okayy... an add-on.... i was in two minds on whether to put this up.... hahaz... lets just call it the birthday incident... On my birthday itself, a friend informed me on msn that my bday was not reflected in the events app, asked me to put it up to see how many ppl will respond to it... And tada! the results is on my facebook wall... lolz.... was more amused than anything.... hahaz....

This cartoon from readers' digest is so apt!

Merry Christmas everyone!!!

The concept of love...

It's Christmas's' eve!!! the season of love!! no better time to talk about the concept of love.....

A while ago b4 i left for aussie, one of my bunkmate suddenly threw a qn into the air, "How do you define love?" I started with a reply, "Love is an inspiration." Then paused for a while to generate the elaboration needed but it was pointless, cos i got cut off by him and he started on this concept of love thingy about selfless giving and all that. He even berated me for having no sense of what love is. I dun blame him, he's from chc(no offence intended) just to clarify that his influences are more pop-cultured than others and that the word "inspiration" by itself seems a little weak to carry the whole concept of love. No one pursued the incident after and i kept it at the back of my mind until one day, after reading chuck palahniuk's choke and c.s lewis's screwtape letters one after the other, a wisp of inspiration dawned upon me. And so here I am, after arranging those thoughts, to give you my take on the concept of love.

Many people, when asked to define love, would reach for a personal definition, one that includes the pronoun "I". Love is after all about relationships and it is impossible to talk of one without the pronoun "I". Even in movie Love Actually, the direction explains the use of the ending song as Beach boys' "God only knows what I'd be without you" rather than the beatles "All you need is love" as one to remind people that love is not just a grand big concept, but this small personal thing in every single person's life. However, what i fear is happening is the exact opposite. I would illustrate this using an analogy of Venn diagrams. When asked to define love, people would (if using a Venn diagram) draw many circles around his own one in the middle. He would then be particularly interested in the intersections and would call the better-ing and the expansion of the intersections as love. On surface, this seems to be a fine and sound definition of love, but is it really? I guess our egocentric nature has taken root and we need some reminding to rid us of this painfully myopic view. Love, as it would be defined by me, selfless giving for the better-ing of not the intersection, but of the one you love alone. So, what it means is that after you draw the Venn diagram, you've got to take an eraser and erase away your own circle so that you are able to look at every single circle in your diagram individually as a whole. Your actions, whether they lead to an expansion of the intersections, shouldn't matter to you. What I am saying here is that your love(selfless giving) cannot be motivated by the better-ing of relationships with the people you love(the intersections). Illogical as it may seems, but remember that love is a selfless giving that cannot tolerate the pronoun "I". Hence love is an inspiration - an idea that is a motivation by itself and is sustained by itself exclusively. It is only when you see things this way that you realise how painfully myopic and egocentric we were, and some of the "greatest love" are still now....

Sorry for force-feeding the saggittarian's over idealistic concept of love(yah, it's true, can go check out the personalities of the different star signs) on Christmas' eve. I guess it's best to keep it simple. It's warm fuzzy feeling that you feel in the air =P yupz... and you're hearing connie talbot here with her sweet vocals, belting out "i will always love you"... the innocence and the sincere-ness in the voice......

okayy... to try help ppl understand the post on Choke the novel.... There's a lot of controversial themes and material inside to confuse you(the precise intent of the author) but you've just got to keep your head up and look at the issues objectively. Here's some directions from my POV....

The 3 parts are taken from the same book but at different sections. Part 1 is my attempt at providing a background to the whole episode and also higlighting the "irony"(up to you to interpret) of the insights of the child. Instead of being thankful at being saved, he was thankful for the oppurtunity to obtain affection and attention. This portion should already forewarn you of the next 2 parts.

Part 2 is a description of the main act (after all the novel's called choke for a reason) and a whole lot of self-righteous (again i'm using safe terms here, but yah, it's open to interpretation) justification of the act. Denny obviously objects to it (i like the "why you do this is so infantile" line) but does nothing to stop him.

Part 3 is the interesting one and holds the most important line in the whole episode. "I knew you were faking. Everyone else saw what they wanted to see." Here, the old lady "exposes" him and then praises him, in which he lashes back using extremely strong language.("I don't have a fuck for a heart") Notice the apparent contradiction btw part 2 and 3, where in part 2, he justifies the act and in part 3, he lashes back because someone agrees with him to a certain extent. Why? is the impt qn i shall leave for you to comtemplate......

Of Kebabs, Kabanas and Kangaroos (not to forget chips, pasitos, breka etc etc......)

My memory of australia is mainly this warm fuzzy feeling which i think is best described by the picture (on the left). Lazing around sunning, there was almost a feeling that you had all the time in the world. I think it has something to do with the clear blue sky and fantastic sceneries during sunrises and sunsets which makes u stand back and take a better look at nature, and be in awe of it.

Pretty strange, considering the "worst" i've been through there was certainly some fast-paced action coupled with insane weather. Granted, the live firings were spectacular, the missions tough, the driving exciting, but they all weren't as memorable i guess.

The First Sunrise.

Awesome sunset. Look at the whole range of colours!

A rainbow appeared while we were RTU-ing after endex on the last day. It was evening time also, so the sky was glowing red too...

A fitting send-off for us! For those observant, should be able to see that it's a double rainbow...

In case you were wondering what breka and pasito were. Haha! They were the comfort drinks we survived on in camp though being ripped off by the vendors at the same time. A can(350ml) of pasito costs 2 aussies in camp, but when we went to town during R and R, 2 X 1.5 L of Pasito (shown on the left) costs.... amazingly..... 2 aussies.

Breka's the brand of the milk. My favourite flavor's chocalte though, didn't bother to find it to take a photo. As usual we were ripped off, but not as badly as pasitos....

Okayz.. final pic... this is in sentosa, not aussie.. the crazy lightstrike people that made NS so much more fun and happening... (okay not all of them in this pic, but this is the best one i could find that conveys the lightstrike "spirit" hahaz) we just finished our volleyball game and yes, continued to tao-pok ben in broad daylight. I'm the photographer, so not in the photo :)

I'm not uploading most of the aussie photos cos yah, most of them can't see the light of the day, so pm me if u want to see them....

PART 1
"At lunch today, the kid tried to eat his corn dog while it was still too hot and almost swallowed it whole, but it got stuck and he couldn't breathe or talk until the Mommy charged around from her side of the table.

Then two arms were hugging him from behind, lifting him off his feet, and the Mommy whispered, "Breathe! Breathe, damn it!"

After that, the kid was crying, and the entire restaurant crowded around.

At that moment, it seemed the whole world cared what happened to him. All those people were hugging him and petting his hair. Everybody asked if he was okay.

It seemed that moment would last forever. That you had to risk your life to get love. You had to get right to the edge of death to ever be saved...."

PART 2
"This never takes very long. The whole adventure lasts one, two minutes, tops. That's good, since that's about how long I can hold my breath with a mouthful of food.

My first choice would be the older man with the thick gold wristwatch, somebody who will save the day and pick up our check for dinner. My personal choice is the little black dress for the reason she has nice tits.
Even if we have to pay for our own meal, I figure you have to spend money to make money.

Shovelling food into his fave, Denny says, "Why you so this is so infantile."

I stagger over and kick him, again.

Why do I do this to put adventures back into people's lives.

Why do I do this to create heroes. Put people to the test.

Like mother, like son.


Why I do this to make money.


Somebody saves your life , and they'll love you forever. It's that old Chinese custom where if somebody saves your life, they're responsible for you forever. It's as if now you're their child. For the rest of their lives, these people will wrtie me. Send me cards on the anniversary. Birthday cards. It's depressing how many people get this same idea. They call you on the phone. To find out if you're feeling okay. To see if you maybe need some cheering up. Or cash.


It's not as if I spend the money phoning up escort girls. Keeping my mom in St Anthony's Care Center costs around three grand each month. These Good Samaritans keep me alive. I keep her. It's that simple.


You gain power by pretending to be weak. By contrast, you make people feel so strong. You save people by letting them save you.


All you have to do is to be fragile and grateful. So stay the underdog.


People really need somebody they feel superior to. So stay downtrodden.


People need somebody they can send a check at Christmas. So stay poor.


"Charity" isn't the right word, but it's the first word that comes to mind.


You're the proof of their courage. The proof they were a hero. Evidence of their success. I do this because everybody wants to save a human life with a hundred people watching.


If I can't be a great doctor saving hundreds of patients, this way I'm a great patient creating hundreds of would-be doctors.


Closing in fast is a man in a tuxedo, dodging between the onlookers, running with his steak knife and his ballpoint pen.


By choking, you become a legend about themselves that these people will cherish and repeat until they die. They'll think they gave you life. You might be the one good deed, the deathbed memory that justifies their whole existence.



So be the aggressive victim, the big loser. A professional failure.



People will jump through hoops if you make them feel like a god.



It's the martyrdom of Saint Me.



Denny scrapes my plate onto his and keeps forking food into his mouth.



The wine steward is here. The little black dress is up against me. The man with the thick gold watch.



In another minute, the arms will come around me from behind. Some stranger will be hugging me tight, double-fisting me under the rib-cage and breathing into my ear, "You're okay."



Breathing into your ear, "You're going to be fine."



Two arms will hug you, maybe even lift you off your feet, and a stranger wil whisper, "Breathe! Breathe, damn it!"



Somebody will pound you on the back the way a doctor pounds a newborn baby, and you'll let fly with your mouthful of chewed steak. In the next second, you'll both be collasped on the floor. You'll be sobbing while someone tells you how everything is all right. You're alive. They saved you. You almost died. They'll hold your head to their chest and rock you, saying, "Everybody get back. Make some room, here. The show's over."



Already, you're their child. You belong to them.



They'll put a glass of water to your lips and say, "Just relax. Hush. It's all over."



Hush.



For years to come, this person will call and write. You'll get cards and maybe checks.



Whoever it is, this person will love you.



Whoever will be so proud. Even if maybe your real folks aren't. This person will be proud of you because you make them so proud of themselves.



You'll sip the water and cough just so the hero can wipe your chin with a napkin.



Do this to cement this new bond. This adoption. Remember to add details. Stain their clothes with snot so they can laugh and forgive you. Cling and clutch. Really cry so they can wipe your eyes.



It's okay to cry as long as you are faking it.



Just don't hold anything back. This is going to be the best story of somebody's life.



What's most important is unless you want a nasty trache scar, you'd better be breathing before anybody gets near you with a steak knife, a pocketknife, a box cutter.



Everyone in the restaurant, sometimes they'll stand there and applaud. People will cry with relief. People will pour out of the kitchen. Within minutes, they'll be telling the story to each other. Everybody will buy drinks for the hero. Their eyes all shining with eye juice.



They'll all shake the hero's hand.



They'll pat the hero on the back.



It's so much more their birth than it is yours, but for years to come this person will send you a birthday card on this day and month. They'll become another member of your own very very extended family.



And Denny will shake his head and ask for a desert menu.



That's why I do all this. Go to all this trouble. To showcase just one brave stranger. To save just one more person from boredom. It's not just for the money. It's not just for the adoration.

But neither one hurts.

It's all so easy. It's not about looking good. at least not on the surface - but you still win. Just let yourself be broken and humiliated. Just your whole life, keep telling people, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."

PART 3
"The old woman pulled her face away from Dr Marshall, tonguing the string and bits of bloody food out of her mouth." SHe looked at me and said in her creaking voice, "I know you"

As automatic as sneezing, I said, I'm sorry. Sorry I fucked her cat. Sorry I drove over her flower beds. Sorry I shot down her husband's fighter plane. Sorry I flushed her hamster down the toilet. I sighed at her and said, "Did I forget anything?"

And Mrs. Tsunimitsu said, "I was with my son's family, dining out, and you almost choked to death." She says, "My son saved your life."

She says, "I was so proud of him. He still tells people that story."

Paige Marshall looks up at me.

"Secretly," Mrs Tsunimitse said, "I think my son, Paul, always felt like a coward until that night.

Paige sat back and looked from the old woman to me, back and forth.

Mrs. Tsunimitsu clasped her hands together below her chin, closed her eyes, and smiled. She said, "My daughter-in-law had wanted a divorce, but after she saw Paul save your, she fell back in love."

She said, "I knew you were faking. Everyone else saw what they wanted to see."

She said, "You have an enormous capacity for love in you."

The old woman sat there smiling and said, "I can tell you have the most generous of hearts."

And fast as sneezing, I told her:

"Your're a fucking wrinkled lunatic."

And Paige winces.

I tell everybody, I'm tired of being jerked around. Okay? So let's just not pretend. I don't have a fuck for a heart. You people are not going to make me feel anything. You are not going to get to me.

I'm a stupid, callous, scheming batard. End of story.

This old Mrs. Tsunimitsu. Paige Marshall. Ursula. Nico, Tanya, Leeza. My mom. Some days, life just looks like me versus every stupid chick in the whole damn world.

With one hand, I grab Paige Marshall around the arm and yank her towards the door.

Nobody's going to trick me into feeling Christlike.

"Listen to me," I say. I shout, "If I wanted to feel anything, I'd go to a frigging movie!"

And old Mrs. Tsunimitsu smiles and says, "You can't deny the goodness of your true nature. It's shining for everyone to see."

To her I say, shut up. To Paige Marshall I say, "Come on"

I'll prove to her I'm no Jesus Christ. Anybody's true nature is bullshit. There is no human soul. Emotion is bullshit. Love is bullshit. And I'm dragging Paige down the hallway.

We live and we die and anything else is just delusion, It's just passive chick bullshit about feelings and sensitivity. Just made-up subjective emotional crap. There is no soul. There is no God. There's just decisions and disease and death.

What I am is a dirty, filthy, helpless sexaholic, and I can't change, and I can't stop, and that's all I'll ever be.

And I'll prove it."

I apologise for the crude and perhaps to some, offensive language. But it seems as though I blog best through the voice of another. I'll be the greatest plagarist in uni i think... The above 3 parts are taken from the novel Choke by Chuck Palahniuk, author of Fight Club. I'll leave you to do your own interpretation and understanding....

Haven't blogged since I've touched down. Twenteen alr.... but unfortunately dun feel tht old... lolz... Just coming upz for some air... So dun expect regular posts... not just yet.... I'm a bloody mix of love, anger, fruastration, happiness, hope, zen, peace and so on and on... In short, I'm confused......