Ok, finally got around to changing the introduction text. But as you can see, I'm too sianz to write a proper one, so am going to blabber on in hopes that you will get an idea of what sort of person I am by guessing. Yeah, the format of this blog is crap. I haven't got around to fixing it. Later lah.. Much later...
Some people are just born with the natural intolerance to the untruth.
That makes us bad liars. That doesn't mean we lie any less; nor does it mean we lie for any nobler reasons. It just means more effort is required for us to lie, and for us to make the lie convincing. While for others, lying 10 times makes the 11th time easier, for us each lie is like a fresh cringe - forever waiting for the temerity of the lie to come back and bite us.
And of course, the untruths discomfort us more than you would understand. That doesn't mean the truth hurts us any less, it just means we'd prefer the hurt of the truth that to have the uncomfortable knowledge of the blatant untruth.
In a time and place where untruths are celebrated.. I guess it's to be expected that the truth no longer means much. The untruth is something to be proud of, something to strive for. Personified, the truth is but an aged monarch - extended respect only out of courtesy - a shadow to the politician basking in adoration.
ME signed off at 12:32 AM
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
118th entry
"If, tonight, the most beautiful prostitute in the village came in here, would you be able to see her as neither beautiful nor seductive?"
"No, but I would be able to control myself", the saint replied.
"And if I offered you a pile of gold coins to leave your cave in the mountain and come in and join us, would you be able to look on that gold and see only pebbles?"
"No, but I would be able to control myself."
"And if you were sought by two brothers, one of whom hated you, and the other who saw you as a saint, would you be able to feel the same towards them both?"
"It would be very hard, but I would be able to control myself sufficiently to treat both the same."
It was all a matter of control. And choice. Nothing more and nothing less."
- The Devil and Miss Prym
Sometimes I have feelings, thoughts, instincts, desires, emotions. I feel guilty, because I can't control them. I can't control having fears, making snap judgments, my personality, irrational desires, evil thoughts, loving people, disliking people.
But what I can control is my behaviour. I can give, I can abstain; I can pretend, I can make an effort; I can smile, I can try, I can let go. It is not the within that finally defines us - it is the outside. Our actions and choices, are what leaves a mark at the end of the day.
ME signed off at 12:16 AM
117th entry
Insanely vomit-inducing, talking to people who give a "mm", "so-so", "nothing", "dunno", "yeah", "no", "ok", to...
EVERY SINGLE BLOODY THING YOU SAY.
"Did you watch XXX movie?"
"No."
"... hmm. ok. Then are you planning to watch it? It's quite nice. It's about Puff the magic dragon climbing up the candy tree of life to get a honey spun daisy to save princess peach."
"Maybe."
After a while I give up, and start to yabber on along whatever I like - until I start to feel as if I'm one of those crazy old ladies who have very engaging one-sided conversations with her cats.
Total conversation killers. Would it kill you to add an additional elaboration that I can build on? Why do you insist on starting a conversation if you're going to talk as much as a dead dog?
I could have had a better conversation with a blank wall. In fact, please go sit quietly in one corner - you and I would have a lot more fun that way.
Worse still are people who agree with EVERY, SINGLE, BLOODY THING THAT I SAY.
If I wanted my opinions rephrased and answered back at me, I would rather talk to myself.
ME signed off at 12:06 AM
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
116th entry
#1: First fight
When I was young, I fought with a very important person. I believed that I was in the right, she believed that I was in the wrong. We both couldn't say sorry, couldn't make the first move - because we felt so strongly of our righteousness, because our pride wouldn't let us feel the sting of being thought of as the one in the wrong - the 'loser'. In one day, we never spoke again.
Now I keep remembering how I made things into a game back then. There were no winners or losers - only things to lose. I didn't feel the danger of losing it until it was too late to reclaim it back again. So now I'd rather have less pride, because now I can see which one I'll have less regrets losing.
