Detachment from attachment

'What do you all think of me?'

I ask a close friend, 3 years too late.

'You live in a world of your own,'

Echoing my very own recent pensive introspection verbatim. Lately I've only brushed the surface of the disturbing parallel world of interpersonal relationships, through second hand knowledge of course. I have a no-secrets pact with 6 of my friends. Obviously the few stories I have to share are juiceless and bland, but the ones I hear, while I belly-laugh equally hard as everyone else, make me feel a poignant tang every time. I walk in on the unspeakable acts committed by the last friends I would guess to engage in such shenanigans. Again, I laugh but the laughter hides a part of me inside that dies. It might be mere curiosity tickling me, which I am perfectly fine with, but I doubt that.

I catch myself searching the stoic tome of wikipedia for those two words (interpersonal attraction) in some desperate but inevitably fruitless attempt to find a magic code to elucidate this thickly-veiled world. The phrase that resonates in my skull is taken, quite inappropriately, from the tagline for the 40 Year Old Virgin. 'The longer you wait, the harder it gets.' Such a serious matter (for the moment), and I can only remember a line from a lewd comedy. Charming.

I'm quite comfortable in this world of my own. Inertia is an insufferable force. Hormones and curiosity are unstoppable. Even joined forces, how do I manage to resist them?

The faculty of a teacher

Of the multitude of educators I have had, two who teach me this year stand out clearly. One has taught me some years past, and the other is new to me.

The one who has taught me before is erudite and awe inspiring. He sparked my love for the subject he teaches. The impression he has left on my life is profound. Now he has returned again, and his presence not only rekindles my love for his subject, but makes him a foil to another teacher I have been cursed with this year. He could be called an adroit mindsmith.

The second one contrasts the first horribly. She cannot communicate with her students. She cannot answer questions, and rather than admitting her shortcomings, insults and humiliates the innocent pupil. Malcom Forbes said that the purpose of education is to replace empty minds with open ones, and here my hypocritical 'teacher' works to create fear in the student. Sickening.

Emesis

Slippery slope emesis.

For the want of a pill, a dinner was lost.
For the want of a dinner, a sleep was lost.
For the want of a sleep, a day of learning was lost.
For the want of a day, an education was lost.
For the want of an education, a future was lost.
For the want of a future, a life was lost.

Solo Amoeba

The most efficient creature.
Hampered not by others.
Unicellular.
Self-sufficient.
An island.
A rock.
Wild.

Short story of a donkey

A handsome ass sits between two bales of hay. It is closer to one, but it eyes the other, bigger, tastier-looking one. It wants both, but it knows that going for one means forgoing the other.

It must choose. The adjacent, and still-tasty bale? Or the one that's slightly further away, but holds many times more promise.

There is a twist in the story though. The handsome ass doesn't know if the one further away really exists. It could very well be his mind playing tricks on him. Going to that bale and finding out that it doesn't exist will be very annoying. It might mean embarassment for him, and he surely cannot handle that.

He sits in contemplation, pondering which bale to eat. As the weeks go by he grows thinner and thinner. Now looking little more than a cheap handbag on a bony clothes-rack, he still cannot decide.

Food is within easy reach, but the handsome ass starves to death.

a little tale of cognitive dissonance

These are fickle children. They spend their years clothed in rudeness and arrogance. They draw lustful attention for their wanton debaucheries. Secretly however, most are sickened and would rather see them publicly humiliated or at the very least brought to a slow agonizing death.

Suddenly, within milliseconds, there is a marked change in mein. Not merely tangible but more like pie-in-the-face-of-whoever-knows-better. Smug, repulsive sneers melt away to saccharine grins. One only feels sorry for the poor deluded victim who helplessly falls to the overwhelming tide.

But that is not the end. In a primitive display of gorilla-like aggressiveness, the original demeanour returns with a vengeance. A testosterone-fueled fury marks the end of all civilised conduct. All innocents not contributing to the alpha male's manly glory are bowled over without impunity.

From fickle little children to raving monstrosities. Honestly, I have never been so disgusted in my life.

The smell of hormones mingling with perfume

While it may turn the heads of most, turns only the stomach of this one.

Maybe it's an overexposure to too much romancy-schmancy pop culture* early in life, or more likely just a lack of food, but watching my first successful pick-up** made me feel more nauseous than inspired.

Sorry for being deceived with images of Romeo and Juliet but wasn't there once a time where there was actually stuff between saying hi and sex?


*Actually romancy pop culture is the only exposure I have whatsoever. Real life? What's that?
**As a spectator of course; don't confuse me with someone who has courage.

The Better Covert Ops

I am rambo. Without the rippling muscles or extraordinary luck. I charge into a situation headfirst without considering the consequences. This has led to numerous failures before. I want to know a girl? I ask her. She says yes. Sometimes.

They, are subtler than the blackset covert ops. They will manipulate and coerce to whatever end they desire. The most frightening part is that they serve no one but themselves. Case in point, I leave my msn open on a table, unattended. One goes up to it while I'm not looking and invites herself using my account. Later on she tells me of the news, that I invited her. Now this is especially elegant because it defeats two problems. One, she doesn't have to ask me face-to-face, action movie style with big dangerous firey explosions. Two, because I know that she's invited me, I am flattered and don't follow through with my initial reaction of getting pissed for someone nosing through my stuff. Pure genius.

I sure do sound like the kid who finds air bubbles in his microscope specimen in biology class for the first time. I've made a groundbreaking discovery that only everyone else knows. Bah.

'Everyone has a skill. What's yours?'

I respect the man who dedicates his time to one, and only one skill. He is so committed to excellence in that one area, enduring hardship for that one tiny moment of glory when he can shine. The impersonation of others, a little trill on the keyboard, or even the ability to make small talk with complete strangers sans a stutter. This sort of heroic (that's the word I was looking for) focus is seemingly beyond me.

Every time a friend succeeds, I die a little inside

~Gore Vidal