examples but you get the idea).
As the words to the Michael Bolton song go, If she is bad, he can't see it / She can do no wrong / Turn his back on his best friend / If he puts her down. Or if he tries to fuck with the dude's chances of getting the girl.
And the realisation that I actually buy the rebuttal hit me in a really funny way.
Yinz: "My nails are ugly! They're not as shiny as I wanted them to be!"
Me: "If those aren't shiny, I dunno what is."
Yinz: "Err. My nose?"
Mikaela: "Calling out to Teck Yeow-land, please return us our friend!"
By all means marry. If you get a good wife, you'll become happy; If you get a bad one, you'll become a philosopher.
- Socrates
Audio Candy:
The Hint - I Want It To Feel Like Love
As the words to the Michael Bolton song go, If she is bad, he can't see it / She can do no wrong / Turn his back on his best friend / If he puts her down. Or if he tries to fuck with the dude's chances of getting the girl.
And the realisation that I actually buy the rebuttal hit me in a really funny way.
Yinz: "My nails are ugly! They're not as shiny as I wanted them to be!"
Me: "If those aren't shiny, I dunno what is."
Yinz: "Err. My nose?"
Mikaela: "Calling out to Teck Yeow-land, please return us our friend!"
By all means marry. If you get a good wife, you'll become happy; If you get a bad one, you'll become a philosopher.
- Socrates
Audio Candy:
The Hint - I Want It To Feel Like Love
Saturday, 5 July 2008
Just Bring It!
From left to right:
Morality of Markets (Parth J. Shah)
The Infinite (A. W. Moore)
Singapore Studies II - Critical Surveys of the Humanities and Social Sciences (Chua Beng Huat)
The Character of Mind - An Introduction to the Philosophy of Mind (Colin McGinn)
The Loss of Happiness in Market Democracies (Robert E. Lane)
The Beauty Myth - How Images of Beauty are Used Against Women (Naomi Wolf)
The Philosophy of Religion (Basil Mitchell)
Morality of Markets (Parth J. Shah)
The Infinite (A. W. Moore)
Singapore Studies II - Critical Surveys of the Humanities and Social Sciences (Chua Beng Huat)
The Character of Mind - An Introduction to the Philosophy of Mind (Colin McGinn)
The Loss of Happiness in Market Democracies (Robert E. Lane)
The Beauty Myth - How Images of Beauty are Used Against Women (Naomi Wolf)
The Philosophy of Religion (Basil Mitchell)
While my future lies in psychology pretty much, political science, philosophy and economics will remain my faithful summer flings.
I find television very educating. Every time somebody turns on the set, I go into the other room and read a book.
I find television very educating. Every time somebody turns on the set, I go into the other room and read a book.
- Groucho Marx
Audio Candy:
3 Doors Down - It's Not My Time
Audio Candy:
3 Doors Down - It's Not My Time
Thursday, 3 July 2008
Reconsolidate
Bored, so I dabbled with Facebook apps and came across this South Park character creator.
The other day as I stoned while resting after a soccer game, I stared at some kids running around a sheltered pavilion and thought, when does the futility and sadness of not knowing the truth; the longing for the answers to existence come into play? Has it anything to do, generally, with age? If so, how then has our increasing life spans changed the picture? Or maybe how close we are to death is the benchmark. Maybe we just somehow know. Maybe with a longer life to live, and more time to think, we get sadder, more dejected, more solemn and more disillusioned, which is somewhat congruent to how we, as a conflicted species being creatures with a sense of self-awareness and intelligent beings with an animal instinct, seem to be going downhill on the happiness scale. Within these parameters, we get sadder because believing things are worse off than they really are is a safer comfort zone to create within the context of our human nature to lament and wallow, so that the next most pleasant thing that comes along, no matter how pathetically small it is, has a happier ascribed value to it.
Played my first proper field game in the longest time for Lengkian's team. He needed 3 players so I asked Chester and Leon down too, and we ended up winning 7-0. Dixon got a hat-trick, (fat) Ronaldo style, one off a rebound from a shot I took, and this speedy striker called Louis bagged 2 goals. Francis put one in after a nice set up by Chester, though it can be said the opposition defence had more holes in it than a sieve. Leon was the hero among the 3 of us, being the only one who got a goal while Chester and I were trying our asses off to get on the scoresheet, so we spent the evening goading Leon into giving us a treat for dinner.
I told them that I did have female friends who might've wanted to come down and watch, and Chester said, "I think that's why I didn't score." Leon immediate gave the amusing rejoinder, "maybe that's why I scored."
Playing for Cheesiang's team this sunday. My field touch really sucks now but I hope I'll get it back soon enough.
I caught Zohan and Get Smart within the last week. Zohan is basically like Chuck Norris, and a Chuck Norris joke somewhat appears in Get Smart. But anyway, Get Smart is a really good straight-faced comedy movie whose humour is right up my alley. It seems like Grapevine is the new Gardens (I don't mean that literally but in a 'white is the new black' kinda way). And yesterday was a tiring but happy day because we played golf and tennis, 2 sports to remind myself what a noob I am, and I lugged a body bag around.
I love defenceless animals, especially in gravy.
Audio Candy:
The Star Spangles - I Live For Speed
The other day as I stoned while resting after a soccer game, I stared at some kids running around a sheltered pavilion and thought, when does the futility and sadness of not knowing the truth; the longing for the answers to existence come into play? Has it anything to do, generally, with age? If so, how then has our increasing life spans changed the picture? Or maybe how close we are to death is the benchmark. Maybe we just somehow know. Maybe with a longer life to live, and more time to think, we get sadder, more dejected, more solemn and more disillusioned, which is somewhat congruent to how we, as a conflicted species being creatures with a sense of self-awareness and intelligent beings with an animal instinct, seem to be going downhill on the happiness scale. Within these parameters, we get sadder because believing things are worse off than they really are is a safer comfort zone to create within the context of our human nature to lament and wallow, so that the next most pleasant thing that comes along, no matter how pathetically small it is, has a happier ascribed value to it.
Played my first proper field game in the longest time for Lengkian's team. He needed 3 players so I asked Chester and Leon down too, and we ended up winning 7-0. Dixon got a hat-trick, (fat) Ronaldo style, one off a rebound from a shot I took, and this speedy striker called Louis bagged 2 goals. Francis put one in after a nice set up by Chester, though it can be said the opposition defence had more holes in it than a sieve. Leon was the hero among the 3 of us, being the only one who got a goal while Chester and I were trying our asses off to get on the scoresheet, so we spent the evening goading Leon into giving us a treat for dinner.
I told them that I did have female friends who might've wanted to come down and watch, and Chester said, "I think that's why I didn't score." Leon immediate gave the amusing rejoinder, "maybe that's why I scored."
Playing for Cheesiang's team this sunday. My field touch really sucks now but I hope I'll get it back soon enough.
I caught Zohan and Get Smart within the last week. Zohan is basically like Chuck Norris, and a Chuck Norris joke somewhat appears in Get Smart. But anyway, Get Smart is a really good straight-faced comedy movie whose humour is right up my alley. It seems like Grapevine is the new Gardens (I don't mean that literally but in a 'white is the new black' kinda way). And yesterday was a tiring but happy day because we played golf and tennis, 2 sports to remind myself what a noob I am, and I lugged a body bag around.
I love defenceless animals, especially in gravy.
Audio Candy:
The Star Spangles - I Live For Speed
Tuesday, 1 July 2008
Right In The Middle Is Where The Truth Lies
Phyl borrowed The History of Love from Claire and liked it enough to recommend it to me, and I'm more than halfway through it and I really think it's a wonderfully written novel. As the Sunday Telegraph puts it, it is "wonderfully affecting... brilliant, touching and remarkably poised." One of the surprise better reads I've had of this genre and style of writing.
I can't help but continue quoting liberally.
Just as there was a first instant when someone rubbed two sticks together to make a spark, there was a first time joy was felt, and a first time for sadness. For a while, new feelings were being invented all the time. Desire was born early, as was regret. When stubbornness was felt for the first time, it started a chain reaction, creating the feeling of resentment on the one hand, and alienation and loneliness on the other. It might have been a certain counterclockwise movement of the hips that marked the birth of ecstasy, a bolt of lightning that caused the first feeling of awe. Contrary to logic, the feeling of surprise wasn’t born immediately. It only came after people had enough time to get used to things as they were. And when enough time had passed, and someone felt the first feeling of surprise, someone, somewhere else, felt the first pang of nostalgia.
It’s also true that sometimes people felt things and, because there was no word for them, they went unmentioned. The oldest emotion in the world may be that of being moved; but to describe it — just to name it — must have been like trying to catch something invisible.
(Then again, the oldest feeling in the world might simply have been confusion.)
Having begun to feel, people’s desire to feel grew. They wanted to feel more, feel deeper, despite how much it sometimes hurt. People became addicted to feeling. They struggled to uncover new emotions. It’s possible that this is how art was born. New kinds of joy were forged, along with new kinds of sadness. The eternal disappointment of life as it is; the relief of unexpected reprieve; the fear of dying.
Even now, all possible feelings do not yet exist. There are still those that lie beyond our capacity and our imagination. From time to time, when a piece of music no one has ever written, or a painting no one has ever painted, or something else impossible to predict, fathom, or yet describe takes place, a new feeling enters the world. And then, for the millionth time in the history of feeling, the heart surges, and absorbs the impact.
The next afternoon, Rosa turned up for a second meeting just as she'd promised. When she glanced at her watch and realized how late it had got they planned a third meeting, and after that it went without saying that there'd be a fourth. The fifth time they met, under the spell of Rosa's youthful spontaneity - halfway through a heated discussion about who was a greater poet, Neruda or Dario - Litvinoff surprised himself by proposing they go hear a concert together. When Rosa jumped to agree, it dawned on him that, miracle of miracles, this lovely girl might actually be developing feelings for him. It was as if someone had struck a gong in his chest. His whole body reverberated with the news.
So many words get lost. They leave the mouth and lose their courage, wandering aimlessly until they are swept into the gutter like dead leaves. On rainy days you can hear their chorus rushing past: Iwasabeautifulgirl-Pleasedon’tgoItoobelievemybodyismadeofglassI’veneverlovedanyoneI-thinkofmyselfasfunnyForgiveme…
There was a time when it wasn’t uncommon to use a piece of string to guide words that otherwise might falter on the way to their destinations. Shy people carried a bundle of string in their pockets, but people considered loudmouths had no less need for it, since those used to being overheard by everyone were often at a loss for how to make themselves heard by someone. The physical distance between two people using a string was often small; sometimes the smaller the distance, the greater the need for string.
The practice of attaching cups to the ends of string came much later. Some say it is related to the irrepressible urge to press shells to our ears, to hear the still-surviving echo of the world’s first expression. Others say it was started by a man who held the end of a string that was unraveled across the ocean by a girl who left for America.
"Let’s stand under a tree," she said.
"Why?"
"Because it’s nicer."
"Maybe you should sit on a chair, and I’ll stand above you, like they always do with husbands and wives."
"That’s stupid."
"Why?"
"Because we’re not married."
"Should we hold hands?"
"We can’t."
"Why not?"
"Because people will know."
"Know what?"
"About us."
"So what if they know?"
"It’s better when it’s a secret."
"Why?"
"So no one can take it from us."
Audio Candy:
I Am Ghost - The Ship Of Pills And Needed Things
I can't help but continue quoting liberally.
Just as there was a first instant when someone rubbed two sticks together to make a spark, there was a first time joy was felt, and a first time for sadness. For a while, new feelings were being invented all the time. Desire was born early, as was regret. When stubbornness was felt for the first time, it started a chain reaction, creating the feeling of resentment on the one hand, and alienation and loneliness on the other. It might have been a certain counterclockwise movement of the hips that marked the birth of ecstasy, a bolt of lightning that caused the first feeling of awe. Contrary to logic, the feeling of surprise wasn’t born immediately. It only came after people had enough time to get used to things as they were. And when enough time had passed, and someone felt the first feeling of surprise, someone, somewhere else, felt the first pang of nostalgia.
It’s also true that sometimes people felt things and, because there was no word for them, they went unmentioned. The oldest emotion in the world may be that of being moved; but to describe it — just to name it — must have been like trying to catch something invisible.
(Then again, the oldest feeling in the world might simply have been confusion.)
Having begun to feel, people’s desire to feel grew. They wanted to feel more, feel deeper, despite how much it sometimes hurt. People became addicted to feeling. They struggled to uncover new emotions. It’s possible that this is how art was born. New kinds of joy were forged, along with new kinds of sadness. The eternal disappointment of life as it is; the relief of unexpected reprieve; the fear of dying.
Even now, all possible feelings do not yet exist. There are still those that lie beyond our capacity and our imagination. From time to time, when a piece of music no one has ever written, or a painting no one has ever painted, or something else impossible to predict, fathom, or yet describe takes place, a new feeling enters the world. And then, for the millionth time in the history of feeling, the heart surges, and absorbs the impact.
The next afternoon, Rosa turned up for a second meeting just as she'd promised. When she glanced at her watch and realized how late it had got they planned a third meeting, and after that it went without saying that there'd be a fourth. The fifth time they met, under the spell of Rosa's youthful spontaneity - halfway through a heated discussion about who was a greater poet, Neruda or Dario - Litvinoff surprised himself by proposing they go hear a concert together. When Rosa jumped to agree, it dawned on him that, miracle of miracles, this lovely girl might actually be developing feelings for him. It was as if someone had struck a gong in his chest. His whole body reverberated with the news.
So many words get lost. They leave the mouth and lose their courage, wandering aimlessly until they are swept into the gutter like dead leaves. On rainy days you can hear their chorus rushing past: Iwasabeautifulgirl-Pleasedon’tgoItoobelievemybodyismadeofglassI’veneverlovedanyoneI-thinkofmyselfasfunnyForgiveme…
There was a time when it wasn’t uncommon to use a piece of string to guide words that otherwise might falter on the way to their destinations. Shy people carried a bundle of string in their pockets, but people considered loudmouths had no less need for it, since those used to being overheard by everyone were often at a loss for how to make themselves heard by someone. The physical distance between two people using a string was often small; sometimes the smaller the distance, the greater the need for string.
The practice of attaching cups to the ends of string came much later. Some say it is related to the irrepressible urge to press shells to our ears, to hear the still-surviving echo of the world’s first expression. Others say it was started by a man who held the end of a string that was unraveled across the ocean by a girl who left for America.
"Let’s stand under a tree," she said.
"Why?"
"Because it’s nicer."
"Maybe you should sit on a chair, and I’ll stand above you, like they always do with husbands and wives."
"That’s stupid."
"Why?"
"Because we’re not married."
"Should we hold hands?"
"We can’t."
"Why not?"
"Because people will know."
"Know what?"
"About us."
"So what if they know?"
"It’s better when it’s a secret."
"Why?"
"So no one can take it from us."
Audio Candy:
I Am Ghost - The Ship Of Pills And Needed Things
Pop
And then I thought: Perhaps that is what it means to be a father - to teach your child to live without you. If so, no one was a greater father than I.
The other day Angie and I were discussing about The Kite Runner and the same wave of emotion I felt after reading the parts about Baba and Amir (father and son) swept over me. Perhaps I feel for it because there's just something between my dad and I that I can't quite reconcile right now. If anything, that's the kinda dad I'd wanna be. Crudely put, it's about teaching your kid to look right, left and right, and then cross; so as not to be cumbered by the rules of traffic and depending on the safety of the green man only to a practical extent. It's about raising your kid so that he or she doesn't feel indebted to you just because you're the parent. I'll never want my kid(s) to bear that burden. I'd like my kid(s) to grow up knowing I'm not owed much, because we often can never come close to repaying the labour of our folks. It is something that we'd only do well to pay forward, leaving a legacy with the upcoming generation and hoping it goes on.
“What about me Baba? What am I supposed to do?” I said, my eyes welling up.
A look of disgust swept across his face. It was the same look he’d give me when, as a kid, I’d fall, scrape my knees, and cry. “You’re twenty-two years old, Amir! A grown man! You…” he opened his mouth and closed it, reconsidering.
“What’s going to happen to you, you say? All those years, that’s what I was trying to teach you, how to never have to ask that question.”
Audio Candy:
Matchbook Romance - Your Stories, My Alibis
The other day Angie and I were discussing about The Kite Runner and the same wave of emotion I felt after reading the parts about Baba and Amir (father and son) swept over me. Perhaps I feel for it because there's just something between my dad and I that I can't quite reconcile right now. If anything, that's the kinda dad I'd wanna be. Crudely put, it's about teaching your kid to look right, left and right, and then cross; so as not to be cumbered by the rules of traffic and depending on the safety of the green man only to a practical extent. It's about raising your kid so that he or she doesn't feel indebted to you just because you're the parent. I'll never want my kid(s) to bear that burden. I'd like my kid(s) to grow up knowing I'm not owed much, because we often can never come close to repaying the labour of our folks. It is something that we'd only do well to pay forward, leaving a legacy with the upcoming generation and hoping it goes on.
“What about me Baba? What am I supposed to do?” I said, my eyes welling up.
A look of disgust swept across his face. It was the same look he’d give me when, as a kid, I’d fall, scrape my knees, and cry. “You’re twenty-two years old, Amir! A grown man! You…” he opened his mouth and closed it, reconsidering.
“What’s going to happen to you, you say? All those years, that’s what I was trying to teach you, how to never have to ask that question.”
Audio Candy:
Matchbook Romance - Your Stories, My Alibis
Monday, 30 June 2008
The Revered Consumer Class
Check out the Story of Stuff video at http://www.storyofstuff.com/.
It managed to articulate pretty clearly what many have been feeling about the whole 'bad business' behind US capitalism, exploitation and pollution and pinpoints it right down to placing consumerism on a pedestal. Indeed, consumerism is the engine of the US economy that pervades into the rest of the globalising world in the sentiment of the Americanisation of the world.
In the 1950s when the general global economy peaked, happiness started to plummet because we began to value life by the material things we own. Along came advertising and seasonal fashion to constantly remind you that you suck bad enough, and the solution is to shop. This has been so deeply etched in the material virtue of retail therapy. We work more so that we can buy more to achieve a form of very temporal plastic happiness, we go home tired and plonk down in front of our primary agents of advertising - the TV and computer - to be reminded that we suck, and the vicious cycle of consumerism repeats. There is hence less time and desire to engage in activities that truly make us happy.
The externalities that come with this are mind-boggling, and indeed quite earth-shattering. Exploitation of cheap labour and natural resources has been rising exponentially, and won't stop because these are the means to a life out of poverty for many. And the wasteful cycle of production won't slow down because our products aren't only not made to last, they're slapped with very short expiry dates to be thrown away as soon as possible so that we'd resort to buying more stuff. On average, we retain as low as 1% of the things we buy within 6 months of purchase.
There are intricate links between the government and the huge capitalist corporations that establish the means and networks for consumerism to move, and the revered consumer class - the many people who feed off this consumerism - provide the engine and fuel.
I've never quite been a fan of shopping myself. I've always said that as a consumer, I'm any marketer's nightmare; it's easy to see through the bull they try to pull. To me, capitalism in its ideal sense is a decent concept. I don't think we should have a restraint on things such as entrepreneurial motivations. But when it goes unchecked, it can become extremely exploitive and uncaring.
Political science in Singapore is like medical students who don't touch bodies.
Audio Candy:
Bowling For Soup - Last Call Casualty
It managed to articulate pretty clearly what many have been feeling about the whole 'bad business' behind US capitalism, exploitation and pollution and pinpoints it right down to placing consumerism on a pedestal. Indeed, consumerism is the engine of the US economy that pervades into the rest of the globalising world in the sentiment of the Americanisation of the world.
In the 1950s when the general global economy peaked, happiness started to plummet because we began to value life by the material things we own. Along came advertising and seasonal fashion to constantly remind you that you suck bad enough, and the solution is to shop. This has been so deeply etched in the material virtue of retail therapy. We work more so that we can buy more to achieve a form of very temporal plastic happiness, we go home tired and plonk down in front of our primary agents of advertising - the TV and computer - to be reminded that we suck, and the vicious cycle of consumerism repeats. There is hence less time and desire to engage in activities that truly make us happy.
The externalities that come with this are mind-boggling, and indeed quite earth-shattering. Exploitation of cheap labour and natural resources has been rising exponentially, and won't stop because these are the means to a life out of poverty for many. And the wasteful cycle of production won't slow down because our products aren't only not made to last, they're slapped with very short expiry dates to be thrown away as soon as possible so that we'd resort to buying more stuff. On average, we retain as low as 1% of the things we buy within 6 months of purchase.
There are intricate links between the government and the huge capitalist corporations that establish the means and networks for consumerism to move, and the revered consumer class - the many people who feed off this consumerism - provide the engine and fuel.
I've never quite been a fan of shopping myself. I've always said that as a consumer, I'm any marketer's nightmare; it's easy to see through the bull they try to pull. To me, capitalism in its ideal sense is a decent concept. I don't think we should have a restraint on things such as entrepreneurial motivations. But when it goes unchecked, it can become extremely exploitive and uncaring.
Political science in Singapore is like medical students who don't touch bodies.
Audio Candy:
Bowling For Soup - Last Call Casualty
Friday, 27 June 2008
The Situation Verged On Critical
She's kept her love for him as alive as the summer they first met. In order to do this, she's turned life away. Sometimes she subsists for days on water and air. Being the only known complex life-form to do this, she should have a species named after her. Once Uncle Julian told me how the sculptor and painter Alberto Giacometri said that sometimes just to paint a head, you have to give up the whole figure. To paint a leaf, you have to sacrifice the whole landscape. It might seem like you're limiting yourself at first, but after a while you realize that having a quarter-of-an-inch of something you have a better chance of holding on to a certain feeling of the universe than if you pretended to be doing the whole sky.
My mother did not choose a leaf or a head. She chose my father, and to hold on to a certain feeling, she sacrificed the world.
"The first woman may have been Eve, but the first girl will always be Alma," she'd say, the Spanish book open on her lap while I lay in bed. This was when I was four or five, before Dad got sick and the book was put away on a shelf. "Maybe the first time you saw her you were ten. She was standing in the sun scratching her legs. Or tracing letters in the dirt with a stick. Her hair was being pulled. Or she was pulling someone's hair. And a part of you was drawn to her, and a part of you resisted - wanting to ride off on your bicycle, kick a stone, remain uncomplicated. In the same breath you felt the strength of a man, and a self-pity that made you feel small and hurt. Part of you thought: Please don't look at me. If you don't, I can still turn away. And part of you thought: Look at me.
"If you remember the first time you saw Alma, you also remember the last. She was shaking her head. Or disappearing across a field. Or through your window. Come back, Alma! you shouted. Come back! Come back!
"But She didn't.
"And though you were grown up by then, you felt as lost as a child. and though your pride was broken, you felt as vast as your love for her. She was gone, and all that was left was the space where you'd grown around her, like a tree that grows around a fence.
"For a long time, it remained hollow. Years, maybe. And when at last it was filled again, you knew that the new love you felt for a woman would have been impossible without Alma. If it weren't for her, there would never have been an empty space, or the need to fill it.
"Of course, there are certain cases in which the boy in question refuses to stop shouting at the top of his lungs for Alma. Stages a hunger strike. Pleads. Fills a book with his love. Carries on until she has no choice but to come back. Every time she tries to leave, knowing it's what has to be done, the boy stops her, begging like a fool. And so she always returns, no matter how often she leaves or how far she goes, appearing soundlessly behind him and covering his eyes with her hands, spoiling for him anyone who could ever come after her."
Audio Candy:
Placebo - Special K
My mother did not choose a leaf or a head. She chose my father, and to hold on to a certain feeling, she sacrificed the world.
"The first woman may have been Eve, but the first girl will always be Alma," she'd say, the Spanish book open on her lap while I lay in bed. This was when I was four or five, before Dad got sick and the book was put away on a shelf. "Maybe the first time you saw her you were ten. She was standing in the sun scratching her legs. Or tracing letters in the dirt with a stick. Her hair was being pulled. Or she was pulling someone's hair. And a part of you was drawn to her, and a part of you resisted - wanting to ride off on your bicycle, kick a stone, remain uncomplicated. In the same breath you felt the strength of a man, and a self-pity that made you feel small and hurt. Part of you thought: Please don't look at me. If you don't, I can still turn away. And part of you thought: Look at me.
"If you remember the first time you saw Alma, you also remember the last. She was shaking her head. Or disappearing across a field. Or through your window. Come back, Alma! you shouted. Come back! Come back!
"But She didn't.
"And though you were grown up by then, you felt as lost as a child. and though your pride was broken, you felt as vast as your love for her. She was gone, and all that was left was the space where you'd grown around her, like a tree that grows around a fence.
"For a long time, it remained hollow. Years, maybe. And when at last it was filled again, you knew that the new love you felt for a woman would have been impossible without Alma. If it weren't for her, there would never have been an empty space, or the need to fill it.
"Of course, there are certain cases in which the boy in question refuses to stop shouting at the top of his lungs for Alma. Stages a hunger strike. Pleads. Fills a book with his love. Carries on until she has no choice but to come back. Every time she tries to leave, knowing it's what has to be done, the boy stops her, begging like a fool. And so she always returns, no matter how often she leaves or how far she goes, appearing soundlessly behind him and covering his eyes with her hands, spoiling for him anyone who could ever come after her."
Audio Candy:
Placebo - Special K
Thursday, 26 June 2008
I'm On Sinking Sand, Gravity
Her dark, turbulent world was a canvas upon which she drew the brightest flowers and spun the most intricate of yarns. Then one fateful day, she found happiness, and the art finally died.
There was mambo night, and then there was some. Was I thinking? Now I'm back at the end of the line, losing control; there's no escaping gravity. On a side note, while the DJ was adventurous in trying to introduce That's Not My Name by The Ting Tings, the music transitioning did leave a lot to be desired.
When it does rain, it pours. So I found myself back at Richard's place, twice in 3 days. The first was when we had the PS2 gathering; DDR under the influence of alcohol should be quite fun. :] Anyway, there I was bunking over after mambo when I was really supposed to be 'overnighting in school for some faculty event', to spare myself the hassle of having to deal with the folks.
When I was a primary school kid, I started lying that I had remedial lessons so that I could sneak over to my friends' places where all the Sega Saturns and Nintendo 64s were. I feared that some unwitting classmate of mine would call to ask about homework while I was out, and I lived in mortal fear, on a regular basis for awhile, of the mental image of my mom answering the phone and asking him or her why he or she was home already while I wasn't, and then giving me a good one when I got home.
But that fear eroded after awhile, diluted and made insignificant by the many times I got away with it, as well as other things I regularly keep from my parents, especially my strict, traditional dad. I know many people, up to the young adults they are now, never ever get over this fear. Either that, or the guilt of the lie committed becomes too overbearing a burden to carry, no matter how small it is. It is like putting your finger very near the spot between your eyebrows, almost in contact but never touching, and leaving it there. A pressure that typically shouldn't be there takes form, and quickly becomes more than a niggling gnaw. Though I'm not proud to say it, I suppose I'm numb and past that already where the folks are concerned, where a white lie in place of a troublesome truth quickly suffices in an instant gratification kinda way.
"... there is only one sin, only one. And that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft. Do you understand that? When you kill a man, you steal a life."
"You steal his wife’s right to a husband, rob his children of a father. When you tell a lie, you steal someone’s right to the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness."
In that restless morning where I did have a really random and fleeting dream of meeting Assef the sociopath from The Kite Runner, as the light crept past the curtains while lying on the living room sofa, I wondered if this'll ever catch up with me one day. That, amidst listening to the myriad of interesting morning sounds of the postman shoving letters rhythmically into metallic mailboxes, rusty trolleys rolling along and bumping up kerbs and the ringing of bells on dog collars amongst other lively noises, which come along with living on the 2nd storey.
Just drift. :]
Quidquid latine dictum sit, altum sonatur. (Whatever said in Latin sounds profound.)
Audio Candy:
Yung Joc Feat. 3LW - 'Bout It
There was mambo night, and then there was some. Was I thinking? Now I'm back at the end of the line, losing control; there's no escaping gravity. On a side note, while the DJ was adventurous in trying to introduce That's Not My Name by The Ting Tings, the music transitioning did leave a lot to be desired.
When it does rain, it pours. So I found myself back at Richard's place, twice in 3 days. The first was when we had the PS2 gathering; DDR under the influence of alcohol should be quite fun. :] Anyway, there I was bunking over after mambo when I was really supposed to be 'overnighting in school for some faculty event', to spare myself the hassle of having to deal with the folks.
When I was a primary school kid, I started lying that I had remedial lessons so that I could sneak over to my friends' places where all the Sega Saturns and Nintendo 64s were. I feared that some unwitting classmate of mine would call to ask about homework while I was out, and I lived in mortal fear, on a regular basis for awhile, of the mental image of my mom answering the phone and asking him or her why he or she was home already while I wasn't, and then giving me a good one when I got home.
But that fear eroded after awhile, diluted and made insignificant by the many times I got away with it, as well as other things I regularly keep from my parents, especially my strict, traditional dad. I know many people, up to the young adults they are now, never ever get over this fear. Either that, or the guilt of the lie committed becomes too overbearing a burden to carry, no matter how small it is. It is like putting your finger very near the spot between your eyebrows, almost in contact but never touching, and leaving it there. A pressure that typically shouldn't be there takes form, and quickly becomes more than a niggling gnaw. Though I'm not proud to say it, I suppose I'm numb and past that already where the folks are concerned, where a white lie in place of a troublesome truth quickly suffices in an instant gratification kinda way.
"... there is only one sin, only one. And that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft. Do you understand that? When you kill a man, you steal a life."
"You steal his wife’s right to a husband, rob his children of a father. When you tell a lie, you steal someone’s right to the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness."
In that restless morning where I did have a really random and fleeting dream of meeting Assef the sociopath from The Kite Runner, as the light crept past the curtains while lying on the living room sofa, I wondered if this'll ever catch up with me one day. That, amidst listening to the myriad of interesting morning sounds of the postman shoving letters rhythmically into metallic mailboxes, rusty trolleys rolling along and bumping up kerbs and the ringing of bells on dog collars amongst other lively noises, which come along with living on the 2nd storey.
Just drift. :]
Quidquid latine dictum sit, altum sonatur. (Whatever said in Latin sounds profound.)
Audio Candy:
Yung Joc Feat. 3LW - 'Bout It
Wednesday, 25 June 2008
Brotherhood > Sisterhood
Last night Joyce and I had the good ol' lengthy gender conversation and she said that she feels that sometimes brotherhood trashes sisterhood, i.e. friendships between guys are stronger than friendships between girls.
Consider some of the basic goals of girls and guys. Guys innately wish to compete with each other, and if they could, blast the heads off one another. So boys grow up playing with toy cars and guns and running around trying to kick balls better than their other dude friends can. Girls innately wish to establish peace among their kind, so they develop linguistic skills better and faster and play with dolls and the like; stuff of nurturing nature, so as to ensure social stability.
As a result, girls have better interpersonal skills than guys, and tend to form friendships more easily than guys do. This entails that girls end up becoming more patronising so as to preserve the social status quo.
So, with figures strictly for example with no scientific basis whatsoever, for maybe every 20 within-gender friendships that the average girl forms, the average guy has formed only 1 friendship. This can only mean that female friendships tend to be diluted across the vast number of friendships they have as compared to male friendships.
Furthermore, male friendships are borne beyond the need to kill each other. This means that the friendship is dusted, tried and tested. It is more than just a brotherhood; it is an alliance of sorts.
It is no surprise then when they say that girls generally end up doing a lot more backstabbing, since guys separate the 'mere friends' from the 'true friends' by stabbing each other on the front. A lot of female friendships are preserved for the sake of preserving them by my very narrow-minded view of them being patronising, paying lip service and leaving insincere "let's meet up soon!" messages to even the most remote of acquaintances just so as to appear friendly and civil.
Hence sometimes, when you exclude the few true female friendships among the weeds of many insignificantly smaller female friendships that a girl may have, there is nothing really special about her trying to preserve a friendship bond since it is, technically speaking, an instinctive priority to do so. Whereas when a guy does attempt to preserve a male friendship bond, it is often of extra care, effort, practicality or sincerity since it is not something he does naturally.
So the friendships that emerge among guys are more often truly friendships while the friendships that emerge among girls are more often just to fulfil a basic social desire to make less enemies. But the thing is that I don't blame girls for being this way - girls are just naturally social creatures.
I do not doubt that there are strong friendships among girls in sisterhoods too. But overall it really just seems that there's a general dilution among female friendships as compared to the few male friendships that guys may develop.
[Edit]
The rebuttal to this post is briefly outlined here.
There are two important days in a woman's life: the day she was born, and the day she finds out why.
- Elaine Cannon
Audio Candy:
The Hush Sound - A Dark Congregation
Consider some of the basic goals of girls and guys. Guys innately wish to compete with each other, and if they could, blast the heads off one another. So boys grow up playing with toy cars and guns and running around trying to kick balls better than their other dude friends can. Girls innately wish to establish peace among their kind, so they develop linguistic skills better and faster and play with dolls and the like; stuff of nurturing nature, so as to ensure social stability.
As a result, girls have better interpersonal skills than guys, and tend to form friendships more easily than guys do. This entails that girls end up becoming more patronising so as to preserve the social status quo.
So, with figures strictly for example with no scientific basis whatsoever, for maybe every 20 within-gender friendships that the average girl forms, the average guy has formed only 1 friendship. This can only mean that female friendships tend to be diluted across the vast number of friendships they have as compared to male friendships.
Furthermore, male friendships are borne beyond the need to kill each other. This means that the friendship is dusted, tried and tested. It is more than just a brotherhood; it is an alliance of sorts.
It is no surprise then when they say that girls generally end up doing a lot more backstabbing, since guys separate the 'mere friends' from the 'true friends' by stabbing each other on the front. A lot of female friendships are preserved for the sake of preserving them by my very narrow-minded view of them being patronising, paying lip service and leaving insincere "let's meet up soon!" messages to even the most remote of acquaintances just so as to appear friendly and civil.
Hence sometimes, when you exclude the few true female friendships among the weeds of many insignificantly smaller female friendships that a girl may have, there is nothing really special about her trying to preserve a friendship bond since it is, technically speaking, an instinctive priority to do so. Whereas when a guy does attempt to preserve a male friendship bond, it is often of extra care, effort, practicality or sincerity since it is not something he does naturally.
So the friendships that emerge among guys are more often truly friendships while the friendships that emerge among girls are more often just to fulfil a basic social desire to make less enemies. But the thing is that I don't blame girls for being this way - girls are just naturally social creatures.
I do not doubt that there are strong friendships among girls in sisterhoods too. But overall it really just seems that there's a general dilution among female friendships as compared to the few male friendships that guys may develop.
[Edit]
The rebuttal to this post is briefly outlined here.
There are two important days in a woman's life: the day she was born, and the day she finds out why.
- Elaine Cannon
Audio Candy:
The Hush Sound - A Dark Congregation
For You A Thousand Times Over
Nothing quite beats the kinda private sphere one can achieve by immersing oneself in a good book. By 'good book', I mean anything that, well, pretty much simply floats your boat. The requirements are entirely determined by you, the reader, the self-interpretation of which makes it all the more personal.
The Kite Runner turned out to be one such book for me. Some parts were really tear-jerker worthy and I guess I'm not afraid to admit I teared while reading it. Also because it's something I hadn't really had going for awhile. It's nice to be reminded of the salience of one's emotions, especially since I'm well aware of my strong state of rationality.
The part where Baba tells Amir that his marriage is the happiest day of his life, and hobbles off to perform one last fatherly duty. Meh.
You also rediscover what matters most to you when certain ideas cry, scream or sing out to your heart.
The Kite Runner touches on an array of issues from religious, Islamic philosophy to politics and gender equality, at the same time employing pretty good literary techniques to further enhance the symbolic nature of the central theme of redemption, and is not devoid of the good plot twist every now and then. It was, at times, really pleasant to read and, at others, thoroughly engaging.
Sometimes, when I read a part from a story and the scene gets painted vividly in my head in an almost realistic, movie-like fashion, I wonder if I get the mental visualisation because the writing is simply fantastic, or if it appears to me this way because the writing has been fashioned after the effect created by cinematics, or if I interpret it so because I've been conditioned, by watching movies, that imagery has a specific form to it.
Better to be hurt by the truth than comforted with a lie.
- Khaled Hosseini
Audio Candy:
Stereophonics - Hurry Up And Wait
The Kite Runner turned out to be one such book for me. Some parts were really tear-jerker worthy and I guess I'm not afraid to admit I teared while reading it. Also because it's something I hadn't really had going for awhile. It's nice to be reminded of the salience of one's emotions, especially since I'm well aware of my strong state of rationality.
The part where Baba tells Amir that his marriage is the happiest day of his life, and hobbles off to perform one last fatherly duty. Meh.
You also rediscover what matters most to you when certain ideas cry, scream or sing out to your heart.
The Kite Runner touches on an array of issues from religious, Islamic philosophy to politics and gender equality, at the same time employing pretty good literary techniques to further enhance the symbolic nature of the central theme of redemption, and is not devoid of the good plot twist every now and then. It was, at times, really pleasant to read and, at others, thoroughly engaging.
Sometimes, when I read a part from a story and the scene gets painted vividly in my head in an almost realistic, movie-like fashion, I wonder if I get the mental visualisation because the writing is simply fantastic, or if it appears to me this way because the writing has been fashioned after the effect created by cinematics, or if I interpret it so because I've been conditioned, by watching movies, that imagery has a specific form to it.
Better to be hurt by the truth than comforted with a lie.
- Khaled Hosseini
Audio Candy:
Stereophonics - Hurry Up And Wait
Monday, 23 June 2008
Intrigue
I had a really wtf weird dream. And anyway this is probably one of the few dreams I remember and is the first dream I can remember for almost a whole year already. I was sleeping in bunk and suddenly we were told to fall-in. We all rushed out, but for some reason I was fumbling with my metal Adidas watch I was trying to put on, and all the way down to the parade square I simply couldn't get it in place, so we had all formed our ranks already but I was still there fumbling around with it. So the commanders, who happened to be 2 young women, started glaring at me and everyone was like trying to tell me to stand still like I was some kinda blockhead. I settled the watch finally, but then went on to commit more 'sabo' antics, like adjusting in my position or trying to peep over the dude in front of me to see what the girls were talking about, and always getting caught in the process. Oh the thing is, everything was in chinese.
So I became labelled as some kinda fucked up soldier. A while later, all of us sat down and for whatever reason, the girls started painting and mixing colours. They tried to mix red, yellow and white paint and were racking their brains as to what colour might come out. So when I told them it would turn out orange, they went, "so smart!" in Chinese. And then I replied in English that my Chinese sucks. Then one of the girls said, in Chinese, that it's okay and we've all got our own personalities, and that I'm different from the others.
Whatever that meant! That was the first thing that came to my mind when I woke up. But if I were to attempt to psychoanalyse myself, I think I can see what it might mean, if dreams mean anything at all.
An oops moment on MSN with Leon:
Comedians are the most honest people in films because here’s the deal: either it’s funny or it ain’t.
- Jack Nicholson
Audio Candy:
Velvet Revolver - Slither
So I became labelled as some kinda fucked up soldier. A while later, all of us sat down and for whatever reason, the girls started painting and mixing colours. They tried to mix red, yellow and white paint and were racking their brains as to what colour might come out. So when I told them it would turn out orange, they went, "so smart!" in Chinese. And then I replied in English that my Chinese sucks. Then one of the girls said, in Chinese, that it's okay and we've all got our own personalities, and that I'm different from the others.
Whatever that meant! That was the first thing that came to my mind when I woke up. But if I were to attempt to psychoanalyse myself, I think I can see what it might mean, if dreams mean anything at all.
An oops moment on MSN with Leon:
Comedians are the most honest people in films because here’s the deal: either it’s funny or it ain’t.
- Jack Nicholson
Audio Candy:
Velvet Revolver - Slither
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