Ramblings of an SCUM

I've got 2 MRT incidents that sent me into deep pondering and a revelation of sorts.

First of all, I was reading my fren Joan's blog, yeah you can find it on the right, and she is apparently one of those girls that do not place huge emphasis on the financial well-being of her bf. And it brought me back to these thoughts that had emanated from this puny brain og mine a few weeks back from an observation in the MRT station.

Incident
I was walking out of the MRT station and finding my way to work when I saw this really ,shove the vacuum cleaner down the throat and empty the lungs, beauty walking towards the station, with a certain nuance of pique possibly with the dread of having to utilize the early morning public transport. It then struck me like I've discovered the holy grail, that the girl have only herself to blame for her predicament. Given her beauty and amazingly good looks, it would have had been effortless for her to captivate and to a lesser extent inveigle a rish man's son into becoming her personal slave. If it's because of true love (I use this term loosely as the mainstream cliche, and would question its validity later on) for her childhood sweetheart that she's not embarking on the personification of a gold digger, then maybe she's gotta question herself if she is remaining true to what she seeks in life. Meaning, its her fault if by her own volition, she's not having a rich bf for its well within her capabilities, then she should have no qualms about having to "suffer" the ignominy of public transportation.

Which brings me to remember the admonitions that yours truly dispensed with to some heart-broken friend of mine some time back. See, like moi, many of my friends have the misfortune of having our undying devotion and love to some goddess being unrequited. I was telling this fren of moi that everything in this world is in accordance with the laissez faire model of demand and supply, love included. Nope, I do not mean that love can be bought ala visiting prostitutes, I am a staunch believer that I will not engage the services of a prostitute. What I meant was that, girls choose guys for certain qualities that they possess, and vice versa. Having been the number one choice as the number one listening ear for many a heart broken person, I can safely draw the conclusion that majority of the male homo sapiens race seeks skin deep beauty as the number one criteria for choosing their partner. For the gentler sex, its a toss up between factors such as character, being good to her, rich, handsome and some others, or so they say. My take is this, not every guy looks like Andy Lau or Brad Pitt, not every guy has the character that suits the girl of his dreams(And I think its sometimes hypocrisy on the part of the girls when they say they really looks out for a good character in a guy). I've seen one too many guy being rejected by their objects of desire despite being the nicest of nicest person, to believe the crap that being good to a girl can win her love. So my advice have always been to my dejected frens that the only thing within their control so that they can achieve the goal of having a fashion accessory hanging on their arm as they walk down Orchard Road, is that they make tons of money and the gold diggers will flock to them despite their looks, flaws etc. And mind you many of these girls are stunning(See above point about guys with myopia and seeks only skin deep beauty). However my exhortation have never been trully heeded, and many of them persist along the stereotyped idea of true love, ie the kind you only see on tv. And face it, many guys despite their hideous looks(myself included) are vainpots, who wants the girls to fall in love with their physical appearance(Guys loves girls for their looks, so it only seem right that the reverse is true), and refuse; in their words to stoop to a level where they attract girls because of the size of their wallet. They only love my money, they say. Bah Humbug. This is what I call self-denial in these guys, know your strengths and use them to get the objective. They want you for your money, You want them for their looks. They want you for being handsome, you want them for being pretty. Its all about demand and supply.

So my point being rich guys tempt pretty girls with their money. If both side think the trade is just, everyone's happy and nobody's forcing anybody and live with what you have.

The second MRT incident is one with a definitely more light hearted mood. Was on the platform of Jurong East MRT the passed morning on my way to work, when my radar detected a faint scent of a possible chick on my right side. Call it instinct that guys have for sensing out a pretty girl for I do not really know why guys can pick out a pretty girl in a crowd of ppl so fast. I turned my head to my right and saw this girl whom I'm sure could pass as a dream girl criteria for most guys. She was in baggy pants and was wearing a pink singlet(I've always been a sucker for slim girls in singlets, especially white ones, but pink in this case would do just fine), and she have the most beautiful, ok 2nd most beautiful pair of eyes in the world. Our eyes met and the fixation held for a few brief seconds before I tore myself from this mesmerizing sight. I then discreetly checked if my fly is undone or any simmilarly potential embarrassing predicaments I could have been in, for the impossibility of it all which such an unattractive guy like myself would warrant such attention from such an attractive girl.(Did I mentioned I loved the pink singlet she was in). For the next few minutes, I managed to detect her stealing a few more glances at me in the next few minutes that transpired but I never dared to return the compliments. If I'm currently attached at the moment, I would have swore that my gf had instigated such an delectable babe bait to test my loyalty and steadfastness. The impulse to strut forward and introduce myself was only held in check by my greater desire not to make a complete fool of myself. And the strange thoughts that seemed to so predominantly occupy my minds during my teenage years, such as taking the same bus everyday so as to be able to see my dream girl,or the equally juvenile idea of posting an anonymous message in popular forums to seek her out, spontaneously sprung into the vacuum. After my male easily inflatable ego was deflated to normality, with more realistic syllogization, memories of a farni and yet lovely incidentcame ryshing back to me.

Like many a student in our youths, I had profound reasons uncomprehendable by my mum, to wake up at unearthly hours to catch the exact same bus to hell everyday. There was this girl who would be at the bus stop everyday at the exact or nearly exact same time. There were times when either of us would be earlier and could have caught the earlier bus but didn't, and it did seem pretty funny now, how I could always rationalized the queer behaviour. Well, this girl is perhaps 2 years my junior and she have the kind of eyes that I loved and well, I thought she was really pretty. All those puppy love now seem so sweet and funny though. Anyway, although each day I thought I would go up to her and maybe strike some small conversation but it never did materialized for i always thought there would be tmr. Anyway, this particular day will be etched in my memory forever. I was at the bus stop earlier than usual and the bus wasn't due to arrive until another15 to 20 mins, and then she walked towards the bus stop, and as usual I was spying with corners of my eyes. Did I mentioned it was in unearthly hours that I have to leave the house and it was pretty dark? Probably so dark that she was unable to see the exposed drain and fell with one leg into it. No I did not burst out laughing, although the possibility of me doing such a brutish and unsensitive act is pretty high. But it was also not in my nature to lend an unwelcomed helping hand,(I had a bad boy image to maintain at that time). Anyway I wasn't fast enough even if I had wanted to help, as there was a boy from another school, whom I never even noticed was there, was nearer and proceeded to gave her a hand. There were some scratches and seeps of blood could be seen on the shin. Again the voices within my head was fighting one another, whether to inquire if she was alright, or play it nonchalantly, as usual I did nothing looking into space. Without warning the girl came up to me and in the most Kawaii voice asked,"Do you have a dollar, my farecard's dry." I thought that was pretty lame excuse to strike a conversation, and it did seemed so contrived. Anyway I passed her some money and did actually enquired if her leg was ok. Being the socially challenged creature that I am hailing from a boys school and all, I could not think of anything intelligent to say to her the remainder of the wait for the bus and an awkard silence developed. Upon boarding the bus, she proceeded to sit beside moi despite empty seats being available and the oaf that I am did my most realistic impressions of a soundly asleep person to date.

Anyway I've rambled on for too long and I did relish the re-enactment of my childish infatuation episode in my head after so many years and is surprised at so many useless details that i remembered taking up the precious little space available in my brain/vacuum. It has certainly brought a nostalgic slushy smile to my lips unseen for so long.

And this is the one with the 2 MRT episodes.

Since the start of Euro 04, I've not have had any intellectual conversation of any kind with any intelligent ppl. Not that all my frens are stupid like moi but rather the insane living hours I put myself thru just to watch a football match where the result is already fixed before a single ball is kicked deprived me of the ability to think coherently to engage in any kind of intelligent comversation. Antway that was until my good fren whose identity shal remain anonymous, sent me an sms with implications that I shall not have to work tmr because I will be attending his funeral. But it all end well because I still have to work tmr and despite already having written I'm sure some heart-felt advice for nincompoops like moi, he managed to talk himself out of it alone. It did however triggered the same suicidal thoughts and intent that I used to and am still harbouring.

Well I'm not going to bore u with what's so wrong with my life that makes my contemplation with eternal peace a part of my life for so long. But rather the discourse within myself that managed to dissuade my spilling of guts on the pavement of certain hdb block. Nope, I do not fear eternal damnation even though i'm pretty sure down is where I'm headed if there's life after death. Nope I do not fear the process of dying, be it painful, exhilarating or otherwise. I am not fillial enough to consider the pain that my parents might experience if they do have to send me for my final journey. Painful as it is for me to lose my best friend to lung cancer which I've been mourning his demise for the last 5 years, I believe that any pain my friends/loved ones felt could not have been as pronounced as what I've been through. The said fren kept asking his family when I was coming as he breathed his last, and I was not uncontactable because of some wholly honorable matters but rather at a certain club in MS drinking my fill. I doubt anyone would mourn my demise as much because I've not had any sort of positive effect anywhere near the magnitude of what my fren have had on the ppl around him. I do not fear being unable to see all the ppl I cared for in my living life, I am afterall a loner.

It is rather the fear of not existing, the very possible prospect that I Henry cease to exist after I die. There would not be a Henry after I die, sure my carcass will exist until the crematorium makes short work of it and ashes is all that remain from the entity formerly known as Henry, but not in that sense. What if there's no life after death, there's no wandering malicious spirit to walk the earth or burn in hell. And the scariest prospect of all, I am unable to analyze, judge, contemplate and think anymore. Descartes famous quote "I think, Therefore I am" keeps ringing in the vacuum supposedly occupied by grey matter. The vacuum enclosed within my skull, is unconceiveably able to generate thoughts that is the only testament and proof of my existence, will finally be able to go to rest eternally. My not having an impact on the world and not even being able to watch the show continues and put simply vanished into vacuum is scary. Until there's empirical proof that's life after death, I'm hanging around to make life a living hell for peeps with the misfortune of being my acquaintances. You've been warned!!

I do not understand why year after year or rather every bi-annually since 1982 I'll turn my life topsy turvy during the month of June sleeping for 1 to 2 hours everyday watching match after match of football turning up a zombie for work and going home for more football with an non-existent social life. After the fracas of the last world cup in Korea, I thought that this Euro'04 would restore some of my faith in football being genuine. Suddenly it all came to light. Given the high number of dubious results (Yah I know the ball is round) where the clearly superior team do not win, dubious decisions by referees, and generally results that leave bookies richer and richer, I still refuse to believe that football matches at the highest level are rigged. That was until today, after I witness the highly convincing 2-2 draw that Sweden and Denmark played out. A result that will allow both teams to go through and knock out the Azzuris that have the whole world purring that the Italians deserved it and poetic justice and all for them being lazy in their earlier games. Well when you have a squad as talented as the one the Italians have, they can be lazy playing at 50% effort and still remain undefeated. Anyway I'm incoherent now and my ultimate point is this. 2 Teams conspired to draw a game 2-2 which is a convenient result for both and managed to fool the whole world into believing that the game is genuine because both teams seem to be trying to score to win and boy how real it looked. Now think about it in a different context, before the game where a result that the bookies wanted was translated to the players, referees and coaches. Players go out play the game and make it look extremely real, come back get paid go on in life as a super-star. Given how much publicity was made about a convenient result for both was a 2-2 draw, they still went out to play surprise surprise to a 2-2 draw and all over the world the press are saying the game is real. Anyway a repeat of the game is on again, and it just makes me sick to look at the players again, its really revolting when after such a blatant act they are still feigning innocence. Too bad there's no wrestling on now, at least WWE never did claimed that the results are not fixed. If there's one thing I cannot stand is someone who made a conscious decision to do something and not admitting that is the case. If you have the guts to do it then you better have the guts to admit it.

Ok, there is maybe one exception to that. I mean if I really do like a girl, I'll never admit it but surely that's a different story...