Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Iniquity

They laugh and smile and talk and embrace and I do too.
But sometimes my smile covers a tear.
And no one knows.

Right now my tear is from an it.
I'm sorry, so very sorry I did it.
I feel like a broken record and the skip
is the it that never completely goes away.

What would they think if they knew my it?
Would the laughs vanish? The smiles disappear?
Would the talk be hurled at me? The embrace taken back?

Do they have an it? What do they do with it?
Why do we act for each other when there is no play?
There is only life.
And that life includes a lot of it.
The point is not to celebrate it
but only to admit to it.

I am told Jesus knows everything
which means he know about it.
And yet he whispers
in words too good to be true
I died for you -- don't worry about it.

--Chip Heim

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Begone.

O sweet breath of life
Will thou never cease
Thy bitter tang?

Why the little pinpricks?
Why the small jolts of pain?
Art thou so cowardly
To hide in the shadows
Laughing at thy devilish traps?

Stare me in the face, O Master
Look me in the eye
Face me that I may know my enemy
Show me where my loyalties lie

If thou must taketh, do not giveth
If thou must kill, do not give life
Give me all or give me nothing
But do not linger in my suffering
Let the dead mourn the dead
But leave the living alone

Be thou sincere in thy dealings
Or begone

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Creepy



Remember the surreal, vague, metaphysical-seeming stuff I was talking about? Well, this is one of them.

Introspection

Things change. Nature changes, that's what nature is. Ever since God unleashed the Big Bang the total amount of entropy in the universe has only been able to increase. And chaos means change. Lots and lots and lots of change.

People change too. Or do they? I am not the same person I was a year ago, yet I am in essence no different than that naive little boy who loved Enid Blyton and ran down slides for fun. Parts of me have changed, parts of me have not. Am I still that little boy? Perhaps, but perhaps not.

But I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself here. If I have changed, how have I changed? I loved Enid Blyton, and I still do, even if other authors have challenged her preeminence. I no longer run down slides for fun (breaking your arm kinda cures you of that), so maybe I'm a little more cautious; more calculative and less of a risk-taker. I hated celery, and I still do. I still love french fries and fried chicken and pizza, although I can no longer live with myself if I ate those every day.

But to be honest, I'm digressing. My true question is whether my fundamental personality has changed, and that's a lot more difficult to answer. Likes and dislikes change all the time, but those don't really matter. Who I am is far more than what I like or dislike. And what would make up my fundamental personality? Well, I'm an introvert, and I think I always have been. I'm not spontaneous and I've a hard time taking the initiative to do something. I'm slightly better at that now than I was before, but in essence I haven't changed: I still prefer to follow the leader. I've always been kiasu, and I've always been a "nice guy". Well, I no longer exhibit my horridly spiteful temper, but that part of me is still in there somewhere. I'm not a very assertive person and I never have been. I'm easily distracted, amused, or wow-ed by surreal, vague, metaphysical-seeming things, and I always have been. And I still ponder upon the meaning of life and the reason for the existence of the universe every so often.

So, in conclusion, I guess my fundamental personality hasn't changed in any significant way. I may have gained a little bit more control over parts of my personality, but my tendencies in doing things are still roughly the same. Sure, my taste has evolved, and I've probably gained about half a million experience points thus far, but that's an integral part of life.

Wait, a minute, so that means I haven't changed significantly and probably am not going to? I don't know whether that's uplifting or depressing. I guess my indecisive nature hasn't changed as well.

Hmm.

Monday, October 13, 2008

A troubled conscience

No.
Why not?

Because it is wrong.
Is it? Why is it wrong?

Because it's not mine to take. It doesn't belong to me.
So what? How does that make it wrong?

It's called stealing. Stealing is wrong.
Why is stealing wrong? Tell me.

I would be depriving someone of what is rightfully his.
*Low chuckle* Rightfully his? Do you really believe that?

*Silence*
DO you?

Perhaps not. But I would be causing pain and anger. I would be causing distress. That is wrong.
IS it? After ALL that he's done to you?

I...
THINK, my friend, THINK. Without it, you die.

But... But this is wrong!
You spineless fool. It does not belong to him either. He may be its legal owner, but he has no more RIGHT to it than you do. He is the last person on earth who needs it. YOU do.

But there must be another way!
There is no other way. You know that.

There must be! There must be. I can keep looking!
For how long? *snarls harshly* You have two days to live. You don't do this, you die.

But I...
You MUST do this! TAKE it! Take it NOW!

I... I cannot.
You miserable pathetic little fool. Are you such a coward that you cannot even muster up the courage to save your own life?

I... I CANNOT! I CANNOT! Go away, and leave me alone!
Fine. So be it.

I'm sorry, I didn't mean that.
*silence*

He...hello? HELLO?
*silence continues*

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

The scream

In the calm before the storm
Silence reigns
The breeze is gentle
The wind a comforting whisper

In the calm before the storm
Everything is magnified
Every action drawing attention
Every sigh like rolling thunder

In the calm before the storm
The edges blur
The skies open
Revealing heaven

In the calm before the storm
The chaos is within
The earth trembles
Darkness roars
With benign malignancy

In the calm before the storm
It grows cold
The clouds gather
The hearts of men waver

In the calm before the storm
The universe holds its breath

And in the calm within the storm
Every fibre of my being
Unleashes a primal scream

Monday, September 22, 2008

Taggeristissimo

Tagged by Rachelle and Eu Fern.

Rule
: The tag victim has to come up with 8 different points about his/her perfect lover. Have to mention the gender of his/her perfect lover. Tag 8 other victims to join this game and leave a comment on their blog. If you are tagged the second time, there is NO need to do this again. Lastly, and most importantly, HAVE FUN DOING IT.

Gender of perfect lover: Phenotypically female (preferably an XY with defective androgen receptors/defective testosterone-DHT enzymes because they're supposed to be hot).

A perfect lover would:
1. NOT have a click in her name.
2. Put the ME into Aweso.
3. Scream like this:
4. Laugh at Bob because he stole our cookie. Haha, Bob. Haha.
5. Make awkward sexual advances not war.
6. Ruin an emo kid's day by making him smile.
7. Love Facebook Flair as much as I do.
8. Love me for being overly technical just so that she can shut me up. XD

I tag:
1. A. A. A. D'Artagnan Umslopagaas Dynamite Macaulay, London.
2. Mrs Belcher Wack Wack
3. Sugarporn Poopattana, New York City.
4. Orange Marmalade Lemon, Wichita, Kansas.
5. F. G. Vereneseneckockkrockoff, San Francisco, California.
6. John Senior, Jr., New York City.
7. Pafia Pifia Pefia Pofia Pufia da Costa, Brazil.
8. If-Jesus-Christ-Had-Not-Died-For-Thee-Thou-Hadst-Been-Damned Barebones, London.

And everyone else on http://f2.org/humour/language/oddnames.html.

P.s. To understand any of the above, you have to click on the links. =P

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Ignore me

"On the floor she found a picture book that she remembered from elementary school. It was about a little boy called Bernard whose parents always ignore him. One day a monster appears in the backyard and Bernard runs inside to tell them but still they just ignore him. The monster eats him and goes into the house and roars at the parents but they think it's Bernard fooling around and ignore him. And because they're not scared, the monster loses all his confidence. Skye turned to the last page which always used to make her feel sad. The poor old monster has been sent to bed and is sitting all alone and forlorn in the dark, feeling a total failure."

- The Smoke Jumper, Nicholas Evans, page 9

Dark humour

Mist. Night. A slight drizzle. A dimly lit campus.

Have you ever been so afraid that you want to run home and hide under the covers, yet awed beyond your ability to comprehend at the same time?

I was wandering about alone just now, and I was just struck by the beauty of the night. The dim lamps were putting rays of light through the mist, and it was just the kind of beauty that makes you want to laugh and cry at the same time.

How can the world be so ugly yet so beautiful all at once?


Home Is Behind

The World Ahead
And There Are Many Paths To Tread
Through Shadow
To The Edge Of Night
Until The Stars Are All Aligned

Mist And Shadow
Cloud And Shade
All Shall Fade
All Shall...Fade

-Pippin's Song, The Lord of the Rings

Jw3rn is awestruck.

Friday, July 18, 2008

To be literal

Seen on a T-shirt in STAR Cineplex:

"IF IT'S NOT LOVE, IT'S NOT WORTH A F*CK."

Uncensored, of course.

Now that's one heck of a Tee.

Sunday, July 13, 2008

Hot and cold

Like a breath of fresh air, it whispers. It ruffles your hair and messes it up, affectionately. Comforting and safe, like a warm embrace. It sets your hair on end and sends tingles up your spine.

Everything slows down, and you can feel every single heartbeat. Every breath nuzzles you, reminding you of the miracle of life. And as you wonder at how marvelous it is, it steals away your coherent thoughts and leaves you with nothing but a feeling of completeness, a sense of well-being, that you completely forget the why and can only remember the touch of wonder that infused your soul, lifting it to ever greater heights.

And even as your senses are competely overwhelmed, you realise that the focal point is not without, but within. Its touch is light and smooth on your skin, but it rips your heart out with such force that its gentleness is nothing short of astonishing. Its beauty fills your eyes and your ears hum a secret melody, but that is nothing compared to the burst of colour that streaks across your mind and the thunderous crash of pure music that is drowned out only by that soft, gentle, cry of delight. Its taste is sweeter than honey and its scent delightful, but the true savouring is done within the confines of your spirit, a savouring of fire and cold tempered only by the warnth of being safe and secure.

You feel it, you sense it, you embrace it. You know it inside and out, and you delight in it.

And then it dawns on you that such beauty was not meant for one person. It is something to be shared, to be delighted in together. It may be the most beautiful thing you know, but it would be meaningless if you were its sole possessor.

And then you smile, because you are not alone.

Wednesday, July 02, 2008

Rawr.

Filling the silence
With warmth
Unspoken words
No longer needed

Just a hint of it
Leaves me
Feeling complete
Contented
Life is worth living

Comforting the shadows
Of doubt
Stilling
The storm within

Were all my memories lost
But this one
Still would my heart caper
Like a little boy

Your smile
Shall ever be
My inspiration
Your laugh
My adoration

Little furry critters rule the world


Maturity

"A lioness doesn't have a mane. How does it know when it's grown up?"

An interesting question, and one that I have discussed before. Yet the question of maturity has returned to haunt my thoughts, stirring up troubled waters and punching me in the guts, leaving me gasping for air.

Okay, a little too much hyperbole there, but again I am forced to ask, "What is the mark of maturity?"

Maybe it's because I just turned 18 that I am asking this question. Maybe it's because I'm now legally an adult, free to drink (in Malaysia at least), smoke, buy property, watch 18 SX/SG/PL movies, go to war, become a porn star, get an abortion, own a firearm (in the US), marry without parental consent, and donate my body to science. So many things to do, so little time. XD

Maybe it's because my driver's license is dangling before me like a juicy worm on a hook, independence beckoning to me like a lollipop beckons to little girls.

Maybe it's because my sophomore year looms, the year in which I finally have to decide what I want to do with my life, the year in which you can no longer hit the "Go Back" button to restart character creation.

Or maybe it's just my ancestor Peter Pan whispering to me from the grave.


Regardless, I now present to you the contenders for the "Mark of Maturity":

1. Independence
- The ability to make your own decisions, the ability to do what you want when you want how you want without being influenced by other people. Like becoming a porn star.

2. Confidence
- The ability to look someone in the eye and know that you are his or her equal, if not in ability, then at least in value. Even if earthworms are gray.

3. Experience
- An antonym for naivety, this word implies an understanding of the way the world goes round. Although in my experience (pun intended), too often has the term been used as an excuse for cynical pessimism. The world is a dark and gloomy place. The world is a dark and gloomy place. But if you look hard enough, there's always a ray of sunshine.


Wow, I guess that means I'm a very mature person.

Wow, what a big fat lie.

Saturday, June 07, 2008

Color

Black and white, black and white
Shades of grey in between
Right and wrong, left and right,
Oh, so simple, so clean

But nothing is ever so simple, is it?
Nothing is ever so fine
Life's more than just rhythm, more than just beat
It's MUSIC, melody and rhythm combined

See you not the colours between?
The brilliant hues and subtle shades?
White is but a disguise, black an illusion
Put to shame by colourful confusion

Red, blue, yellow and green
Mixed and matched with shades in-between
I can't see them all, but I don't care
I see enough to be aware

Aware that sometimes the colours matter
Aware that perspectives are monochrome
Aware that trying to build something better
Requires eyes more than just my own

So even when the music dies
So colour lives, vibrant and ALIVE

Vanilla

Once upon a time there lived a princess in a tower. As all princesses in towers are, she was beautiful, but this princess was also very smart. She built the tower single-handedly, all by herself, using nothing but two magical symbols, XD and LOL. As expected, it was a magic tower with no entrance, and all the valiant knights who sought to rescue her knocked themselves silly against the magical stones, to no avail. The princess sometimes heard the loud puffing and panting of those knights all the way up in the top of the tower, but she couldn't care less. She had a pet raccoon and a pet ferret, which was all the company that she needed. That and her laptop, of course, through which she MSNed and blogged her way through to the outside world. Also, for human company she had a magical portal through which her best friends, all other princesses with their own magical towers, could visit her.

One day, she was sitting at her window, enjoying the night breeze, when a little bird, a tiny wren, flew down onto her windowsill. Thrilled, she tickled the little wren lightly so that it would sing. Of course, wrens can't sing, but the little wren was so pleased that it tried to anyway. What came out more like a squawk, but it made the princess laugh. The wren was pleased that it managed to make the princess laugh and continued to squawk some more. Just then, though, the princess's pet raccoon crawled into her lap and gave her a big, wet lick. Seeing this, the little wren grew jealous of the raccoon, because its own tongue was too short to do any proper licking. All it had was a miserable, hard beak. And it wanted to lick the princess just like the raccoon did. So, in a fit of envy, the little wren turned its back on the princess and started to pout.

The princess, of course, was so smart that she had learned how to read the thoughts of animals. She knew that the little wren felt bad because it couldn't express its love for her the way it wanted to. It wanted to lick her and make her happy but could only squawk to make her laugh. So she did the nicest thing she could: she turned herself into a wren. Overjoyed, the little wren rubbed heads songbird-style with the princess to express his love in the only way he knew how. The princess rubbed back, and together they flew off into the sunset.

Back in the tower, the raccoon noticed the princess's absence and went to find the ferret. Then it got down on one knee and declared its undying love for the ferret, mentioning in particular the ferret's energetic nature and nesting instincts. The ferret giggled and gave the raccoon a big lick.

The end. XD LOL

Tuesday, June 03, 2008

Temporary Absentee Gratification

1. What's your favorite anime at the present time?

Define 'anime'. Do Hayao Miyazaki films count? Those are great. Otherwise, no.



2. Given the chance, what special ability/power would you like to have?

The power to be in more than one place at one time. And the power to freeze time. And teleportation. And.... nevermind.


3. How do you think about yourself?-

As a colour-blind grey worm who is constantly at awe at how colourful the world is.


4. Where is the place that you want to go the most?

Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.



5. If you can have 1 dream to come true, what would it be?

You.


6. Do you have a crush now?

Amanda Bynes is HOT. But otherwise I'm not crushed. I've merely been smashed, rolled over, bulldozed, and squished.



7. What are you afraid to lose the most now?

My colour-blind X gene.



8. If you win $1 million, what would you do?

There are some things that money can't buy. For everything else, there's Mastercard. XD



9. If you meet someone that you love, would you confess to him/her?

Wherefore art thou, Romeo?



10. List out 3 good points of the person who tagged you.

Claire- She's delicious, low-fat, and provides you with your daily dose of Vitamin C.




11. Which type of person do you hate the most?

You scullion! You rampallion! You fustilarion! I'll tickle your catastrophe!



12. What is your ambition?

To have no ambition. Wait, make that to NEED no ambition. Very significant difference there. =P



13. If you have a fault, would you rather the people around you point out to you or would you rather they keep quiet?

Bite me.



14. What do you think is the most important in your life?

Little furry critters and shiny things.



15. Are you a shopaholic or not?-

If I said yes, would you believe me?

Yes.


16. What is the thing that you really want now?

Butterflies. In my tummy.


17. Why does it hurt when you punch someone?

Because violence is never the answer.



18. Is there anything that you have done which you regret?-

Alea jacta est.


19. Are you hungry right now?

I'm hungry. But not for food.


20. Do you think that this survey is totally useless?

Are earthworms grey?



People I tag:

1. Theodore Roosevelt
2. Dr. Mahathir
3. Anwar Ibrahim
4. Osama bin Laden
5. Aishwarya Rai

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Of life, earthquakes, and the imagination

I'm currently in the final stage of the 36+ hours journey back home, tired but wide-awake at the same time. To all those in Kuching, will be seeing you guys very soon. =)

I've been following the earthquake in China as closely as I can. One of my best friends from Sewanee is from Chongqing, one of the affected cities, and she went back there just a couple of days ago. Just in time for the earthquake- what a stroke of luck, huh. =S She's an avid Facebook user but I haven't heard from her in a couple of days. Though that's probably not surprising- their internet's probably down. Still, I hope she's alright. =S (Update: She's fine, yay!)

Two stories I want to tell:

First is a recollection of a story Miss Mary Wee told us back in Form 2. I wonder how many of you guys still remember it.

Our teacher knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy who was extremely superstitious. One day, that guy went to a 'bomoh' and had his palm read/future told. "Bad news and worse news," the bomoh said. "The bad news is that you're going to die. The worse news is that it'll happen within ten days." So what does the guy do? Well, what would any guy do? He locks himself up at home for nine days, not venturing out or letting anybody in. On the tenth day he began to relax, thinking that the prophecy was a false alarm, so he grabs a newspaper and curls up in an armchair. Then the light bulb above him suddenly breaks loose from the ceiling and shatters on his head, killing him instantly.

A true story, according to my teacher. I remember her saying something like, "When your time's up, it's up, and nothing you do can change that." Funny how that works, isn't it?

Story 2 is taken from Sophie's World by Jostein Gaarder:

" 'Once upon a time there was a centipede that was amazingly good at dancing with all hundred legs. All the creatures of the forest gathered to watch every time the centipede danced, and they were all duly impressed by the exquisite dance. But there was one creature that didn't like the centipede- that was a tortoise.'

'It was probably just envious.'

'How can I get the centipede to stop dancing? thought the tortoise. He couldn't just say he didn't like the dance. Neither could he say he danced he danced better himself, that would obviously be untrue. So he devised a fiendish plan.'

'Let's hear it.'

'He sat down and wrote a letter to the centipede. "O incomparable centipede," he wrote, "I am a devoted admirer of your exquisite dancing. I must know how you go about it when you dance. Is it that you lift your left leg number 28 and then your right leg number 39? Or do you begin by lifting your right leg number 17 before you lift your left leg number 44? I await your answer in breathless anticipation. Yours truly, Tortoise."'

'How mean!'

'When the centipede read the letter, she immediately began to think about what she actually did when she danced. Which leg did she lift first? And which leg next? What do you think happened in the end?'

'The centipede never danced again?'

'That's exactly what happened. And that's the way it goes when imagination gets strangled by reasoned deliberation.'

'That was a sad story.' "


I dunno about that being a sad story, but it is definitely very cheem.

Saturday, May 10, 2008

Conformity

In World War 2, Hitler and the Nazis murdered roughly 6 million people. They committed atrocious crimes that any sane person would call immoral, if not outright crazy. But Hitler did not personally kill all those people himself. Thousands of people were involved in the plot, and many more were aware of the situation but said nothing. Why did so many people acquiesce, by word, deed, or inaction, to those terrible crimes? Were they all insane? Or were they all simply bad people?

After the war, Western psychologists wondered how such a thing could happen. They came up with theories such as groupthink and peer pressure. They also devised experiments to examine the how humans are influenced by others, for better or for worse.

A psychologist named Milgram devised an experiment to examine how humans responded to orders that were morally ambiguous, if not outright wrong. He took forty volunteers and put them in a lab together with forty confederates (people who were put there by the psychologist to perform a specific set of actions, unknown to the volunteers). They were subsequently paired up, one volunteer to one confederate, and the volunteer was told that he was to play the role of the "teacher", and the confederate the "learner". The experiment, they were told, would involve the teacher reading a series of word pairs to the learner on the other side of a partition and then testing the learner's memory by giving a word and asking for the correct matching word from four alternatives. During set-up the teacher watched the learner being strapped into an electric chair, and the teacher was told that the most effective learning occurred with punishment. At the teacher's station there was a panel with 30 switches labeled from 15 to 450 volts- subjective labels included: slight shock/moderate shock/strong shock/very strong shock/intense shock/extremely intense shock/danger-severe shock/XXX. The teacher was then told that at the first error the 15 volt switch was to be used, moving up one level each time the learner made an error. In reality, no shocks were delivered other than a “sample shock” to the teacher. The learner was trained to respond with protests as the shock level increased- at 150 he stated he did not want to continue with the experiment [the experimenter in white lab coat told the teacher, in a level tone of voice, “the experiment must go on” or “it is absolutely necessary to continue” or similar], then he began to shout. At 300 volts he began to kick the wall, and at the highest level he no longer made any noise at all – not even answering the question [the experimenter told the teacher that refusal to answer was the same as a wrong answer].

Disturbing though the experiment may be, the results were even more incredible. A full 65% of the “teachers” went all the way to 450 volts under the original conditions [N = 40]. 5 stopped after using “intense shock”, 8 stopped after using “extreme–intensity" shock, 1 stopped after using “danger – severe" shock, and 26 used the 450 volt “XXX” switch.

Furthermore, in a repeat of the experiment with varying conditions (the teacher pulled a lever to signal another person to actually administer the shock by using a lever on the shock panel- he did not personally deliver the "punishment"), a whopping 93% of the subjects went all the way to XXX.

Kinda chilling, don't you think? The experiment clearly demonstrated that almost everybody would "go along" with something clearly immoral, given certain situations. When someone with higher rank or status tells us to do something, we more often than not go along with the order, even if the order goes against our personal morality.

But the experiment fails to explain WHY men (and women!) behave like that in such a situation. What makes us repress our conscience and do such terrible things to other people? Why do most of us conform to situations that are clearly wrong? Why are we so easily influenced by negative pressures? The experiment questions the strength of human morality and paints an overall bleak picture of humanity. Those who dare stand up against the tyrants of injustice and cruel immorality are justly called the few.

This leads me to ask the question- if I were put in such a situation, how would I react? Would I be part of the conforming 93% or the brave 7%? I would, of course, like to believe that I would be part of the latter, but in truth I honestly don't know.

I have a friend here that signs off his letters and messages with "Unconformingly, (insert name)". If only that were true for more people in real life.

What do you think you would have done as a subject in the experiment?



Citation
Milgram, S. (1963). Behavioral study of obedience. Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology, 67, 371-378.

Friday, May 02, 2008

5 ways to say "I love you"

Actually, to be more accurate it's five ways to LISTEN to "I Love You", but I think in this case the terms are interchangeable.

1. Tan Dun- The Eternal Vow

2. Robert Schumann- "Dedication" from Myrtles

3. Clara Schumann- "If You Love For Beauty"

4. Peter Tchaikovsky- Romeo and Juliet (particularly 3:00 - 4:05)

5. Leonard Bernstein- West Side Story, "Somewhere"


I think my favorite is number 5. The rest run a close second, though. Oooh, emo. =P

Monday, April 28, 2008

Silence

In the storm I seek
That quiet spot of oblivion
Whose sigh of momentary relief
Belies the ominous eye that bequeaths
The sound of silence

The winds of time
Engulf the ocean of serenity
I am caught
A tiny sailor on boiling seas

But within my cabin
The doors are shut
Music drowns the howling winds
My safe harbour lies within

But the knocks are insistent
Finally I relent
Tearing down the walls
I allow Chaos to come in
She smiles beatifically

I open myself to her and she overwhelms me
Leading me to the very edges of the universe itself
Where Logic and Reason are destroyed

But even in that place between Space and Time
To my wonder I still do find
The sounds of silence that I once thought lost
Now come to be eternally mine


Sunday, April 27, 2008

Flashback

I remember watching Spiderman 2 on CD back in Malaysia, and the last scene keeps recurring in my mind.

Peter and MJ kiss, then suddenly they hear sirens in the distance. MJ looks at Peter, and says simply, "Go get 'em, tiger."


And in the subtitles below: "Pergilah tangkap kriminal, harimau."


I couldn't stop laughing. Still can't. Some things truly get lost in translation.

Friday, April 25, 2008

Thou shalt embrace thy emo side



Heh. Emo-ness is overrated, but so is masculinity. What's a guy to do these days?

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Flying free

He took a deep breath. Then he started to sing. He seemed to be composing the music, too. His voice was clear, melodious, and sweet. The music presented a contrast to the words he composed. His hands were clasped together. His expression was serious. He looked like a little choir boy. The words, though, were not choir-boy words.

"Oh, I hate-hate-hate," he sang. "I hate the walls and the doors that lock and the people who shove you in. I hate the tears and the angry words and I'll kill them all with my little hatchet and hammer their bones and spit on them." He reached down in the sand, picked up a toy soldier, pounded on it with the rubber hatchet, spit on it. "I spit on your face. I spit in your eye. I gouge your head down deep in the sand," he sang. "And the birds do fly from the east to the west and it is a bird that I want to be. Then I'll fly away over the walls, out the door, away, away, away from all my enemies. I'll fly and fly around the world and I'll come back to the sand, to the playroom, to my friend. I'll dig in the sand. I'll bury in the sand. I'll throw the sand. I'll play in the sand. I'll count all the grains of the sand and I'll be a baby again."

He sucked on the nursing bottle again. He grinned at me. "How did you like my song?" he asked.

"That was quite a song," I replied.

"Yes", he said. "Quite a song." He got out of the sandbox, walked over to me, looked at my watch. "Ten more minutes," he said, and held up ten fingers.

"Yes, ten more minutes," I replied.

"You think it'll be ten more minutes and then it'll be time to go home," he said.

"That's right. That's what I think," I replied. "What do you think?"

"Aha!" he exclaimed. "You want to know? Well, I think, soon it'll be time to go. I'll get out the rest of the fighting men. These two are with guns. And this airplane. Like a bird. Airplane, fly. Oh, airplane, full of sand. Fly around. Fly around. Fly up to the sky!" He ran around the playroom, holding the airplane aloft, moving with grace and rhythm. "Oh, airplane, tell me! How high can you fly? Can you fly up to the blue, blue sky? Can you fly beyond the sky? To the clouds and the winds that hold fast the rain up there so high? Can you fly? Tell me, lovely airplane, can you fly? Oh, airplane..."


-Excerpt from Dibs: In Search of Self by Virginia M. Axline, the story of a very special five-year-old little boy.



"Oh, tell me! How high can you fly? Can you fly up to the blue, blue sky? Can you fly beyond the sky? To the clouds and the winds that hold fast the rain up there so high? Can you fly? Tell me, can you fly?"

Beautiful words from someone so young.

Friday, April 18, 2008

Mind and Body

Enter Psyche and Soma.

Psyche: I never see thy face but when I think upon hell-fire.

Soma:
How now, wool-sack, what mutter you?

Psyche:
Thou art a very ragged wart.

Soma:
You scullion! You rampallion! You fustilarion! I'll tickle your catastrophe!

Psyche:
Pernicious bloodsucker of sleeping men! Viperous worm that gnaws at bowels!

Soma:
Thou damned tripe-visaged rascal! Leave me be!

Exit Soma.

Psyche: *rolls eyes* (Muttering softly)
I could brain him with his lady's fan.

Exeunt.



*Credit for the Shakespearean quotes go to May. =)



"I was the kid next door's imaginary friend." -Emo Philips

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Whisper

Shh... Listen. Listen quietly. Strain your ears in the silence.

The night is still. The darkness absolute. There is nothing to hear, yet hear you must.

Can you hear it? The beating of two hearts in the darkness? Separated by time and space eternal, but beating as one.

Can you hear the silent chuckles? The non-existent laughs? The quiet smiles?

There is nothing to hear, yet hear I do.

I hear the storm in the wind. I hear music without sound. I hear laughter without voices. I hear it all and I hear nothing. And suddenly the universe seems so small.

The silence is loud.

Monday, April 14, 2008

When reason is lost

There are few things more scary than a group of people driven beyond reason.

The Salem Witch Hunt is one excellent example. I read it in passing as part of my Psychology course, and the story chilled me to the bone.

How can people be so evil?

On one psychological level I can almost understand it, but on another I am completely at loss for words.

How can people be so evil?

Humanity is such a fragile thing.

Sunday, April 13, 2008

Bludd-duh!



NOT FUNNAEEYY!!! XD

Friday, April 11, 2008

Fun with pictures

Got these in a chain email (thanks Elaine), but they're still great.

















And for pure "Awwww..." value:


Pretty self-explanatory, I'd say.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Knowest not I

To know is to know that you know not. The more you know, the more you know you don't know. Wisdom is not knowledge, wisdom is knowledge of knowledge not.

So many different ways to say the same thing. In a fit of moronic stupendousness I'm reduced to fragmented expressions of sentences.

Know not now. Must know more. Know not more. More not known. Know now cannot. Try know more now cannot. Is hard.

Limit. Limit laws. Known limits. No limits. Sky's the limit. Limited. Conscious cognitive dissonance. Respondent conditioning says. I do. Learn learn more more. Limit.

Regurgitation mess. Sit too long. Aching gluteus maximus. Music, music. Tunes in my head. Schumann! Du meine Seele, du mein Herz.

Wherefore art thou, motivation? Concentration concentrated. Law of competitive exclusion. Concentration loses and goes extinct. All the things you said, all the things you said, running through my head, running through my head.

Fried pancakes wasabe mushy-mushy!

'Scuse me. Regurgitation mess.

Monday, March 24, 2008

Elbow-licking

Contrary to popular belief, it is actually possible to lick your own elbow.



And here I was thinking that not being able to lick your own elbow was a biological fact. Be warned, though, only about 1% of the human population can do this, so don't go and dislocate your shoulder on my behalf.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

The Fate of the Universe

One of the cool things about being in college is being able to listen to cool people speaking about cool stuff. A couple of days ago Dr Wendy Freeman, director of the Carnegie Observatories, gave a lecture about the latest going-ons in astronomy/astrophysics.

You know, stuff about giant Magellan telescopes, Hubble's successor (James Webb), dark matter, quasars, the four dimensions of space, the curvature of space-time, the weight of the universe. Stuff like that. You know, INTERESTING stuff. Right.



A four-dimensional 'tesseract' rotating on ONE axis


Anyway, what's MORE interesting is that apparently the latest research in astrophysics has shown that the universe does not have enough matter to stop the universe from expanding.

*Gasp* The universe is EXPANDING?

Well, yes, astronomers since the 1930s have shown, through observation of objects (stars?) of fluctuating luminosity from other galaxies that... that...

Nevermind, the point is that the scientists say that the universe is expanding, so they MUST be right, RIGHT?

Well, the question that scientists THEN asked is whether the universe would continue to expand FOREVER. Would the universe keep getting larger till kingdom come or, worse yet, 'heat death' (open universe model)? Or would the universe eventually stop expanding, and eventually be of fixed size (flat universe model)? Or, heaven forbid, would the expansion eventually run down and the universe then start to contract (closed universe model), leading eventually to The Big Crunch?




Well, the answer apparently depends on the amount of matter there is in the universe, and the latest research on dark matter has indicated that the universe does NOT, in fact, have enough mass to halt its expansion.

Thus the universe is doomed to grow ever larger, till we are all stretched out like rubber bands on a pair of braces.





Well, at least it's better than the Big Crunch.





In physio-philosophical terms though, that means that our ever so insignificant existence is becoming even less significant. Our presence in this universe is being diluted, at an EXPONENTIAL rate. Sad, isn't it?

There's still hope, though. Dr Freeman said that as of the moment, a number of oscillating models of the universe cannot yet be ruled out. That means it's either we stretch till we can stretch no more, or we are doomed to an eternal bungee jump.




*shrugs* Either way works for me. We're all gonna die anyway.

Ah, cynicism.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Delusions

It comes
It comes!

Fiery fire painless pain
Burning flesh and making rain
Rubbing salt into the wound
Dig out the splinter with a spoon

Gratification! Whereupon hence?
Go now my brother, into!
Into!
The seal
The pit
The fiery fire!

Die, fool!
Ignominious moron
Thinkest thou ruinest I?
I?

Cackling laughter makest me
Chatter-hungry lady be
For the pie before I dine
Drinketh thou with pretty wine

Go now, go now!
Fire, fear, foes!
Anger knows, anger goes
Killeth me and eatest thou

Feed the blood, fan the flame
No more suffering, no more shame
Only left with pitiest pyre
The body hung over the fire

Evil! Evil! Oh, oh!
Nothing, save me, all alone!
Tend to me you cowardly dunce
Faerie lust before the moon

Emptiness without
Reigning within queen
Of hell
Night and darkness
Beats, Time mourns
Forever lost alone, alone

The sun! It burns!
You will feel the flames soon enough
I cannot stop the sickness
And cannot fend of the madness
Consumes me
Overtakes me
Wildness whereupon within!

GO NOW!
Into the fires of damnation
Let heaven mourn

And leave me alone
Leave me alone

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Equality



"All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others." The mindset of much of the world nowadays, indeed. It's interesting that "Animal Farm" was written against communism, in support of capitalism, and yet capitalism is as guilty of the above statement as much as communism is. The only difference is that in capitalism, we're open about it. And we couldn't care less.

We call it by different names now. We call it the survival of the fittest. We call it the will to power. Sometimes in a fit of mock humility we even invoke God's name and call ourselves blessed. But the essence of it is the same: we rank people according to their ability. In this one big rat race, all that matters anymore is rank.

Sure, I understand. Some human beings are better than others. They score higher on IQ tests, they get better grades in school, they make more money, they are more successful. Sure. That's the way things are. Human beings are not equal. Some are born innately more successful. Others work harder. Communism ignored this and that's why the system failed.

But what pisses me off is that people throw human worth into the equation. Sure, some people are more successful than others, but successful people are not worth more than the common man. All human lives are of equal value. That has been forgotten in the competition to succeed. We think that by being better than other people, the value of our lives become greater than the lives of others.

In the 1930s, the people of the Western World took the doctrine of the survival of the fittest to heart. They believed that the value of a person was based on how smart he was, and how much he contributed to society. Those who did not "make the grade" were refused immigration, barred from having children, and in some cases even neutered. The measure of the individual was the measure of his performance on an IQ test. This movement was called the eugenics movement.

And in the 1940s, the eugenics movement led directly or indirectly to the massacre of 6 million Jews, Gypsies, and other individuals in the Jewish Holocaust by the Nazis.

After the war, the eugenics movement was recognized as immoral and ethically unsound, and was consequently banned. The world had learned its lesson.

We seem to be forgetting what we have learned, unfortunately. Again we seem to be succumbing to social and political policies that rank individuals based on their intelligence and "contribution to society". Sometimes we call it meritocracy. Sometimes we call it "getting what we deserve". I call it the failure of humanity to rise above petty competition and recognize that we are ALL truly of equal value.

The other famous maxim from Animal Farm is Boxer the horse's anthem, "I Will Work Harder!". Hard work is a good thing, but if competition is all there is, then we might as well all end up just like Boxer:



I will work harder, indeed. But I no longer want to beat the dead horse. Sorry, Boxer.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Brilliant


Forgive me, but as an old Pokemon fan with a rising interest in foreign (and not so foreign) politics, I find this unbearably funny.

Friday, March 07, 2008

What a Man Wants

"I am ready to tell you, at least from my perspective, what a man wants. He wants his children to grow and mature to be wise and capable, independent and self-reliant, and yet he longs to hold them in the palm of his hand as he did on the day of their birth. He wants to be able to subdue his pride and forgive their brusqueness so that he can remain close to them until they see his caring. He wants to be free to express his caring as David did when he cried "Absalom, my son, my son, would that I had died for thee" (1 Samuel 18:33). Although father and son seem made for contention, they derive their highest sense of pride from one another. He wants to admire his daughter's beauty and grace, for each girl child's beauty is unique in the eyes of her father. At the same time, he wants to honor her wit and intellect so that the complete human being that sh becomes is not obscured by artificial sentimentality.

He wants his mate's love and caring without having to ask for it, and he wants to be able to show his love for her without having to be concerned that it undermines the image of his manhood. He hates to see himself as a tearful, weak creature, dependent on others for his sense of affirmation. But he is tired of hiding his tears and turning away to preserve some traditional image of manhood.

I will be more explicit. I am tired of wars. I do not want to be killed or maimed, and I do not enjoy other people dying or being maimed. I want to accept responsibility for what I do and not be blamed for what I did not do. I have always judged my fellow human beings one at a time on the merits of their own behavior, and I demand to be judged as one person on the basis of my own faults and virtues. As such, my race, religion, politics, and sexual preference are nobody's business. I have gotten used to calling myself a man. The title is not pejorative; it is something that I have done for half a century, and I am comfortable with it. If you choose to call yourself something else, that is all right with me, but please leave my definition of myself to me. Any thinking man continues to evolve philosophically- influenced by every person, circumstance, and concept that he is exposed to. I want to continue this growth and come to be what I want to be.

I will not have my values dictated by football coaches. The maxim "Winning is everything" leaves out too much. I will not give up the joy and excitement of competition, but I am joined to all of humanity, so that if I am the victor, then so I am the vanquished. To deny this is to go through life as half a person.

I resent being categorized, and i resent people who place people in categories. To say that men have certain characteristics is valid in a general sense. To say that a man has certain characteristics is only valid with a comprehensive knowledge of the individual. To attribute something to that person on the basis of stereotyping is disruptive of the essential human rights of that individual.

I believe that life is a ship in distress, and that the true task of humanity is to get everyone into the lifeboat. It is unfortunate that so many people divide humanity into us and them, so that the us is somehow better, more easily forgiven and accepted. Them is forever below the salt, clothed in the darker garments of evil. We are currently in the midst of a great revolution, and the half of the human race called female has, after countless centuries of oppression and exploitation, stood up and cried "Nonsense!" The good that will accrue to all of us is immeasurable. The lies and distortions relative to the nature of women have diminished the entire human race. The sooner they are lost in antiquity, the better.

Psychology has given us an expanded understanding of the differences between men and women. Healing techniques attempt to bridge the gap. We have sensitivity training to help men acquire women's skills, and we have assertiveness training to help women acquire men's skills. I hope some innovator will evolve some procedures that can teach the archaic practices of good manners, decency and good will.

I am convinced that the following wars of ambition-- the striving and the stolidness, the silences and the shrugging off of an uuncomfortable sentiment-- a man wants to be seen as good. The term a good man once welded unity, a thoughtful caring person who touched the lives of all around him. To quote Mark Antony (Shakespeare, 1599/1919, Julius Caesar, act 5, scene 5, line 73), "His life was gentle and the qualities so mixed in him that nature might stand up and say to all the world-- this was a man.""

-Excerpt from "What Does A Man Want" by Stanley R. Graham, American Psychologist, July 1992, 47(7): 837-841.

Sunday, March 02, 2008

Imperfect

I stare at the wall in front of me, and as I stare at it, it becomes something wondrous to behold. It is a wall made out of cement and steel, painted white, and it is beautiful.

A beautiful wall? Preposterous, isn't it? Yet that is the thought that runs through my mind. It is beautiful because it is imperfect. There are chinks in it, depressions here and there, imperfections, crevices, bumps and protrusions. But as I run my finger over it, and feel its texture, its touch, it feels beautiful indeed.

Do you notice how much of our notion of beauty is based on sight? And how shallow that definition of beauty is? The wall before me certainly may not be much to look at, but it feels beautiful to my touch. Silence is the absence of sound, and definitely nothing to look at, but if you close your eyes and concentrate, the sound of silence can be more beautiful than the greatest works of Mozart. And the beauty of an emotion! Ecstatic joy, loving kindness, moving sadness, even numbing grief. Beauty in its purest and most unadulterated form.

But I digress. Looking at the wall in front of me, I realize that much beauty lies in imperfection. I look at a picture, and I see that it is the out-of-place, the quirky, that endears a picture to me. I listen to music, and it is the clashing of two sounds, the harmonious dissonance, that replays itself over and over again in the music of my mind. I take a bite of some peppermint ice-cream, and the clash of mintyness and sweetness clings to my tongue. I get to know a person, and I realize that it is the imperfections, the character flaws, the divergences from the norm that make them so beautifully different. Flaws are as underrated as beauty is overrated.

It is the flawed coin that is prized. It is the splash of colour on an otherwise perfectly white canvas that we esteem so highly, the bright stars in an otherwise perfectly black sky that so overwhelms us with their beauty. A new blade of grass, ruining the perfect snow. A tear falling softly on an otherwise perfect cheek. The howl of a wolf ruining the perfectly quiet night.

Ah, imperfect beauties. The world needs more of those.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Lament of the Wife of a Psychoanalyst

By Beatrice Allen

I never get mad: I get hostile;
I never feel sad: I'm depressed.
If I sew or knit and enjoy it a bit,
I'm not handy- I'm merely obsessed.

I never regret- I feel guilty,
And if I should vacuum the hall,
Wash the woodwork and such, and not mind it too much,
Am I tidy? Compulsive, that's all.

If I can't choose a hat, I have conflicts,
With ambivalent feelings toward net.
I never get worried or nervous or hurried:
Anxiety- that's what I get.

If I'm happy, I must be euphoric;
If I go to the Stork Club or Ritz
And have a good time making puns or a rhyme,
I'm a manic, or maybe a schiz.

If I think that a doorman was nasty
I'm paranoid, obviously.
And if I take a drink without stopping to think,
Alcoholics B. Allen, that's me.

If I tell you you're right, I'm submissive,
Repressing aggressiveness, too.
And when I disagree, I'm defensive, you see,
And projecting my symptoms on you.

I love you- but that's just transference
With Oedipus rearing his head.
My breathing asthmatic is psychosomatic,
A fear of exclaiming, "Drop dead!"

I'm not lonely- I'm simply dependent.
My dog has no fleas, just a tic.
So if I seem a cad, never mind- just be glad
That I'm not a stinker- I'm sick.

Monday, February 25, 2008

Humanity Under Fire

I may be naive, but I am a believer in the general goodness of mankind. I believe that men (and women) are, in general, considerate and rational people. Sure, maybe we're all prone to do wrong, but I believe that humans are predictable when it comes to morality: we care about those we love and do the best we know how for them, and we hate anything that we perceive as a threat those we love.

Where things go wrong, though, is how we "perceive" threats and how we respond to them. It's when our desire to care for ourselves and those we love clashes with other people's perceptions of what's in their best interest that conflicts arise.

Take for example Adolf Hitler. I believe that his primary motivation was to further the standing of himself, his family and friends, his country, and his "race" in general. Basic human nature, nothing really WRONG with those wants. But what WAS wrong was how he responded to the Jews, whom he perceived as a threat/competition to his race. He shouldn't have murdered them, to put it mildly.

But can you not see his primary motivation there? He thought he was doing what was best for his nation/race. If he hadn't killed all those people he would probably be remembered in history as a great conqueror along the lines of Napoleon, a hero of the German people.

In other words, even those who commit great atrocities are motivated primarily by the same feelings that drive all of us: a desire to advance the positions of ourselves and those we care for. That's the survival of the fittest. That's natural law. That's NATURE through and through.

Take, as another example, slavery in the US during the 18th and 19th centuries. Sure, slavery is wrong, we know that now. But can we really look down on or despise those who were part of the slave trade? They were trying to live their lives to the benefit of those they cared about (mostly), earn money to feed their families, gain wealth for the benefit of themselves and those closest to them. Is that wrong? Perhaps the means with which they employed to achieve those ends were wrong, but I don't think you can say their MOTIVATIONS (to feed their family, etc.) were wrong. Think about this: what if you had the choice of engaging in slavery and feeding your family or NOT engaging in slavery and going bankrupt because you cannot compete with other farmers, thus letting your family starve? Which would you pick?

Or to involve a topic much closer to heart, the "quota" system the government uses when giving scholarships, places in university, etc. They call it a "meritocracy", but we all know that Malays with 7As are getting scholarships whereas Chinese/Indians with 10As get nothing. "UNFAIR!!!" we Chinese/Indians cry. We perceive the system as an injustice, a threat to the future well-being of ourselves and those whom we care about. It's just not RIGHT that we are forced to work three times harder just to compete with the "lazy" Malays, yes?

But look at it from a Malay point of view. Without the system as it is, urban Chinese/Indians would dominate and grab up most the scholarships/uni positions available. This says nothing about the intelligence of the Malays, merely that the urban population (and thus majority Chinese/Indian) is better educated than the rural population. A fact whether we like it or not. And thus the Malays would be confined to a substandard level of education. Without the system as it is, the Malays would lose out, and they certainly don't want that either.

So who's right? Neither, I'd say. Both parties want to further their own interests, which is completely to be expected and natural. We want the best for those we care about it, and like it or not, Chinese people are going to care more about Chinese people and Malays about Malays. It's a conflict of interest to which both sides have reasonable aims and motivations.

The same, I think, can be applied to almost all social issues. Racism, religious warring, caste systems, poverty, even global warming. Both sides have, if not morally correct, at least reasonable motivations for their actions. We humans want to further our own interest, and inevitably some of those interests are going to conflict with others. It's a rat race in which the fittest win, and those less fit get crushed beneath the throng. The only way any of those issues are going to get solved is if one side wins out, "crushing" the other.

I guess my question is whether the human instinct to further the interests of those we care about is morally justified. Is it right that we want ourselves and our families to be the richest, the best educated, the healthiest of them all? I'm sure that most of you would agree that it IS right, or at the very least that it is NOT wrong. We protect those we care for, nothing wrong with that, right? But what I do know is that causing distress on others just because I want to further my own interests IS wrong. And furthering my own interests is in some way inevitably going to cause others some measure of distress, since everyone else is trying to further their own interests too. Thus we have ourselves a moral dilemma.

I guess I just don't trust the term "survival of the fittest" anymore. Survival of the fittest implies that some people are inherently better than others, and I'm a firm believer in the equality of all human beings. I don't want to be part of the global rat race, to compete, to beat others, to dominate, if it means that others get hurt. And get hurt people do, in one way or another, inevitably. Perhaps that's why I hate competitions. I don't want to be part of it, yet I can't extricate myself from it. Because I want to live a good life too, free of troubles. I want to see my friends, family, nation, and yes, even race, prosper. And that means crushing others beneath my shoe.

My humanity is under fire.

Is this sexist or what?






*Chuckles*

*Photo courtesy of Waqas

Afraid of the dark

I found a better way to share my music. Just click on the link below.

Afraid of the dark.

The unknown is always scary.

Monday, February 18, 2008

Oliphaunt Mourn

Oliphaunt Mourn

This one's dedicated to Eu Fern, for her constant admonitions to play "softer and sadder". And titled "Oliphaunt Mourn" to reflect her dedication to Tolkien.

Weather woes


Residents clean up after storms in South
February 18, 2008 12:09 EST

PRATTVILLE, Ala. (AP) -- Thousands of homes and businesses are without power and more than two dozen injured after storms and tornadoes in Georgia, Alabama and Florida.

Ten people are injured in Crawford County, Georgia, with two of them in critical condition. At least 14 homes have been destroyed in the area.

Meanwhile, rescue crews are going door-to-door in Prattville, Alabama, looking for people trapped in wreckage after a tornado blew through town. No fatalities have been reported but two people are critically injured. About 200 homes have been damaged or destroyed.

About 60 structures are damaged after a tornado blew through Escambia County in Florida. Residents are now working to clear debris, cover broken windows and spread tarps over roofs.

In the Midwest, freezing rain and snow forced schools, malls, libraries and churches to close.

-The Associated Press-





And thus I spent half an hour yesterday morning huddled in the "Bat Cave" (nickname for our laundry room/basement) of my dorm with about 20 other people when they sounded the tornado warning. An interesting experience it was. I almost wish the tornadoes had struck a little closer to Sewanee, though, just so that I could have actually seen them.

Stuff like these makes me glad I'm here. Malaysian weather is boring.

You know, it hit me suddenly that dying in a tornado wouldn't be bad way to die. Imagine standing in an open field with your arms raised, then being picked up by a tornado and thrown a hundred feet up. Imagine the sensations involved, surrendering yourself to the awesome might of nature. Imagine the thunder in your ears, the feel of the wind on your skin, the sensation of flying UPwards.

Hmm. If I ever contract a terminal disease, maybe that's what I'll do. Go out with a bang. Or in this case, a roar.

That's what I'd call a beautiful death.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Nature is weird.

As I discovered in my Anthropology class, evolution works in funny ways sometimes. Here's a graphic example.




This is an x-ray of a "pregnant" kiwi bird. Just look at the size of that egg. I think that's the epitome of the phrase, "Like sh*tting a ton of bricks".

Whew.

And people complain that childbirth is painful. Imagine what this fella (or rather, gal) here must go through.

Monday, February 11, 2008

God and the Stone

A long time ago I came across a question regarding God's omnipotence that had me frustrated for the longest time. Most of you have probably heard it, for it is one of the best known Catch-22 questions. The question, simply, is this:

"Can God create a stone so massive that He himself cannot lift it?"

As you can see, at first glance this poses a problem for a believer in God's omnipotence. It seems, that if God CAN create such stone, then there is something beyond his power (lifting it). On the other hand, if he CAN'T create such a stone, then he is also limited in his creating power, and thus no longer omnipotent.

So, what have we here? An unsolvable dilemma? Not quite, thanks to George Mavrodes.

There are two ways in which to answer the question without having to deny God's omnipotence, and they are both more simple than you might think. Simply put, the answers are "Yes, He can", and "No, He cannot".

Before you start mouthing obscenities, allow me to explain.

Method 1

The first answer, "Yes, He can", is the more complex of the two. It seems at first that answering the question in that manner would lead us straight into the original dilemma. However, it does not. This is because by answering the question thus, you forcing the objector to assume that the creation of such a stone means that God is omnipotent, and he can therefore no longer use the same answer to prove that God ISN'T omnipotent.

Confused? Allow me to elaborate further. First, examine the original question and you can see that it is a two part "if...then..." question, such as follows:
1. If God is omnipotent, then He CAN create a stone that He cannot lift.
2. If God is omnipotent, then He CANNOT create a stone that He cannot lift.

Realise that the two postulates contradict each other. Therefore, logically, only one can be correct.

By answering "Yes, He can", you have effectively ruled out number 2, and thus you've eliminated the dilemma. This is because you've fulfilled the criteria for God's omnipotence as postulated in rule No. 1. You are effectively limiting the definition of God's omnipotence to the ability to create such a stone. In mathematical terms:

[For lack of the proper symbol I will use "=/" to mean "does not equal"]

1. God is omnipotent =/ God is not omnipotent (Duh)

2. Yes, He can create a stone He cannot lift (your answer)=God is omnipotent (your meaning)

Therefore,

3. Yes, He can create a stone He cannot lift =/ God is not omnipotent

You see, for the objector to use your answer to prove that God isn't omnipotent would require him to accept that:

God is omnipotent=He can create the stone=God isn't omnipotent

(This is because based on your answer and conclusion, the objector cannot reject that God is omnipotent=He can create the stone)

Or, in clearer terms:

He can create the stone=God is omnipotent=God isn't omnipotent

Obviously, this is wrong, for God cannot be omnipotent and NOT omnipotent at the same time.


Some objectors would try to phrase it this way.

1. If God CANNOT create a stone so large that he himself cannot lift it, then He IS omnipotent.
2. He can create such a stone (Your answer).
3. He isn't omnipotent.

This, however, is a logical fallacy because it requires one to assume He isn't omnipotent BEFORE one can arrive at the same conclusion that He isn't omnipotent. This is called "begging the question" (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Begging_the_question), and although the procession of ideas is valid, it tells us nothing about whether God really is or isn't omnipotent and is thus worthless.


Method 2

To answer the question negatively ("No, He cannot") is slightly easier to understand, and is based on the notion of infinity. Those of you who have studied math would know that infinity-x=infinity. Keep that in mind.

So, what are the implications of the answer, "No, He cannot"? You are, of course, limiting God in a certain way. But what is that limitation? That He cannot create a stone larger than He can lift.
Note, however, that this does not restrict God's lifting power. Assuming God's omnipotence, God still has infinite lifting power.

To make it more sensible, lets define God's lifting power as the number of kilograms he can lift.

Thus, assuming God's omnipotence, God's lifting power=infinity kg

Because we've already limited God's stone-creating ability to a number smaller than he can lift, that means He can create a stone with the mass of God's lifting power - 1.

Assuming God's omnipotence, this means that God can create a stone the size of (infinity-1) kg, which is equal to infinity kg! The supposed limitation turns out to be no limitation at all!

To put it in words, anything that is limited by something that is infinite is itself infinite. Thus God can create to infinity without outstripping his power to lift (also infinity), and you have not contradicted yourself. In this manner, limiting an omnipotent God is an exercise in futility.

So, the next time someone pops you the question "Can God create a stone so large that He himself cannot move it?", just look them straight in the eye and answer either "Yes" or "No". Either way, God can still be omnipotent, and you can chuckle to yourself about the worthlessness of the question.


p/s This argument in no way proves that God IS omnipotent. It just intends to show that certain arguments intended to prove that He CANNOT be omnipotent fail.

Reference: George Mavrodes, 1963. "Some Puzzles Concerning Omnipotence", Philosophical Review 72.

Tuesday, February 05, 2008

On the tree top

Rock-a-bye baby, on the tree top,
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock.
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall,
And down will come baby, cradle and all.

Don't you think that's a little too morbid for a lullaby?

I imagine the careless nanny/mother singing afterwards:

Oops, I did it again,
I was playing cards,
Got lost in the game,
Oh baby baby
Oops!.. Never knew you'd get hurt
But I'm an idiot
I'm not that innocent

Sunday, February 03, 2008

Touching.



Great skit.

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

This Is the Title of This Story, Which Is Also Found Several Times in the Story Itself

This is the first sentence of this story. This is the second sentence. This is the title of this story, which is also found several times in the story itself. This sentence is questioning the intrinsic value of the first two sentences. This sentence is to inform you, in case you haven't already realized it, that this is a self-referential story, that is, a story containing sentences that refer to their own structure and function. This is a sentence that provides an ending to the first paragraph.

This is the first sentence of a new paragraph in a self-referential story. This sentence is introducing you to the protagonist of the story, a young boy named Billy. This sentence is telling you that Billy is blond and blue-eyed and American and twelve years old and strangling his mother. This sentence comments on the awkward nature of the self- referential narrative form while recognizing the strange and playful detachment it affords the writer. As if illustrating the point made by the last sentence, this sentence reminds us, with no trace of facetiousness, that children are a precious gift from God and that the world is a better place when graced by the unique joys and delights they bring to it.

This sentence describes Billy's mother's bulging eyes and protruding tongue and makes reference to the unpleasant choking and gagging noises she's making. This sentence makes the observation that these are uncertain and difficult times, and that relationships, even seemingly deep-rooted and permanent ones, do have a tendency to break down.

Introduces, in this paragraph, the device of sentence fragments. A sentence fragment. Another. Good device. Will be used more later.

This is actually the last sentence of the story but has been placed here by mistake. This is the title of this story, which is also found several times in the story itself. As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself in his bed transformed into a gigantic insect. This sentence informs you that the preceding sentence is from another story entirely (a much better one, it must be noted) and has no place at all in this particular narrative. Despite claims of the preceding sentence, this sentence feels compelled to inform you that the story you are reading is in actuality "The Metamorphosis" by Franz Kafka, and that the sentence referred to by the preceding sentence is the only sentence which does indeed belong in this story. This sentence overrides the preceding sentence by informing the reader (poor, confused wretch) that this piece of literature is actually the Declaration of Independence, but that the author, in a show of extreme negligence (if not malicious sabotage), has so far failed to include even one single sentence from that stirring document, although he has condescended to use a small sentence fragment, namely, "When in the course of human events", embedded in quotation marks near the end of a sentence. Showing a keen awareness of the boredom and downright hostility of the average reader with regard to the pointless conceptual games indulged in by the preceding sentences, this sentence returns us at last to the scenario of the story by asking the question, "Why is Billy strangling his mother?" This sentence attempts to shed some light on the question posed by the preceding sentence but fails. This sentence, however, succeeds, in that it suggests a possible incestuous relationship between Billy and his mother and alludes to the concomitant Freudian complications any astute reader will immediately envision. Incest. The unspeakable taboo. The universal prohibition. Incest. And notice the sentence fragments? Good literary device. Will be used more later.

This is the first sentence in a new paragraph. This is the last sentence in a new paragraph.

This sentence can serve as either the beginning of the paragraph or end, depending on its placement. This is the title of this story, which is also found several times in the story itself. This sentence raises a serious objection to the entire class of self-referential sentences that merely comment on their own function or placement within the story (e.g., the preceding four sentences), on the grounds that they are monotonously predictable, unforgivably self- indulgent, and merely serve to distract the reader from the real subject of this story, which at this point seems to concern strangulation and incest and who knows what other delightful topics. The purpose of this sentence is to point out that the preceding sentence, while not itself a member of the class of self-referential sentences it objects to, nevertheless also serves merely to distract the reader from the real subject of this story, which actually concerns Gregor Samsa's inexplicable transformation into a gigantic insect (despite the vociferous counterclaims of other well- meaning although misinformed sentences). This sentence can serve as either the beginning of the paragraph or end, depending on its placement.

This is the title of this story, which is also found several times in the story itself. This is almost the title of the story, which is found only once in the story itself. This sentence regretfully states that up to this point the self-referential mode of narrative has had a paralyzing effect on the actual progress of the story itself -- that is, these sentences have been so concerned with analyzing themselves and their role in the story that they have failed by and large to perform their function as communicators of events and ideas that one hopes coalesce into a plot, character development, etc. -- in short, the very raisons d'etre of any respectable, hardworking sentence in the midst of a piece of compelling prose fiction. This sentence in addition points out the obvious analogy between the plight of these agonizingly self-aware sentences and similarly afflicted human beings, and it points out the analogous paralyzing effects wrought by excessive and tortured self- examination.

The purpose of this sentence (which can also serve as a paragraph) is to speculate that if the Declaration of Independence had been worded and structured as lackadaisically and incoherently as this story has been so far, there's no telling what kind of warped libertine society we'd be living in now or to what depths of decadence the inhabitants of this country might have sunk, even to the point of deranged and debased writers constructing irritatingly cumbersome and needlessly prolix sentences that sometimes possess the questionable if not downright undesirable quality of referring to themselves and they sometimes even become run-on sentences or exhibit other signs of inexcusably sloppy grammar like unneeded superfluous redundancies that almost certainly would have insidious effects on the lifestyle and morals of our impressionable youth, leading them to commit incest or even murder and maybe that's why Billy is strangling his mother, because of sentences just like this one, which have no discernible goals or perspicuous purpose and just end up anywhere, even in mid

Bizarre. A sentence fragment. Another fragment. Twelve years old. This is a sentence that. Fragmented. And strangling his mother. Sorry, sorry. Bizarre. This. More fragments. This is it. Fragments. The title of this story, which. Blond. Sorry, sorry. Fragment after frag- ment. Harder. This is a sentence that. Fragments. Damn good device.

The purpose of this sentence is threefold: (1) to apologize for the unfortunate and inexplicable lapse exhibited by the preceding paragraph; (2) to assure you, the reader, that it will not happen again; and (3) to reiterate the point that these are uncertain and difficult times and that aspects of language, even seemingly stable and deeply rooted ones such as syntax and meaning, do break down. This sentence adds nothing substantial to the sentiments of the preceding sentence but merely provides a concluding sentence to this paragraph, which otherwise might not have one.

This sentence, in a sudden and courageous burst of altruism, tries to abandon the self-referential mode but fails. This sentence tries again, but the attempt is doomed from the start.

This sentence, in a last-ditch attempt to infuse some iota of story line into this paralyzed prose piece, quickly alludes to Billy's frantic cover-up attempts, followed by a lyrical, touching, and beautifully written passage wherein Billy is reconciled with his father (thus resolving the subliminal Freudian conflicts obvious to any astute reader) and a final exciting police chase scene during which Billy is accidentally shot and killed by a panicky rookie policeman who is coincidentally named Billy. This sentence, although basically in complete sympathy with the laudable efforts of the preceding action-packed sentence, reminds the reader that such allusions to a story that doesn't, in fact, yet exist are no substitute for the real thing and therefore will not get the author (indolent goof-off that he is) off the proverbial hook.

Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph.

The purpose. Of this paragraph. Is to apologize. For its gratuitous use. Of. Sentence fragments. Sorry.

The purpose of this sentence is to apologize for the pointless and silly adolescent games indulged in by the preceding two paragraphs, and to express regret on the part of us, the more mature sentences, that the entire tone of this story is such that it can't seem to communicate a simple, albeit sordid, scenario.

This sentence wishes to apologize for all the needless apologies found in this story (this one included), which, although placed here ostensibly for the benefit of the more vexed readers, merely delay in a maddeningly recursive way the continuation of the by-now nearly forgotten story line.

This sentence is bursting at the punctuation marks with news of the dire import of self-reference as applied to sentences, a practice that could prove to be a veritable Pandora's box of potential havoc, for if a sentence can refer or allude to itself, why not a lowly subordinate clause, perhaps this very clause? Or this sentence fragment? Or three words? Two words? One?

Perhaps it is appropriate that this sentence gently and with no trace of condescension reminds us that these are indeed difficult and uncertain times and that in general people just aren't nice enough to each other, and perhaps we, whether sentient human beings or sentient sentences, should just try harder. I mean, there is such a thing as free will, there has to be, and this sentence is proof of it! Neither this sentence nor you, the reader, is completely helpless in the face of all the pitiless forces at work in the universe. We should stand our ground, face facts, take Mother Nature by the throat and just try harder.

By the throat. Harder. Harder, harder.

Sorry.

This is the title of this story, which is also found several times in the story itself.

This is the last sentence of the story.


-This sentence tells you that the story you just read is A Self-Referential Story by David Moser, taken from http://consc.net/misc/moser.html. This sentence is to tell you that the last sentence is self-referential and written in case you think this story is original. This is the last sentence of this extremely long blog post made longer by this sentence that you're reading now which you are still reading even though at this very moment you have no idea why because you can see that this sentence is purposeless, yet you're still reading this sentence all the way to the end because you are curious to see how it does end, leaving you only two options: an exasperated sigh or a big huge chuckle.