Here We Go Again

There's this song that goes Here We Go Again. If I am not mistaken, it's Animal by Neon Trees.

And indeed, here we go again. My last post was before I entered Pasir Lebar Camp, for my Foundation term in SCS. A few hours before actually. A new journey after BMT. 8 weeks in PLC, learning the basics from scratch, with an emphasis on leadership.

And I enjoyed it. Everything was fun. Training was logically tougher than BMT, but BMT's toughness was the hardship of adaptation, not of training. But in SCS, we are fit. We should be fit. IPPT was a requirement to enter Command School. The army relies on the concept of leading by example. And how can I implore my men to keep fit if I failed my IPPT?

Hypocrisy at its best. And to counter that, we have to be at our best. Only then can we teach. Only then can we show. Only then can we lead.

So I graduated two days ago. Come to think of it, the 8 weeks went by like a flash. I might be the only one thinking that way though. And this acceleration of time was not felt at the end of the course but at any point in time on course. I suppose I wasn't bored as often as usual. For that, the army gets a commendation from me.
Here we go again. Because Wednesday, I am due to book in Kranjib camp. Artillery. Every boy's dream when young. If it wasn't to be a police or an astronaut or the President of Singapore(this was actually a trend), then it was missiles. Psssssh.

How can anyone dislike missiles. Ignore the damage it deals. Ignore the pain it causes. Just think about its graceful flight, thrumming with power and intent. Just think about the ideas and effort that has been put into it; like a needle threading though a minuscule hole. With quite a significant bit less room for error.

And so, I am excited. Artillery. I would have rather medic but well, seems like it was full. /shrugs.

I think I am writing a little more informally than usual. Pardon. I am really quite tired and I feel like sleeping. But sheer force of will keep me awake, if not only to prevent myself from inherently wasting time.

What else hmm. I simply cannot end with such a short post. But I am not ranting. I am actually coherent, if a little tired.

Ah.

I bought a book. Oh god, what a book. Leather bound. Slip cover with alternate art and The Story of Morpheus, Master of Dream. The stories are beautiful, as is the art. Every page, I marvel at the effort of the comic and of what Morpheus is going through. And the smell. Better than any drugs I have never yet tasted. I assume they would have the same effort on me as a new book would though. Especially a leather wrapped one.

And boy, is it heavy. And expensive too. When my mom asked, I just sheepishly grin at her. And she was annoyed. Splurging 70-80 dollars on a book, she said.

Well, I didn't argue. The book cost 129.

Individualism in an army

An army focuses on regimentation, on discipline. Boy oh boy, it has been a long time since I wrote an entry here. Nostalgic really. I must add though, the standard of my English has pretty much deteriorated, with prolonged use of Chinese and dialects. So pardon me when I make grammatical or spelling mistakes.

I am not going to talk about my experiences in the army. That one I can speak to my friends about. Experiences in the last three weeks has been ardous, long and memorable. Whether it's good or bad ones doesn't really matter after sufficient time has passed. They matter in that particular  moment but when it has passed and activities translate into memories, the form has changed.

I have changed,  of that I don't doubt. I expected myself to change after entering the army and I did. On the third day, I cried. I have never done that before, not in camps or overseas trips. It was Mother's Day that day though I would be a Goddarn liar if that was my only reason I cried. In intropection, it was because I was homesick and depressed. The latter not just because of the former. It was the translation of a civilian's life to a soldier's life. Individualism is no longer a virtue. It is inherently rooted out in BMT. It's not on purpose; there's a fully fledged reason for it. Discipline and regimentation requires order. Order requires obedience. Obedience does not require thoughts.

Most of the time, we have to follow a particular set of orders. The obedience of the orders is absolute and they have to be reacted fast to.

"Just follow my order, don't think about it;" it actually continues fluently in more elegant language.

ID tags, or dog tags. We recieve them on day 1. There are two. Both has the same thing on it. Your name. Your NRIC and your blood type. The rationale behind wearing them is simple. If, touch wood, you die and the manner of your demise causes you to be unidentifiable, one of the tag is placed into your mouth to identify you. The other is given to your parents.

When you recieve the tag on the first day and the meaning explained to you, you know in your heart(or perhaps it's just me) that your life is no longer a priority. Alright that didn't come right. Every soldier's life is important, yes that's true. But once you become soldier, you recieve that responsibility(compulsorily) to protect the people around you. When you receive your gun, there is a long ceremonial process. You vow to take care of the gun and stuff, and at the end of the pledge, you are require to raise your voice and shout "WITH MY LIFE."

I will take care of the gun...protect my country...protect my family...train...WITH MY LIFE." The ceremony, as I said, is a long one and you are required to hold the gun the whole ceremony with your right hand. 4 kg and there is only one method allowed for everyone to hold it. As our company Sergeant Major would say, that is the weight of responsibility.

Interestingly, my blog might be monitored. There is a program within this computer that enable what I am doing to be seen. I don't want to be seen wayanying so the good things of BMT shall remain unsaid. I don't want to be charged with disrect to my superiors, so the bad things remains similarly unsaid.

But I have changed. Not for the better nor the worst. I know I am more responsible now. I doubt punctuality will be as big an issue for me then it was in the past. All the punishments taught me that. With 1 min and a half to shower or with 2 min to head to the toilet and down, you really have no choice. Our watches are syncronised with the lieutanants' watches and 10 seconds of being late rewards us with 10 push-ups. We have a platoon timer who screams the time as he sprints down the stairs, half-dressed. Be there half-naked and you are there. Humilating maybe but you have not broken the trust the commanders have placed in you. I was once a more irresponisble person. I still am now. 3 weeks of BMT has not changed much in the way of time managment. I am lazy as hell, prefering to push what I need to do till the last second. But there it ends. I push it till the last second, thankfully, no longer beyond.

There was a beauty in irresponsibility and I will not regret what I did then. I prioritised my own time over the need for being on time for the other individual. That was self-importance. I doubt I will think any lower of myself; but now lack of punctuality will affect me quite a bit more.

I have became a lot of cynical too. Neither good or bad again and I am that bit annoyed I can't explain what I mean. There are some stuff about BMT I dislike(don't we all). Oh well. Grey area censorship.

Bottom line. Have I learn from BMT? Yes. Would I have learn more(when I speak of learning, I mean it in the most general of sense, friends of mine would know above all else, I love the state of learning best) on my own? Definitely not. Memorable? Certainly. Do I like BMT?

A section mate of mine made the mistake of thinking I loved BMT because I used the word memorable and interesting.

The thing is, if hell does exist, torture devices, pain and all, it would certainly be a memorable and interesting trip there. If you like it, well, everyone has their own taste. You get my gist.

(Redacted)

There's still seven more weeks. Let's not make such a hasty judgement about it.

On existentialism and life

When people speak about life, what do they speak about? What they aim for, for example. What they love. What they despise. There is emotions in their words and much thoughts in their souls. Some of these people actually think about the meaning of life. Some only claims they think about it. For many, the meaning of life is a euphemism for an existential crisis.

Why should we live? The strongest and weakest argument by far is one of status quo. We live because we are already living. It's effortless to live but painful to die. I suppose in a discourse of existentialism, my viewpoints on God would be required. I once subscribed to Agnosticism before realising, no, that's not truly it. Agnosticism has experienced much misunderstandings, I find, especially in a Junior College. People over-simplify its definition. It has become the hip new synonym for atheist. I am probably more of a theist than anything else, though I choose to describe myself as a free-thinker, if only because it's far easier they treat me as such. It is always vaguely amusing how being a theist automatically qualifies you to be a Buddhist/Christian/Muslim.

I am digressing as usual and I realise I don't give a damn. I will go back to existentialism as I continue. Onwards. I have a friend who dislikes relativists. I can understand why. Relativist have the easiest way out of any argument. Morality is moot, as are any opinions in general. Accepting everything is the exact same thing as disregarding everything. I once thought I was one, but I quickly realised I was much too polemical and antagonistic to be a relativist, much less a good one. I am probably similar to an existentialist now. I act with as much ontological responsibility as I am without realistic responsibility. I cannot say I am reproached by Christians or Catholics, no actually fuck it I can. I am exactly the male no staunch Christian doting father will marry off her daughter to.

I once told my friend I went to church with my mom. "You of all people?", she said. We must be the most disquieting people any good religious individual will meet. Not many know what an existentialist is, but what they would feel is what many others who knows the definition would. By ignoring the tenets of any religions, we have create a life in which we have absolute freedom in our choices of morality. There is no moral values that holds any otherworldly authority over us. Yes, we don't kill but we might as well. I don't kill people because it's against the law. Or because it has been drummed into us, a habit. That's a horrible thing to think, people would no doubt feel.

The audacity of the statement. I suppose Satre didn't commit rape only because he would end up in jail. Ask a Buddhist. Or anyone with a religion. For them, it is Wrong. It is Not Right. It is Evil.

I simply cannot find any meaning in life. That doesn't necessitate suicide- it just means I cannot see the end; I cannot see the start, I see the middle and it might as well be invisible. I sound like a hardened pessimist but that's not it either. I do enjoy learning new things, I  enjoy the sight of a pretty girl, I enjoy a good conversation and I enjoy friendship. There are probably a million and one things I haven't yet have the chance to enjoy but will, all the same. The first time I have sex perhaps. Or maybe my first child. Or a good book I have not yet found. Perhaps the first time I scuba dive. I acknowledge the pleasure these activities brought me. I see the happiness they have created. That is not the meaning of life any more than death is. They are simply causations of me living life. If you drive a car, you need to travel from Point A to B. That is why you seat behind the steering wheel. That is its meaning. Enjoying the wind because it's a breezy day is a by-product, a consequence. Life has none of the latter. All of it is the former.

I have yet another friend who told me on Whatapp that the meaning of life is never meant to be found. Life is supposed to be all about finding the meaning of it. She is eccentric, beautiful and hates circular logic. She felt the logic and beauty of her answer was apparent. I suppose circular logic is beautiful in a way. But I never could point out to her its plausible hypocrisy.

And so I live my life, meaningless. It's never aimless; I have as many aims as the sky is broad. But they feel more mundane day after day, hour after hour. I find you cannot be perfectly rational about life and hope to live it meaningfully. Ignorance has to be a key tenet in leading a meaningful life. Ignore the meaning of life and find true meaning in it? For the optimistic and God-fearing individuals perhaps. Never for me.

A Story from the past

Because I am lazy to write just about anything, I think I will put up some stuff I had written in the past. I have a file labelled "Tittle-tattle tales for all". I started it in Primary School and ended it in Secondary two. I wrote stories in the past before giving up. No talent in it whatsoever so screw it. I am also not one of those who derive much pleasure in writing. Sure, it's fun. But it's too bleeding tedious. So till now, I remain a voracious reader and a non-existent writer.

Here is a story I wrote in the past. Anytime I feel lazy, I will just update this story. Copy and pasting is infinitely simpler. Heh. I did realised I seemed to have predicted my own results. Dayum.



Chapter 1: The meeting

Reality was warped. People might have experienced a metaphorical sense of warping, but for me, it was not at all metaphorical. It was a cold bite into my consciousmess. My world had changed and no one could help me.

It started in the campus. I am 21, a university freshman starting on applied physics. It was not a course that had interested me; it just had one of the lowest applicable score required to enter. I am not a hardworking student nor even a meandering one. I am slothlike and procrastination was my second favourite word(favourite being destiny, because with destiny, you don't need to work with a purpose). And that was what I hated alongside happiness. Purpose. Not general Purpose but Purpose in its higher form. I watched Purposeful people eat and sleep, study and shit, obtaining what they had wanted with their life. And I meander, neither studying my heart out nor playing the day off. I was an In-Between. Aimless and Purposeless. This mindset to life landed me in theoretical physics. Perhaps, in another country, with different parents, I might have studied harder. Perhaps physics in MIT. Right now, theoretical physics was a joke in my nation. Pragmatic as my country is, accountancy, law and architecture were what held dominance. They were the highly sought after industries, the ones with all the required As'.

I thought all these as I wandered into the university hall.

"Late I see. It's your first day too," a cold stare from the lecturer.

I quickly sat. To my left, a man with specs. Geeky and freckled, he was fiddling with his phone. On my right was another male listening attentively. I groaned. Physics was male-dominated, depriving me of any chance of flirting. Someone grabbed my leg. I started at the hand enclosing my ankle, pulling away a little. The hand was petite, small and deprived of any watch. The owner sat in front and grinned at me. She scribbled on a piece of paper and tossed it to me.

Purplexed, I caught it.

"Greetings. How do you feel about possibilities?"

I thought for awhile, then replied.

"Irritating. They diminish the importance of reality."

And that hour passed as followed.

"How so?"

"Reality is acted upon with information. Possibility is corrupted information, decreasing the chance of facing reality properly. Eg. I was told I was smart. Smart people around me got what they want. I wanted psychology. I got physics."

"So you are bragging now. And that example is pretty irrelevant, is it not?"

"Not really. I am trying to prove my point. The guy wanting psychology might not be me. Hence, I might not be bragging. But the possibility of me bragging has arose and this will distort the reality of who I am to you."

At this the girl laughed and the professor looked up towards us, irritated.

"You. Laughing girl." he squinted at the white paper-filled name. "Give me in any two words, the nature of quantum mechanics."

"Possible realities."


Chapter 2: The bet

I chomped on a piece of meat, thinking about the girl. She was interesting and pretty. Yes, she's pretty. I couldn't not note her looks. They were there, good looks being inherent, me being a male. I had to check her out. I finished my food and got up. A piece of paper stuck under my plate.The grease had stuck the paper on the table. I grimaced and pluck it out

The Bet.
Aim: To cause reality to be distorted around you
Distortion cannot be proved. It's only an opinion you strongly believe in.
The Victory; Obtained when you...

At this, the paper was torn.

I looked around me but I couldn't find the girl. I understood. It's a test. And a prank. I indulged in these regularly myself. Hence I knew the most difficult component: finding the audience. Once, I created a stunning mystery in primary school, hoping someone would try his or her hands at it. But they never did. I solved the mystery I created myself and there is never fun in that. They are known formally as Alternate Reality Game and the creators, Game masters. Or Puppeteers. Ironically, this one that have been given to me was more of a experiment, an Alternate Reality Game probing the perception of the player pertaining to an alternate reality. Or so I thought.

It was a test, I concluded. The first step to solve it was also the one least used in puzzle-solving. Finding the source of the puzzle. The girl, or course. I looked at the paper. It was in a mottled colour. Coloured papers were not found in our university's bookshop. They were only sold in specialised shops. It was torn. On purpose, no less. To incite curiosity? Or was there a deeper meaning. To ARQ old hands like me, the fastest way in solving the puzzle is for tge source to reveal hidden information in accident. Sure, it was dirty, but the creator of the puzzle wasn't much good if any information flow pertaining to the puzzle wasn't controlled by him or her.

Same time the next day. I walked into the lecture hall, keeping my eyes peeled. The hall was packed but at least pretty girls stood out here. I scanned rows after rows, keeping in mind her petite size. Her size would, ironically, cause her to stand out. But try as I might, I couldn't find her. This is some elaborate puzzle. I sat down as the lecture started and started thinking.

If I were to create a sense of a warped world surrounding an individual, how do I go about it?

One obvious way would be drugs. LSD, Lysergic Acid Diethylamide could do it, but I doubt the girl had it. It had to be something that introduce an impossible puzzle into everyday life. Something so hard to explain it can only be staged. Yet, the difficulty in staging such an event would cause the individual to doubt the existence of the motive. It was, to me, an impossible challenge. And to challenge me. I was experienced in this; and most disadvantageous to the girl, I was a hardened skeptic and realist.

It's impossible. I fingered the paper in my pocket as the professor droned on. Impossible. The professor seemed to agree with me as he nodded up and down.

The rant of inexperience and the lack of cousins

My muscle has atrophied. It was actually pretty easy to check. Two months ago, when I was in the midst of studying for my A levels, frisbee was my life. I looked up videos, searched tactics, ran to make myself faster. I could jump and touch the ceiling with my palms in my house.

I taped a measuring tape to the wall and my jump height was 58cm. I was by no means atheletic so my vertical jump was something I was satisfied by. I don't train so the potential to jump higher with knowledge of the average vertical height was another thing that fueled my frisbee craze. Two months later, after hours of computer games and puzzles and sitting on a damn chair. My jump height has dropped by 5cm. I can feel the significance of the loss of height. It does fill me with a little regret. Something I had enjoyed had reaped me the benefits of height; yet the loss of it was sudden and certain.

Which made me reflect on what I have done. Was it worth it? The opportunity cost of whatever had followed frisbee.

	males		females
rating	(inches)	(cm)	(inches)	(cm)
excellent	> 28	> 70	> 24	> 60
very good	24 - 28	61-70	20 - 24	51-60
above average	20 - 24	51-60	16 - 20	41-50
average	16 - 20	41-50	12 - 16	31-40
below average	12 - 16	31-40	8 - 12	21-30
poor	8 - 12	21-30	4 - 8	11-20
very poor	< 8	< 21	< 4	< 11

Mundane things, to be sure, but not to me. I define my life by learning. But by engaging in the action of learning, I would have decided to stop learning something else. Which is very similar to the concept of libertarianism and determinism. I digress, but I have no cousins. My New Year, indeed, every holiday, is with me and my brother in the doldrum. My aunts and uncles, four of them, know not my blogging. Hence I am free to rant. In exchange for cousins, my brother and I have became the apple of everyone's eye. It's pressurising and I do not enjoy it to say the least. There is a subconscious judgement of which has been placed on both of us. That we do not have any cousins have reinforced the concept that we are mere childs. There is no comparison of growths, no mothering of their own childs. One moment that still frustrates me is when I cross the darn road, one of my aunt still tries to hold my hands.

My mom laughed at that. I digress but I need to show a picture of how I have grown up. It's has mostly been my brother and I- which is probably why we are so competitive. We fulfil the roles of rivals and cousins, of enemies and best of friends. We only have the other to interact and we step in each role perfectly.

My aunt, of course, would have a maddeningly superiority complex. Any argument ends with a shake of a head, a smile and a sigh. You lack experience, they would say.

"Time, aunt, is a perception. Perhaps we merely perceive the stasis of space and time to be the passing of it. That time and space are a movie already played frame by frame, but we have the ability of only viewing one frame at a time, and only in the forward direction. The flaws of a three-dimensional creature."

"You lack experience, boy," *smiles*, "one day, when you grow up, you will know time is time. Cannot be changed."

 But an argument with my brother yields more interesting discussions. Which is why I am bleeding thankful I have one.

"Free will exist. I am a proponent of the Many-World Theory. A choice is merely the splitting of one world into many. Wave-functions collapse. Parallel universes locked in temporal steps, exactly the same except for the choice just made."

"No, it doesn't. I don't support the MWT but in fact, it shows it doesn't. Think of it this way. Make a choice and you restrict the other from making one. He makes a choice and it means He, or You in this universe has made another one. There are no exceptions due to the conditions of the MWT. No choice you make is so individualised till the impact is nil."

"Winner of the next reversi match wins the argument."













\

If I ever have super powers

Disregarding whatever powers I may want to have(because everything sounds good to me), what might be more important would be what I do after obtaining it.

Imagine one day, you wake up. You yawn and try to get more shut-eye. But you know the feeling. The twists and the turns and you just cannot return the the state of sleep you were in. So you laze in bed and only get up after awhile. Opening the door, you broke it. Events followed but suffice to say you realise you have the exact powers Superman has. What would you do?

I am sure confusion is one of the first few things you feel. What to do with it. Perhaps try to fly? You realise you can fly because you levitated above the ground 10 centimetres. Are you going to jump straight out the window? Chances are you will try it on the ground floor(if you live in a high-rise apartment). Caution have to prevail. You don't want to die because you failed to fly the correct way and fell to the ground due to panic.

Human beings are wholly predictable to a certain point. We know this new Superman will panic. He will question, he will accept it. What comes after acceptance? The consequences of the power.

I find it interesting, the resultant action of a man with a power. Immediately, the person will think of similarities. Whatever this Superman does will be with reference to the culture he is in.

He weighs the pros and cons. Not just that, he needs to know the weaknesses. Perhaps he would like to be a bad guy. Rape. Murder. The King of the World doesn't need morals or laws. Power dictates. And so, weaknesses become so very important in deciding the next course of action.

I always wonder about this. What will I do when a ghost appears? What will I do when my best friend commits murder? What will I do if I stumble upon a serial killer on the move; and I have no time to inform the police. The course of action pertaining to each individual is always unique. It branches out. Mostly, it's the same but as time passes, actions are like each individual sprigs of leaves

I think I won't do a thing. I will be too busy being apprenhensive of this unknown that I won't do much. It's 4am. If right now, I have the ability to fly, I won't. And as I type this, slightly satisfied that I have decided to do nothing should the day comes, I realise something. If I obtain the power to control minds, I don't think I will be as timid. But I haven't decided what to do. I know I will do something about it. There's something about mind control that draws you in. And I am equally satisfied I feel that. Ho hum.

I think I am just high.

On experience, depth of thoughts and Othello

I am not in Singapore. So here's a couple of pictures. Blogging overseas is bleeding inconvenient but kinda fun.

That youths are always dismissed is obvious. I have always wondered why that is so(partly because I am one myself). At the first glance, it's because of experience; but that seems one-sided, imbalanced. It suggests an inferiority that is inherent with age. Yes, we should respect our seniors but I would like to know the reason to it. Just like how not respecting anyone gives one too much of an inflated ego, respecting an individual too much washes away personal retrospection- one seeks to much to be someone else, you don't learn who you are.

And I think perhaps, teenagers have something superior than that of adults. Depth of thoughts. It is proven for example, our most active activities pertaining to our brain came when we were toddlers. Our existence was vague to ourself and everything was a mystery. Language, objects, even our own existence. We merely existed and learn from extern stimuli.  But learning. That learning we did surpass any Einstein. Our parents might try to get us to pee, patting our stomachs, putting us on infantile toilet seats; but the final action of peeing was deduced all alone ourselves. When our parents pointed at themselves and said "mama, papa", we had no previous experience of the pointing gesture, or of the difference between common sounds and languages. But we knew. We deduced. Not for nothing can we master languages at the fastest speed before the age of 21. Our minds are the most plastic then.

Adults' biggest mistakes are thinking that their experience triumphs all. And our biggest mistakes is thinking our depth of thoughts triumphs all. Each thinks the other as a negligible trait. Adults hate thinking themselves as lazy thinkers. To them not thinking is the euphemism for stupidity. Yet most don't. It's simply too tedious to do both when experience can substitute thinking. It's tedious for the teachers to treat their students with equivalent respect because superiority makes it so much easier to teach. It's tedious for the parents to treat children as though they learn twenty times faster- simpler to get them to follow the rules. Make no mistakes, there are exceptions. Some do both, and these adults are the one truly worthy for us to learn from. I am not supporting the lack of respect but rather, the tempering of it.

Similarly, youths trust their depth too easily. There's a difference between retouching of a hot kettle and the warning of the danger. Perhaps some don't see it. It's similar to the warning of the dangers of speeding and crashing it after speeding. Such experience leads to death. The only difference between both examples is that the stakes were upped. I have valued my thought processes too highly at times. When I am right, I affirm the righteousness of my thoughts. When I am wrong, I think back to the times in which I was right.

Balance is often the hardest trait to seek out in our lives. The finding of the conditions for both sides is so tremendously hard. As we grow, to consciously maintain our depth of thoughts while welding our new-found experiences together will be one of the most challenging things to do.

The whole of this week was the Japan Othello World cup held at Tokyo, Solamachi. There was the team game, in which it's Team World vs Team Japan. There was also the conventional swiss pairings -individual standing matches. It's not arrogance. Japan is an Othello powerhouse. First, second, third went to a Japanese. And fourth went to Arnand. I was rooting for Makoto Suekini, partly because he worked in Singapore for awhile. While I have never met him, that he came Singapore does differentiate him from the rest. :/

He also excels in subtle complexities. The moves might not the optimum ones but always seek to confuse the opponents.

I have learnt a lot. This few days, I have been begging my aunt to return to the hotel at an earlier time, so I have time to watch the game live and join in the live chat. Yesterday, what made me a little irritated was that I stated a couple of moves in which top rated players(yes, everyone was in that chat, weirdly) chastised my judgement on move 36. I shut up. This, of course, is a very recent personal example of my blogpost. Turns out, as I ran the match(Junya vs Okamoto, for those interested, you can see the match on www.liveothello.com) on a computer playing out the last part of the game in perfect play, I was right. Moments like these made me happy. I know my middle game is pretty strong now; I ran all my moves in the computer and most were similar. My opening is weak and my end-game takes me too long. But I know I am not at the same skill level as I was two months ago. As with skills, you plateau at certain points- and you stay there until you found a way to climb again.

I wish more people share my passion for othello. It would be so much more fun. I know four who did but their passion petered out. My brother is left. Then again, we are brothers. Who else?

Picture 3 is in Kenting. Fucking beautiful places. Picture 2 shows Junya after winning the competition. Six hours of playing top players. Mentally exhausting. Picture 1 shows my correction of Junya and Okamoto's moves. The circles with asterisks means I am right and my moves were better. Circles without means I made a mistake.

Of myself and of failures

I am off to Taiwan tomorrow. And I didn't update my blog again. That does it. I am redefining blogs. To my very own personal definition. I do it while bored stiff anyway. Most of the time, before I begin blogging, I am feeling bored and maybe, a little frustrated. Some blog to keep a log. I guess I do that too. Though the purpose of my blog remains as murky as democracy in China- there's some knowledge of it but you don't know where it starts and ends. I could say I want to end this blog, but that would only be as true as length of my newest hobby. I switch hobbies at will- after all, trying one too long is the missing of another equally interesting thing. So I have dabbled in magic, rubik's speed cubing, entering contest in sudoku, you get it. My skip to other hobbies is usually due to boredom- or just straight pissed off at something. And blogging is one of these hobbies.

These hobbies take a lot of time. Once I drew mazes. Those took up multiple lectures, especially the larger ones. Connected by foolscap papers, they confused the solvers quite a bit and the maker, me, even more. But I stave off boredom(which is also exactly the reason I am fucking worries about my A levels). I see people next to me drooling in their sleep. Some, I see writing stories, others, chatting. But these people, they always work in the end. My friends are always, without an exception, more hardworking than me. They disagree, of course. In every student's mind, no, every slacker's mind, the more they slack off and the higher the marks, the more intelligent they are. It doesn't always need to be about intelligence. It could just be because they need to look good. Or perhaps it's to do with their pride. When one scores 90 with 5 hours of work, an 85 with half an hour is always bragging rights. This is pretty bad stuff, this ego thing but I support the very concept of it. It's counter- intuitive in nature. One forces oneself to forget about the efficiency of studying when there's one superior. And since there's always one superior, one forces himself quite a bit.

And so it goes, the typical Asian student downplays his hard work and shows false modesty. All to achieve a personal sense of superiority. And I wish I was one of them. I am the rare few that achieve horrendous results most of the times, and achieve normalcy in the others. Rare few not because of the results, but because of the work that goes behind it. I do nothing. It's sad really, that I am the real deal. The "slackers" head off for tuition. They do their work, however little it is. They take some semblance of notes. Most of the times, it's enough.

They believe I am with them, the same kind of people. Not hard workers, but workers. Simple workers that do enough to cater to their very defintion of necessity. Sometimes, I exceed my expectations of myself. Some results may be higher than I should have got with the effort I had put in(or the lack thereof). And people uses these to craft the main image of me. Not just me, others obtain these exceptions too. Of course you have done something unexpected in your life. Of course you didn't expect it. But people always use exceptions. It's sad, how people strive for hope. No, not even strive. They wholeheartedly believe in it. It lives in their very soul. Crush the hope and a new one emerge. A hope that hope never fails. Crush even that and yet another one grows upon its corpse. True failure obtains less than it wishes to have. That is a good thing. And yet, I don't think it is for me. Perception so often differs.

Of single moments in life

Single moments. By that, I mean one of two of those moments where you feel at peace. I am not sure actually, whether "at peace" is the right phrase. This sense of not feeling anything at all. Nothing emotionally. Peaceful would be right  I think. The difference between that of the waves of the ocean and stagnant water. Right now, this moment is stagnant. There's no ripple. I do not feel like doing anything- maybe I am a little tired. Only that.

Months ago, I had a moment similar to this. It was in the afternoon. Blue sky, hot as hell, a little chirping. Mostly monotonous. I was boredom then. Emotionless and bored. Now, it's the same thing but instead of bored, it's fatigue. Partly because it's four in the morning and also because I have played so much since the A' levels. I don't know what I might find fun. Everything seem so mundane. I have been dabbling with magic trick. Trilogy from Dan and Dave. Advanced as hell and progress is slow. The whole day has been tiresome.

Well. I do know I anticipate the trip to Malaysia. And next year. Early of the year. Backpacking with my aunt from Osaka to Hokkaido. Tens of kilometres. I cannot wait. Yet, it's the present I am unsatisfied with. If I only look forward to the uncertain future, I seem to be detesting the certainty of the present. Everyone is so darn boring. And me. I bore myself.

It IS four. I think I won't sleep tonight. Enjoy the night breeze and the feeling of having nothing to enjoy. It's enjoyable really, living in a moment with nothing to do right now. :/

The Apocalypse. Well, yes, there's no hard evidence of it. Yes, I know- many people had predicted apocalypses that never did occur. But I do experience tinges of apprehension. I am no fan of Nostradamus. He is vague and is no wise sage. 45 degrees of fire. The Third World War. Our world tends towards chaos and that's what I fear. For every success, we fail at something. Except that we focus on our successes because mostly, it really is more pragmatic.

We get second in a competition and that is a success. But at the same time, it's a gigantic failure. We try not to think of First but we have failed. Win a fight and you lose the ideals of peace and pacifism. Everything requires a sacrifice and every choice we make are of that particular sacrifice to make. I know the possibility of an apocalypse is almost nil. Unfortunately the same was said of the world war. Read the right articles, listen to the right people and you can be persuaded on both sides. That I have to entertain the possibility worries me. It's improbable, an apocalypse, but being a fan of the saying "nothing is impossible" is working against me.

Our lack of knowledge is so profound, it's worrying. But wait. Why would I have to worry about ignorance if I have the apocalypse to worry about? Oh never mind, I will worry about the both of them at once.

Controlled ignorance is not really ignorance at all. Well, I will be in Penang by then. Set to December the 21st my watch and stuff.

It's dark and everyone's stuck at home, playing computer games. Enjoying their break. Some, their prom. But not me. I am torturing myself and I am only half-joking. Training with Eatdisc is enjoyable, truly so. Unless everyone's fit as hell and I am below average. Stamina takes time. Skill level is high. I learn a crap load. Mostly by my mistakes. They throw incomprehensible phrases around. Force home. Third handler role. And I pretend to understand. My throws aren't bad and they are fooled by me. So no one knows I actually know shit about frisbee. I barely even understand the role of a handler. So they taught me. Slowly.

Training's hell to me though. And I am the lousiest frisbee player, easily.

But the learning. Oh joy. So much to learn. The fear of losing. I suck, I truly do. Humiliating. In my school, I wasn't the best but I was quite a bit above average. There, I was the student. I was worse actually. I am really happy. Also kinda why I am blogging in short sentences. I realise I have a habit of blogging in long, convoluted sentences. But I blog in short sentences when I am excited about something. Oh look, I seem to be back at moderately long sentences. Reflection while blogging.

A butterfly I presume. Beautiful and vibrant on the dull ground. Tim found it. I almost stepped on it. Deep in thought about books. We were walking to the library after all. I did subconsciously avoided it. Colouful thingy on the ground I mean- anyone would step over that. And I got another two Orson books. And a wonderful Higashino book. Kinda hard to find though.

And 16th December. Othello Masters Invitational. Playing every night now. I can't wait. I really can't.

My life is fun-filled.

Idealism and big fonts

This is going to be long. Skip to BIGGER FONT for shorter post. Below the long shit.


I have never understood idealism.

Before I start this rant, I have to describe my brother. He's my split image. Extremely competitive and hate losing. Oh, he might tell you he didn't mind the loss; but he is sure to slip in the request for a rematch. And so we compete. Like rivals, us brothers compete and fight and punch. Sometimes, it's mental. Chess, maybe. Or the poring over black and white pieces in Reversi. We had a match today, for example, where he experimented with the Japan Open in 2009 opening. It failed miserably and I capitulated on it, crushing him. And I mock. We both do that a lot. Sometimes, it carries over to the relationships I have with people around me and I become patronising.

Though that wasn't the conflict today. Today was about League of Legends. It's a game where you control an avatar with powers. And the goal is to kill the other team and rack up gold for each kill. With more gold, you get stronger with unique weapons. You win once you bust the other team's headquarter. The headquarter is protected by towers, lotsa them. The game moves slowly, tower by tower, ambush by ambush, till we crush their base. Play this game long enough and you hit the level cap. Then, you get to play a special mode called Ranked.

It's the same in theory but much harder. There are metas and metas within metas. Ambushes become more deceptive, fights become more of a single war of attrition. Everyone gets paranoid. Now, all this has nothing to do with my rant but it sets up what we argued about.

Within the game, there are roles, of course. The one that protects everyone else, the mage, the fighter, the one that roams and start ambushes. There are quite a few.

In Ranked, my brother and I got stuck playing with newbies in one game. Doesn't sounds like much, till you find out each game takes an hour. Since you know you lose from the start, it's lotsa time wasted. Quit and you get a heavy penalty. The game punishes you for quitting to prevent players from indulging too much in throwing the game. People give up easy.

It is always annoying when these players come into the game not knowing a gun from a sword. You know you have lost and you can't do anything about it.

It gets worse. These people, similar to people in real life, like to push their views on people. They want you to fight their way, to buy the items best for you, to play the avatar they want instead of playing an avatar suiting the role of the team created.

Frustrating really. It's an hour long, remember. No one likes to lose from the start and not be allowed to quit. I have hit the level cap, along with my brother- that means 800 games. I have spent 800 hours in this game in the last two years. Quite a bit.

This is where the conflict with my brother and I begin. When these newbies throw a tantrum, telling me to play in a certain way, I play it. I let them control me. I play it damn well though, and slip in advice in the progress. I become the leader without them knowing it. That's how I win the game.

My brother, though, he hates losing. To people. He hates listening to them. Tell him to play character A and he plays B. My mother slapped him once as a child after losing her temper. My brother replied it needed more strength in it. That was when he was eight.

Now, not following what these newbies say would mean the newbies quit the game. They know there's a penalty. But they hardly care. You pissed them off and now, they are throwing a tantrum.

So I follow what they say and craft it to my needs. My brother would rather lose the game and do what he feel is right than follow the wrong advice of others. I win, my brother loses the game.






But with the loss, my brother gained his pride. So which is more important? Losing something but following your ideals? Or winning by being less idealistic in general? The degree of it shouldn't matter to the perfect idealistic man. Once one decided lying is wrong, do you compare the degree of wrong? Is it even effective? Lie to save a life- that one's easy. Lie to keep a friend. Quite a bit harder. Lie to get you out of homework. Morally debatable. Idealism is hard to get right until you decide to look at it more pragmatically. To issue certain degrees to everything, fixed degrees. Lie for A>B>C. 

But pragmatism degrades idealism. Idealism exist above our love for ourselves and others. It's a higher concept we follow even though logic dictates we don't. Really, I think I am right to do what I can to win a game. A computer game, I mean, come on. Why even play it if you had your pride to take care of?

But my brother would hate it. To win because he followed others' stupidity. To win only because he did the stupid things well. Or because the other team was stupider. 

I argued, calling him a fool. But I realise it's hard to tell who is more the fool.

Thinking game.

Some people feels intelligence is not genetic but environmental. This is largely an opinion that might disregard scientific studies- for what we know about intelligence is inconclusive. I know we don't know much so any opinion regarding intellect is often thought over and not dismissed immediately. It's a subject full of hypothesis I guess.

I am not sure where I stand in the intelligence thing. I am sure it's genetic; almost everything is. But at the same time, it should be obvious that the environment(education, books and whatnot) plays a part. There are extreme. Some feel that everyone's like a flower, blossoming away under the ideal education. Others feel that people are born trees- growth is slow and often negligible.

But really, it's often the definition of intelligence that is important. People care so much about it, even though it is an unknown. What they care about becomes the perception of the definition they feel others have. You do things you feel people might think is smart in order to have them regard you as smart. But in this whole exchange, the true definition of intelligence is hardly touched upon. No one knows what it is and if anyone were truly intelligent(by MY definition this time), they would know that.

So, if definition is impossible to define accurately, what do we have? What can we do? We have our thoughts. Our thoughts are our own. What people link to intelligence, I find, is simple thinking. My school's principal calls it critical thinking and has her definition of it. I believe it's flawed. Her critical thinking has morale, it has cross-referencing. While not entirely wrong, thinking ought to be much simpler.

Frankly, I don't believe in critical thinking. Critical thinking implies two different set of thinking, one's the normal kind and the other, the critical kind. To me, you think, or you don't.

Many has the habit to not think. Lazy thinkers. For example, chess. Learning chess is akin to only thinking when and how you like it. When you learn chess every Wednesday at 9pm, that is exactly the same as thinking every Wednesday at 9pm. That is, you "strain" your mind every Wednesday. Mental fatigue. But since you can train physically, thinking long hours, everyday every minute should be one's aim. Thinking is having your brain follow logic links. Not one link but multiple. Sherlock Holmes is a good example, if only heavily exaggerated.

You look at a puzzle and you think not one move, but multiple moves. In chess, you think about the opening but also the setting up for the mid-game. Only in life, when you get around, do you use a single logic link. You see the red on a tap, you think hot water. That's not thinking. Alright, that is- but it's so rudimentary that it might as well be a muscle memory, an instinct. Some people say they hate chess. When asked why, they will reply it's because it's a waste of time. Some says it's tiring. And that's the mindset many have. Little think fully and carefully. Most apply their thinking in single subjects- programming and expect opinions of their intelligence. Or reversi. Or math competitions. Worse still, they might stagnate. Best case scenario, you become a savant. Worst case, you are merely someone who is more competent than another who doesn't know his C++ to Python. But you lose so much more in life. Because you restrict yourself. Because you only want to think one thing. Just like 9pm chess.

My friend called it neuro-hacking. I still have little idea what it is, other than a fancy term than teaching yourself things many think unlikely to be taught. You get tired at first. But after a while, you think more. It might sound presumptuous of me, but life becomes a puzzle. Which is my mindset to life. Of course, others might find it less puzzle-like. It's only my metaphor. Too many intelligent people think only when they feel others expect them to. Someone thinking would apply it in all forms of life. Drink and think and you might invent a way to shorten the process. Should we gulp? Is it healthy? Read others' expression. From there, know what they hate and like. Make more friends then.

Oh, and someone asked why don't I post this on facebook. That's because I don't want to argue with people. I want to, actually, but I want to argue with people who are arguing because they disagree, and not because they think they can argue and thus want to argue. Roshan post his musings on facebook. But that's alright because they are all inspirational in nature. Arguing against those would means everyone looking at it looks down on you. Mine's a little more inflammatory in nature. My blog goes out to passer-bys who don't know who I am. It goes out to me too, so when I grow up, I get to argue with myself. I get to criticize things I feel stronger about. I think about how I think, in general. I even think about how I argue how to think.

Top 10 most read books.

I was looking through my old favourite book list. Ender's Game was first- is still first. It's always easier to find the better books through the last decades than in this one. People read more in the past; books were almost respected then. Now, depending on where you go, it's almost an elitist entity. Worse still, those that read, they read bad stinking books. Try as I might, I cannot see how one would call Hunger Games "original". Or the couple in Twilight loving. And please. I read them. I read the whole series of Hunger Games, right up to where Snow got shot. I read Twilight. I know what happened to them both.

I read them because if I were to denounce them, I better had read them. Hunger Games isn't bad the way Twilight is. Neither are the worst books I have seen. But they aren't the best. So why-oh why, is Twilight in the top ten most read books in the last 50 years? Darn. 

I can understand why Kafka isn't there, too old. Perhaps Grisham, too single-genre. Or King. Too scary. Maybe Orson Scott. C isn't there because people dislike science-fi. 

But Twilight. I can never get over the fact that that many people liked it. It's next to Gone With The Wind, dammit. And that was a classic. I don't want people to give my children a book list in which Twilight saga is a classic. Harry Potter is alright. My children can go ahead and read them. It is one of the best mainstream fantasy in awhile. And Bible. I sure hope my children read the Bible. I would want them to learn from it and make their ow choices about God. I think it might be too late for me. But my children- I will pop down every religious texts I find, slide them between Enid Bylton and Dahl. The Little Red Book. I am not sure about that. Some would find non-fiction dry. They don't need to read that one. 

I hope they read Twilight too. And laugh. They need to laugh at how it sold 43 million copies in 4 years. I will lend them Dracula. Read the original vampire tale I will tell them. 

I doubt book ninth is helpful. It can't spawn 30 million rich millionaires. Life don't work that way. Either my children write one or not read one. Tenth is a clincher. And fourth. I can't force them but I loved it more than Harry Potter. Not sure how many still do. And all these books I am writing now about- they aren't a rare find. They are a dime-a-dozen in the library. Most know of it. They just don't read it. I am not coming out with more esoteric Japanese authors. Nor even older ones like Flower for Algernon or Shadow of the Hegemon. Those, they have to find themselves and be proud of it when they do.

I cannot force them to read books I like. But I hope they read books they like. Better than not reading at all.

And being a reader of Twilight and also part of the general male populace, God, no Twlight. 

Reflections last night dreaming

My mom's a Catholic and my father's a Buddhist. That makes the luckiest boy on the block since I get to learn both and to reject both faith. I believe in a higher power. I would pray to someone, anyone, except that the restrictions of an organised religion makes my cynical mind flinch. The idea that someone exist who is an entity that have created it is sound- at least, in some ways. The advantages in believing in a moral higher entity is advantageous(though that makes religion sound pragmatic) and is rational.

The Devil's Proof is only for impossible situations. Not knowing something exist also equates to the lack of proof that something doesn't exist. And therein lies the main reason I don't have a religion.

Plus, come on. Pray to any God and the other strike you as a heathen. I would rather abstain from this vote. This way, I might still get struck by at least one but I need not worry whether I casted my vote right. I am pretty critical of religion, but only because the speakers of some of them are really really fucked up and discriminatory. If there's anything I hate, it's hypocrisy.

Still suspending my judgment on gay rights. I don't hate them- and should gays be criticized? Should there be a negative outlook on them by the Christian community? If there should be, is it rationally sound?

Religion. Bloody complicated stuff. Instead of entering one and rationalising that my thoughts belong to myself, that I can take my own meanings from it blah blah blah, I would rather read the Bible, the Quran and sutras. This way I learn and need not commit.

Don't hate religion though. Some atheists too. They are idiots. Mostly, they do it for the superiority.

"Oh you believe in god? What a retard." And this more or less sum up some of my atheist friends. Great people, modest and all but only speak to them about religion and...bam. Make no mistake, such a mindset is not just of the more radical folks. What a sad world we live in. So nuanced there are no longer just extremes but shades of them.

Busy ant at work

It has been a long time. Couple of days since the Big As' and I am sure every A levels' bloggers are like me- not updating the blog due to the fun of it all.

Ever since it ended, I have been at a loss. A quote from a friend would be "losing meaning in life." A joke, but a joke with intent to mock. It's quite true. Being Asian, study is everything. And even for those lazy buggers, when A levels come, they study anyway. Hours after hours spent at the table. It's not fun. Not sticking your butt on the chair for at least 3 hours guarantee a guilt complex of some degree. I still think studying makes one stupider. So there.

What have I been doing since it ended? Actually, I have little idea. It has been a flurry of activities. Frisbee, most of all. And computer games. Like most people my age, computer gaming is a huge part of our lives. The only thing that differ is the games and the degree. But I detest the long hours. It's the concept of diminishing returns. Many don't feel it but the fun you get lessen with the time you spent. It's tiring and it's straining. Frisbee remains my favourite sport for now- and I indulge in chess and reversi. Reversi/othello- I hope I end up in the national team within the next 2 years, not counting in National Service(where we serve our country with flair and glory). For frisbee, I don't have a structured coach, I learn from people who have one though- and we are know how that all goes. Learn from someone moderately compepent and you match your skill level to a percentage of his. It's that darn inferiority complex. You improve insofar you realise your mistakes. Few realise that when someone is teaching and you reach his or her standards of the subject taught, you hit a plateau. That is, improvement stops.

It's how long one spend there that counts in the ability to reach the next highest level. I don't think I can play for the country- the training is harsh and tiring. I lack the willpower. I think I am a fast learner- I know, I know, that's what everyone says. Problem with that is once you think you understand yourself, you either don't, or people think it's arrogance.

"Kinda of a heads you lose tails he win" situation. Anyway. I am playing frisbee with my brother and training with teams with national players in them. Top Club level. Not National. But this way, I get to see the National players at play in their club.

If it sounds confusing, it's kinda like a first- position Brazil club in Division 1 compared to Brazil's national team level. When they play, the score's gonna be 2-0, 3-1. Not a trashing but since Brazil took most of the best club players, it's an obvious outcome. Ceterus Paribus.

So yes. This holiday. It's all about stopping my boredom and in the process, get darn good at the stuff I like.

An essay and a game and plenty of luck

I do hope I get a good mark. Good luck to everyone reading this blog, whether you be driving, playing, making love, having a test, having a national test or taking a break. We all need(to believe that) luck(exist).

Speaking of which, here's another game. I have jsut been playing Kongregate the past few days. None of those Angry Birds Cliche shit. No no no, not withstanding the mechanics of the game, it is quite an interesting game. But people have to know. There are better games. There are games that brings about more fun. There are games that bring about more excitement. And sometimes, reflection.

http://www.kongregate.com/games/2DArray/the-company-of-myself?acomplete=the+company+of

A game where melancholia is the key and isolation the issue. Pretty special, this game. It made me think. Games that make people think is always good. Because games like these are different to everyone. It incite different responses; reactions to them are different. There are people who find the game boring. If so, let me know. Find it interesting and fun? Let me know too. It's always interesting to note those who thought of the game differently as do I.

And now as I try to frantically stop typing and head back to work, I realise I DO have something I can put up. Something I wrote on the bus. This was my reflection after a Student Development Lesson ended. To those unaware. an SD lesson is where the school teaches you morals in the form of guiding critical thinking. Sometimes, it is relevant; other times, it's plain irritating as they spout cliche moralistic viewpoints. Critical thinking is a malleable form of thought process, not a specific staggered instruction list. It is often impossible to teach. Learning by yourself reaps better results, as do everything important and impactful in life.

{It's pretty boring. Just prepping anyone first}

The problem of pain has been a prominent one whether we considered it in the doctrine of Christianity or in the contemporary agnostic context. For pain pits in it the most detrimental proofs of God's non-existence; at the same time, it shows one of the strongest and paradoxical proof in the annals of the Bible. 

Let us first set out the context of the argument for God. 

1. God loves us. 

2. God is all powerful and all knowing.
3. God is good.

And the question of pain stays. Why are we experiencing pain if God loves us? Obviously, the Bible find it self-evident that God's love for us justifies the need to show us pain. Thus, carrying on that line of thought, pain is good. God is good and has to teach us to follow his definition of good. Hence, pain. Christian theology explains pain as a way where we learn from our mistakes. It emphasises our free will that is presented to us by God. That we are not following God's specific instruction. Rather we are like a loyally trained termite to a human master. We are small, insignificant but we are not wholly predictable. This is similar to the termite who is trained to flip and spin. The master, all powerful human being, controls much of its action but not its minute movements. The human can choose to kill the termite but will be hard pressed to command the termite kill himself. If so, God will no longer be the being we assume He is.

Another theory comes to mind- that God can but does not want to. Then we must question- why this misgiving? Why hand us free will when you know we will make mistakes? It follows that He would want humans to have the best of everything when he creates us. And so God makes us in his image, which is the closest to perfection as singularly possible. For God exists alone and without companions or equals. This is not the question of subjectivity, as would what many atheists might think. For what is subjectivity than the allure of committing to the idea of multiple viewpoints? With only one presence, perfection is simplistic and singular. The second and his much more precious gift is that of free will. God has free will. That or he is subjected to the same rules as us. Of non free-will and is but a lowly creature crawling on a plane higher than us, but lower than a truer God. The third option is not mentioned by me due to the laughable nature of it: that we have free will and God does not. Unfortunately, that would signify our superiority. If He truly exists, being more lowly than us is or course, not an option. We turn our focus on the two points. Are there multiple Gods in a hierarchical tree? Our current Christian God, Father of all, slow to anger, kind etc, certainly did not seek to inform us. But a few clues, unnoticed, shows otherwise. Jesus was treated as a man till he ascended. His apotheosis was gradual, with disciples and stories of miracles and sacrifices. If he was made into his rightful status, a powerful deity, he was done so by God. Complete with free will of course.

Jesus, forgive my blasphemy, is a human. But let me extend my definition of a human. A human is not just a physical entity. It is an ideal, a spirit representative of God trying to create a "master of birds" and "tamer of lands". We are His piece of perfection and superiority. We are His creation. Humans mean just that- his best creation. By the same line of reasoning, Jesus was created. Because, at first, there was nothing. It took God six days and no one helped Him. Jesus, free will and all, is our better. He is a more perfect human, complete with a superior sense of morality(defined by God of course). He has powers we possess not; does that make him any less human? Yes, if you consider a mentally handicapped child inhuman. He sits at the right hand side of the Father and this is also the strongest perception of his inferiority. Jesus, a human, suffered the most in the Bible. He felt pain to no uncertain degree yet he was willing to endure them. He was our better but he had a name. Jesus Christ. The existence of God was just that- all names given would be nothing but an insulting label. We dare label our creator with self-thought names. We have not the temerity to carry out such an action. "God" was enough, a status, not a name.

God is all powerful and all knowing. Now, we seek to define what truly means to be all knowing. He knows every happenings that had happened and will happened. Or perhaps that is flawed. He remains ignorant about our future(and even that is debatable) but has the correct moral code that should, ideally, govern human beings. We are wrong and he is right. For if the status of all-knowing fails to show why our sins were truly evil and our goods good, then God cannot be always right. He is then a flawable creature.

The 69th post. Heh.

It's weird. I have always wondered on why people found themselves right. How they found themselves right too. I know how I do it. The links. I link one reason after another. Slowly. Carefully.

If my stomach growls, there's a reason. It could be because I have a tumour but that's near impossible. Hunger is the most valid option. I can be wrong but selecting anything else makes the probability of a wrong choice greater than the standard reasoning- that of hunger. Rationality is not cold. It's not mutually exclusive from emotions.

Thus I cannot get why so many people are illogical. Not just about love- I know how that one can be illogical, but about things in general.

Recently, an acquaintance(a word for when you are not friends, quite sad in its usage, really), wrote up a university application on why Socrates was stupid. That was pretty interesting, or so I thought. A satirical piece? It was not till later I read all his applications and all of them were horribly controversial. Why? Why the human love for controversy?

He went on to argue that Socrates was stupid because his essay was dumb and his essay was dumb because no one could really prove with any certainty they were smart. A teacher warned him incidentally. Writing an essay, arguing for the stupidity of a highly regarded man is impossible. Unless you are smarter. Unless you came up with a form of cogent argument that shows all his teachings to be utter rubbish.

Your name would then resound around the world. You would be famous; statues built everyone to commemorate the great thinker, you.

Why then? Why would this acquaintance of mine reply to the teacher that his essay is interesting and stand out?

Inserting a beatific piece of writing about how a recently proven article shows a long penis corroborate to a high intellect and then continuing to state that you believe the professor currently reading it would of course possess an extremely large genital is interesting. It stands out. It shocks. It even praises in a not so subtle fashion. That the professor would give the university placing to him is another thing altogether.

I was irritated enough to give him shitty advice. I hope I won't get punished for this, retribution, hell, bad karma. I told him I changed my mind, told him the essay was good and told him to use the same essay for every application. I wish him all the best and hope for his sake the readers found it intelligent.

Oh fuck this. I haven't study all day. Nothing away rather.

Here's a game for those who is taking the A levels, have something next week and have studied the whole day. Or anyone just looking for a break.

http://www.kongregate.com/games/Coolio_Niato/light-bot

It's programming on a cuter, simpler level. Watch out for level 10. Programmers said that was hard. Ho. Not for anyone who hat spending time on puzzles.

I lied.

Oh fuck it. I am going to make this a diary AND a place to put my rants.

Frisbee. Anyone up for it? New cleats.

Ho ho bloody ho.