It is a brain aching feeling of knowing that the word is stuck right there. You learnt it somewhere, from a particularly cerebral book, from the cereal label, or from your grandfather when he stubbed his toe and wanted to swear but then realised in time that you were there. Incidentally, my grandfather did teach me the F word, when a rubberband twanged back on his finger. However, being a young and innocent child back then, I thought he was invoking the Far King, who lived in a remote corner of Hell. But that is another story.

Back to the tip-of-the-tongue nonsense. I am no stranger to feeling clumsy with the vocabulary of a language that I grew up speaking. But clumsiness must not be mistaken for laziness or ovine tendencies. Those are the feelings that reduce otherwise very intelligent people to reuse words that are so tired out they should be sent to a retirement home. An example is "rant". I have seen too many tags on blogs or titles that say "A rant" or "Rants". A related misdemenour is "random thoughts" or "random musings". There was once a time when these phrases evoked an image of a solitary, brooding intellectual. Now any booger can muse or rant. This is why I have tagged this tirade as "vociferations". Just to be original.

However, these people pale in comparison to Paris Hilton, and the people who follow her. "That's hot" and "Juicy" don't MEAN anything. They are just phrases that fly out of her actually quite smart mind in her attempt to be bimbo and milk the rest of us of more money. Ladies and gentlemen, can't you feel her little chihuahua biting your buttocks? Why are so many peopel imitating her? Why would you want to be Paris Hilton? (besides the money. I understand that part) Could someone please tell me before I need to be locked in a youth asylum from wondering.

And lastly, what's up with the Singaporean press and parliament calling everyone below the age of 85 a "youngster"? Firstly, its archaic Cockney, and so should not even be used. It's right up there with "thou shalt behave thyself, or I wilst send lightning to split the ground and riccochet into thy arsehole". Secondly, it's a condescending term that shows exactly how little respect the precious "resource" of the country is given. But, what really takes the cake is how people my age start insulting themseleves (fine, insult yourself if you want, but don't insult me) and saying "youngsters these days are rebellious and don't think about the future." Actually, I think that in any other circumstance, they would phrase it more precisely, except that the Singaporean usage of "youngster" is so pervasive that even the people who are being insulted insult themselves. Look, if you must insult yourself, it's better to use the archaic Cockney companion of "tiddler". Like, "He's such a tiddler, he can't walkt properly and he just shat on a turtle."

I'm done.

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there lived an exceedingly dumb hero called Jocks Drap. He was built like a concrete block, and 10 times as dense. It had been a trying time for him. Steriod-laced protein shake prices were at an all-time high due to police crackdowns. Jocks preferred to be a law-abiding hero, but he always found that people liked heavily built and mentally tormented saviours, like Batman. (Bruce Wayne, not Kenneth Kang) Besides, if he showed up looking like Luvis in tights and wearing his underwear outside, people would laugh at him for being a total wanker. People don't laugh at wankers twice their size.

When he got out of bed today, he received a disturbing phone call from the neighbourhood police post corporal Ong "Cheese Pie" Fong Sai. There had been a spate of spark-plug thefts and the police were desperate to find the perpretrator. The case had been given to Corporal Ong, and it was his big break. A conviction would mean a move to better things, like filling up police reports for students who lose their fund raising coupons. So he turned to Jocks Drap for help.

The police post was a dreary place that only police scholars lived their lives out in. The paint was peeling off the walls, but no one could persuade the paint from doing so. The police force were yet to enter negotiations with the paint to leave their walls alone, otherwise the roof will come down. The paint had joined NTUC, and had continued peeling off as many walls as it liked. Such was the environment which necessitated the growth of vigilantes like Jocks Drap. And he was here today once again to provide his help (he got paid leave from his employer Phua Chu Kang when on superhero business)

Corporal Ong was waiting for him at the reception desk. "Here are the photos from the surveillance camaers. As you can see, the suspect is pale, skinny, and looks like he is going to die."

Just then, the lights went out.

To be continued

I would like to say that blogspot is full of shit. I have lost 2 posts about the uniformity and childishness of Singapore universities. It was a rave about how veryone describes themselves as "flexible" and "creative" and "unique" and vibrant" that no one is and the places that really are don't use those awful words anymore.

Today I was catching up with chris on the phone and she said "Kevin Costner ages well, but Alec Baldwin ages like a potato." I have never seen an aged potato, but Alec Baldwin sure as hell doesn't look too good. The closes thing to a aged potato I've seen is a week old crisp I found under the sofa. It didn't look too good either.

Happy Birthday Lydia!!!!

You should blackmail the guys with the neoprints into buying you a diamond ring; unless someone's already done that ;)

One thing that JC has taught me is that gossip spreads like herpes at a hippie convention. It's foul and incurable.

Sometimes you wake up in the morning and you wonder, why am I here? What's the point of dragging myself through the day when my death would've made all the work I've done consigned to the wind? Then there's lots of unpleasant stuff to be dealing with, like telling my parents about my abysmal exam results, and preparing for OP. I might as well find a tower block to fling my pathetic shell off. This would then be the time for various religious leaders to step in and convince me that there is something worth waiting for. But then my staunch disbelief points out to me 2 things.

1. These things either aren't true,
2. Even if they are, I won't believe them anyway, so whatever happens I'll still rot in various unpleasant versions of hell.

So the only conclusion is that a few more decades don't factor in the greater scheme of things. Such a epiphany tends to throw one into the most extreme doldrums.

Then you discover the joy of a freshly baked cookie.

"Last week I stated that this woman was the ugliest woman I had ever seen. I have since been visited by her sister and now wish to withdraw that statement. " - Mark Twain

"Why don't they make the whole plane out of the black box stuff?" -Steve Wright

"Life is a sexually trasmitted disease where the mortality rateis 100%"- R.D. Laing

"First you forget names, then you forget faces. Next you forget to pull your zipper up and finally, you forget to pull it down." George Burns.

"You're about as useful as a one-legged man at an arse kicking contest." Rowan Atkinson.

Some people know how to say everything.

I have nothing against psychologists. I do have something against machine-generated psychology reports that cost 50 dollars and an hour of my time. Hence, it is time to make fun of the 16PF report. It's conclusions are as follows.

• Ms Chan is an unmitigated bimbo. "She can become so focused and tuned in to her ideas that some people may believe that she is not thinking as clearly as she could"
• Ms Chan should join the ranks of Hitler, Napoleon, Brezhnev and Brain (trademark Warner Bros) "She likes to grapple directly with most problem situations in order to build an organization dependent upon strong leadership (me, i suppose), and cooperative subordinates. (you other people)
• Julie is a bitch. "Ms Chan is normally inclined to state her desires clearly and forcefully."
• She is on the brink of a nervous breakdown. "Ms Chan's profile patterns indicate that she may be experiencing enough personal concerns about herself to benefit from seeking helpful and supportive professional counseling.
• Ms Chan, the rebel. "She needs to guard against the effect of showing too little interest in living up to the standards that society values, or doing what is expected of other people."

It also appears to be time to consider a career in the library, a liberal arts college, or in elected public office. I am also similar to dentists, computer programmers and geologists. My personal lifestyle patterns indicate that we will all get along famously.

Smashing.

ASEAN has always had a vision of being the magical problem solver in southeast Asia. Another problem has been highlighted the past few weeks -- the haze. So besides Singaporean and Malaysian leaders complaining to the Indonesian government, and clueless Indonesian farmers, nothing much has happened. All that ASEAN has resolved to do is have ministers meet every quarter. We all know that these meetings are just a farce, to pretend as if somebody somewhere is doing something about the smoke. And even if they were making a genuine effort, they're doing it wrongly.

They shouldn't have meetings every 3 months. That doesn't achieve anything other than having a reporting system which daily measurements by local meteorological stations make pointless anyway. What they should do is have one meeting. Just one. Get all the experts down, then decide on the course of action they need to take, appoint a monitoring body, and follow it through. Although the UN has not been the most efficient organisation, I think ASEAN has something to learn from it. Get other countries involved, because sooner or later they're going to be affected as well.

If Singapore wants to be the big shot again, then it can also take a leaf from the UN's book and send a task forced down to Indonesia, with the sanction of other ASEAN memebers. Then after the full scale of the problem has been ascertained, people will be needed to go to the ground and educate farmers about the alternative options of clearing the land. Or, the Indonesian government could do what was done during the Green Revolution. Subsidise the cleaner methods. No tragedy of the commons here, because Indonesia is receiving the brunt of the haze.

I will not be able to stand another day having my allergies act up. Puffy eyes and a running nose just kill your daily functionality.

Today my sister got an information booklet for choosing secondary schools. Kind of like "Life After PSLE". It isn't so much an information booklet as a very thick advertisement, but I suppose if you're 12, and concerned about points (who isn't?) it serves its purpose.

I looked up Dunman there, and some of it was quite funny. For instance, with the new IP program, they're going to be offering KI next year. Haha. I'm sorry, but the very thought of a place as cheena as Dunman teaching KI is hilarious. When I went back in September, Ken said that he would probably be teaching it. Dunman must think that he's a superhero with all the work that he's been saddled with.

The sister's selection criteria is simple:
1. Must have admission points no higher than 255 (the highest she personally expects)
2. Must have dance.
3. Must not have boys.

She's still in the "Ew...All boys have contagious stupidity viruses that I may catch." stage. I pointed out to her that after 2 years in a single sex school, she's going to become quite desperate, so she should just make room for future impulses. Either that, or go to a school that's located near an all boys one. Like SCGS, except Barker boys are a bit off.

This was supposed to be a joke, but my parents didn't find it very funny. Neither did my sister. I know she's going to live to regret it.

The only worse thing than being lousy at something is watching other people be good at it. I watched that Discovery Channel kungfu thing, where men built like mountains smash through brick walls, men built like cats move like monkeys and women built like bamboo poles whup the asses of the men built like mountains. So like any other mere mortal who has trouble running the 2.4, I spent most of the time exclaiming and wishing that I too could deliver the ninja hammer-punch that crushes the ribcage and kills a man with a single blow.

Which tends to put your abilities into perspective. The only things that I've ever attempted never required me to have muscles or stamina. I mean, how much upper body strength do you need to lift chess pieces? Or how much lung power do you need to debate? I sound like a first class wimp. The kind that never make it pass the door in American high schools, and need to be directly admitted to Harvard at 12 or risk getting beaten to a pulp.

It is important to note that in developing cranial abilities for these weakling activities, the brain needs fats to construct and maintain synapses. This means that I have considerable amounts of fats elsewhere. Wonderful. Sometimes I wish my parents had dragged my sorry little butt to taekwondo class or something, instead of letting me languish into my current state.

Well, when I was about 3 or 4, I did go for this thing called Tumble Tots. (sounds like a brand of disposable diapers) It was to kick the scardy cat out of me, because when I was 3, I was morbidly afraid of stairs, escalators, and lifts. My poor body was forced to do somersaults adn flips and climb strange contraptions in the hope of making me the new Bruce Lee. Didn't work. I was screaming all the way, the last in class to manage anything, and it inculcated in me a strong sense of self-preservation.

I blame this experience for making me the wimp that I am today.

I will stop trying to deny that blogging is anything rather than a narcissistic exercise (i know i just insulted myself). Freedom of speech? Yes. But freedom of speech sometimes gets tiringly self-centred as well. A lot of the time, its a declaration of "Hey!!! Look at me!!! I have an OPINION!!" or at the worst levels, "Hey everyone!! Let me tell you about my day." It is the call of the insignificant, tiny man who has to do his homework, pay his taxes, and buy peanut butter to be noticed. He is sick of stayingin the background while things like newspapers (if he even has the time to read them anymore), TVs, computers, and important people tell him important things that are important in the more important parts of the world.

So in response to that, two blogs are being created every second so that a miniscule section of the WWW will be dedicated solely to the words of this one author, THE last authority on everything in that little chunk of abstract space. But are those really things that are unique to that one insignifcant individual trying not to be swallowed up in the more important, or trying to become more important? No. Duh.

In the end, the little man becomes even littler in the wide space. His musings abuot doing the laundry and being a pooper scooper become another part of a gigantic, indistinguishable crowd of likeminded aunties, serial killers, toddlers, emo freaks, and mid-rung executives talking about what they had for lunch. Even when he does express an opinion about something important, and it may be a very good opinion worth listening to, it will not be heard over the din of the millions and millions of blogs that have sprung up. Like this one will be. These thoughts will be swallowed like a yell at a Live8 concert, and only the friends standing closest to you will hear anything.

And like a Live8 concert, there are the stars that get listened to. Stars like mr brown, the nearly-porn stars who post pretty pictures and the blogs of tyrannical Iranian leaders. Cyberspace is no longer a relief from reality. It is reality.

It doesn't really matter in the greater scheme of things, chinese, you know? No less economically developed countries are going to sink any deeper in the quagmire of bureaucracy or corruption simply because I failed chinese. Singapore is still going to continue its immensely profitable business dealings with China after tomorrow, after I fail my chinese promo. If nothing terrible in the likes of the apocalypse is going to occur when Ms Chan screws up chinese tomorrow, chances are, an asteriod will not collide with the earth if she does not turn up at all.

I am seriously considering that option.

But then I know that my pride will not let me. My pride will force me to take that bloody paper, and get an S (in a best-case scenario) instead of having a blank in my report slip. My common sense also tells me that I may as well get as much practise screwing up as I can, so that I can screw up the real A level chinese exam properly. Most of all, Mr and Mrs Chan will be much more annoyed about being absent for the chinese exam than if I failed it. But they will still be annoyed.

I also am driven to school every morning...and I have no intention of scaling the gate like many other VJC heroes.

Au revoir world. When I put my head on the chopping block for 3 hours toomorrow, I know that you'll still be the same when my headles carcass emerges. But I know that I won't.

Its easy to forget that there are more horrifying things taking place other than the promos and the A levels. However, if anyone bothers to stop mugging for about 5 minutes to read the newspaper (unless you’re crazy and mugging for GP, and reading the newspaper anyway), you’ll see that what’s grabbing headlines is not the Iraq, or Iran, or the Lebanon conflict. It’s organic food, and the discovery of E Coli in organic American spinach. I’m an organic food sceptic myself, and I use this as proof of organic food’s complete uselessness.

To summarise what’s been happening, E-Coli has been found inside the leaves of spinach from Californian organic growers. Many people are ill, some have died, and spinach and other organic food are being pulled off shelves. So you see, organic food isn’t the miracle health cure that people claim it is, it can be as dangerous. "Organic" is just a term to charge three times more than normal food so that you won’t ingest cancer causing agents.

But if you think about it, "organic" really has no meaning. It just means that instead of synthetic fertilizer, your food gets nourishment from, well, bullshit. The thought of having the waste product of cows and all the bacteria concentrated there being absorbed into your food is just revolting. So you aer left with a choice. Eat food contaminated with "natural" pathogens, or risk a death from cancer (which you probably will get anyway even if you eat just organic food)

If you look at it closely enough, organic food is just a symptom of nostalgia, for a time when father and son plowed the fields together with a pair of oxen instead of barely keeping in touch by mobile phone. An offshoot of this feeling is people using typewriters in the computer age, or fountain pens when there are ballpoints. Still, there is a limit to this. Surely with all the technological progress that we’re so proud of, you don’t want to go back to using a quill? Or a club. Ug. Me Man. Me Talk.

The very people who advocate this shift to our ‘natural’ state are really hypocrites. They drive cars, they balance their finances with calculators, and they watch MTV (if not MTV then some TV, but I bet you can’t find TVs in caves).

On the other hand, they reject things like "Western medicine" just because this science allowed us to isolate antibodies and mass produce them. These are the people who advocate TCM. (they used an acronym to make it sound cooler) And really, does TCM make any sense? How do you quantify "cooling" or "heaty"? Likewise, if eating deer penises makes you virile, will eating a whale’s make you…big?? I’d like to see those people try.

This nostalgic feeling may make us realize how far we’ve come, but now its only making us move backwards. Or subscribe to very strange things. Look at "water births", where the woman gives birth to her baby without painkillers, while sitting in a Jacuzzi-thing. There is nothing ‘natural’ about this either. Animals that "naturally" have babies in the water are animals like whales, dolphins, fish, and sea cucumber. Therefore, many claims of human beings going back to the ‘natural scheme’ of things means pretending to be another species.

As for me, I’m going to take a risk. Yes, there is lots of synthetic stuff that can hurt you, but the "natural" stuff is so dubious as well. The important thing is to read the label, and make sure you don’t get duped. If I ever go into contractions in the labour room and someone asks me "You want water birth or not?" I’m going to say no.

Bring on the drugs baby.