Definitely not

Volunteers pulling people on the streets for donations have, in recent times, become not only more aggressive but also more talk-savvy. This, I believe, comes through experience: after numerous failed attempts to get the public to donate some money to the foundations they represent, they know what the general apathetic public is thinking when they meet someone like them on the streets.

Hence, when I was approached by such a volunteer today in town, his first response wasn't good day sir, but Hello I'm not a salesman selling you any products, as if anticipating my apprehension that he may be a pesky roadside promoter. Despite his stature he nonetheless physically blocked my way so that I was unable to smile, raise up my hand as if in defense from some attack, and smoothly walk away. That could have been done unintentionally though - I give him the benefit of the doubt. Having quite a bit of time in my hands and being in a generally good mood recently, I entertained him. For a while at least.

He let me see an attractive piece of paper, which showed several discount coupons like $6 for a movie at Eng Wah. Immediately and very fluidly he then showed me his certificate of whatever, ostentibly to show that he wasn't a con-man, as if anticipating my suspicion that he is. He then explained what this foundation is all about, homeless girls, sexually abused from a young age, blah blah blah...Help them out...Buy this booklet which includes the coupons for $10. "$10?" I asked. Yes, he said, and then said I know $10 is alot but $10 is what they need...Meals..A home for them...I told him no I am unable to help.

Now it was my turn to do the talking. I told him no $10 is too much, I wouldn't mind donating $2 (just to console a fellow young man doing voluntary work under the hot sun, really), but not $10. I told him that I think the public would be more willing to donate if its smaller in sums, we don't really need booklets or t-shirts or anything like that, maybe they should change their tactics instead? He insisted that $10 isn't really too much and that I would be getting a lot of good stuff in the booklet, and before he could launch into some quasi-passionate speech about how $10 to a young man like me shopping in town shouldn't be too extravagant a sum, think about all those less fortunate than us - I anticipated that - I hurriedly repeated sorry but I am unable to help and he gave way. As a side note, if he had persisted I would have said sorry but I am not willing to help.

Reminds me of another incident when I was still working. During lunch a very friendly female doing similar voluntary work approached me, this time $10 for a polo t shirt which was red in color. I told her politely no thanks.

The next day she approached me again when I was eating in a small open food court, in the same area as the previous day. I wasn't very amused and told her that she approached me the day before, doesn't she remember? She laughed and said no and then continued her tirade of helping the needy with just $10, but I told her no, I didn't donate yesterday, I'm not going to donate today, and I am not going to donate tomorow.

How does their sorrow feel?

I just saw a documentary which showed a pack of killer whales hunting a grey whale and her offspring. They knew they couldn't get the mother because she was so massive and strong, so they aimed for the calf.

They first attempted to go straight for the calf. When that failed because the mother fended them off, they cruised alongside the pair for 3 hours at a high speed, eventually wearing the young child down. They then wedged themselves in between the mother and calf, forcing the calf to seperate from the mother. Once they accomplished that they pushed the calf down below surface, forcing it to drown. The mother all this while did her best in protecting her child, she even used her own body to prop her child to the surface to breathe, but in the end, the calf drowned and got killed.

The mother swam away alone. I wonder if she cried.

Too rational versus too selfish

It is not uncommon, especially in the area of the humanities, to hear a student commenting how rigid one's course of curriculum is. In particular, how the mechanical and over-rigorous studying of texts distances one's passion in the subject. For how is one going to appreciate the beauty of a poem when one has to consciously look into it for deeper and more profound meanings?

To some extent, I sympathise with such concerns. The memorisation of history didn't make my study of it fulfilling nor enjoyable at all. However I am of the viewpoint that such studies are more beneficial than not, to the extent I feel they are necessary when one undertakes a subject on any level. I speak only from a personal ground. I used to dislike Jane Austen very much. Actually, I still do. But it was only through analysing her texts from school - being force-fed those analysis, in fact - that I began to appreciate her qualities as a writer, notably the subtlety she uses. In other words, it was only through the mechanical studying of Jane Austen that I realised the beauty of her work.

When we talk about studying a subject I think what we often detest is having to write a formal essay on it after we read it, the same way how a movie critic has to go home on the night of watching a movie and churn out his piece in time for the papers the following day. Maybe it's our own laziness that we should frown upon, our own reluctance to engage the text in a purposeful, academic manner.

You float like a feather

Let's not forget the songs that have been buried beneath layers and layers of modern music.

Backing up

I've been using this handphone of mine for over 4 years now, and while it's probably going to die out soon, it still seems as robust as ever despite countless impacts with hard surfaces. Being the kind of person who periodically backs up data on any non-physical medium though, I went down to a nokia store and asked if they have a kind of data cable that can transmit all the information in my phone to my computer (which in turn has its data backed up on an external hard drive, which in turn has its data not backed up at all; but I guess we have to stop at some point.) They said no, there is no equipment for this phone of mine, which is a Nokia 3110 I believe.

So I asked them if they offer such a service as backing up a customer's phone data onto somewhere, and they said no. Undeterred, I went out of the shop and into a singtel shop next to it, and asked the not-very-friendly sales person if singtel offers backup services for its subscribers. He said no, even though I recall reading some article on it on Digital Life. Actually, he didn't say no outright. He said yes but with some requirements, restrictions, circumstances attached, so I just treated his yes as a no.

My options were clear. I had to buy a new phone. So I went back into the Nokia shop, said hi, and asked how much would my phone's trade-in value be. They said $10. That was expected of course, and I proceeded to ask the person if it was possible to transfer data from phone to phone. The person said yes. But I have to buy a special cable. I asked him how much that special cable costs. He said $88. A female assistant offered a 1-time only service of transferring the data from my old phone to the new one if I bought a phone from her, but I said no thanks and promptly left the shop.

That was a few months ago. Fast forward to the present and my phone is still working as robustly as before, which is as robustly as before before. But that is no cause for complacency, and unless I pay $88 on top of the price of the new phone, I risk losing a lot of things in the forseeable future. Alternatively, of course, I can strike up a deal with the sales person, and don't pay the $88. But money really isn't the issue here. I'm procrastinating getting the new phone because I can't bear to leave my old phone behind.

On a seperate issue, the AmazonKindle is really interesting. I think I will get it once it becomes viable here in Singapore. Dependent on the kind of books they offer though, pointless if they only offer bestsellers. Now I'm usually resistant to all this new technology stuff - I refuse to buy a laptop because I prefer the good old pen and paper - but the prospect of reading a book on my bed and then plugging in to the forums to participate or read some discussions online is really a neat idea. I just need to make sure I can back up all the data inside it.

Jerry/ In Black or White

Jerry the Cockroach

Jerry the cockroach found he couldn’t fit into his community. This was because the cockroach community he lived in were advocates of war against the Other Inhabitants of the house, namely giant-sized bi-pedal creatures. Being the fanatical bunch they were, they didn’t look too kindly upon cockroaches not supportive of their cause, and generally treated them as outcasts.

Jerry himself was a pacifist. He didn’t like what the other cockroaches were doing, which included spreading germs in the kitchen, appearing in the bathroom when their enemies were bathing, and tickling their toes when they were asleep. He frequently wondered why the two species couldn’t co-exist on peaceful terms.

“Co-exist!? On peaceful terms!?” Was his parents’ response when he once approached them about it. His mother then carried on to say, “Jerry are you out of your mind?”, and his father, “Mention that once more and I will throw you into the fan and never look back!” Jerry never talked about that issue ever since. He kept his broodings to himself and thought of the day he would run away from home and never look back.

That day finally came when he spotted the daytime sentry dozing off. The rest of his family – and indeed the entire cockroach community – were fast asleep, and hurriedly in as much pace he could muster, ran out from behind the bed to open space, giving the sentry, who was asleep in the middle of the dark area under the bed, a wide berth.

It wasn’t until evening when he thought of what he would do. It took him that long to come to the decision, because it was a brave thing he was about to do. For, you see, Jerry had decided to approach the Other Inhabitants, and attempt to reconcile any differences between the two species. In other words, he was going to end the war.

He set off to make himself look presentable, as all diplomats must be. He took a shower by the kitchen tap, making sure his shell looked a shiny color and his feelers and legs were all clean.

And he presented himself during the family’s TV time, where they were all gathered. Making an appearance on the top of the TV, he gave a wide smile. Before he could utter a word though, the family scattered. The two daughters were screaming, the wife had gone to hug them, the husband had went to take a wad of rolled-up newspapers, which he presently brought down on Jerry.

Jerry dodged it, but cried out “No! Stop! Listen to me!” amidst more hits. When the father paused to catch his breath, Jerry stood up panting and said, “Stop…Please. I come in pea..” WHAM! The newspaper caught him this time. He saw a sea of red, and as he was brushed off to a dustpan and thrown into a bin, Jerry the cockroach thought how the world would be a better place if everyone could live in perfect harmony.


In Black or White

A man realises he is in a room. The room is empty, and everything is white in color. But if everything is white in color, including the space between objects, then he cannot know that the room is empty. He can only know that everything he sees is white in color, a blanket white. And if that is the case, he cannot realise he is in a room. He can only feel so.

And that is what he feels now. He feels like he is in a room of some sort, basically he feels confined. To test this hypothesis he stands up and walks in a random direction. Tiring. Every step heavy. It took him 5 minutes to walk 5 steps. Or that is what he thought, as he has no sense of time nor space. He could have walked 5000 steps in a space of 5 minutes, or 5 days could have passed in the space of 5 steps. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. Everything’s still white.

Everything’s still white, he tells himself. What to do? He tries to recall where he was before he landed up in this sea of whiteness. But all his mind can picture is whiteness. He thinks maybe it is because the whiteness around him is getting into him. So he closes his eyes and lets his mind drift. It works a bit, but all he can see now is blackness. He sits down – the ground feels solid. He thinks of his friends, his family, his car, his wife, his life before he got here.

He recollects very faint images. Very, very faint. He can’t recall the color of his car, he just recalls the shape of it. He can’t recall what his parents looked like, he just recalls their looming presences over him. He cant recall who his friends were, he just recalls empty wine glasses. He cant recall the love he shared with his wife, he just recalls the color of her hair. Did they have a child?

He opens his eyes. Nothing has changed. He closes his eyes. Then opens it again. He closes his eyes. Then opens it again. Nothing has changed. Nothing is changing. What if nothing ever changes in this room? It dawns on him that he is either stuck in a world of perpetual whiteness or in a world of perpetual darkness, and this is when he starts to panic.

***

Above are two very short stories I have written for purposes I shall not elaborate. They are both under 500 words. I've put up a single-question poll here, to find out which story you prefer. If you think both are not good, put neither. Your participation and honesty appreciated.

Richard Dawkins: An atheist's call to arms

Highly recommanded watch:

http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks/view/id/113