benshee's Xanga

Royal Show

Fri, 02 Oct 2009 12:29:32 GMT

The Perth Royal Show 2009 was great great fun.

Normally I would post photos here. But I have none.

Note to self: Do not sit downwind of a fireworks display.
Note to self 2: Bring a jumper or two next time. (I actually thought I was going to do this but decided not to for some strange reason. I had everything all thought out too. *kicks self* I am so stupid.)
Note to self 3: Ah.....that's it.

The Not-So-Ultra Twist

Tue, 29 Sep 2009 01:39:52 GMT

Today I am wearing shoes which do not suit me. I look like some kind of basketball player or skate. Is different. I don't mind. The title is a reference to a friend of mine who is the antithesis of me. She's pretty, has fashion sense, has a good understanding of music, has an active love life, doesn't wear silly shoes that make her look like a basketball player, is quite naturally witty and doesn't like anime and games. She is an enigma. Do check her blog out.

Today in the news: A little Chihuahua puppy peed on the table during a morning show. It was amazing. And hilarious. I loved it.

There's a girl here, Claire is her name. She's always in the library lounge, reading a book. Today she's wearing a fedora. At least that's what I think it's called. She has natural reddish brown hair and I just saw her visibly snort-laugh (I don't know the real word for it) at something written in her book. I was in her tutorial last semester. I know she's quite intelligent or hardworking. She's an avid reader, that's for sure. She's somewhat introverted. Ah, now she's going to sleep. I don't know why I'm telling you this. She's just an interesting person I guess. She's also friends with Tom. This Tom guy. I guess I should tell you about him. He's pretty much the most intelligent and outgoing guy in the law school. He participates in competitions, argue with the lecturer in class and leads discussions in his study group. He's friends with most of the elite of the law school. I guess that's how law school is. Once again, I have no idea why I'm telling you this. It's quite mundane.

Argh, wearing contact lenses troubles me. The right contact always seems to fold in on itself. But I think I could get used to wearing contact lenses all the time. They do make my eyes look puffy and they accentuate the stupid bags under my eyes. On the topic of vision aids, i think i have a fetish for pretty girls wearing thick rimmed spectacles (definitely not wire-rimmed, those are just ridiculous). Alright, time to head off to class. Sorry for this pointless entry. :P

Seeker

Wed, 23 Sep 2009 00:02:28 GMT

Before I begin, I want to mention that there's a guy in the library with his headphones on. His music is so loud that I can hear it from over here, 4 meters away from him. In fact, his music is so loud that I can hear it even after stuffing my sound isolation headphones into my ear. How inconsiderate. Alright, moving on.

It's 8.18 am in the morning. I'm thinking. I have a bottle of ice tea with peach and pear juice. I don't think I should be drinking it in this library, but I do it anyway. The soft sounds of David Torn are drifting into my mind, blocking out the world. I want to think. I want you to know my thoughts.

I think should write like Rorschach from Watchmen. That facet of thought was introduced to me while I was spending time on my "clan site" on Kingdom of Loathing. I'm putting the inverted commas because I know how nerdy that sounds, and I am adverse to that. I am concerned about image. Ironically enough, I don't really have an image. I'm just the tall Asian guy. I'm thinking I don't want to divulge this secret. That I want to keep it a secret. I don't want people to picture my thoughts in the context of my appearance. But now you know, or you already knew. My clan, from before, is filled with middle aged or younger men and women. Some of them are lesbians. Many of them are overweight. Some of them are cynical, some of them are sweet. They have a strange sense of humour that takes a lot of getting used to. My sense of humour is dry. Sometimes I worry about my sense of humour, but not often. I am in a constant state of oscillating between worrying and non-chalance. I dislike it. I wish it would be steadier.

I mentioned that I'm in a library. I am concerned that people I know will come and look at what I'm doing. I dislike that too. The people I know, my "acquaintances", they don't know this side of me (although, it undoubtedly leaks through my solemn behaviour), writing while other people are watching is embarassing. Ironic. I'm thinking this stream of thought style of writing is ineffective. I'm thinking that no one will read large blocks of text. I'm thinking perhaps I don't need anyone to read it. I'm recalling the past. Writing helps me think. Writing focuses my thoughts. I'm thinking of Brenda and Dillon. They write like I do. I think they gain clarity. I'm concerned about Dillon; he doesn't seem entirely happy. But I remember, neither am I. I'm a work-in-progress. We all are. I want Dillon to find a girlfriend, for his happiness. I want Brenda to find love, for her happiness. Brenda is interesting, verbose, disciplined, even. I respect them both.

I have been encountering moments of awkwardness. I can't say things like love easily. It troubles me. No matter. There is a man here. Me and Al, a friend from law, we call him Joe Whiteman. He's chubby, looks like a balloon. He has an annoying face. He is somewhat obnoxious. He is always spending time with girls, which I can never understand. No matter. Maybe I am jealous of his popularity. But I am definitely annoyed by him. Perhaps I read faces too well. I wish that I could read faces the way Tim Roth in Lie to Me does. I want to know people's intentions. I spend time playing Magic: The Gathering with my friends and brother sometimes. I don't dislike the game. I know quite a bit about it. The people who play the game with me, they make me feel inadequate. The good players have excellent memories. The bad players seem to be failures in normal society, although I don't want to stereotype them. They are, also, mostly overweight. I enjoy the game, but I want to move on in life. I want to do things like normal people do. I want to finally get that driver's license. I want to lose weight. I wonder, myself, why there are constantly things bothering me. Perhaps it is because I never actively seek to remedy my ways. I'm thinking this paragraph has become somewhat depressing. No matter. We move on.

My dress sense is faulty. Not spending time outside, or with people, enough makes it this way. I have few clothes. I don't buy my own clothes. I feel there are obstacles to buying clothes. I don't want to buy overly large clothes, in case I lose weight. I think my obesity is preventing me from achieving anything. I dislike saying the word. I can't laugh about it. I feel like obesity is just one large barrier. When I have children, I will discipline them to never become overweight or obese. Humans should not be like this. I find myself unlikeable. Obesity is troubling. Many people seem to suffer from it. My thoughts are extremely scattered right now, because this has been an issue for most of my life. I don't want a perfect body. I don't want to be like a well oiled and photoshopped David Beckham. I just want to be thin. To not carry all this burden. It is a burden to me, and you are my councellors.

I recall my friends. They once complained about another mutual friend who spent alot of time complaining about his life. I heard them say: "Man, everyone has problems, we just don't talk about it." I am greatly concerned about all this. But I have to talk about it. I have no need to hide my troubles from the world. At least this world. But I hide it anyway. I feel like I'm combating my genetic desire for natural selection. Some of the people I know; they think on a different level. I cannot communicate efficiently. I feel slow and retarded. I cannot seem to win at many things. I feel inferior. Men live to win things.

I have been troubled about something else. I was told that I have little tact, that I am rude. This much I know. I was told that good human interaction NECESSARILY involves saying mean, hurtful things in a nice way. To me, this is the equivalent of lying. I dislike it. But I was told this is how people interact. I agree that life should not be about knocking other people down, but about building them up. Saying spiteful things destroys a little bit inside of the recipient of the words. Words are part of our construction. The feelings we obtain from other's actions is part of our character. But I refuse to lie. I want to say blunt, truthful things to those I care for. But I don't think I should. I don't know. I don't know if I am capable of understanding much of this world. Perhaps I am overly self-conscious, but the more time I spend with others, the less I feel I know the world. Hence this troubled rant. I lack courage. I am going to breathe deep.

These insecurities exist. I have not dealt with them. I don't think I can deal with them alone.

Feeding.

Wed, 09 Sep 2009 13:59:57 GMT

Today, I made a small mistake - one which may have consequences in the future. I want to learn from that mistake. That is how knowledge is built.

When I am looking for torrents to explore, I sort by the number of seeds/peers.

To you.

Sun, 06 Sep 2009 00:47:03 GMT

Dear *,

I remember the first time I met you. I typed something into a calculator and passed it to you. You laughed when you read it, and right then, you had a special place in my heart. From the first time I laid eyes upon you, I thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Now that I know you better, you are even more beautiful to me. Thinking of you makes my heart skip beats and wipes my mind blank. I rued the fact that I was so very different to you, that I was never the type of person to befriend your clique; but I always wanted to spend time with you.

You understand me better than anyone else, save the fact that you were oblivious to my obsession with you. I can be honest with you, I can talk about anything with you, but when I do talk to you, I always end up wittering on about trivial and meaningless things. We are like different species of birds; we share experiences, difficulties, joys, but we can't communicate it. You are the best friend I always wanted.

I refuse to dream about you, lest I fail to do justice to you. I smile when I remember you. I am willing to be hurt by you. You make me lower my defences. I am enraged when you are hurt, and I am jealous when I see you with your other male friends. I hate that your previous partners are so incredibly good-looking.

You are an individual, you are marvellous, you never conformed . Your habits and hobbies, while unattractive when seen in other people, are like the thorns on a rose: They make you more exquisite, potent and much harder to grasp. But you are someone I want to hold for days, for years, forever. You make me understand the meaning of "doing it out of love" and "for your own good". I am scared of not living up to your friend's expectations, of your family getting to know me, of not being good enough for you.

I want to make cliches in your honour. I want to look into your eyes, I want to create a real relationship with you, I want to lie in the grass with you and watch the sky. You are the instruments to my band, the melody to my music. You are the spring breeze, the summer sun, the autumn leaves, the winter sky.

I wish for you.

~Yours
Ben

Small Rage.

Tue, 01 Sep 2009 03:33:43 GMT

Either it's the poor quality (and bad smelling) hair wax I'm using or possibly the fact that I have many many assignments due in the near future, but I am finding myself quick to anger and easily annoyed. I sit myself down at a computer and about 2 minutes into the loading screen I am screaming profanity and on the verge of defenestrating the computer.

Rage!

And so does the mind of the man operate, feasting his eyes lustily on the bodies of the opposite sex, his thirst never quashed. What does it mean for one to be an object of desire? For men, a woman need no more than exhibit qualities of fecundity and willingness. Men are egoistic brutes, who want for nothing more than to ravish each woman who would potentially provide for good entertainment. And so does the mind of man operate, breaking a woman down to nothing more than her breasts and buttocks, and the quantity of skin that is being revealed. Yet these are our base instincts, bestial by nature, unrefined. Yet how they push us on, how they act like a carrot on a stick. Women, fear not, for men have evolved. While we generally find the existence of female genitalia to be a prerequisite for our potential mates, so too do we look towards their senses and their minds. For a mate, in the modern mans terms, is not merely a body for carnal knowledge, rather it is a friend who can be trusted, who we can talk to and laugh with, who will not abandon us when we become senile and lacking in erectile functionality. When such a partner is found, one might say the man would be unwilling to part from her, unwilling to lose her, one might even say that he would sacrifice his needs for hers, care for her in all times, and procreate with her. One might say they have found what many seek. Love.

We blink.

Sat, 29 Aug 2009 15:45:36 GMT

My eyes. They are my sight and my life. They endure hours of staring at textbooks, laptop screens and monitors; they give me joy and wisdom, insecurity and jealousy. Without these eyes, I would not be able to read the words of others, I would not be able to see sun shining on aged stone walls, I would not be able to see a soft breeze float through grass, I would not be able to see the subtle shifts of light as clouds pass overhead. I would not see the love surrounding me, in all its vivid beauty.

I would not do without these eyes. I cannot.

20 Minutes

Mon, 24 Aug 2009 09:12:22 GMT

It takes no small amount of change to make us aware. From infancy, change around us opens our eyes to new, wonderful, scary, beautiful things, and makes us aware. We are not born with an innate self-awareness, we cannot compare ourselves unless there is substance to compare against. When we spend time with other people, and learn more about them, become even more aware of our surroundings, we grow.

It is the knowledge that is created from our awareness that leads us to strive for greater things. Being unaware of our surroundings is blissful, in the same way the ignorance is blissful. But blissful is not productive. People can be blissful but not understand each other, we can be blissful but be useless. Bliss is a warm safe place that we retreat to when the world becomes chaotic and unbearable. It is a safe haven, but we cannot live our lives in a shell. So, we step out into a world where people are evolving or developing, and we try and chase up.

"The more we see, the less we know."

You, yes you, the beautiful one. You are the motivation for change, you are what makes our earth take steps and leaps. You are the source of invention, creation, art, music, film, dance. Move in the way of nature, blossom. Fear dullness, strive, for that is what makes you beautiful.

Library Lounge

Tue, 04 Aug 2009 01:39:27 GMT

I am reading newspapers in the library while waiting for my next class. One problem I have with reading newspapers in the library, especially in a position with my back facing the door, is that I can't oogle the double-sided full colour Myer advertisements with Miranda Kerr, nor can I drool over the obviously hot girls in the "Mind + Body" section in the West Australian. Nevertheless, today's paper was interesting...

Kyle Sandiwhatever was fired from his position as a judge on Idol because he interrogated a 14 year old about her sex life on State Radio.

A girl is suing KFC, after developing brain damage from salmonella encephalopathy, which was caused by eating a Twister roll from a KFC in Sydney. I, personally, am a fan of the twister rolls, at the ones made in Malaysia.

A Malaysian Airlines flight from KL to Perth was delayed on account of some engine/hydraulic failure. After MAS' apology, which consisted of a box of chocolates and a dinner coupon, another flight was arranged for the passengers. 10 minutes after the take off of the second flight, the passengers were informed that the left engine of the plane had failed, and that they had to land.

Nice one, MAS.

P.S. Question: When was the last time YOU read a newspaper?

Inevitable Topics

Thu, 23 Jul 2009 15:15:25 GMT

In discussing the topics which I regarded as a division of instinct and intelligence, we stumble upon the highly controversial issues of abortion and homosexuality. My thesis is that because the people of decadent nations, where there is little need for any kind of struggle to survive, and where sex has become an act more for recreation than for reproduction, no longer pay heed to our primal instincts.

Note: These points were not particularly well thought out, and are just "preliminary" discussions of these topics.

Abortions:
One of the arguments for abortions is that a child should be aborted if it would have no place in the world. This argument is strongly driven by what we have accepted as a normal state of freedom, which is to say that people live for themselves rather than for the "greater good". When people are selfishly motivated, and when they are given the choice to decide what they want and don't want, then babies are just as another commodity, another expense, to be cancelled whenever we please.

In the same vein, abortions are an extension of a culture where purely recreational sex is the norm, while recreational sex is not bad, it also implies the lack of a need for commitment or close relations between the parties involved in the sex. Abortion has become more and more rampant because of these particular practices.

Homosexuality:
I think homosexuality is an abandonment of our natural instinct to reproduce. I was told that homosexuality is perfectly normal, occuring in nature (c.f. Bonobo), and since the ancient times. I was told that all people begin in the middle of a scale, the two polars being attraction to the opposite sex and attraction to the same sex, and most people are placed somewhere in between as a result of environmental factors, society and genetics. My thoughts are that the Bonobo practice "homosexuality" as a form of pleasure, but still maintain their practices of regular dsex. Humans who are homosexuals may do so because of the aforementioned culture of recreational sex, but, applying the "scale" model, homosexuals are created by the environmental factors (e.g. bad experiences with the opposite sex, the huge popularity of BEING a homosexual, natural desire to adventure). Genetics creates a predisposition towards the opposite sex, as part of natural selection is the desire to reproduce. So when the social and environmental factors artificially overpower the natural preference, it leads to the creation of a homosexual.