Changes.

I think it changes you. It might be cryptic. Maybe no one knows what I'm talking about, but thinking that nothing is going to change you and that you were gonna be true to yourself is too noble a thought even to the best among us.

She was just like any one of us with a perhaps extraordinary talent, or with a quality perfected by years of honing, and she was optimistic about her future. When her big break came she might have told herself yes this is it: time to show everyone who I am.

Without knowing she has now become what others want her to be.

Without knowing she will become the person she is pretending to be.

Before long she will forget herself and maybe fizzle out. Maybe fizzle a little. Like an opened can of coke left in the fridge for too long: you'd drink it if you were really thirsty.

---

And then there's blogging - a constant reminder of how I am constantly changing my perspectives. Each time I read a past entry I squirm wishing I never thought that way. How close-minded. How judgmental. How ignorant.

Knowing now that the future me might not agree with what I think is kind of a depressing thought. (But I am not the depressed kind, clearly. I am merely judgmental and very mortal.)

Which is why I can't keep up with keeping blogs. I probably have dozens of cyberspace footprints in blogs everywhere but they will never see the light of day again. It belonged to the me who has retreated into the cave of the past. ( Its not meant to sound so emo, walao. But I type it as I think it.)

Maybe I need to type faster to keep up with myself. Hahar.

And this is not emo. I won't do it! Its not in fashion anymore, right.

(Actually I just read these blogs that my sister asked me to. One belonging to a cousin aged "beyond her years" as Eugene O'Neill would say, and the other owned by one of her grammatically unsound acquaintance (I don't really wanna say friend, given the way she talks about her.) Makes me wish I were never young.)

MY weekend is coming.

Facebook Pet Peeves.

I admit. Facebook's kinda fun. I like going to see who broke up. Who got together. Who cam-whored. Really suits the busybody part of me. Gossip. Woohoo.

But the line has to be drawn SOMEWHERE.

Uploading all 134 photos you took in 5 minutes is PAINFUL TO MEEEEEE.

Writing notes and tagging me, well thank you for tagging me but I will end up writing a note telling people things I want them to know about me which I will eventually delete. Waste time.

It is one thing to publicise your make-and-break-up on Facebook, but its another thing to comment "Why!" and "What happened!" and "Nooooooooo.." when your friend(s) break up.

This is such a rant. I don't like rants. Hypocrite.

RealiT V.

2 nights ago I watched Money No Enough 2, and somehow the sadness of the old Mother, dying in hospital watching her children quarrel, comes through very easily, and everyone I know seems to have shed tears at that moment.

When I was confronted with a similar situation recently, I didn't seem to be very affected. An elderly relative of mine has refused treatment and no one seems to be able to talk her out of it. I'm not that close to her, I admit, but it puzzles me that a movie can evoke more sentiments in me than reality.

In fact, I seem to be more affected by that fact that I''m so unaffected.

Mozzies.

Last night before I slept I was watching CSI, and I remember thinking to myself that after 9 seasons my loyalties still lie with them despite Grissom and Warrick not being there anymore. (Sara irritates me.)

While I slept I subconciously continued thinking about them.

It was in the near future and mosquitoes have evolved to be immune to all kinds of insect repellants and bug sprays or insecticides. We were unable to create new kinds of poison that was strong enough to kill mosquitoes from an aerosol can. Scientists believe the only way to kill them now is to make them ingest poison.

Because mozzies are now the biggest threat to mankind and diseases have decimated the human population, the CSI (Las Vegas) team decide to ally with a medical team (I shall post-scriptly add House MD's team) to try and rid the world of them.

By the way. Mozzies weren't what they look like now as they did in my dream. In mine they were really fat, and black with blood. They fly kind of slowly too. Like mozzies on marijuana.

The plan was this. To inject 15,000 animals like rabbits, rats, horses, cows, etc. with poison and they would be lined along a 1-kilometre stretch of desert-land and a small moat of slowly burning hot stones alongside to lure the mozzies with heat. The animals, numbed and paralysed with poison, would fall victim to the murderous mozzies in their final hours and take them out in a heroically last-ditch kamikaze mission that they never asked for.

This would be followed by a 1-kilometre radius of explosives to put the poor animals out of their misery: dying and itching to death, but not nearly dead.

The team was solemn as they made the last minute preparations out in the desert open. Everyone felt killing the animals were cruel, but knew it had to be done.

CSI Greg Sanders held a gray rabbit by the ears and asked "Are we even sure this is going to work?"
"It has to." CSI Nick Stokes replied.
"Someone has to try it first. I'll do it." CSI Sanders picked up the syringe with the poison and started rolling up his sleeves.
"Are you sure about this Greg?" CSI Stokes warned.

He injected the pale yellow poison into his arm and laughed quietly. He looked unsure and a little uncomfortable, but muttered, "Well you guys aren't gonna let me die, right?"

CSI Catherine Willows opened a jar with some mozzie samples and set one on Sanders. As the mozzie began its feast Greg began to feel the poison taking effect, and the last thing he saw and heard was Dr. Gregory House hobbling over, looked supremely exasperated, muttering, "You're an IDIOT."

When he wakes up it is 5 years later. Very Resident Evil, I know. 2 little girls pull him up and ask him to come along. They lead him into a lift. I think we are about to know the whole story behind the story.

My mother calls. She says Guess shorts are 24 USD, about 36 sing dollars, very cheap, and what size I would like.

I guess I will never find out about the mozzies, but at least I will have nice Guess shorts.

Pathology

I was watching Pathology with Alvin just now. It was a pretty blah show, if you ask me, but then that's just me. You might think its awesome possum, and that's okay with me. A lot of sex though. And boobies. And blood and hearts and ribcages. Brains.

The Question: If you could kill anyone and get away with it, who would you kill?

I know we've all heard this question at some point in our lives, and maybe come up with a generic answer like, say, oh, Hitler. But then he's already dead, so you rack your brains and think of some socially-acceptable answer like Osama or Milosevic.

Am I the only one who can do that? If yes, then I'd probably really choose someone generic and (nearly) universally abhorred. I mean, making the world a (hopefully) safer place doesn't sound so bad right? And wasting such a chance on a "primary school maths teacher who accused me of something I didn't do" seems a bit much.

If everyone gets one chance to do that, then I'd pick someone more personal. You know, kill with a vengeance. Right now I don't really have anyone I hate to the bone, so I'd leave my chance until someone really pisses me off. And plus, I guess George Bush would probably use his chance to kill Osama, right? No point wasting my kill on someone who's going to die anyway.

Although, if say, killing someone is known, like I can legally get away with it, but everyone has a chance, and whoever I kill might have a loved one who would kill me with his or her chance after that, then nah. Much as I'd like to rid the world of a potential asshole, I would much rather be alive.

But in the best case scenario that I can kill anyone, and get away with it, and I am the only person in the world who has this power, then HOHOHO MERRY XMAS, cus I will kill every Tom, Dick or Harry who pisses me off.

Oh, you wanna rev your engine in your znged Honda is it? Okay, DIE.
Hallo, can you don't smoke into my path? DIE now.
Hijack my taxi? DIE!
Diao me?! DIE, Twice.
Or you know if like Mae comes and tells me eh you know this girl is damn irritating. Is itttttt? Okay, help you kill.

Everyone should catch Pathology, so they can say "Hey, I caught Pathology." although it really isn't that big a deal.

The Truth About Drinking.

Do people drink because of how they feel after they drink,

Or do they like the taste of alcohol?

A bunch of social drinkers going out to get a drink is quite a funny thing. I drink to patronise you. You drink to fit in because you think I drink. She drinks because she thinks you might think she's being snotty to not. And then we all get dead drunk and hung over and when our parents ask us why we torture ourselves, we sigh, resigned, saying that "bo bian. my friends all drinkers."

Its analogous to a table of 10 people who love the person on their right more than themselves or the person on their left. There is a roast chicken on the table with only one chicken backside (given that it is a normal chicken with only one ass). Of the 10, 9 absolutely love parsons' noses, and 1 has no feelings for it.

To prove that they love the one on their right, they pass on the butt to their right, thinking that offering their favourite part of the chicken is a sign of affection. When it gets to the last person, he dumps it. He doesn't pass it on because he hates it, and offering something you detest to someone you love does not attest your affections.

And the 9 watch on in muted horror.

In hindsight.

I Can Be Lugubrious With You.

We can be chillin' like ice-cream fillin',
We can be cool in the gang if you'd rather hang.
Ain't no thang,
I can be lugubrious with you.

You know how most of the time you share a love-hate relationship with the people you love the most? Its entirely different with Mraz. I am always certain of my admiration.

Tday at around 8.24pm I received the most awesome 4-minute call from Daniel Tong. He didn't say a word, and I have to admit it took me a few moments before I realised where he was coming from.

As I hollered my third "hallo" I heard a familiar voice in the background, and then another. Moments later I realise tht the beautiful sounds I heard were Mraz and Toca doing a version of I'm Yours. And the not-so-beautiful sounds I heard were the crowds cheering and hooting. Nobody wants to hear you scream, in case you were wondering.

So even though my hallos fell on deaf ears, I listened on the phone for 4 minutes, smiling and chuckling in the bus like a lunatic.

Thanks Tong, you're awesome.