Yeah, today is my brother's 12th birthday. This basically means it is 3 months away from my own birthday. Duh, it falls on 28th of June.

That was the main aim of my post. I bet you haven't realised.

**

Just pulling your leg, bastards. Not like you really care, but since Yuan Han (yes my younger brother) is 12 and taking his Primary School Leaving Examination (PSLE) this year, I hope he scores 252 and above.

I know, I'm a (insert a word full of praise) sibling with lofty aspirations for my younger brother. Come on, I don't even mind him surpassing my apparently wonderful PSLE score.

**

Wait, Newcastle has lost 4 games in a row.
Wait, Panic! At The Disco does not sound like Fall Out Boy!
Wait, Major League Baseball is starting next month.
Wait, so much crap is piling onto me I have to reside underground soon.
Wait, next match's on Thursday.

WAIT, PRELIMS START IN 3 weeks.

**

Then again, Happy 12th Birthday Cheng Yuan Han!



(Detractors often state my posts don't make sense.)

Looking from 11 floors down, nothing seemed so insignificant. Nothing more insignificant than himself. Nothing more inferior, useless and pathetic. He wasn't crying anymore. Wiping away the last assault of tears with his bare hands, he looked up at the sky. There was no cheery sunlight, only dark grey storm clouds. The dark grey substance of pain, denial, devoid of love and hope. The setting seemed to fit it all - his meaningless life, and then end of it all.

Looking back, perhaps it was because he didn't live up to expectations. Yet, many others were worse off than him. Did they ever contemplate committing suicide? Perhaps they did, but they never got around to doing it - maybe they knew somebody held them in high regard, maybe somebody cared. However, nobody cared about him, a under-achieving little brat. 16 years into his life, he barely had anything he could call his own. He got what he wanted, but something always seemed to be missing. Nothing seemed to fit. It was like a jigsaw puzzle with half of its pieces gone, humanely impossible to put into place properly. Truth be told, his studies weren't terrible. Then again, he was too anonymous to make a mark. The same went for everything else he did. He was yearning for recognition, to hear the mention of his name. He was yearning for a soul-mate, yearning for a confidant. Nothing ever came his way. No comfort, no love, just pure pain hatred and disgust.

Nobody really treated him badly, but perhaps they didn't even bother at all. Nothing was worth it. He wasn't doing this out of folly. The past few weeks were filled with despair, dejection and despondency. He decided it was time to go with the wind, to leave unnoticed, to leave alone and to stop being a burden.

He closed his eyes. Darkness engulfed him. A loud 'plop' followed. Half a minute later, there came a loud shriek from a lady.

Shoot me. This is downright fucked.

So here I am. Ignore my last post, because I'm going to save on the shampoo. Since the dear discipline teachers really love people with short hair, I'm going to part with my hair.

For real.


So Eddie, get ready.
Plus all those I'm going to drag along.


Perhaps I'm going to just cry to sleep tonight - right. I can't be bothered now. So it's fun catching people with long hair? I'm wondering what you can do with people who don't have enough hair? Suspend them? It won't be long before somebody sports a skinhead.

At least it won't be me, but I can assure you one thing.

I'm going to charge 2 bucks for every touch of my head. It's a valuable thing, a bloody good way to earn big bucks.

We must have our own views and opinions.
Succumbing to peer pressure is really bad - it shows that you lack character.

WE MUST RESIST EVIL FORCES AND THE DARK SIDE.
Really...

I want my hair!
Urgh.


We play with caps, so what's the mattter?
This is crazy.

Obedience - Dutiful or submissive behavior with respect to another person.

Discipline - Training expected to produce a specific character or pattern of behavior, especially training that produces moral or mental improvement.

Somehow or another, people tend to mix the two of them up. In fact, the line separating this two may be thin, but it is a glaring one. Obedience, especially being obedient to elders, is expected under most circumstances. However, can we expect discipline from everyone? Does it really branch out from obedience? Perhaps it is a higher form of discipline. Perhaps it is a totally different aspect. Personally, I think that such things vary among individuals; what matters is how you treat these two behavioral patterns.

Contrary to popular belief, I've noticed not every obedient individual succeeds. No doubt there's more than a fair share of docile ones around, but one thing's for sure: obedient is not equivalent to motivation. On the other hand, discipline breeds motivation like oxygen breeds combustion. Why is that so? Because disciplined individuals know how to differentiate between what 'needs to be done' and what is 'needed to be done when told'. They put in their utmost effort in everything they do, simply because they want to do it. Ponder: Who would falter first in the face of temptation? The answer seems to be crystal-clear.

I'm not trying to play down the fact that we should not be obedient; I'm just trying to say that there is a glaring lack of disciplined individuals. Furthermore, most people just throw obedience and discipline into the same basket. It is most alarming to hear such claims, 'What's the difference between those two? Both of those types are the same, damn it! Idiots who don't have their own opinions.'


Well, I'm still working towards being a disciplined individual. Falling back on obedience isn't helping my case. Perhaps, it takes a bit more time. Afterall, discipline isn't conjured up in a night - that is the essential difference between obedience and discipline.

You can tell an obedient person what to do anything, anytime, anywhere. But can you leave the same person alone and expect him to do what is required of him?

Try, maybe you'll find out.

For nothing more than pure evil resided in this unearthly creature - it neither resembled anything human nor anything animal. It committed atrocities without any sense of remorse. It took down anyone and anything, for its evil consumed whatever that got in its way. Looming over a congregation of women and small children, it annihilated all of them without hesitation. Terrifyingly gargantuan, with two glowing slits for eyes, its invasion of earth was unheralded.

Nobody could come up with sufficient firepower to overcome this 'monster'. It didn't budge upon encounter with weapons of mass destruction, let alone standard artillery. Was it specially fortified? Was this the 'unearthly edge' scientists and civilians alike had been proclaiming? No one knew, for they were unsure whether they would even live to see the day of such reassurance. No one was sure they could live through the next twenty-fours. This mass of impenetrable material was advancing at an astounding speed.

10,000 men with an abundance of gut, undaunted by the Grim Reaper, tried to stop it in its tracks. Even the purest of bravery was unable to impede its progress.


The destruction of Earth by an extra-terrestial ensued.

As the last of the remaining humans looked up at the purple sky and took in the rancid air polluted by the stench of death, a beam of white light shone through.


A whisper of a feminine voice filled their ears.
'For it is not another's doing, but your own.'


**

Don't bother, because that didn't make sense.
Inspired by 'The Taking' by Dean Koontz, one way or another.

Leaving for Kallang soon, SRC's coming up. Everything's taking place in a flash. Here, there, everywhere. The Nationals are coming up - 22nd March. Training stops on the brink of the end of the Nationals. Life tends to get monotonous, you know.

Each living human being has his/her own beliefs, values, morals - all of which contributes to part of our self-identity. Some establish their self-identity at an early stage; some are constantly pursuing it, whereas others are asserting their self-identity continually. Having faith in your self-identity can do you no harm. However, when one places too much emphasis on their self-identity, it will gradually mutate into selfishness. A fine line separates these two, but once your balance is swayed, defecting will be no feat; asserting your own self-identity mutates into blatant selfishness.

As mentioned, some really do have a clear picture of their self-identity. Having such a lucid impression, it will not be laborious for him to strive towards his goal. In fact, people with such defined self-identities tend to achieve more than those who conform readily. Those who are constantly pursuing their self-identity might not comprehend its true meaning; some go on an endless search to be unique and end up no more common than the Average Joe.

Having a self-identity is not trying to stand out from the crowd; on the contrary, it is what you believe in and the way which your actions echo it that moulds it. A seemingly unremarkable man might be more extraordinary and outstanding than what you deduce from his exterior. One who possesses a gorgeous outer shell might lack a basic belief, a self-identity - caving in to pressure every now and then. Such organisms who lack a self-identity transform so rapidly and with such regularity that they barely appear human.

Those who assert their self-identity, albeit positively, will face resistance and patronization every now and then. Yet, such people will barely be inclined to alter their self-identity - they are absolutely sure of what they have put their faith in. Frankly, defining one's self-identity is not an easy task. However, as one grows and matures, the clarity of it all might increase, the routes which need to be taken might appear less treacherous, and the pieces of the jigsaw might just fall in place. That is not the case for every person, but it is something we should strive towards. The cold hard fact is that one without a self-identity is no different from a backboneless creature - a simple organism with nothing to fall back on in times on crisis, constantly grasping onto air for support and living nothing more than a meaningless life.

Perhaps, it is not too often that one crosses the fine line and turns to selfishness. Conscious of the change or not, the signs tend to materialize at a gradual rate : concerned with only one's self, ignorant of others. Selfishness is despised by many, but displayed by no less. Not all arise with respect to self-identity, but the cruel reality is that there are such cases.

Selfish people might not readily accept criticism; some may even disregard it totally. Perhaps by accepting criticism, the implication is that they might not get the best for themselves. Perhaps they might lose the benefits if they accept criticism. The exact mindset of a selfish person I do not know. Then again, they are not that tough to decipher. Self-absorbed in a sphere of their own and accepting only the best, selfish people try hard not to stick out like a sore thumb. Nonetheless, they still do it with relative ease. Thinking he/she is always right might not be a deciding factor in calling one 'selfish', but stubbornness is also a common attribute among such people. Even when they do think they are wrong, they might go around irritating everyone about how they feel so terrible being wrong. Obviously, the common person would stop lamenting and start searching for feasible solutions.

Self and selfishness transcend the barrier of words; to read will not improve our understanding of these two matters drastically. Instead, one must experience the process of cultivating a self-identity. One must witness the actions of a selfish person. One must be able to differentiate appropriately and have an opinion. One can and should have his own self-identity. The possibility of veering off-course still remains. Perpetual concern of one's self is the root of selfishness, and thus, life is corroded, reduced and wasted.


**


I haven't been blogging for quite a few days. In fact, this beats the record of me not blogging hands down. (in a period of time where I was in Singapore and had access to the Internet.) Secondary 4 life, has in one way or another, asserted its influence on me. For your information, what I just blogged is my schoolwork - due for submission tomorrow. 100% identical, word for word.

I shall keep my commentary on recent happenings short, sharp and precise. Yet, words can't really encompass the feelings coursing through my veins. I'm truly awestruck by the moronic actions committed by some. It's as if fighting is a co-curricular activity during school hours: brawls are occurring at every corner of the school, at every time of the day, involving any and every single type of uncivilised brats. It's turning pretty chaotic, and it is truly a devastating and depressing sight. I wonder what's going to happen in the near future; I foresee more anarchy and reckless behaviour. Indeed, with the departure of such an influential figure, we're faced with a weird sense of longing, a strong desire for him to be back; yet we know we never really welcomed him in the first place. The irony of the situation...


**


To add on to my troubles, I've been going ballistic at random times of the day. Something disconcerting happened two nights ago. Initially, I thought it would never pester me again. Convinced of its departure, I have been sleeping comfortably for the past year. I do not have any inkling whether it comes about because of the compounding stress; it arrived stealthily during the period last year when everything came quietly crashing down. I don't know how many of you know how it feels.

To struggle silently when your eyes are closed; unable to breathe, engulfed in darkness, conscious yet desperately helpless. I'm not joking here - everytime this occurs, I don't sleep well.

And I'm terrified.

Disregarding the scientific aspect of this word, metamorphoses (the plural of metamorphosis) is defined as either a transformation, as by magic or sorcery or a marked change in appearance, character, condition, or function. I am under the impression that the previous sentence was lengthy, but the show must go on.

When the word metamorphosis is mentioned, the first word which comes to mind would be 'change'. At least that's the case for me. Everything changes, everyone changes. A caterpillar feeds on leaves, leaves and more leaves, and then it makes itself a cocoon so as to smoothly transform into a butterfly. A simple example of metamorphosis we're all familiar with. Nymphs to dragonflies, cubs to bears, puppies to dogs, and thousands and thousands more examples to cite. Nature provides an infinite number of metamorphoses, taking place every single second. As I'm typing here, a snake might be shedding its skin, a calf might have just been born. The point I'm trying to raise here is unmistakable. The world cannot function if it's at a standstill for eternity - remaining stagnant, not evolving, devoid of augmentation and blatantly lacking in change.

We need metamorphoses. In fact, it's an integral part of survival - adjust, change and adapt, adjust, change and adapt. So does every single human - the only (or just a) higher form of life - boast an astounding ability to adapt and acclimatize rapidly? Sadly, the answer is no. I'm not proclaiming I possess such a quintessential quality of those at the pinnacle of success. In fact, I am shamed to say that I adapt dilatorily. Slow and blatantly unimpressive.


Humans undergo metamorphosis too. We all recall the pubertal stages of our lives. The exterior shell, our human body wasn't the only change we had to endure. The sudden mood swings, differing opinions, mounting stress, accumulated trivial problems all contribute to the metamorphosis. Some might try to conceal the changes, but others might put in all their effort to make it explicit, just different methods of dealing with it. Yet, does our core remain untainted? Does the mechanism which churns out all our naive and innocent thoughts strive on uncontaminated? Or does it mature as a whole, together with our ever-changing anatomy? Is a balance achieved? Or, unfortunately, does that vital mechanism succumb to invitations to self-destruction? We might push all the blame to our surroundings, the environment which we reside in, the vile air which we breath in and the scum which perpetually corrupt the Planet Earth.

Well, do something about it, before it does something to you.


**

On another note about metamorphoses, watch out, be alert, and look closely again. Something's going to hit you out of the blue before you know it. It'll not conform to your original impressions of stereotypes. Like I've been reiterating, scrutinize your surroundings for a sole reason and only one reason because it'll be big, it'll be big baby.

A nondescript teenager slumped at one corner of the wall. Overcome by disappoint, yet filled with that sense of overwhelming relief - feelings so contrasting it was tearing at every crevice of his brittle anatomy. Had he done enough? Was it really sufficient? Nibbling at his fingers, a by-product of constant insecurity and nervousness, he sought the answers from the far reaches of his mind and his fragile heart. He knew he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. The fact remained that he didn't devote enough time to what he ought to; maybe it was just too daunting a task? He enjoyed the solitude, he enjoyed the self-debate. Maybe this was the warped kind of quality time he liked to spend - with himself. His agile mind continued churning up reasons for his apparent failure, and for every reason a valid excuse materialized. Sometimes he felt like severing ties with one of his alter-egos. Sometimes he felt like just siding with one of them. Yet he knew they were all part of him, and he was a part of them. This figment of his imagination would cease to exist if he had the willpower to exterminate them. If he had. Thoughts racing up and down, scrambling from one separate topic to another, wandering further and further away, his eyes started turning watery. Sentimental as he was, it was easy to hit a raw nerve and turn himself into a wreck within a mere matter of minutes. He was all alone, but he wanted to choke back the tears this time. It was becoming far too disturbing a habit - he knew crying wasn't an everyday affair for the average boy. Then again, he was often spoke of as weak, puny, diminutive and as insignificant as a speck of dust. Stray thoughts which led to such internal strife within him niggled at him with regularity. He couldn't stop the thought from surfacing to his brain, overshadowing the one which left him beleaguered just a few seconds ago.

'Am I normal?'


***

Sometimes it's really gratifying to get what you expected and what you wanted.
More often that not a sucker punch is delivered when you don't perform to your expectations, and the follow-up move is an uppercut - failure brings about more than the usual serving of critisicm.

Get up before you get knocked out wholly, there's still a way out.

Saturated beyond the point of salvation; my brains are malfunctioning - on the verge of self-destruction, my hands not willing to move, my eyes blinking dryly, my mouth barely moisturized.

Tomorrow will be a better day.
Tomorrow will be the day I get to write something decent, I'll start on a clean slate.

Just wait and see. Till tomorrow, which is only a tad past half an hour away.
Ok, not so soon.

Learn more about me!
I'm too opinionated and idealistic to be your friendly neighbourhood superhero.

Credits.
Rusroulette/Adele

Shoot me.
new_u_fan@hotmail.com