Fugly fae
I'm a bit slow sometimes. I think it's just cos I'm usually thinking about something else that I don't always pay attention to my surroundings. It took me two weeks to realise that the Sunday basketball competition I play in is an Asian comp. I eventually saw the banner. Hong Kong Dim Sim Cup didn't leave any doubts in my head. I realised that there were lots of Asian players. But I just didn't make the connection. I guess when I played in the Sutherland comp, most of the players there looked like surfies. But as far as I know, it wasn't a dedicated surfie basketball league. Whatever. Maybe my social bubble has been so saturated by Asian Australian people and culture that I've become desensitised to all things Asian.
So it is appropriate that it's at this Asian basketball competition that I've made another startling observation that, while I may have always suspected somewhere in the inner recesses of my subconscious, had been sitting right in front of my fae - unacknowledged.
One day as I was sitting down waiting for my game to begin and observing the other games, I noticed: Asian guys are mostly (and I do say 'mostly' - not 'all') not very good-looking at all! A lot are downright fugly even. It's so sad.
I've heard a few Asian women make these complaints before but maybe my Asian pride always clouded my responses. And now I realise that it's true! Look around you. Go to Chinatown and tell me otherwise - WITHOUT lying.
Asian girls seem to fare a lot better than their male counterparts. I don't know if they actually are better-looking or if it's just because a lot of them are small and slim and in the right skimpy outfit can often pass for 'cute'. Also, a lot of guys of all races seem to like the 'youthful appearance' of Asian girls, while the only people who really go for the 'little Asian boy' look are some Asian girls and dirty old men. It just doesn't work both ways. But it's not just the fact that Asian guys are, on average, shorter, skinnier, etc. I just think that even if you confine this arguement to face only, Asian guys just aren't very attractive in general.
I am mostly comparing Asians to Caucasian Australians here. If I were to include other races into the fold, it would become too complicated. Or maybe this is just the bit where I'm covering my arse.
Anyway, I assume someone will find this offensive. But I'm not trying to be rude. I'm just saddened by the thought of it. I am one of 'them' after all.
Friday, April 30, 2004
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
Damage control
I feel as if I need to explain myself for my last post. But obviously I won't. At the same time though, I'm not gonna pretend like I'm not aware that other people are reading what I write. My hit counter confirms this. I don't pretend to not write for an audience. Because I do. I don't see a point in writing for myself. I just don't get much out of it that way. Even if people don't respond with a comment or anything, I'm still comforted by the knowledge that someone is reading. It's validation. Or reinforcement. Or whatever you may wish to call it. The downside to this awareness is that I can't always be so explicit about what I write. But this too is something that I am aware of.
Make of it what you want. I'll just keep writing.
__________
I recently saw a documentary about this guy. I only want to write about one bit of it. He once asked his students this (or words to this effect):
If there was a man who owned a really nice car and he decided to save this car from being destroyed at the cost of the life of a little boy, would that be OK?
Obviously, everyone says that it wouldn't be OK. There is no way you can compare the value of a car to the value of a life. To that, his response was:
If that were the case, then why don't you give up your car and your other luxuries to help people dying in third world countries and such?
This is something that I've been saying for years, except more in the context of Christianity. It has never sat right with me for anyone to be so confident that they will be 'saved' because they have faith in God, Jesus, etc. If you really believed in Jesus and you stand for everything that He stood for, you would be dropping everything and helping the poor, the sick, the needy, with whatever they need and whatever you could provide. To say that you live a Godly life in everyday life and to say that going out and saving lives isn't for everyone and that God has a different plan for everyone is a cop out. It's basically saying that God wants you to buy that nice car that costs the same as what could feed, clothe and educate three children for a whole lifetime. Does anyone really believe that? Evidence suggests that Jesus never owned much more than the clothes on his back. His apostles dropped eveything they owned to follow Him. What have you done?
Let's face it. Most of us don't really value human life. We just feel we do when it affects ourselves directly.
__________
Happy birthday to my sister.
I was talking to her about how I've been feeling lately and that I've been stressed and unhappy for a long time now with various things. As an example, I said that buying the apartment took a lot out of me emotionally and she said 'Yeah I know it was stressful. That's why I tried to avoid having anything to do with it as much as possible.'
Thanks sis. I still love you though.
__________
One thing I love about her is the stupid non-consequential arguments we often have. The latest one was about the aesthetic qualities of a certain Mr John Mayer. I say that the only reason she finds the dorky guy cute/hot/whatever is because he plays a guitar well, is famous and writes songs that she likes listening to. If he was just some guy she saw at the train station, she wouldn't even give him two glances. It's a classic example of the halo effect. She disagreed. So we argued about it for around 20 fruitless minutes.
I feel as if I need to explain myself for my last post. But obviously I won't. At the same time though, I'm not gonna pretend like I'm not aware that other people are reading what I write. My hit counter confirms this. I don't pretend to not write for an audience. Because I do. I don't see a point in writing for myself. I just don't get much out of it that way. Even if people don't respond with a comment or anything, I'm still comforted by the knowledge that someone is reading. It's validation. Or reinforcement. Or whatever you may wish to call it. The downside to this awareness is that I can't always be so explicit about what I write. But this too is something that I am aware of.
Make of it what you want. I'll just keep writing.
__________
I recently saw a documentary about this guy. I only want to write about one bit of it. He once asked his students this (or words to this effect):
If there was a man who owned a really nice car and he decided to save this car from being destroyed at the cost of the life of a little boy, would that be OK?
Obviously, everyone says that it wouldn't be OK. There is no way you can compare the value of a car to the value of a life. To that, his response was:
If that were the case, then why don't you give up your car and your other luxuries to help people dying in third world countries and such?
This is something that I've been saying for years, except more in the context of Christianity. It has never sat right with me for anyone to be so confident that they will be 'saved' because they have faith in God, Jesus, etc. If you really believed in Jesus and you stand for everything that He stood for, you would be dropping everything and helping the poor, the sick, the needy, with whatever they need and whatever you could provide. To say that you live a Godly life in everyday life and to say that going out and saving lives isn't for everyone and that God has a different plan for everyone is a cop out. It's basically saying that God wants you to buy that nice car that costs the same as what could feed, clothe and educate three children for a whole lifetime. Does anyone really believe that? Evidence suggests that Jesus never owned much more than the clothes on his back. His apostles dropped eveything they owned to follow Him. What have you done?
Let's face it. Most of us don't really value human life. We just feel we do when it affects ourselves directly.
__________
Happy birthday to my sister.
I was talking to her about how I've been feeling lately and that I've been stressed and unhappy for a long time now with various things. As an example, I said that buying the apartment took a lot out of me emotionally and she said 'Yeah I know it was stressful. That's why I tried to avoid having anything to do with it as much as possible.'
Thanks sis. I still love you though.
__________
One thing I love about her is the stupid non-consequential arguments we often have. The latest one was about the aesthetic qualities of a certain Mr John Mayer. I say that the only reason she finds the dorky guy cute/hot/whatever is because he plays a guitar well, is famous and writes songs that she likes listening to. If he was just some guy she saw at the train station, she wouldn't even give him two glances. It's a classic example of the halo effect. She disagreed. So we argued about it for around 20 fruitless minutes.
Thursday, April 22, 2004
A temporary miserable existence
It’s been a bad week. To cap off a bad month.
It’s been drives to and from work in silence. My beloved 10-stacker being refused permission to entertain me. I notice everything now. Even my engine seems to be having a hard time.
- I know how you feel buddy.
It’s Winnie the Pooh and me on the couch eating Cheezels (me, not the bear) and watching the Simpsons like it’s the Discovery Channel.
It’s stuffing my face with chicken, garlic sauce, pickles, tabouli, beer and pizza just to keep unnecessary thoughts away. Or perhaps it’s more the company.
Sleepwalker hardly ever talks to me anymore. He just sits there. I just sit there. We’re both just sitting there looking at each other.
- How’s the seat?
- It’s very comfortable, thank you. How’s yours?
- Oh, it’s quite lovely, thanks for asking.
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo…
It’s the Saturday night when she comes over to tell me it’s over for her. And we sit on the couch (the bear is ousted to make room for her) and I’m hungry so I’m eating a BBQ pork bun and she’s laughing at me and crying at the same time. (If she had just been laughing, I would have told her to get out.) The TV is turned down low.
- Do you want some?
- No, I don’t feel like it.
- OK. Well don’t beat yourself up too much about this. You’ll be fine.
She’s not laughing anymore but she’s still crying. I try for more comforting.
- Are you sure you don’t want some?
She didn’t. Oh, and in case there is any confusion, it’s the BBQ pork buns I’m offering her.
But at the end of the day, which feels like night, and is actually morning, it’s just me again. It’s like this every day. I’ve just been watching TV. Reading a book. Playing a game. Anything to get me so tired that I can fall asleep right away when I get into bed. Sleepwalker takes Winnie the Pooh by the hand and walks out of the room, leaving me to my own devices. Leaving me to the sound of my own heartbeat. The rustling of things outside my window - of what I care not imagine.
And when I sleep I have this fever-like dream. Except without the fever. Nothing much of it makes sense to me now. It involves me. She is there too. And there is some running around and some caves and stuff. It doesn’t matter. All I know is that when I wake up, I am oddly calm and feeling strangely fine.
Sleepwalker says good morning.
- So that’s that?
- That’s that.
- Nothing more to say?
- Well…
- Yes?
- Just don’t screw up anymore.
- Right.
- It’s time to work.
- Yes. So here we go. Again.
It’s been a bad week. To cap off a bad month.
It’s been drives to and from work in silence. My beloved 10-stacker being refused permission to entertain me. I notice everything now. Even my engine seems to be having a hard time.
- I know how you feel buddy.
It’s Winnie the Pooh and me on the couch eating Cheezels (me, not the bear) and watching the Simpsons like it’s the Discovery Channel.
It’s stuffing my face with chicken, garlic sauce, pickles, tabouli, beer and pizza just to keep unnecessary thoughts away. Or perhaps it’s more the company.
Sleepwalker hardly ever talks to me anymore. He just sits there. I just sit there. We’re both just sitting there looking at each other.
- How’s the seat?
- It’s very comfortable, thank you. How’s yours?
- Oh, it’s quite lovely, thanks for asking.
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo…
It’s the Saturday night when she comes over to tell me it’s over for her. And we sit on the couch (the bear is ousted to make room for her) and I’m hungry so I’m eating a BBQ pork bun and she’s laughing at me and crying at the same time. (If she had just been laughing, I would have told her to get out.) The TV is turned down low.
- Do you want some?
- No, I don’t feel like it.
- OK. Well don’t beat yourself up too much about this. You’ll be fine.
She’s not laughing anymore but she’s still crying. I try for more comforting.
- Are you sure you don’t want some?
She didn’t. Oh, and in case there is any confusion, it’s the BBQ pork buns I’m offering her.
But at the end of the day, which feels like night, and is actually morning, it’s just me again. It’s like this every day. I’ve just been watching TV. Reading a book. Playing a game. Anything to get me so tired that I can fall asleep right away when I get into bed. Sleepwalker takes Winnie the Pooh by the hand and walks out of the room, leaving me to my own devices. Leaving me to the sound of my own heartbeat. The rustling of things outside my window - of what I care not imagine.
And when I sleep I have this fever-like dream. Except without the fever. Nothing much of it makes sense to me now. It involves me. She is there too. And there is some running around and some caves and stuff. It doesn’t matter. All I know is that when I wake up, I am oddly calm and feeling strangely fine.
Sleepwalker says good morning.
- So that’s that?
- That’s that.
- Nothing more to say?
- Well…
- Yes?
- Just don’t screw up anymore.
- Right.
- It’s time to work.
- Yes. So here we go. Again.
Friday, April 16, 2004
Wednesday, April 14, 2004
Don Pancho sucks
With Australian Idol, there was Levi, and maybe Axel and Kelly. They were contestants who passed off 'try hard' for 'individuality' and somehow managed to fool a lot of people. Before them, there was Selwyn. He actually did OK. And now in Popstars Live, we have Don Pancho. Standing a whole foot and a half taller than Mini Me and looking like a poor Jack White caricature, Don is apparently out there representing rock music. The thing I hate about this is the fact that he's actually convincing a lot of people! Molly stood up on his table and told Don 'You Rock!' Of course, it's probably just that Molly's got a fetish for young Asian boys but that doesn't explain all his other fans and the fact that he has still yet to be voted out. The way he's going, he might actually WIN! *GASP* He ruined 'Seven nation army' and did 'With arms wide open' worse than when me and my friends sing it at karaoke! I realise that only about 100 people in the whole country vote for Popstars and that just his family's votes would probably be enough to make him a Popstar, but to those others who vote for him and aren't family or friends with him, please please please think about what you're doing!
Meanwhile, is it just me or does Australia's talent just suck compared to America's? I may not like Kelly Clarkson's songs but her voice is incredible. When she made a guest appearance on Australian Idol and performed 'Miss Independent', I was feeling sorry for Paulini and Cosima. They were just crap in comparison. Not even either of the guys could project their voices like Kelly can. And just have a listen to Fantasia Barrino in the current American Idol series. She's amazing. She's sounds like a prettier amped-up Macy Gray. She's got more talent, more attitude and more stage presence than anyone on the last Australian Idol. It's really sad.
Anyway, best be leaving now. Oh and yeah, Don Pancho sucks!
With Australian Idol, there was Levi, and maybe Axel and Kelly. They were contestants who passed off 'try hard' for 'individuality' and somehow managed to fool a lot of people. Before them, there was Selwyn. He actually did OK. And now in Popstars Live, we have Don Pancho. Standing a whole foot and a half taller than Mini Me and looking like a poor Jack White caricature, Don is apparently out there representing rock music. The thing I hate about this is the fact that he's actually convincing a lot of people! Molly stood up on his table and told Don 'You Rock!' Of course, it's probably just that Molly's got a fetish for young Asian boys but that doesn't explain all his other fans and the fact that he has still yet to be voted out. The way he's going, he might actually WIN! *GASP* He ruined 'Seven nation army' and did 'With arms wide open' worse than when me and my friends sing it at karaoke! I realise that only about 100 people in the whole country vote for Popstars and that just his family's votes would probably be enough to make him a Popstar, but to those others who vote for him and aren't family or friends with him, please please please think about what you're doing!
Meanwhile, is it just me or does Australia's talent just suck compared to America's? I may not like Kelly Clarkson's songs but her voice is incredible. When she made a guest appearance on Australian Idol and performed 'Miss Independent', I was feeling sorry for Paulini and Cosima. They were just crap in comparison. Not even either of the guys could project their voices like Kelly can. And just have a listen to Fantasia Barrino in the current American Idol series. She's amazing. She's sounds like a prettier amped-up Macy Gray. She's got more talent, more attitude and more stage presence than anyone on the last Australian Idol. It's really sad.
Anyway, best be leaving now. Oh and yeah, Don Pancho sucks!
Thursday, April 08, 2004
Friday, April 02, 2004
Feeling the same way UPDATED
I’m feeling kinda funny again. Not funny ha ha. And not funny queer either. That’s for sure! Maybe funny isn’t the right word.
I’m feeling rather stagnant since there are a lot of stuff that I think I need to do in order to have time to do the stuff that I really want to do. Although I don’t know what any of these things are. Some parts of my life are going extremely well. Other parts, not so. So the result is that I’m somewhere in limbo.
__________
You know, when you don’t have friends and nobody wants to be around you, surely you’d have to come to a point where you realise ‘Heck, maybe it’s not them. Maybe it’s me!’ Surely, you’d realise that you have to change your ways…
__________
Maybe I do lack passion about everything. I kinda only go halfway and then hope someone else will finish things off. This guy I was hoping to work with told me that about my long-running-yet-to-be-produced-and-and-maybe-never-will play. He said ‘you might have to drive this project yourself’ and I said ‘the reason why I went to you in the first place is so I wouldn’t have to do that. I’m just not a producer-type’ and he says ‘the truth is, there is no such thing as a producer-type. All you need is passion, self belief etc.’
While, I suppose, he does have some sort of point, I didn’t appreciate being lectured Anthony Robbins style. And who defines what dedication and passion are anyway? Surely having written 180 pages of script required some dedication and passion, right? I’m just not good at organising stuff like that. He is. I think the only people who say things like ‘there is no such thing as a producer-type’ are probably producer-types themselves. That’s how they can say stuff like that. It comes naturally to them.
It reminds me of something totally unrelated.
Fat woman: You know what they say, ‘Big is beautiful’.
Al Bundy: Do you know who came up with that?
Fat woman: Who?
Al Bundy: Fat girls.
__________
I am obsessed at the moment with this song
She don’t want nobody near
By this band
Counting Crows
I was looking forward to hearing them perform this song live. But alas the show got cancelled and I can’t exactly blame Adam Duritz for cancelling.
As with most Counting Crows songs, I don’t really know what it’s about. But as with most Counting Crows songs, it doesn’t really matter. It’s just good music.
__________
I’m not quite obsessed with this song. But I do enjoy it a lot.
Creepin’ in
By Norah Jones and Dolly Parton.
I think Norah and Dolly should make a whole album together. That would be fantastic.
__________
I tried to get into Cunica Vera (from My Restaurant Rules) the other night. We couldn’t get in. That’s about it, really. Oh yeah, Sam is really nice. That’s about it, really.
__________
This would usually be more in the Riss school of blogging, but I couldn't resist...
http://countingcrows.com/adam/3-31-04.html
http://countingcrows.com/adam/4-01-04.html
I love Mandy Moore all over again.
I’m feeling kinda funny again. Not funny ha ha. And not funny queer either. That’s for sure! Maybe funny isn’t the right word.
I’m feeling rather stagnant since there are a lot of stuff that I think I need to do in order to have time to do the stuff that I really want to do. Although I don’t know what any of these things are. Some parts of my life are going extremely well. Other parts, not so. So the result is that I’m somewhere in limbo.
__________
You know, when you don’t have friends and nobody wants to be around you, surely you’d have to come to a point where you realise ‘Heck, maybe it’s not them. Maybe it’s me!’ Surely, you’d realise that you have to change your ways…
__________
Maybe I do lack passion about everything. I kinda only go halfway and then hope someone else will finish things off. This guy I was hoping to work with told me that about my long-running-yet-to-be-produced-and-and-maybe-never-will play. He said ‘you might have to drive this project yourself’ and I said ‘the reason why I went to you in the first place is so I wouldn’t have to do that. I’m just not a producer-type’ and he says ‘the truth is, there is no such thing as a producer-type. All you need is passion, self belief etc.’
While, I suppose, he does have some sort of point, I didn’t appreciate being lectured Anthony Robbins style. And who defines what dedication and passion are anyway? Surely having written 180 pages of script required some dedication and passion, right? I’m just not good at organising stuff like that. He is. I think the only people who say things like ‘there is no such thing as a producer-type’ are probably producer-types themselves. That’s how they can say stuff like that. It comes naturally to them.
It reminds me of something totally unrelated.
Fat woman: You know what they say, ‘Big is beautiful’.
Al Bundy: Do you know who came up with that?
Fat woman: Who?
Al Bundy: Fat girls.
__________
I am obsessed at the moment with this song
She don’t want nobody near
By this band
Counting Crows
I was looking forward to hearing them perform this song live. But alas the show got cancelled and I can’t exactly blame Adam Duritz for cancelling.
As with most Counting Crows songs, I don’t really know what it’s about. But as with most Counting Crows songs, it doesn’t really matter. It’s just good music.
__________
I’m not quite obsessed with this song. But I do enjoy it a lot.
Creepin’ in
By Norah Jones and Dolly Parton.
I think Norah and Dolly should make a whole album together. That would be fantastic.
__________
I tried to get into Cunica Vera (from My Restaurant Rules) the other night. We couldn’t get in. That’s about it, really. Oh yeah, Sam is really nice. That’s about it, really.
__________
This would usually be more in the Riss school of blogging, but I couldn't resist...
http://countingcrows.com/adam/3-31-04.html
http://countingcrows.com/adam/4-01-04.html
I love Mandy Moore all over again.
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