Tuesday, February 28, 2012

I practically couldn't believe my eyes when I saw "The Perks of Being A Wallflower" lying there on the display table. Having read so many beautiful quotes extracted from it in tumblr posts, it felt like the perfect book for me. It seemed to me as if every line in the book was pretty much quotable.

I just had to grab it.

Then, my eyes widened too when I saw "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" by Milan Kundera nearby, on the same table. Fuck! These two books have been in my to-read list for quite some time now. The reaction I could muster to see them lying close by on one table was like... "Whoa." Cue grabby hands again.

I had came with the intention to purchase a particular book, cos I had a newspaper voucher with 25% discount for it. But when I realised that there was only the hardcover version of it in store, the price served as a discouragement to buy; cue dampening of mood.

So I was holding the book, still contemplating whether to buy it or not... while browsing through the shelves. Ruefully, I was faced with the reality once more that damn, books really aren't cheap here. Plus, it's kinda hard to justify buying a pretty thin one for a price higher than the average sized novel's. Yes, I judge a book also by its thickness wtf. The math simply is fewer pages = less material = lower price wtf. It's not really fair to thin books that are actually really good reads I admit, but one does not simply (Boromir meme, anyone? No?) ignore simple maths entrenched by the teachings of Asian parents wtf.

I came pretty close to walking out empty handed when finally, FINALLY I came across those two. In the end, I walked out with five books heh.

Money could buy happiness after all, if spent on the right things. It felt great to hug the paper bag containing my five new nicely wrapped books. Ah, the joy of new reads.

I guess what I'm trying to say after everything above is - deep down, I'm just a socially awkward, contemplative bookworm after all eh.

Reading and me, have had quite a relationship. I'm not really one to keep in touch, but when I have the time and initiative, I find myself falling in love all over again. It is a love that I would never want to part with.

Previously, I was reading Gabriel Garcia Marquez's "One Hundred Years of Solitude"and man, did it seem like one needed precisely one hundred years of solitude to finish it. It was not that it was badly written, in fact when one started to get into it, the beauty of the prose and meticulousness in which the characters were developed and described were hard to go unnoticed. But oh God, the names first of all were so confusing cos everyone pretty much had the same few names wtf, generations on. If it weren't for the family tree drawn on one of the pages in front, it would have been so easy to get frustrated and chuck the book aside.

Despite all the name confusion, and quite frankly disgust at the incestuous vein pulsing through the family... and wonderment as to how long it'll finally take me to finish the book, once I got through to the end, it was all fucking worth it. GGM managed to tie it all up so magnificently, it was just Wow. The last sentence just reverberated through the whole story, the whole family tree, the whole reading experience, and you realised there was no title more apt than the one craftily chosen.

That's just it. Reading can be such a marvelous experience... how can one not fall in love with it?

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Late night musings

I don't know what to tell you, man. We live in a stupid, incredibly fucked up world with immensely stupid people. I know that there are truly decent, kind human beings out there, but that's just so hard to believe when day by day you look around and see or read about all the bigotry, the greed, the idiocy, the injustice, the douchebaggery etc that goes on around the world.

Seriously, what are we? Why the fuck are we being such a cancer? Destroying everything in its path, ruthlessly and blindly disruptive, power crazy, prejudicial, discriminatory.

It's even harder when you witness such bigotry in your own home, such discrimination in your own family members' eyes. Like, why should homosexuality bother anyone at all? Why does it concern you who others are attracted to and have sex with? It's not as if they're purposely and actively disrupting your lives or anything? Are they not human beings, like you and me? Why are you so intent on viewing them as lesser beings? As "abnormal"? Stating that the world has turned upside down, when I'm willing to bet that homosexuality has existed as long as there were life on Earth.

Why can't people understand that people do not simply CHOOSE to be homosexuals, it's who they are. Seriously, if they had a choice, you think they'd have chosen a life laced with prejudice and unfair judgments? I don't know why some people can be highly educated, yet capable of such bigotry at the same time.

I feel so bad for those who were bullied or unfairly treated just because of who they were. This, is the world we live in. So unforgiving and non accepting. Sad, but true.

Think about it, if you found out that your child was gay, would you love him/her less? If you would, you truly do not deserve to be a parent. You shouldn't have brought your child into the world in the first place, if you yourself were not capable of love.

Day in day out, you see these people, acting out of greed - for money, for power. It happens all the time, critters screwing their own countrymen, letting the people suffer in poverty while they themselves drown in luxury. I don't know how they can do it, the act of knowingly and continuously screwing everyone else over, for their own monetary benefit. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THEM?

There's just so much injustice that goes on in this world, it fucking hurts. The only solution seems to be to nuke out the entire human race, cos as long as there are humans around, unfortunately there will also be stupidity and greed. Disillusionment? More like accepting reality.

Don't you think that living just for money is the saddest thing ever? That is, you're just obsessed with monetizing EVERYTHING. Every possible thing. To accumulate and grow your fucking wealth. Your wealth, that you will eventually have to part with when you're six feet under. I get that you were poor when you were young, but now that you're not, can't you let the past go? Is there no other things that you'd wanna achieve in life?

Friday, February 24, 2012

I'm beginning to think that happiness is just an illusion. It doesn't exist, and those who think they're happy are either delusional or have their emotions all mixed up.

It was concocted to serve as an unattainable goal so that people would be clamouring or running their whole lives towards the imaginary destination.

The feeling being mistaken for happiness would most probably be liberation. If you can't be happy, you might as well be free.

Freedom is as good as it gets.

"The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion." - Albert Camus

Wednesday, February 15, 2012


I've just watched Julie & Julia, and true enough, blogging is probably one of the most narcissistic endeavour one could partake in.

But that's not what I wanted to get into. I just wanted to sorta prepare you for yet another self-absorbed post.

Let's begin. Why do I seem to have the oldest soul ever? I always feel like I'm too old for shit, I'm jaded as fuck, I have practically no 'young person drive' (whatever that's supposed to mean) in me.

And I now basically seek comfort over everything else. For example, I'm heading to Oz for my graduation ceremony next month, and I was tempted to book a hotel to stay in. A hotel. That's such a ridiculous idea because it'd be so freaking expensive. Something like AUD 2+ k for 6 nights. Imagine that! One could travel to India for 2 weeks with that money alone wtf. So no, no hotel... just a possibly cramped hostel with noisy customers and faulty electronics. Even that wouldn't be that cheap either. Given that, why would anyone want to travel to Oz, I would never know. It's expensive, it's boring, it's culturally blah. But I digress.

But oh... Imagine what it would be like if we got to stay in a hotel. Clean sheets (as far as the eyes can see anyway), clean bathroom and toilet, spacious room, comfortable environment... just, ahhhhhh... and then I start lamenting how long ago was it that I stayed in a hotel wtf. Just like an old person. Y'know? All these lamenting and reminiscing, makes me feel so goddamn old, like I've lived a hundred years and my best years have gone by. Which is so unfucking true.

I'm at an age very suitable for roughing it out, but all I wanna do is sleep in comfort at night, cos goddamnit a good night's sleep is so fucking important to not feeling like crap the next day. This kinda poses a dilemma... I'm all for minimalism and decluttering one's life and spending less, but this kinda entails one to rough it out. To be clear, I'm talking about minimalism in the sense of being able to fit all your belongings in a backpack and to just take off and pursue a nomadic lifestyle anytime. It's about keeping it to the absolute basics. And quite possibly having to relieve oneself in the bushes once in awhile wtf.

Yet, being an advocate of comfort goes against this notion of living off one's backpack. Living in hostels, couch surfing, being constantly on guard... plus comfort requires stuff. Paying for services and buying stuff etc. Fluffy stuff, hard stuff, whichever you prefer. But once again, being against excessive consumerism leaves me in a quandary. Ain't life just a bunch of endless contradictions.

To sum it up, I'm all for comfort but I'm also all for minimalism and against excessive consumerism. These do not exactly go together.

One could always argue that you can be comfortable while being a minimalist. Sure, it's not impossible. But I suppose you'd have to tweak a little your perception of what comfort is. Like, you'd have to accept peeing or taking a dump in the bushes as being perfectly comfortable. OK, maybe not to that extent. But what I'm trying to say is you'd just have to let go of a lot of things. A lot of little things that you take for granted in your daily life. And I suppose that's what it's all about, right? Learning how to let go. One of the hardest things to do, just take me for instance, you'd miss the comfort of hotels sometimes.

And, I guess one could also argue that nuns and monks live with basics while not having to compromise on comfort. Again, they've learnt to let go of material and worldly desires, thus their idea of comfort would probably differ from yours.

What the heck, I just wanted to talk about how I have the oldest soul ever, how did I end up talking about minimalism and all sorts of stuff?

Tuesday, February 07, 2012

I've gotta admit, I'm in a pretty bad slump right now. It sorta started with the deterioration of my health a la dizziness and headaches, which kinda stopped me from exercising and I guess everything else just derailed from there. Apparently the wind/poison from before wasn't cleared from my body, causing all the discomfort. And after drinking the Chinese doctor's medicine and herbal drinks, I think there're still some inside, just taunting me like some merciless jackass. Just some moments ago, I was having a headache and had to rely on Panadol once again for the pain to subside.

Sigh. What the fuck. It's true when you don't have your health, you ain't got shit. I would probably have to live with this condition for fuck-knows-how-long, meaning I'd probably be the face of the demotivated for fuck-knows-how-long. I know I should start exercising again, I know I should do something to get myself out of this rut, I know that only I can help myself. You see I know all these, but goddamn it's so fucking hard to get yourself to do anything when you constantly feel like a piece of shit!

One thought has been consistently popping up everyday during this period of non-living. "When can I die?" Actually it's in Cantonese... "Gei si sei dak ar?" Pathetic, I know. It's not even like I'm devising ways to hurt myself, it's more like I'm just hoping that I'll drop dead any second wtf. I've lost the will to live and I'm not even motivated enough to end my own life wtfff. I didn't realise how ridiculous that sounded till I actually typed it out wtf.

I sent a CNY card to my friend and in it I wrote these exact words, "Without hope, dreams or beliefs, life wouldn't be worth living! So don't stop dreaming!" I've no idea what's the dream now. How do you rediscover your dreams? Your hopes? That burning passion in your heart? No matter how stupid or dumb they may have been?

Sigh. It's OK. I'm pretty sure that this too will pass. Someday.