COMPILE

This is a compilation of slightly more upbeat drafts that I have sitting in the depths of my half-assed pile of incomplete posts which I have accumulated during the short hiatus I took. Throughout this break I would often find myself wandering back here, trying to find a familiar sense of comfort and solace that this space used to provide in exchange for word vomit and frustration filled rants. But those posts would often end in naught. I guess in hindsight the problems that I was dealing with weren't as significant as I thought they were, but in that moment I just felt that if I refrained from talking about it long enough, perhaps it would all go away. Talking about it almost makes it...real, if that makes any sense. 

But that's hindsight for you. Problems in life would always seem less significant as time goes by because you eventually get over them and move on with your life...or learn how to live with the feeling of helplessness and distraught to best of your ability, lolol. But my point is, you eventually learn how to cope. And a good coping mechanism is all I need before I reach the breaking point of The Prince of Darkness vs. The Ocean.

So yes, a step-by-step process of how I deal with problems:

1. Mope around in isolation for as long as I can.

2. Mildly entertain the idea that I might actually be able to get over things while throwing myself a pity party.

3. Eventually running out of fucks to give, which then turns into anger directed at myself for being bummed out for so long.

4. An explosion of rage-filled expletives, followed by getting rid of everything and anything that reminds me of the problem. ("Fuck off! Fuck off!)

5. Gets over the problem entirely and mentally delete any relevant associations of the problem from my mind. ("You fucking asshole ocean.")

 

Although the last step might require a certain level of natural born forgetfulness and abhorrence towards melancholy, I'd say that this solution works well for a solid 37% of the time.

By the way, Ozzy Osbourne calling the open waters a "fucking asshole ocean"? Spectacular.

31 August, 2014

A 4-part story of how I take photos with other people.

1) A last minute "am I looking at right place?" (aka can you point out where I am supposed to look at?)

2) *singular proper photo*

3) "is this angle attractive?" or "does this do anything positive to my jawline?"

4) TEETH

The above photos were taken at a friend's wedding which I attended together with the best friend, who of course looks on point in every photo. The night ended with us hitching a ride from the Navy base's shuttle bus (because the exact directions given to us was "just walk towards the lights and ask the cute guard post guys about the shuttle bus"), deciding between Swee Choon and Harry's, and ending up at Harry's because it was nearer and the struggle with our heels was getting real.

We ended the night with burgers and pasta with a huge side of fries because we didn't eat enough at the wedding. Sartorial restrictions y'all, sartorial restrictions.

2 September, 2014

Period cramps. Bloody period cramps. (hehehe)

The entire day was spent in a state of extreme grumpiness and a constant self-questioning of whether it will be less painful to trade in a full day of period cramps for a single body kick. I was initially considering an above the shoulder hit but lets be honest, I'm probably too vain for that shit.

Side note: My constantly depleting Mandarin proficiency coupled with a lack of motivation to read full pages of Chinese websites' write ups have proven to be a big impediment to my Taiwan travel research. As if I don't struggle enough when it comes to 简体 characters but now I have to read 繁体? 

.........*screams into a pillow*

30 September, 2014

1/50+ photos that I took when I went hiking in Taroko Gorge almost 3 weeks ago, because the best way to start off any vacation is to send a hiking noob struggling through the mountains of Hualien. But that view though! It was almost worth the 3 shades darker I got, which I am fervently trying to fade because I really can't rock a tan to save my life. Aside from not learning anything from the hike, the smart ass me then proceeded to go trekking through 阳明山 in Taipei a few days later in a floral wrap skirt and some dirty converses.

 

Umm...yeah, I really don't have an excuse for my atrociously inappropriate outfit.

Since I'm too lazy to upload all the photos from the trip, I have resigned myself to sitting in front of the laptop and typing out this sub-par post instead, while listening to Stefan Struve's interview on the MMA hour podcast.

Guess whose favourite heavyweight is coming back on 13 December with a fight with Overeem?

OH YEAH.

Now for the important question, is anyone interested in gifting me with a trip to Phoenix, Arizona this coming December 13?

I know I'm all over the place with this post but since we are on the topic of MMA, but allow me to go on a little rant about weigh-in etiquette. (side note: Stefan has great weigh-in etiquette)

I don't usually watch weigh-ins often but when I do, nothing annoys me more than a fighter coming out in what looks to be every single article of clothing in their closet. Uh...did you not know that you have to strip down for your weigh-in? Or have you decided to channel your inner Dita Von Teese that day? I get that you might be trying to sweat out the last couple of pounds of water weight but really, can't you keep that backstage and just come out in the most expedite-the-weigh-ins-outfit you can manage?

And as if watching a fighter walk out to weigh-ins clothed in layers isn't annoying enough, there's also the impromptu Magic Mike show that some of them put on.

I'm not talking about the let-me-drop-these-clothes-in-a-neat-pile-over-here types. I'm talking about the all out, let-me-redecorate-the-entire-stage-in-my-clothes jazz show that certain fighters do - completed with the grand finale: watch me throw my clothes as far away as possible so that my team mate, who is standing next to me, can scramble to pick them up.

WTF. If your team mate is standing right there beside you, there is absolutely no reason for you to be throwing your clothes in the opposite direction because you can either,

1) hand your clothes over to your team mate politely,
2) drop your clothes neatly into a pile near your team mate so as not to inconvenience them, or just
3) PICK UP AFTER YOUR DAMN SELF CAUSE YOU ARE A GROWN ASS ADULT.

13 November, 2014

Finally got my ass around to listening to The Fighter & The Kid podcast and...

.

.

.

.

.

...I'm going to just let this photo convey the nature and content of the podcast instead of trying to explain it.

IT'S TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMEE for everyone to go download and listen to this podcast because this shit is amazing and fucking hilarious.

---

So yup, this concludes the end of my compilation. And hopefully the start of more frequent posting because I really do enjoy writing in this space quite a bit.

-

This is a reminder to myself that this is not permanent.

FIFTY

Came across an article that made me go...

Apparently there is a anti-pornography organisation in Washington that is attacking the upcoming movie, Fifty Shades of Grey (in case you have been living under a rock, it is a popular erotic novel centered around BDSM).

This is a little quote from them:

 "With the popularity of this book, mainstream opinion-makers (like Oprah, the Today Show and Broadway) are telling the public (especially youth) that humiliation, degradation and torture in sex is normal and to just give it a try."

....what? 

First off, who defines the normality of sex anyway? What people choose to do in the privacy (or not, if you are into that) of their bedrooms is none of your business. They do not need to adhere to your standards of appropriateness, nor is there a need for one. The only thing that is absolutely necessary when it comes to anything remotely sexual, is mutual consent, meeting of the legal age requirement, and using proper protection against sexually transmitted diseases and unwanted pregnancies. What's it to you if someone is into the concept of dominance and subservience? This is a book-based movie acted out by good looking people about BDSM, not some donkey fucking tradition. So sit your asses (lolol) down and chill the fuck out.

Secondly, I'm pretty sure no one in the mainstream media, especially Oprah, is actually explicitly telling the youth of the world to give BDSM a try. Doing a promotional media stint is not equivalent to sending everyone home with a care package filled with latex and whips while screaming "You get a BDSM package! You get a BDSM package! And you get a BDSM package!".

Thirdly, if they truly want to attack the movie, it should be because it is based off a shitty book and shitty books should not be made into movies (*cough* twilight *cough*). Side tracking a little, I have tried (and failed) on multiple occasions to sit through an entire Twilight movie. I just can't. The bland dialogue, the even blander acting, and the fact that it is based on an extremely stupid premise that feeds off young girls' puberty struggles and low self-esteem by creating an extremely vague and average, a one-size fits all character for 15 year old girls to live vicariously through. Add in a 17 year old looking centenarian whose sole purpose in life seems to be to protect and feed as much attention as possible to the girl...and a worldwide phenomenon is created. Fifty Shades of Grey is just the adult version of Twilight. It plays into the bedroom struggles of adults while providing a literary escape for the those who wouldn't mind a handsome, wealthy businessman with a bad boy edge to sweep them off their feet and satisfy their libido. This is what both the Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey books are: Unchallenging, uninspiring, contains little to no educational value piece of sorry ass literature that somehow, manages to get published and made into movies.

So don't protest against sexually explicit movies. Protest against shitty stories that are written into multiple books, which will then be made into multiple movies, which will then haunt the cinema screens worldwide for years to come.

JJ LIN

Just finished watching Eastern Promises, a 2007 film (very dope, although I wished that it was 30 minutes longer) about the lesser known but much more fearsome Russian Mafia.

Which then led me to sit through a 90-minute long documentary called Thieves by Law, or Vory V Zakone in Russian. The documentary isn't all that revealing about the history and background of the Russian Mafia and how they run their operations, but it does give you a slight peek into the psyche of some of the mobsters.

But this isn't the point of the post.

At the 27-minute mark of the documentary, the video cuts to show a man named Edik, who happens to be one of Vitaly Dymochka's henchman. Side note, Dymochka is a Russian mobster and crime boss...as well as a writer/director/producer of a short TV series called Spets. The TV show was created out of Vitaly's displeasure towards how organized crime was portrayed on television, so he shelled out money from his own pocket to shoot a seven part series which aims to educate viewers about the reality of the Russian underworld.

Good to know that someone is finally doing something to raise awareness about the misrepresentation of Russian mobsters in today's film and television

But back to Edik the henchman. 27 minutes in, the documentary shows Edik eating some soup, and then his phone rings. And then my jaw pretty much fell to the fucking ground. Because some henchman living in Ussuriysk, Russia, which by the way, is 8922km away from Moscow, has JJ Lin's 曹操 as his fucking ringtone. I'm not motivated enough to google the lyrics to the song, but I'm pretty sure the chorus goes something like "blah blah blah blah, 分三国, blah blah blah blah blah blaaaah blaaah". Each blah corresponds with what I remember the lyrics to be like, because I'll have you know that I was quite the JJ Lin fan back when I was 15. But I digress.

By the close to impossible chance that JJ Lin is reading this, I would like to say the following to him.

Dear JJ, I would like you to know that the multitude of musical accolades you have sitting at home mean nothing. The plentiful nominations and long ass articles published, all of which sings the praises of your musical talents mean nothing. Even the time when you finally got your way and acted all cutesy on stage with Hebe on a swing with a cup of tau huey zui means nothing.

Click on the documentary, fast forward it to the 27-minute mark, and savour the moment. Save the video, screen cap the moment, frame it, and bask in what would be your eternal glory. This is your one true defining moment. If there was any doubt or hesitation that you or anyone might have towards your musical success, just remind yourself that somewhere out there, a Russian henchman is rocking out to your song before bashing someone's kneecaps in with a baseball bat.

You've made it dude. You really have.

That is, unless the FSB has 舞娘 blasting through their offices la. Hahahahaha.

FUENTES

This is how much my attention span has receded (pun intended, you'll realise soon enough). I'm suppose to collate and refresh a bunch of organic chemistry notes I have sitting in a folder, which really isn't all that much considering it's mostly just copying and pasting things together.

But whaddayaknow. The following is a list of things I have done since embarking on this task, which in hindsight is probably why I'm still not done, but let's go through them nonetheless shall we.

1. Two Joe Rogan podcasts, which are both 3 hours long. So that's a total of 6 hours down the drain and I'm still left with a good 35% to completion.

I say the next point with great sheepishness so try to keep that in mind before judging me.

2. Two big plastic mugs of cheap merlot and...red grape juice mixed together. Now, I'm pretty sure this information is enough to anger some dead french wine connoisseur somewhere so much that he comes back to life, flies over, stuffs me in a wine barrel and proceeds to kick-roll me through a vineyard in a quaint french countryside so that my screams for help cannot be heard but I have my reasons.

Reason 1: The biggest liquid containing cylinder I had at home happens to be a plastic mug.
Reason 2: I needed wanted to finish up the juice. And the wine. So in my infinite ingenuity, I...

You know what. I'll just climb into the barrel myself.

3. A singular kinder bueno stick. And resisting the urge to finish the other stick.

4. Googled "king tut recreation" because it was mentioned on the podcast and marvelled over the pictures of his side profile. Is this another side effect of years of royal incentuous relationships? Also, can anyone just spell Tutankhamen offhandedly?

5. Listening to metal and post-hardcore music because I thought that the incessant screaming is going to help with my concentration and motivation. That only lasted for about 3 songs in before I googled the lyrics to Hold On Till May, read most of Vic Fuentes' Wikipedia page, and then discovered this gem of a tumblr page because it showed up as a related search.

fuckyeahvicfuentesbaldpatch

This is an entire tumblr page dedicated to Vic's bald spot, which as recommended, should be caressed when presented with the opportunity.

Lolol I literally can't with this tumblr page. A blog solely centered around a ridiculous subject ran by someone with a great sense of humour, along with ridiculously funny anonymous submissions. A prime example:

Is there anything funnier than irrational anger? The giggles from this page are endless.

6. Proceeded to google Marilyn Manson and found out that he would be in the upcoming final season of Sons of Anarchy. Side note, I am very very dreading the end of SoA. The script is great, the acting is impeccable, and the music on the show is one of the best out there as far as television series goes. Kurt Sutter is a genius.

7. This blog post.

It is now 2.23am and the 35% still remains uncompleted. God dammit.