So you think you can write?

I’m going to the root of it all. You’ll know what I mean.

Every single time report card day came my teacher would praise me endless, saying that, oh, he’s such a good boy. A bit on the cheeky side, too. Each year had the same comments, just differently phrased. But the one thing that was always the same with all my teachers, both primary and secondary, from Standard 1 all the way to Form 5, was that I talked too much. I also answered back at my teachers, in a sarcastic manner and sometimes without realising that I should have kept my witty remarks to myself.

And the blame falls squarely on Enid Blyton and Television.

Hold your horses and before you throw rotten tomatoes at me, hear me out first. When I was a child I would watch Baja Hitam (translated literally as Black Fertiliser), Ultraman, He-Man, G.I. Joe, and other cartoons on TV1 at 7 p.m. When they were done I would be transported to a world where I was the brave hero (without the fancy costume consisting of a hairy chest and impossibly tight spandex trousers). When faced with adversity I would call upon my faithful comrades and wage bloody war against the forces of eeeeeevil.

Enid Blyton is the reason why I read as much as I do. Her tales of Golliwogs, the Famous Five and other interesting characters took my already vivid and at times abnormal imaginations to a whole new level.

This may sound weird but I don’t think I wouldn’t be as warped as I am without those things.

So, what’s with the fact that I have a motor mouth that tends to spew forth sarcastic remarks at remarkable speeds and accuracy to do with writing anyway? It is essentially the reason why I love to write. I doubt my writing would be as half as what it is.

Blogging enables me to be myself but without having to reveal my true self. You read my thoughts and opinions yet you don’t know anymore what I choose to write. For all you know I’m a sadistic mutilator of souls with a fetish for blueberry ice-cream.

I never once thought of my writing as excellent. At the very most I would call it readable. Heck, I even annoy myself at the way I construct my sentences. They either have too many commas, incongruous usage of big words, oft going off tangent and so forth. But I’m constantly on the lookout for ways to improve the way I tell a story. I still feel I have loads more to learn and try out. My writing style may not be the best there is but I’m proud to say that the style I write is my way.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: This post is dedicated to my friends and fellow bloggers you see on your right side of the screen. You guys keep me inspired to write, sometimes think till my head hurts, wishing that I could write just as good as you beautiful people and am truly grateful for all the wonderful comments to my posts. I used to think that if no one commented, I’d still be happy but now not so. Call me a drama queen but every time I see just even one comment, a smile will be etched on my face for a good half day. I kid you not.

Have a nice day everyone!

Proof that I am not a sadistic metalhead with a bullet belt and a thirst for blood

I wanted to post something really thought-provoking but I wasn't provoked enough. So I decided to do this instead. One word summary: Wow.

And one of the funniest spoofs I've seen in a long time.

Hope you all enjoyed them as much as I did.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: That little girl can really sing, eh?

I’m gay to be gay!

The two men were immaculately dressed: their shirts were pressed and ironed to perfection, their sandals were from the trendy bohemian store in the trendy bohemian enclave of the city, and they had sunglasses that could be classified as tinted windshields due to the size and depth. Each one of them had a scarf wrapped around their neck and snaked all around their person. This was a strange sight considering the sun was murderously hot that day. Their talk was highly animated, what with flailing arms and wide-eyed looks whenever one of them sees a shirt that while it looks pretty good to the normal and straight man, is really and undeniably cute to them. Some of the men just passed on by them, as if the world was already too weird for them to give a crap about two men shopping but there were some of the more male men who gave them cockeyed, deriding smirks—when they weren’t within range, naturally. The contented gay men carried on their shopping spree, not giving a damn about what other people thought of them. Their happiness is all that matters.

Being gay seems to be catching up these days. I’ve noticed that there are more and more gays and I’m not talking about the ones who work in salons and at the perfume counters. Stick your head into any high-end clothing boutique and voila! gay man looking at a pink shirt. Generalising and slightly offensive, but that’s the case these days, isn’t it?

I posed a rather controversial question once to two of my good friends. It was, “What if your child is gay? What would you do?” They both had the same initial reaction: they didn’t know what to do. When prodded further, one of them was left speechless while the other tried to come up with a perfectly reasonable and rational answer. He didn’t. Suffice it to say, it really is the sort of question that will only be answered when the time comes.

If ever, my son or daughter was to come up to me and say that they’re gay and they’ve know about it for a long time, I would at first be shocked, then sit down, have a chat with the missus and then throw my son or daughter out. Just kidding, folks. I guess I would probably ask my child whether they are who they say they are, and hopefully, try to accept the fact. Because, honestly, life is something that has to be experienced, and there are times where things happen for a reason even though you’ve been planning your life since they day you saw that accounting journal. It'll be difficult, yes, but I'll be damned if I let my family crumble just because my son loves football and the footballers.

I personally don’t give a damn whether or not you’re gay, bisexual, straight, occasionally gay, sometimes not that straight or whatever. I don’t give a shit and neither should you. But if you are, please don’t smack my butt. I might take it the wrong way.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Scissor Sisters’ songs are cool. I’d rather listen to them than to any of today’s so-called “music”. Mika is starting to annoy me, though.

Let’s see, what to ban next? I know! Let’s just ban everything!

When the controversial The Da Vinci Code opened across the globe, people were once again questioning what was right and what was wrong. To me, it’s just a movie adapted from a highly popular and somewhat absurd novel. Which I think is what Mr. Brown intended all along; a book that entertains first, pose questions much, much later. If your faith is strong, then why should you let a writer’s imagination—especially one that writes fiction—to tell you otherwise?

I remember clearly the hullabaloo surrounding Sepet (Slit Eyes or Sloe Eyes or -,-). The story as most of us know is about an inter-racial relationship that manages to transcend boundaries between what is normal and what is deemed shouldn’t be taking place. Yes, there were some scenes that left me slightly wide-eyed but not entirely surprised. At its core it was a love story that involves inter-racial elements and it was done not in a judgemental way.

I strongly believe that with overzealous censoring what is deemed inappropriate would only make things much worse. And by they way, to the people who think they know best: I present to you one word that will make every single one of your remarks about “that you know what’s right” null and void—Google.

I do agree that, yes, there are certain forms of entertainment that glorifies violence, sex, drugs, women and gold teeth to the point that it’s all a means for them to make as much money as they can from unsuspecting people. What I don’t agree is the double standards. Why it is that rock is given a bad rep while The Pussycat Dolls are free to strut, pose and sluttify Sway in front of young and adoring adolescent girls?

I could list a million and one things that could be banned from our society. Each will mostly likely take the piss out of every one of you. Like, for some example, if we really want to stop smoking then all we have to do is just ban cigarettes, cigars and pipes. While we’re at it, let’s throw in shisha as well. Especially the mixed fruit flavour.

*we interrupt this article to bring you this important announcement: Google rules supreme! MUAHAHA!

*we now return to our regular programming*

If we’re serious about things then we should be educating our children just as soon as they know their ABCs. Build their knowledge from young, show them that it is wrong to do some of the things that us idiot adults commit. Would you rather your son learn how to smoke and drink from his friends or would you rather tell him that doing those are bad?

Curiosity killed the cat and you don’t even have to be like CSI to find out who the killer is. Maybe we should ban that next? It does give would-be killers and rapist ways in which to pull their crime and getting away with it. But then again, which stupid fellow would copy what they see on TV?

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Only the first CSI matters. Grissom and co rule!