And “Oh My God” Is All We Can Say Saturday, Nov 7 2009 

We are so ignorant. I’m so angry. There’s so much shit happening in the world. And we all let it happen.

I’m reeling in shock from what I’ve just read about what’s happening in West Africa. Well, yes, I love current affairs and TIME magazine and all that wordy crap. And yes I’m a dork. But moving on.

You may think “Yeah, yeah, they have no food, no water, they are skinny, they can’t read and there’s AIDS. Can you tell me something that I don’t already know?”

But this more than that. It’s not just sad or heart-wrenching. It’s scary.

Everyone’s involved in this. And the scary thing is that we don’t know it.

This seems pretty ridiculous and heavy. It shouldn’t be on the average person blog. But I can’t help it. I’m so disturbed. I’m going to write an entry here soon about this. You have been warned.

Picture 1

Sometimes I Do Stuff. Thursday, Oct 29 2009 

In my 17685th essay here, I am going to talk about my deteriorating self-esteem. Brace yourselves.

Well I don’t exactly know how to beat around the bush for this one, so I’m going to spit out the sorry truth. And the sorry truth is that I feel so worthless sometimes. Not that I’m blaming God or anyone for that. Nor do I expect any heavenly assistance for this because this is my own stupid problem. But that’s the sorry truth right there.

And the sorry truth gets sorrier: I especially have a problem with good-looking or “cool” people.

You see, whenever I speak to good-looking people or “cool” people, I automatically feel that I don’t deserve to speak to them. I feel unworthy to occupy their time. Why should they waste their time talking to losers like me? What ensues physically is that I start to clam up and babble lame things like “The weather’s so shitty”. And that probably seals the deal for them because they clam up too and give me weird looks. They’re probably thinking, “No, you’re shitty. And boring. This is the end of our conversation.”

Which really doesn’t help my self-esteem at all.

And it hurts when people stereotype you and assume that there’s nothing more to you. That you’re just a nerdy-pants who looks nerdy and lives nerdily ever after. Which may be true to a certain extent. But every nerdy-pants, though he/she may be as flat and boring as a coin, does have two sides, no?

Take for example the schoolmate who only bothers to talk to you to:

  1. Find out about your grades
  2. Ask if you study every day (which, for clarification, is a NO)
  3. Find out about the day’s homework
  4. Copy your homework

and thereafter assume that you do not exist.

I’m starting to think that all this has a link with my slouch, which has more or less reduced my backbone shape to that of a prawn’s. I’m not a Hunchback of Notre Dame yet though. Might reach that level in a few year’s time.

To conclude this depressing essay, I’d just like to say that it’s only human nature to judge and stereotype. For example I’m judging those “cool” people myself and assuming that they’re dismissing me. And similarly others judge me and assume that my main goal in life is to finish my homework. So this is how karma works then. I’ll just swallow my pride, lower my head and walk along. And maybe secretly swallow some potato chips as well.

Now I Know Why Kurt Cobain Shot Himself Thursday, Jan 8 2009 

Kurt Cobain, frontman of Nirvana

Kurt Cobain, frontman of Nirvana

I recently received a belated Christmas gift (thanks, Fred) and it was Nirvana’s Greatest Hits collection. I have always had a special fondness for Nirvana and their music, simply because their music was so raw and honest. Not your typical screamo-emo fare you get on radio today, by juvenile bands attempting to sound tortured, but stripped-down bitterness that soars above the music and into your soul.

I listened to the tracks late at night, alone in bed, beginning with “You Know You’re Right,” where Kurt hisses the word “pain” in one long, murderous breath, coupled with Krist Novoselic’s thumping bass and Dave Grohl’s angry drums. Over 15 tracks, Kurt chronicles the various setbacks in his life: a broken home (as vividly depicted in “Sliver”), a tumultous love life (in “About a Girl”), and the cloying mix of sarcasm and delusion that was Kurt’s inner soul (a bittersweet, unplugged “All Apologies”).

The standout track, for me, was “The Man Who Sold The World.” it was a cover of David Bowie’s song, but only a man like Kurt could connect with the despair and loneliness of the song with his searing vocals. He was nearing the crossroads, the climax of frustration and quiet defeat, where neither making music, shooting dope, Courtney Love, or pretty much anything on Earth could fill the hole.

And on April 8, 1994, Kurt created another hole for himself. This time, it was on his head. Kurt was found dead with a shotgun in his hand. Suicide.

It never fails to amaze me, how these rich rock stars with everything they can possibly think of having,still end up depressed and unsatisfied. While common folk get by with less than 10% of what rock stars earn. I can rattle off a list of tortured souls: John Frusciante(RHCP), Ian Curtis(Joy Division), Elvis, Sid Vicious (Sex Pistols), Michael Hutchence (INXS)…

For a while I was baffled by their reason to commit suicide. Then when i was slipping into my agnostic-depressive phase, i accepted their suicides as something brave, something peaceful and even beautiful, for life seemed so painful. But after getting back on my feet because of God, suddenly I saw it all so clearly.

Because their rock wasn’t the real Rock.

they looked to music as the ultimate salvation. they fed their hatred with more poison and channelled it towards their songwriting. they waited in vain for something, someone, to save them. at the end of the day, reclining in a posh Hilton hotel suite with an assortment of booze, drugs and women at their disposal, they saw only emptiness. it was all nothing. but they couldn’t find out was missing, and they took the easy way out.

For a while i thought rock music held it all too. I was wrong. for i was looking for the wrong rock. I failed to see God and his open arms, a father waiting for the prodigal child’s return. For it is written: “The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, My God, my rock, in whom I take refuge; My shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.” (Psalm 18:2).

Maybe Kurt could have found peace at last if he read this:

“Come to me, all of you who are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke and put it on you, and learn from me, because I am gentle and humble in Spirit, and you will find rest. For the yoke I will give you is easy, and the load I will put on you is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)

His life was meaningless, because at the centre of it all, he chose to put worldly things like music at the top. He forgot that living for the world wasn’t enough; he forgot live for himself, for his soul. And once again, maybe he could have identified with:

“Then, brothers, let us leave the flesh (i.e worldly wants) and no longer live according to it. If not, we will die. Rather, walking in the Spirit, let us put to death the body’s deeds do we may live.” (Romans 8:13)

Now, if only someone could’ve shared these with him.

If you’re also going through hard times and you think, “Hey, If God’s do good, why is all this shit happening to me?” ,well, fret not. I was once like you too. But always remember: Life is fleeting. It doesn’t last forever. The world is not a place where you put your faith and belief in, because I can guarantee you you’re gonna be disappointed. people change, friends cheat, and as Murphy says: “If anything can go wrong, it will.”

However, there’s one person you can put your faith in, and that’s God. He doesn’t fade away like some rock tune. Live your life in the quiet confidence that He will work things out in the end, somehow, even in ways we don’t understand. Stop trying to understand stuff for a while; you’ll realise life is alot easier if you stop analysing, rationalising and arguing. Be still and trust Him in simple, childlike belief.

And then life gets alot simpler. And peaceful.

Rest in peace, dear Kurt Cobain.

Your Best Friend. Monday, Oct 6 2008 

When you get what you want in your race for success,
and the world makes you king for a day,
Then go to the mirror and look at yourself,
and see what that guy has to say.
For it isn’t your mother or father or wife, whose judgement upon you must pass,
The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life,
Is the guy staring back from the glass.

He’s the fellow to please, never mind the rest,
For he’s with you clear to the end,
And you’ve passed your most difficult, dangerous task,
If the guy in the glass is your friend.

You might be Jack Horner and chisel a plum,
and think you’re a wonderful guy,
But the man in the glass knows you’re only a bum,
If you can’t look at him straight in the eye.

You can fool the whole world, in all your years, and get pats on your back as you pass.
But your final reward will be heartaches and tears,
If you’ve cheated the man in the glass.

-Anonymous

Birth,Death and Love. Thursday, Sep 11 2008 

today was one of those extraordinary days where the real things in life just hit me with a magnum force.

in school, i learnt that someone i looked up to had just lost a father. just yesterday, he was smiling and joking, blissfully unaware and, i believe, unprepared for what was to come. and today, he was no-where to be seen, until i heard the news and a cold feeling crept into my heart.

then, i switched on my phone later in the afternoon, only to be greeted with one jubilant message: Joy, a friend, had given birth. it was late last night, to be exact. as i read details of the little one’s name, weight, height and time of birth, i paused and reflected on the miracle of life, the act of bringing forth life.

on my way home today, i saw a public display of affection. nope, it wasn’t between two besotted teenagers. a handicapped girl, with cerebral palsy, was sitting beside her mother, who was holding a little toddler in her arms. the toddler was staring wide-eyed at her sister, who was drooling and twitching. with effort, the sister heaved her body and faced her little sibling. then she slowly raised one arm and stroked the little one’s cheek lovingly. unable to speak, she merely cooed and smiled at her little sister, who responded by gurgling in delight.

there was a small tear threatening to spill out of my eyelids as i watched them. the toddler, as yet uncorrupted by disgust or shame, did not flinch even cords of saliva were smeared in her face. as handicapped that she was, she knew that the tiny bundle in her mother’s arms was her sister, someone special to her. the act of stroking her sister’s cheek was so poignant, and i was reminded of my own sister. the sister that i can think of, but i cannot touch.

 i know i’ve added two pages about the things i want to do, the materialism that needs to be satisfied. but once again, today i am reminded of the more important things in life.

being with my mother, spending time with her, appreciating her while she is still alive.

being reminded of the miracle of childbirth, and the powerful connection between mother and child from the time the foetus is embedded in the womb, till the point when a red, furry head emerges after hours of labour.

and the meaning of true love, showing someone you care that you truly love them before it’s too late.

it doesn’t require flowers or a restaurant dinner. Do yourself a favour today. just go up to that person, give him a genuine smile and hug. there’s nothing to lose.

he joked his way into my heart. Sunday, Jul 20 2008 

let’s face it. practically 99.9% of movie buffs who watch The Dark Knight are not particularly crazy about Batman, no matter how smoulderingly suave Christian Bale is. Nor is everyone drooling over the 500-in-one Batmobile, nor his skin-tight Batsuit, nor his Batpowers. the film might as well be re-titled The Joker, cos that’s what i paid eleven bucks for. when i heard that this was Heath Ledger’s swansong, i knew i had to watch it. and my eleven bucks were a great investment.

throughout the movie, i lay reclined with my eyes half-closed, only sitting straight alert and attentive when the Joker, the villian, took the screen. he was the villain’s villain. he was cold, ruthless and funny. i also picked up some make-up tips for Halloween from him. at the end, i was rooting for him to win. standing beside the Joker, Batman’s ridiculous, crotch-gripping suit seemed very worthless. batman may emerged victorious in the script, but in the minds and hearts of all who’ve watched it, batman was left in the cold, whimpering, gripping his black plasticised cock. the Joker was magnificent. He was the true winner.

“you complete me,” Joker tells Batman, sadistically borrowing a sappy line from Jerry Maguire. oh yes, the Joker completes all of us. and heath’s life wouldn’t be fittingly completed if he didn’t at least get an Oscar nomination.

i’ve watched a few of Heath’s films, including Brokeback Mountain, Candy, Casanova, Four Feathers and Ned Kelly. i can tell you that going from golden gay cowboy, to promiscuous womanising hottie to insane psychotic is not easy. now, months after his death, staring at his ghostly face filling the entire screen in the cinema, i knew what Hollywood had lost. a true actor, the last of its kind. here’s to you, heath.

The Joker

 

golden gay cowboy- brokeback mountain

casanova

casanovaheath ledger

 

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