It's a good year for SG music gamers on content and a terrible year on wallet and affordability. And an especially good year for me as far as being a music gamer is concerned, hahaha.
I must say that we have KACA and a very devoted fanbase in Taiwan/HK to thank for Sound Voltex, Pop'n Sunny Park, and presumably RB Colette coming into the Asia region so quickly (And even coming in at all in the case of Pop'n and Voltex).
My personal observation is that gamers there are really quite an amazing bunch of people. Queueing 2+ hours just to get "front row seats" on the floor, bringing the Tricoro poster, drawings of Pastel-kun, every album of Sota Fujimori's Synthesized Series (1-3; 4 only just got released) - no way in hell you'd ever see that in Singapore, seriously. Sure, it's survivor bias but I really doubt we even have enough of such people to make a crowd. The scene just can't compare. You just won't have people screaming "WE WANT SOUND VOLTEX AND POP'N IN TAIWAN" to Sota/Qrispy. In any case, Qrispy did say that they'll bring the issue up to management and see where that got us. It's great to witness it all in action rather than have one lame email saying "Colette will come in March 2013".
Even competition-end they are more passionate. Look at this, a player-organized tournament to commemorate the opening of Colette in Korea. It's been a grand total of two days and everything's done already. None of that bureaucracy crap or team spirit or community, these people are just passionate for playing the game. (I still stand by the opinion that if you really want a successful turnout at any event you organize then you should use any means necessary to achieve it. Trying to act aloof and pretending things are going well will do you no good when said event ends up a failure as far as turnout is concerned. Yes, I'm pretty explicit here if you're in the know.)
It's kind of tragic that all this comes at a time of a revenue-sharing model that makes games $2.50 each.
There's more I'd like to write but argh 3.20am in the morning. Urgh
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Monday, November 19, 2012
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8nif01WZ9aI
If money weren't an issue maybe I wouldn't be in this city at all.
I honestly think that there's something innately tragic about this carpe diem mentality and how it garners support and faith amongst people, even serving somewhat as a panacea for the lost. Better to live a short and full life than a long and miserable one, they'll always say. Just do something that you're passionate in and don't care about the money.
Be my guest, but please don't ever think that this mentality will ever help the world at large. It's interesting because I see top comments on youtube that feel that "There will always be someone that will be interested in what you aren't interested in", extending it to even cleaning the sewers, ignoring the problems that education, proportions of people who want certain jobs, changing perceptions of what is socially acceptable, people to care after and other issues (I'm really tempted to put "economics" as an issue precisely because they say "ignore the money")
The number of people who will truly enjoy what they do for a living right now is without doubt a scarce minority, a drop in the red ocean. To say that this should be the case and that all is fine with the world is almost wronging humanity in itself. But to go about this with a 'everything will solve itself' mentality or even the 'live life fully and quickly' kind of mentality is just a tragic response to the issue - to not attempt to fight your way to a meaningful survival and live instead as the bright spark that shines ever so brightly yet dies ever so quickly.
The very worst would be when what you intend to do doesn't stop at burning you away in passion - it further burns those who believed and had faith in you.Your dreams will cost others dearly.
Of course, once you master whatever you loved, life would be different. But when will that happen? Will you ever make it there?
---------------------------------------
Perhaps I am still bitter over it all.
If money weren't an issue maybe I wouldn't be in this city at all.
I honestly think that there's something innately tragic about this carpe diem mentality and how it garners support and faith amongst people, even serving somewhat as a panacea for the lost. Better to live a short and full life than a long and miserable one, they'll always say. Just do something that you're passionate in and don't care about the money.
Be my guest, but please don't ever think that this mentality will ever help the world at large. It's interesting because I see top comments on youtube that feel that "There will always be someone that will be interested in what you aren't interested in", extending it to even cleaning the sewers, ignoring the problems that education, proportions of people who want certain jobs, changing perceptions of what is socially acceptable, people to care after and other issues (I'm really tempted to put "economics" as an issue precisely because they say "ignore the money")
The number of people who will truly enjoy what they do for a living right now is without doubt a scarce minority, a drop in the red ocean. To say that this should be the case and that all is fine with the world is almost wronging humanity in itself. But to go about this with a 'everything will solve itself' mentality or even the 'live life fully and quickly' kind of mentality is just a tragic response to the issue - to not attempt to fight your way to a meaningful survival and live instead as the bright spark that shines ever so brightly yet dies ever so quickly.
The very worst would be when what you intend to do doesn't stop at burning you away in passion - it further burns those who believed and had faith in you.Your dreams will cost others dearly.
Of course, once you master whatever you loved, life would be different. But when will that happen? Will you ever make it there?
---------------------------------------
Perhaps I am still bitter over it all.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
KAC Flight Annoyances
Not being able to make a single arrangement even though I know everything right in front of me because people just aren't getting back to me is probably the most rage-inducing thing in the world.
The thing that kills dreams and hopes and attempts to make them into real life isn't naivete or fear of risk-taking - it's emails that take one week to get back to you and the tape and everything else that will never flow like clockwork that do.
Yes this perfectly fell within my expectations but I went ahead with it anyway fully aware of the insanity that this involves. I just wish that the insanity wasn't because I had only 5 days before the competition before I got a confirmed flight detail and because I was going to do what I was going to do.
Really, I know that real life is a bitch and things never turn out as easy as you'd wish they do but sometimes it gets more annoying than usual. Sigh
The thing that kills dreams and hopes and attempts to make them into real life isn't naivete or fear of risk-taking - it's emails that take one week to get back to you and the tape and everything else that will never flow like clockwork that do.
Yes this perfectly fell within my expectations but I went ahead with it anyway fully aware of the insanity that this involves. I just wish that the insanity wasn't because I had only 5 days before the competition before I got a confirmed flight detail and because I was going to do what I was going to do.
Really, I know that real life is a bitch and things never turn out as easy as you'd wish they do but sometimes it gets more annoying than usual. Sigh
Saturday, September 01, 2012
Of passion, conviction, and direction
Of what use is passion without direction and conviction?
Without direction, it is but a driving force that pushes the self, no more and no less. Powerful as it may be, it must be guided and steered before it can bring you to any desired destination. Without it you are but charging your way through the stormy seas without so much as a compass to tell you where to face, let alone the warming beams of the lighthouse. The short success stories always say to never forget your passion, to always charge forward and maintain faith that all will turn out in the end. The longer ones explicitly state never to lose your aim and never to go astray - the faster you charge the further you get from your goal.
Without conviction, then, what is it? But a short burst of emotion. A wisp of flame that burns brightly but soon fades once you question yourself. Am I truly correct? Am I headed on the right path? Without the conviction, the faith in yourself and the belief needed to keep the flame burning, the flame extinguishes as quickly as it was sparked. The winds of the world show no mercy.
Of what use is direction without passion and conviction?
Direction, without conviction nor passion, lends itself to inertia. One who sees where he must go but will never take the first step. The roots slowly grow, the vines entangle the feet. Soon the moss is growing at the legs and the vines slowly wrap around him. What started out as an excuse now slowly drains his soul, his life, his essence out of him. He slowly becomes an outer shell of his former self, the child who could see every possibility and every path stuck in the shell that couldn't move.
Of what use is conviction without passion and direction?
Conviction without direction is but misguided belief - firmly anchoring oneself to the thoughts of centuries past, the thoughts of the damned, the thoughts of those who do not exist. It cuts you off, severs you from the world, slowly forms an island around you. Soon enough the island is a fortress, the lone tyrant inside protected from reason and sanity.
Without passion it remains as it is - conviction. Nothing more. With no emotional fuel to power the belief, it cannot manifest itself as anything greater than the beliefs held in your head. It becomes a mere hindrance, an object you cast in rebellion against the world that turns against you, but never a force you use to drive yourself against the will of the world.
What then, would you still need, with the three combined?
You need the calmness and maturity to realize that to charge headfirst into life is to overload yourself, that to burn too brightly with the passion of youth will burn yourself out faster than you can manage, leaving yourself an older and more melancholic self than your age should be. That there should be moderation in such faith and faith in such moderation. That Vienna waits for you.
For without maturity, there cannot be control, regardless of direction, conviction, or passion.
Without direction, it is but a driving force that pushes the self, no more and no less. Powerful as it may be, it must be guided and steered before it can bring you to any desired destination. Without it you are but charging your way through the stormy seas without so much as a compass to tell you where to face, let alone the warming beams of the lighthouse. The short success stories always say to never forget your passion, to always charge forward and maintain faith that all will turn out in the end. The longer ones explicitly state never to lose your aim and never to go astray - the faster you charge the further you get from your goal.
Without conviction, then, what is it? But a short burst of emotion. A wisp of flame that burns brightly but soon fades once you question yourself. Am I truly correct? Am I headed on the right path? Without the conviction, the faith in yourself and the belief needed to keep the flame burning, the flame extinguishes as quickly as it was sparked. The winds of the world show no mercy.
Of what use is direction without passion and conviction?
Direction, without conviction nor passion, lends itself to inertia. One who sees where he must go but will never take the first step. The roots slowly grow, the vines entangle the feet. Soon the moss is growing at the legs and the vines slowly wrap around him. What started out as an excuse now slowly drains his soul, his life, his essence out of him. He slowly becomes an outer shell of his former self, the child who could see every possibility and every path stuck in the shell that couldn't move.
Of what use is conviction without passion and direction?
Conviction without direction is but misguided belief - firmly anchoring oneself to the thoughts of centuries past, the thoughts of the damned, the thoughts of those who do not exist. It cuts you off, severs you from the world, slowly forms an island around you. Soon enough the island is a fortress, the lone tyrant inside protected from reason and sanity.
Without passion it remains as it is - conviction. Nothing more. With no emotional fuel to power the belief, it cannot manifest itself as anything greater than the beliefs held in your head. It becomes a mere hindrance, an object you cast in rebellion against the world that turns against you, but never a force you use to drive yourself against the will of the world.
What then, would you still need, with the three combined?
You need the calmness and maturity to realize that to charge headfirst into life is to overload yourself, that to burn too brightly with the passion of youth will burn yourself out faster than you can manage, leaving yourself an older and more melancholic self than your age should be. That there should be moderation in such faith and faith in such moderation. That Vienna waits for you.
For without maturity, there cannot be control, regardless of direction, conviction, or passion.
Friday, June 08, 2012
ASD, Pushing aunties off buses and tragedy
A recent obaa-san pushing video made me think a fair bit about the kind of society that we're living in right now, the failure of people to consider the data and evidence (or lack thereof) and the hilarity of it all.
"All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy. That's how far the world is from where I am. Just one bad day. You had a bad day once, am I right? I know I am. I can tell. You had a bad day and everything changed."
Yeah this guy certainly had a bad day and everything changed. Imagine if you snapped one day and did something unforgivable and the whole world suddenly went out to get you. As if being unable to forgive yourself wasn't bad enough.
I'm not going to deny it - I was near there once. Being on the verge of insanity and doing some irreversibly violent stuff to innocent acquaintances at least. At least I haven't gone past that line yet (perhaps illusion, of course. But a man can hope) but therein lies the thought - how many others?
One student committing suicide might become widespread and disturbing news but it'll hide the thousands of others who are driven to this very thought on an almost daily basis - a far more dangerous, disturbing and worrying news and issue. A video of a man snapping and pushing an old lady down on a bus goes viral and sparks a witchhunt of sorts; an event of coincidence that overshadows the possibility of incidents like this occurring on a much more frequent basis than people imagine, and the thought that many others are driven near this state for whatever reasons.
All because one guy had the dumb luck to video a drawn-out argument between a guy on the verge of lunacy and an old lady who unwittingly pushed him past it. Scary, huh?
So there's the thought - what if the one off event wasn't the man's actions, but the fact that it was filmed?
But I digress, of course. Scary thoughts are rarely as important as emotionally involved ones.
I find myself sympathizing with his words at times (empathizing, even) about being an abused product of society and such - even if I haven't been through the things he's been or done the things he's done I could at least say I've felt the way he's felt. And the witchhunt burns with their screams that it's all a pity party and it is no excuse for his actions. Cynicism seeps in the former argument and obviousness seeps in the other. Why would a guy state his side of his story if not for the hope of garnering pity from the masses? Geez, that's such a false dichotomy (is it even a 'dichotomy' if people only see one possible result?) I really have nothing to say.
What we have here is a video - at least said to be taken at the halfway mark when the guy snapped. We know nothing about the first half of the incident, and evidently everything else in the second half shows the man at his worst. We could assume that there's nothing to the first half of the incident OR we could -gasp- believe him and take his account of what happened prior to his snapping at said lady.
Of course I'm not going to say the auntie in question was an absolute jerkwad and deserved whatever happened to her but I'd like to pay attention to the fact that the initial spark was the guy telling the aunty not to push the bell so late. I'd like to see how the video would be when filmed with that - how different would the whole thing be with the entire incident in context rather than completely dragged out of it. I mean, it's kind of like watching a family argument where the husband slaps the wife in the climax without seeing the entire buildup of the wife screaming at the husband and telling him she cheated on him with the neighbour, right?
And then comes the other part where the old lady has accepted his apology and doesn't intend to press charges. But no, the hunters scream, the man is insincere in his apology and is just making pity for himself! As if the man needed to seek forgiveness from the hunters for being a lamb to the slaughter as opposed to seeking forgiveness from the old woman he pushed down (and received, mind you). Do you have an obligation to apologize to the people out to kill you for an incident you have already settled with another? No? Then why do you think of his words as an apology? He owes you nothing. He's giving an explanation to the events that led up to the mindset in his head. Regardless of whether the mindset is flawed or not, sincerity is the most irrelevant thing you could bring into the situation at this very point - do you doubt the sincerity of a recounting? No, you don't! The thing you doubt is the goddamn accuracy, not how "sincere" a person was while recounting it!
So then the obvious statement shines - what the person says is no excuse for his actions. He's just bringing depth into the picture - a situation everyone perceives as shallow because it's the most convenient thing they can do. From a situation where "this fucker went and screamed and pushed an old lady down the bus" to a situation where "this man had a fucking bad day and is on the verge of insanity and an old lady unwittingly pushed him past it and he turned into a fucker and screamed and pushed the old lady down the bus". Does it make the situation more acceptable in any way whatsoever? Of course it doesn't. What it did do is give a fuller picture to the narrative and explain how the hell the guy turned into a fucker instead of just assuming he was a fucker in and out.
Then there're the saddening statements about autism and ASD and whatnot from people who claim that it's just an excuse. I think the saddest one I read was an RJ student who wrote that he did a full year project on ASD, knows many ASD people who are nice and don't resort to violence unlike the guy, and proceeds to say that ASD isn't an excuse for these obviously violent and unnecessary actions. It almost makes me feel like he approached the issue of ASD without personal experience of the flipside of it. (To his defense I agreed with the rest of what he said, minus the insincere part - because like I said, it's not really an apology in the first place.) What makes me really sad, though, is that he seemed to me like he felt that because he had done a one-year research project on ASD that it empowers him to tell people afflicted with the syndrome to conform with his knowledge of it. It almost felt like economists screaming at the economy for not behaving the way they learnt it would. Humans and human constructs just aren't that simple.
I've helped out with ASD students before as a relief teacher. It wasn't long, I admit (definitely not a year) but it gave me the chance to at least be on the ground with them. Perhaps I'm being a hypocrite by shooting down the RJ guy for his knowledge and trying to affirm my stance with my own experience with ASD but I'm going to give my own experience anyway. I'll just try not to associate any judgment with it. (And every name from here is fake)
I've seen some students that I felt were terrible (the principal apparently thought they were perfectly ok kids in the school - that kind of scared me a bit) - the big girl Akira who always resorted to violence because she was incapable of expressing herself via words and only via fists. That's a girl I could barely hold back - I hurt the girl just trying to hold her back from charging into the other girl she was arguing with, Ash.
They're always good friends until Ash says something she shouldn't (she's insanely kaypoh and is forever butting into the things Akira does and says) and makes Akira exasperated and on the verge of harming someone. That's the fine line - one stupid remark from turning an otherwise entirely fine and friendly girl into a brute ready to charge you down.
There's the kid Gary who was always violent from his hyperactivity and attacked people with scissors because he can't keep his fingers to himself. It's too boring. I'm terrified of him because he's also insanely vulgur, violent and can't count to 20 easily by himself. He's ten (or so).
There's that kid whose name I can't even fucking remember who needed two teachers to pin him down when he went on a fit just because of an argument over cake. Who repeatedly took my arm and played around with it, swinging it like it was a rag toy. Who always named a random body part and needed you to scratch it to calm his itch lest he deal a strong blow to your body.
Then there's the stories. Of a kid around 15 who die-die wanted to take PSLE and cried for joy when his score wasn't 2 digits. I nearly cried at my 257 (or 258 I forgot liao it's damn long ago) because it was the lowest amongst my close friends.
These are real people. They're in a special school being taken care of by specialized teachers (who are in short supply) in order to transition properly into a functioning member of society. They learn and try their best to turn into and perform as what society considers "normal".
I've worked as an assistant for teachers on certain days instead of being a relief and all I can say is that I have utmost respect for their vocation and the dedication and SKILL they have for their job. It's not easy teaching 10 students each with multiple (yes they're rarely individual issues) disorders that require differing techniques to address and educate properly. My mother herself related her own experience of needing to spend three months just to teach a student how to count to three. I believe it's one of her greatest achievements in the school. I have hope that the teachers at the school I worked at can teach these students and lead them on this journey towards being a member of society and I'm certain other special education schools are at least capable of the same standards that I witnessed while I helped out at mine.
What I have little hope of, however, is expecting the same to be done for ASD-and-other-disorders-inflicted students who were not lucky enough to be taught at a school that specializes in their education.Why would I have any faith in it? They just aren't taught to teach students with this kind of issue. The teachers would shun the student and toss them out of class - why else would a special education school exist if not for a dumping ground of students unwanted by the "normal" mainstream education system?
The thought that a student like Gary can enter society without ever being taught by someone capable of addressing his mental and physical issues scares me. The opposite thought that a student like Gary, after being taught properly and working well in society, can suddenly get completely shunned by the nation because he reverted to his old self in a moment of folly, rage and stupidity scares me equally.
Does this make Gary's actions forgivable in any way whatsoever if he so decides to assault someone with scissors while in the office? Good god, no! The law is the law, assault is assault! But obviously he has to be treated differently from the well-doing scholar who assaulted a co-worker with scissors simply because he truly lacks the mental capacity for proper contemplation!
And that's one of the most major points people are missing because they just haven't been exposed to it. They haven't experienced firsthand what people with these issues are (or more specifically, aren't) capable of. They relate to them with the knowledge they have (a most likely rosy if not extremely scientific one) and it just cannot compare with the truth simply because it's just too far out. I'm honestly frightened to think of what could have happened to this guy while he was in school. Let's say what he says is true (if you want to doubt anything doubt the accuracy rather than the sincerity first, as I said earlier) and he never attended a Home Econs, D&T, Art and Craft, Science, Physics, AMath, Chinese lesson and was essentially segregated from his class his entire school life. Can you even begin to imagine what that would do to your psyche? Now that you have, can you imagine what that would do to the psyche of a person WHO IS ALREADY MENTALLY CHALLENGED?
Some will challenge me now, of course. That entire premise just sounds entirely ridiculous and drama-ish. What's a black swan, then (Nassim Taleb please if you don't know)? I'd already say that the entire situation was a black swan situation caused by the coincidence of a man deciding to film an incident from an exact particular point onwards that painted another guy in a particularly bad light (well, worse light if you will. It's not as if filming the whole incident would've put him in a good light). It blew what could have been a guy pushing an old lady down the bus, feeling bad, apologizing to the old lady afterwards, being forgiven and life moving on - to a guy pushing an old lady down the bus, feeling bad, apologizing to the old lady afterwards, being forgiven by her, and subsequently burnt on a stake by the Singaporean community because what they saw of the video framed him in this particular light.
People are driven by various factors to do things. No, they aren't always good and informed, obviously. But people should at least gather more facts before they act almighty on their pedestal of pseudo-anonymity. It's insanely tragic that the society I'm in right now is quick to rage, quick to cool, quick to forget but never quick to forgive and quick to think and consider what the fuck could have happened that led to this. To remember that all it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy, and even less for the less-than-sanest.
"All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy. That's how far the world is from where I am. Just one bad day. You had a bad day once, am I right? I know I am. I can tell. You had a bad day and everything changed."
Yeah this guy certainly had a bad day and everything changed. Imagine if you snapped one day and did something unforgivable and the whole world suddenly went out to get you. As if being unable to forgive yourself wasn't bad enough.
I'm not going to deny it - I was near there once. Being on the verge of insanity and doing some irreversibly violent stuff to innocent acquaintances at least. At least I haven't gone past that line yet (perhaps illusion, of course. But a man can hope) but therein lies the thought - how many others?
One student committing suicide might become widespread and disturbing news but it'll hide the thousands of others who are driven to this very thought on an almost daily basis - a far more dangerous, disturbing and worrying news and issue. A video of a man snapping and pushing an old lady down on a bus goes viral and sparks a witchhunt of sorts; an event of coincidence that overshadows the possibility of incidents like this occurring on a much more frequent basis than people imagine, and the thought that many others are driven near this state for whatever reasons.
All because one guy had the dumb luck to video a drawn-out argument between a guy on the verge of lunacy and an old lady who unwittingly pushed him past it. Scary, huh?
So there's the thought - what if the one off event wasn't the man's actions, but the fact that it was filmed?
But I digress, of course. Scary thoughts are rarely as important as emotionally involved ones.
I find myself sympathizing with his words at times (empathizing, even) about being an abused product of society and such - even if I haven't been through the things he's been or done the things he's done I could at least say I've felt the way he's felt. And the witchhunt burns with their screams that it's all a pity party and it is no excuse for his actions. Cynicism seeps in the former argument and obviousness seeps in the other. Why would a guy state his side of his story if not for the hope of garnering pity from the masses? Geez, that's such a false dichotomy (is it even a 'dichotomy' if people only see one possible result?) I really have nothing to say.
What we have here is a video - at least said to be taken at the halfway mark when the guy snapped. We know nothing about the first half of the incident, and evidently everything else in the second half shows the man at his worst. We could assume that there's nothing to the first half of the incident OR we could -gasp- believe him and take his account of what happened prior to his snapping at said lady.
Of course I'm not going to say the auntie in question was an absolute jerkwad and deserved whatever happened to her but I'd like to pay attention to the fact that the initial spark was the guy telling the aunty not to push the bell so late. I'd like to see how the video would be when filmed with that - how different would the whole thing be with the entire incident in context rather than completely dragged out of it. I mean, it's kind of like watching a family argument where the husband slaps the wife in the climax without seeing the entire buildup of the wife screaming at the husband and telling him she cheated on him with the neighbour, right?
And then comes the other part where the old lady has accepted his apology and doesn't intend to press charges. But no, the hunters scream, the man is insincere in his apology and is just making pity for himself! As if the man needed to seek forgiveness from the hunters for being a lamb to the slaughter as opposed to seeking forgiveness from the old woman he pushed down (and received, mind you). Do you have an obligation to apologize to the people out to kill you for an incident you have already settled with another? No? Then why do you think of his words as an apology? He owes you nothing. He's giving an explanation to the events that led up to the mindset in his head. Regardless of whether the mindset is flawed or not, sincerity is the most irrelevant thing you could bring into the situation at this very point - do you doubt the sincerity of a recounting? No, you don't! The thing you doubt is the goddamn accuracy, not how "sincere" a person was while recounting it!
So then the obvious statement shines - what the person says is no excuse for his actions. He's just bringing depth into the picture - a situation everyone perceives as shallow because it's the most convenient thing they can do. From a situation where "this fucker went and screamed and pushed an old lady down the bus" to a situation where "this man had a fucking bad day and is on the verge of insanity and an old lady unwittingly pushed him past it and he turned into a fucker and screamed and pushed the old lady down the bus". Does it make the situation more acceptable in any way whatsoever? Of course it doesn't. What it did do is give a fuller picture to the narrative and explain how the hell the guy turned into a fucker instead of just assuming he was a fucker in and out.
Then there're the saddening statements about autism and ASD and whatnot from people who claim that it's just an excuse. I think the saddest one I read was an RJ student who wrote that he did a full year project on ASD, knows many ASD people who are nice and don't resort to violence unlike the guy, and proceeds to say that ASD isn't an excuse for these obviously violent and unnecessary actions. It almost makes me feel like he approached the issue of ASD without personal experience of the flipside of it. (To his defense I agreed with the rest of what he said, minus the insincere part - because like I said, it's not really an apology in the first place.) What makes me really sad, though, is that he seemed to me like he felt that because he had done a one-year research project on ASD that it empowers him to tell people afflicted with the syndrome to conform with his knowledge of it. It almost felt like economists screaming at the economy for not behaving the way they learnt it would. Humans and human constructs just aren't that simple.
I've helped out with ASD students before as a relief teacher. It wasn't long, I admit (definitely not a year) but it gave me the chance to at least be on the ground with them. Perhaps I'm being a hypocrite by shooting down the RJ guy for his knowledge and trying to affirm my stance with my own experience with ASD but I'm going to give my own experience anyway. I'll just try not to associate any judgment with it. (And every name from here is fake)
I've seen some students that I felt were terrible (the principal apparently thought they were perfectly ok kids in the school - that kind of scared me a bit) - the big girl Akira who always resorted to violence because she was incapable of expressing herself via words and only via fists. That's a girl I could barely hold back - I hurt the girl just trying to hold her back from charging into the other girl she was arguing with, Ash.
They're always good friends until Ash says something she shouldn't (she's insanely kaypoh and is forever butting into the things Akira does and says) and makes Akira exasperated and on the verge of harming someone. That's the fine line - one stupid remark from turning an otherwise entirely fine and friendly girl into a brute ready to charge you down.
There's the kid Gary who was always violent from his hyperactivity and attacked people with scissors because he can't keep his fingers to himself. It's too boring. I'm terrified of him because he's also insanely vulgur, violent and can't count to 20 easily by himself. He's ten (or so).
There's that kid whose name I can't even fucking remember who needed two teachers to pin him down when he went on a fit just because of an argument over cake. Who repeatedly took my arm and played around with it, swinging it like it was a rag toy. Who always named a random body part and needed you to scratch it to calm his itch lest he deal a strong blow to your body.
Then there's the stories. Of a kid around 15 who die-die wanted to take PSLE and cried for joy when his score wasn't 2 digits. I nearly cried at my 257 (or 258 I forgot liao it's damn long ago) because it was the lowest amongst my close friends.
These are real people. They're in a special school being taken care of by specialized teachers (who are in short supply) in order to transition properly into a functioning member of society. They learn and try their best to turn into and perform as what society considers "normal".
I've worked as an assistant for teachers on certain days instead of being a relief and all I can say is that I have utmost respect for their vocation and the dedication and SKILL they have for their job. It's not easy teaching 10 students each with multiple (yes they're rarely individual issues) disorders that require differing techniques to address and educate properly. My mother herself related her own experience of needing to spend three months just to teach a student how to count to three. I believe it's one of her greatest achievements in the school. I have hope that the teachers at the school I worked at can teach these students and lead them on this journey towards being a member of society and I'm certain other special education schools are at least capable of the same standards that I witnessed while I helped out at mine.
What I have little hope of, however, is expecting the same to be done for ASD-and-other-disorders-inflicted students who were not lucky enough to be taught at a school that specializes in their education.Why would I have any faith in it? They just aren't taught to teach students with this kind of issue. The teachers would shun the student and toss them out of class - why else would a special education school exist if not for a dumping ground of students unwanted by the "normal" mainstream education system?
The thought that a student like Gary can enter society without ever being taught by someone capable of addressing his mental and physical issues scares me. The opposite thought that a student like Gary, after being taught properly and working well in society, can suddenly get completely shunned by the nation because he reverted to his old self in a moment of folly, rage and stupidity scares me equally.
Does this make Gary's actions forgivable in any way whatsoever if he so decides to assault someone with scissors while in the office? Good god, no! The law is the law, assault is assault! But obviously he has to be treated differently from the well-doing scholar who assaulted a co-worker with scissors simply because he truly lacks the mental capacity for proper contemplation!
And that's one of the most major points people are missing because they just haven't been exposed to it. They haven't experienced firsthand what people with these issues are (or more specifically, aren't) capable of. They relate to them with the knowledge they have (a most likely rosy if not extremely scientific one) and it just cannot compare with the truth simply because it's just too far out. I'm honestly frightened to think of what could have happened to this guy while he was in school. Let's say what he says is true (if you want to doubt anything doubt the accuracy rather than the sincerity first, as I said earlier) and he never attended a Home Econs, D&T, Art and Craft, Science, Physics, AMath, Chinese lesson and was essentially segregated from his class his entire school life. Can you even begin to imagine what that would do to your psyche? Now that you have, can you imagine what that would do to the psyche of a person WHO IS ALREADY MENTALLY CHALLENGED?
Some will challenge me now, of course. That entire premise just sounds entirely ridiculous and drama-ish. What's a black swan, then (Nassim Taleb please if you don't know)? I'd already say that the entire situation was a black swan situation caused by the coincidence of a man deciding to film an incident from an exact particular point onwards that painted another guy in a particularly bad light (well, worse light if you will. It's not as if filming the whole incident would've put him in a good light). It blew what could have been a guy pushing an old lady down the bus, feeling bad, apologizing to the old lady afterwards, being forgiven and life moving on - to a guy pushing an old lady down the bus, feeling bad, apologizing to the old lady afterwards, being forgiven by her, and subsequently burnt on a stake by the Singaporean community because what they saw of the video framed him in this particular light.
People are driven by various factors to do things. No, they aren't always good and informed, obviously. But people should at least gather more facts before they act almighty on their pedestal of pseudo-anonymity. It's insanely tragic that the society I'm in right now is quick to rage, quick to cool, quick to forget but never quick to forgive and quick to think and consider what the fuck could have happened that led to this. To remember that all it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy, and even less for the less-than-sanest.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Emptiness
I'm dreamless right now.
It wasn't like this in the past, of course. I've had sweet dreams, bad dreams, crazy dreams, crushed dreams, faded dreams, fulfilled dreams, broken dreams, and torn dreams. Maybe more than I could've handled back then, but I dealt with what I had without going completely insane.
...........................and it's gone. I'm dreamless now.
I suppose I can't blame anyone but myself for it - I closed the door on it myself. 5 years of yearning (maybe more). Poof, just out the window like that. Never even knew it existed.
Except that only now I realize that nothing else existed as a replacement. Well, sure, you'd say; that's obvious, isn't it? No one comes up with replacement dreams. Hell, what's a replacement dream anyway? The next best alternative forgone in selecting the optimal choice? Was there ever an opportunity cost to dreams and dreaming? A cost to a pretty much non-monetary thing that we try, ever so hard, to monetize?
But it's empty. An empty freedom. Expected emptiness, of course - work and believe that long with the belief that you'll make it through to the light at the end of the tunnel for so long and you'd find the darkness looming all around when you finally realize that the light came from the roof; that you tricked yourself into thinking that you could just walk your way out of the damn tunnel, staring into the mirror directed upwards. The goddamn light ten stories up that you could always stare at but never reach.
I've had a supportive parent that prides himself with telling everyone that I've gotten into a respectable course at a prestigious university and immediately tells me the moment their backs are turned that he had nothing to support me with on this journey. Played around with me for two years every fucking week mindfucking me while fetching me to camp. Screaming at me for half an hour and sending an sms saying he loves me and wants me to get into the best uni I could get myself into. Then blaming me for not praying because "if I placed all this in God's hands everything would settle itself" because obviously praying by himself didn't get him far enough. Then telling me the family's financial situation after coming off for the past ten years as if he actually had money in the bank instead of wrecking his paycheck month after month after month. Then asking me of what value it was to send me to this course overseas and downplaying it one year after you boasted me off to his own fucking bosses about me. Monetizing my dream and trying his best to destroy it once it was no longer of value to him.
The part I hated the most is that I still had the choice of going. I could - I would just wreck the life savings of the saner half of the pair that made me. The one that made sense and reason. The one that made less yet would give more. And that's what the cost came down to - my dream or her future.
And so I'm dreamless. It's the worst feeling there is and I did it to myself. Of course that's not so bad. The whole thing just reeks of first-world fucking immaturity and foolishness, the goddamn elite kid whining about not getting into the stupid school he wants to get into because it's just too fucking expensive and he's complaining because he has no grasp on money. When it won't fucking matter in a few years time when he's out looking for a job, competing with those who made the assumption that going overseas would make you more attractive on the resume, that piece of paper that just sells you as a product to the world (hopefully at the best price, as far away from "competitive" as possible).
Sure they're right. It won't matter then. But fuck if the feeling I have right now is insignificant and childish and immature. That's me. I apologize for having subscribed to the ideal that somewhere out there across the ocean education exists that couldn't be described by the words "大开眼界". I apologize for feeling like a frog in a well compared to my peers in secondary school and believing that surely amongst the best universities I could once again find and learn from such people as my peers. I apologize for being a mediocre man amongst the elite. The elite mediocre. I apologize for believing that exposing myself to the best could allow me to slowly yet surely learn to be like them.
Life obviously never fucking worked that way. It's hilarious, really - the lack of direction I have now.
I remember a story a friend of mine wrote. Its title - Any Dream Will Do. You can't get "any dream" unless you abandon "your dream" - but what dream remains amongst the broken pieces that can make up the "any dream"s that you hold on to; the paper mache of broken dreams glued and sewn up like a monstrosity of its former self? The shine broken apart, the shards dulled, the mediocrity at its purest.
It's crying over spilt milk. Because there's nothing else in the wasteland once the milk seeps in.
It wasn't like this in the past, of course. I've had sweet dreams, bad dreams, crazy dreams, crushed dreams, faded dreams, fulfilled dreams, broken dreams, and torn dreams. Maybe more than I could've handled back then, but I dealt with what I had without going completely insane.
...........................and it's gone. I'm dreamless now.
I suppose I can't blame anyone but myself for it - I closed the door on it myself. 5 years of yearning (maybe more). Poof, just out the window like that. Never even knew it existed.
Except that only now I realize that nothing else existed as a replacement. Well, sure, you'd say; that's obvious, isn't it? No one comes up with replacement dreams. Hell, what's a replacement dream anyway? The next best alternative forgone in selecting the optimal choice? Was there ever an opportunity cost to dreams and dreaming? A cost to a pretty much non-monetary thing that we try, ever so hard, to monetize?
But it's empty. An empty freedom. Expected emptiness, of course - work and believe that long with the belief that you'll make it through to the light at the end of the tunnel for so long and you'd find the darkness looming all around when you finally realize that the light came from the roof; that you tricked yourself into thinking that you could just walk your way out of the damn tunnel, staring into the mirror directed upwards. The goddamn light ten stories up that you could always stare at but never reach.
I've had a supportive parent that prides himself with telling everyone that I've gotten into a respectable course at a prestigious university and immediately tells me the moment their backs are turned that he had nothing to support me with on this journey. Played around with me for two years every fucking week mindfucking me while fetching me to camp. Screaming at me for half an hour and sending an sms saying he loves me and wants me to get into the best uni I could get myself into. Then blaming me for not praying because "if I placed all this in God's hands everything would settle itself" because obviously praying by himself didn't get him far enough. Then telling me the family's financial situation after coming off for the past ten years as if he actually had money in the bank instead of wrecking his paycheck month after month after month. Then asking me of what value it was to send me to this course overseas and downplaying it one year after you boasted me off to his own fucking bosses about me. Monetizing my dream and trying his best to destroy it once it was no longer of value to him.
The part I hated the most is that I still had the choice of going. I could - I would just wreck the life savings of the saner half of the pair that made me. The one that made sense and reason. The one that made less yet would give more. And that's what the cost came down to - my dream or her future.
And so I'm dreamless. It's the worst feeling there is and I did it to myself. Of course that's not so bad. The whole thing just reeks of first-world fucking immaturity and foolishness, the goddamn elite kid whining about not getting into the stupid school he wants to get into because it's just too fucking expensive and he's complaining because he has no grasp on money. When it won't fucking matter in a few years time when he's out looking for a job, competing with those who made the assumption that going overseas would make you more attractive on the resume, that piece of paper that just sells you as a product to the world (hopefully at the best price, as far away from "competitive" as possible).
Sure they're right. It won't matter then. But fuck if the feeling I have right now is insignificant and childish and immature. That's me. I apologize for having subscribed to the ideal that somewhere out there across the ocean education exists that couldn't be described by the words "大开眼界". I apologize for feeling like a frog in a well compared to my peers in secondary school and believing that surely amongst the best universities I could once again find and learn from such people as my peers. I apologize for being a mediocre man amongst the elite. The elite mediocre. I apologize for believing that exposing myself to the best could allow me to slowly yet surely learn to be like them.
Life obviously never fucking worked that way. It's hilarious, really - the lack of direction I have now.
I remember a story a friend of mine wrote. Its title - Any Dream Will Do. You can't get "any dream" unless you abandon "your dream" - but what dream remains amongst the broken pieces that can make up the "any dream"s that you hold on to; the paper mache of broken dreams glued and sewn up like a monstrosity of its former self? The shine broken apart, the shards dulled, the mediocrity at its purest.
It's crying over spilt milk. Because there's nothing else in the wasteland once the milk seeps in.
Friday, May 04, 2012
The price of a dream
What is the price of a dream?
Is it your life? Your hopes? Your time? Your ambition? Six years as an employee of an organization you couldn't care less about; your chance at living a peaceful and quiet life completely blown apart and destroyed? Your prospects and your future cast in iron contract upon a piece of paper, the black ink darker than your soul after society sucks it out, leaving whatever hollow shell there is remaining.
Is it their lives? Their hopes? Their time? Their ambition? The car they hoped for, or that long holiday after years and years of slaving. Their very savings swept off by the wind into another country; another land. Their very life reduced to a pittance just to uphold the nobility of your dream.
The dream coexists with the life, hopes, time and ambition, some would say. It's obvious, isn't it? They work towards it. Yours do, at least. The rest get trampled down in the mud and dust, a pathetic state that couldn't even evoke any mockery from the very connoisseurs of schadenfreude.
What IS this dream, anyway? A culmination of all the hopes and ideals placed onto a single object/location/status/profession? That you must have/be/go/experience it? Do you even have the certainty that this is truly what you want? That you can go through it, say to yourself that you're truly "living the dream" as of this moment up to this moment, and when it's finally over (if it ever does) heave a sigh of relief and say "that changed my life and I will never regret this"?
It's a projection. That's the problem. That's what the dream is - an attempt to foresee yourself in the future. A prediction - or dare I even say it, a calculation - that you, the apparently predictable self that you are, under this circumstance of obtaining said dream, will act in this particular manner and end up in a certain state that could not have been obtained otherwise. This "particular manner" and "state" that you envision, are they even remotely close to the truth that will come your way in the future? Let's say it doesn't. What then? Do you say "Oh dear, I'm sorry. The thing I always worked towards obtaining happened to be useless and pointless for me. I felt nothing about, toward, and from it. It made no difference to my life. I apologize for trampling on things you held dear to you just to attain this utterly pointless thing just because I held it dear to me."
I like to feel it's an obvious answer. I almost certainly know it isn't nearly as obvious just because I haven't been in this scenario myself yet. Even if you trust circumstances to dictate themselves in a certain way, you realize it's difficult to predict how you react in such a circumstance - it's almost paradoxical to predict your future actions while espousing the virtues of free will. You could of course technically predict with absolute certainty, except that would technically be dictatorial prediction. It's pretty much foul play to predict someone's death in the next hour while hiding a knife behind your back.
Say it does. Can you be certain that this state and manner of self come as a result of attaining said dream? Can you be certain that this isn't something that could've been reproduced elsewhere? It's a depressing state to feel this, but dreams aren't unique. People share dreams. Two million people out there dream of being the president - who knows whether you'll even have a hundred who truly appreciate and feel gratitude to have such an honour. Who knows how many who wish to be a billionaire would waste their money and lives away in a mere decade? Dreams come by the dozens. They're cheap. The price to pay for them aren't.
I suppose that's the crux of it all. Attaining your dreams may be priceless, but the act of it rarely is. If yours is, be thankful - your dream is either a marvelous gem or worthless trash. Pray it is the former.
For the rest of us, the experience is not so much a noble journey to the destination of legends but a cold transaction between yourself and the tangible forces of society or the intangible forces of nature around. Your life for this. Forty grand for that. A pound of flesh for your vengeance. His blood for your undoing. And all that you can do is pray that for all it cost, it was worth it.
Is it?
Is it your life? Your hopes? Your time? Your ambition? Six years as an employee of an organization you couldn't care less about; your chance at living a peaceful and quiet life completely blown apart and destroyed? Your prospects and your future cast in iron contract upon a piece of paper, the black ink darker than your soul after society sucks it out, leaving whatever hollow shell there is remaining.
Is it their lives? Their hopes? Their time? Their ambition? The car they hoped for, or that long holiday after years and years of slaving. Their very savings swept off by the wind into another country; another land. Their very life reduced to a pittance just to uphold the nobility of your dream.
The dream coexists with the life, hopes, time and ambition, some would say. It's obvious, isn't it? They work towards it. Yours do, at least. The rest get trampled down in the mud and dust, a pathetic state that couldn't even evoke any mockery from the very connoisseurs of schadenfreude.
What IS this dream, anyway? A culmination of all the hopes and ideals placed onto a single object/location/status/profession? That you must have/be/go/experience it? Do you even have the certainty that this is truly what you want? That you can go through it, say to yourself that you're truly "living the dream" as of this moment up to this moment, and when it's finally over (if it ever does) heave a sigh of relief and say "that changed my life and I will never regret this"?
It's a projection. That's the problem. That's what the dream is - an attempt to foresee yourself in the future. A prediction - or dare I even say it, a calculation - that you, the apparently predictable self that you are, under this circumstance of obtaining said dream, will act in this particular manner and end up in a certain state that could not have been obtained otherwise. This "particular manner" and "state" that you envision, are they even remotely close to the truth that will come your way in the future? Let's say it doesn't. What then? Do you say "Oh dear, I'm sorry. The thing I always worked towards obtaining happened to be useless and pointless for me. I felt nothing about, toward, and from it. It made no difference to my life. I apologize for trampling on things you held dear to you just to attain this utterly pointless thing just because I held it dear to me."
I like to feel it's an obvious answer. I almost certainly know it isn't nearly as obvious just because I haven't been in this scenario myself yet. Even if you trust circumstances to dictate themselves in a certain way, you realize it's difficult to predict how you react in such a circumstance - it's almost paradoxical to predict your future actions while espousing the virtues of free will. You could of course technically predict with absolute certainty, except that would technically be dictatorial prediction. It's pretty much foul play to predict someone's death in the next hour while hiding a knife behind your back.
Say it does. Can you be certain that this state and manner of self come as a result of attaining said dream? Can you be certain that this isn't something that could've been reproduced elsewhere? It's a depressing state to feel this, but dreams aren't unique. People share dreams. Two million people out there dream of being the president - who knows whether you'll even have a hundred who truly appreciate and feel gratitude to have such an honour. Who knows how many who wish to be a billionaire would waste their money and lives away in a mere decade? Dreams come by the dozens. They're cheap. The price to pay for them aren't.
I suppose that's the crux of it all. Attaining your dreams may be priceless, but the act of it rarely is. If yours is, be thankful - your dream is either a marvelous gem or worthless trash. Pray it is the former.
For the rest of us, the experience is not so much a noble journey to the destination of legends but a cold transaction between yourself and the tangible forces of society or the intangible forces of nature around. Your life for this. Forty grand for that. A pound of flesh for your vengeance. His blood for your undoing. And all that you can do is pray that for all it cost, it was worth it.
Is it?
Tuesday, March 06, 2012
The tragedy of the human world around me
It depresses me to no end of the state of the human condition.
That I can find myself amidst debate (if I even dare call it that) between a guy too selfish to care and a guy too jaded to try, that such a argument even occurs over the most trivial of subject matters. That I can hear people admit the flaw of the human state and not even attempt to do anything about it. When was humankind so defeatist?
I see a friend defending an acquaintance of his against the majority and I see him turned into a martyr for it. I see him being burned at the stakes unnecessarily for trying "to be a saint" and I see that his attempt to defend his acquaintance soon deteriorates from a valiant attempt into a slur and barrage of ad hominems. It's tragic because I see my friend sinking to the level of those he was intending to strike, and I see them pointing out the hypocrisy, the irony, and making fun of him for it.
It just screams "We won; we dragged you down to our level. There is no moral high ground now - there never was, and there never will be."
I talk to a friend of mine while sitting by the roadside - he tells me that he's tired of it all. He can't keep up the goodwill anymore, he can't salvage the tear in the relationships anymore. I feel like telling him to just carry on the good fight, but I hear the parties he tries to save admit their own lack of care for other people's motivations for their actions. I wonder why he ever bothered trying to save such relationships. I wonder whether it was doomed to fail from the beginning. I wonder whether it was worth it at all.
Maybe it isn't.
I recall a drink over a small table in a jazz bar; my drinking partner commented to me that she felt no one was born evil or innately evil. That everyone was innately good and just expressed themselves wrongly, resulting in ill will instead of goodwill. I now question that thought more than three years on. Maybe people just aren't programmed to be good. Because to be nice, understanding, and reacting in the best possible way one sees fit after considering everyone's point of view is impossible for certain people - it runs counter to their very character and the idea of goodwill cannot even enter their mind without sickening their very core. They cannot be good; they can merely pretend to be good until the farce sickens them and they can no longer resist the joy of being a fucker.
It's sad that I can find people whom I am absolutely cool with in real life and get to talk cock with argue like barbarians over the internet. I find it sad that I can see a friend say "I want to stop this stupidity" and degrade himself into joining the masses in half an hour. And the worst part about this is that I can see two groups of people I enjoy the company of burn each other over the most trivial non-reasons. I cannot understand how one side can ever think of such an argument in a "I won / You lost" scenario when all along it was a "You lose, I lose" scenario to me. Honestly? You think you can win such a mudslinging argument? You can say that with a clear conscious?
It's even more depressing that I can hear people comment that such arguments are a good form of entertainment, popcorn-worthy shows. I hear the sensible people say that they would've deleted the arguments; eliminated any scent of bad will off the face of the earth. I hear the popcorn audience plea for the war to be over before the evidence is erased. I cannot even bear to point out the logical flaw and contradiction in erasing the evidence when the war was already over - wasn't the point of deleting the arguments to prevent it from breaking out in the first place?
I hate it all because it's just so tragic to witness. People are jerks. People are bastards. People are fuckers. I've come to that conclusion long ago, and I know I'm not the only one.
It's just that I invest faith in humans - faith in them that they aren't the absolute human scum that I occasionally think they are at times. It's not an investment with good rates of return, but it's a worthwhile investment and the ROI is but a secondary matter. But that faith that I invest - it bankrupts on me as if my faith was a monetary commodity worth stealing. That there are moral bankers out there robbing me of all my faith while they snicker to themselves along Wall Street, wondering what to do with all the faith in their hands. Faith I had in humanity, now in the hands of scum who sully its value with their incredulity.
Perhaps faith was worthless all along. Not just monetarily, but morally, even ethically, worthless in every aspect. Perhaps having faith in people wouldn't give you any more faith to have in others - it just gave you disillusionment in the face of vanity, pride and stubbornness. You couldn't fight the three. Stubbornness never gave up, vanity never knew when she lost and pride never acknowledged that it was your victory. Faith had nowhere to belong in the amoral.
And it appears, neither do I. Not in the grand scheme of failure that is the human condition.
That I can find myself amidst debate (if I even dare call it that) between a guy too selfish to care and a guy too jaded to try, that such a argument even occurs over the most trivial of subject matters. That I can hear people admit the flaw of the human state and not even attempt to do anything about it. When was humankind so defeatist?
I see a friend defending an acquaintance of his against the majority and I see him turned into a martyr for it. I see him being burned at the stakes unnecessarily for trying "to be a saint" and I see that his attempt to defend his acquaintance soon deteriorates from a valiant attempt into a slur and barrage of ad hominems. It's tragic because I see my friend sinking to the level of those he was intending to strike, and I see them pointing out the hypocrisy, the irony, and making fun of him for it.
It just screams "We won; we dragged you down to our level. There is no moral high ground now - there never was, and there never will be."
I talk to a friend of mine while sitting by the roadside - he tells me that he's tired of it all. He can't keep up the goodwill anymore, he can't salvage the tear in the relationships anymore. I feel like telling him to just carry on the good fight, but I hear the parties he tries to save admit their own lack of care for other people's motivations for their actions. I wonder why he ever bothered trying to save such relationships. I wonder whether it was doomed to fail from the beginning. I wonder whether it was worth it at all.
Maybe it isn't.
I recall a drink over a small table in a jazz bar; my drinking partner commented to me that she felt no one was born evil or innately evil. That everyone was innately good and just expressed themselves wrongly, resulting in ill will instead of goodwill. I now question that thought more than three years on. Maybe people just aren't programmed to be good. Because to be nice, understanding, and reacting in the best possible way one sees fit after considering everyone's point of view is impossible for certain people - it runs counter to their very character and the idea of goodwill cannot even enter their mind without sickening their very core. They cannot be good; they can merely pretend to be good until the farce sickens them and they can no longer resist the joy of being a fucker.
It's sad that I can find people whom I am absolutely cool with in real life and get to talk cock with argue like barbarians over the internet. I find it sad that I can see a friend say "I want to stop this stupidity" and degrade himself into joining the masses in half an hour. And the worst part about this is that I can see two groups of people I enjoy the company of burn each other over the most trivial non-reasons. I cannot understand how one side can ever think of such an argument in a "I won / You lost" scenario when all along it was a "You lose, I lose" scenario to me. Honestly? You think you can win such a mudslinging argument? You can say that with a clear conscious?
It's even more depressing that I can hear people comment that such arguments are a good form of entertainment, popcorn-worthy shows. I hear the sensible people say that they would've deleted the arguments; eliminated any scent of bad will off the face of the earth. I hear the popcorn audience plea for the war to be over before the evidence is erased. I cannot even bear to point out the logical flaw and contradiction in erasing the evidence when the war was already over - wasn't the point of deleting the arguments to prevent it from breaking out in the first place?
I hate it all because it's just so tragic to witness. People are jerks. People are bastards. People are fuckers. I've come to that conclusion long ago, and I know I'm not the only one.
It's just that I invest faith in humans - faith in them that they aren't the absolute human scum that I occasionally think they are at times. It's not an investment with good rates of return, but it's a worthwhile investment and the ROI is but a secondary matter. But that faith that I invest - it bankrupts on me as if my faith was a monetary commodity worth stealing. That there are moral bankers out there robbing me of all my faith while they snicker to themselves along Wall Street, wondering what to do with all the faith in their hands. Faith I had in humanity, now in the hands of scum who sully its value with their incredulity.
Perhaps faith was worthless all along. Not just monetarily, but morally, even ethically, worthless in every aspect. Perhaps having faith in people wouldn't give you any more faith to have in others - it just gave you disillusionment in the face of vanity, pride and stubbornness. You couldn't fight the three. Stubbornness never gave up, vanity never knew when she lost and pride never acknowledged that it was your victory. Faith had nowhere to belong in the amoral.
And it appears, neither do I. Not in the grand scheme of failure that is the human condition.
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