Up

And so my parents dragged me out for a movie anyways.

Up was nice. You can't go wrong with a Pixar movie, that's for sure. The 3D effect was quite nice, for a change of boring 2D. Seems like all the upcoming movies are aiming for the 3D visuals now. Wonder how that'll change things.

It must be nice to fall in love. To go to the ends of the earth for someone else.

In other news, this year's NDP was quite nice. Nice music. Funny. Rare, that one. It was really colourful this year too, I noticed. Mmm.

Things to do:
1. Movie poster
2. Superfriends story
3. Review Keys to the Kingdom
4. Parody Graduation
5. Write song
6. Satire PQs
7. Story about procrastination, destiny, Venice/Paris

Thanks for the adventure. Now go have yours!
The Edna Man

Tainted

I got food poisoning over the weekend. From Friday, to be precise. Still don't know what caused it, but I had gut-wrenching stomach pains, and coupled with the fact that I couldn't sleep but was really really tired, gave me a hint of delusional mumblings. Then came the vomiting, and everything fell into place.

Well, check "Get food poisoning" off my Life's To-Do List.
The Edna Man

Decrypting a Printer

Wednesday, Jarrel Seah and I got interested in a printout from Neil's printer which has this mass of gibberish on it. Due to some printing error (probably the buffer memory), the characters all got replaced by its precedent (probably also by the ASCII, numerically). So we spent the better part of an hour decrypting the binary Caesar shift and generally having a lot of fun. Seems awesome to cryptography in real life, though I assume it wold never be so easy. I mean, we had an awesome crib in the form of a URL, so that pretty much gave the game away.

Still, it was quite fun
Sgd Dcm9 L9m

Down in the History Books

Just a thought while doing war poems. I noticed that we have no problem calling those war recruitment posters "propaganda" but now we dare not even mention the word. Why? Which led me to think: the best way to run a country is to imagine you are a historian from the future writing about yourself now. Is what you're doing now considered "propaganda" to those future historians who have not the bias you have?

Just a thought.
The Edna Man

Oh vassal, miscreant

So I've come back from the Drama Festival of Arts: The Thwarting of Baron Bolligrew. And I guess it's kinda okay, much more comprehensible than the avant-garde performances of three days ago (sorry). I guess it's quite pffft that they don't do pure comedies anymore, because these days, with all these tragedies, we do really need a good laugh. Joshua and Jesmond almost did the Thriller dance in the intermission though, which was exciting.

Speaking of tragedies (sigh), it's quite something to be critiquing the play, noting the use of foreshadowing and irony throughout. And man oh man, the freaking use of RHYMING COUPLETS TO END THE PERFORMANCE. DAMN YOU SHAKESPEARE.

Dear sir, forebear,
The Edna Man

Skipper Dan

Music Video

Skipper Dan by Weird Al Yankovic

I starred in every high school play
Blew every drama teacher away
I graduated first in my class at Juilliard
Took every acting workshop I could
And I dreamed of Hollywood
While I read my Uta Hagen and studied the Bard

Hit the boards and paid my dues
And got phenomenal rave reviews
I knew the world was gonna love me, without a doubt
I was sure that Tarantino would be callin' me on the phone
Annie Leibovitz would shoot me for Rolling Stone
But the years have come and gone
And I'm sorry to say that's not the way that it's all worked out

I'm a tour guide on the Jungle Cruise ride
Skipper Dan is the name
And I'm doin' 34 shows every day
And every time it's the same
Look at those hippos, they're wigglin' their ears
Just like they've done for the last 50 years
Now I'm laughin' at my own jokes but I'm cryin' inside
'Cause I'm workin' on the Jungle Cruise ride

Oh, the critics, they used to say
I was the new Olivier
Thought I'd be the toast of Sundance or maybe Cannes
Aw, but don't bother tryin' to IMDb me
The only place you might possibly see me
Is ridin' my little boat around Adventureland
It ain't exactly what I planned

But I'm a tour guide on the Jungle Cruise ride
Skipper Dan is the name
And I'm doin' 34 shows every day
And every time it's the same
I would've killed if I'd been in "Speed The Plow"
But what's the difference, that's all behind me now
'Cause I'm payin' the rent and I'm swallowin' my pride
And I'm workin' on the Jungle Cruise ride

I should be there on Broadway
Knockin' 'em dead in "12 Angry Men"
But instead I'm here tellin' these lame jokes
Again and again and again and again and again and again and again

Bengal Tigers can jump over 20 feet!
That's an African bull elephant...
And there it is, the backside of water!
What have I done with my life?!

I shoulda listened when my grandfather said
"Why don't you major in business instead?"
Now my hopes have all vanished and my dreams have all died
And I'll probably work forever as a tour guide on the Jungle Cruise ride
Skipper Dan is the name
And I'm doin' 34 shows every day
And every time it's the same
Look at those hippos, they're wigglin' their ears
Somebody shoot me 'cause I'm bored to tears
Always said I'd be famous... I guess that I lied
'Cause I'm workin' on the Jungle Cruise ride
I'm still workin' on the Jungle Cruise ride

-----

This is a bit of a deviation for Al, who has always been on the more funny side of things. This one is more satirical, more depressing, but still a brilliant piece.

Always said I'd be famous; I guess that I lied,
The Edna Man

Old-School Acting-Performance

Well I just came back from a post-modernist drama performance and I must admit I am quite confused. Call me old school, but I can't get interpretive dance. I have the feeling that if I knew what I was supposed looking out for, I would be able to see it (just like normal literature) but I'm completely in the dark. I guess I kinda liked the last one best, because it actually had some kind of story; but well. Too avant garde for my taste, I guess.

In other news: IOC dammit.
The Edna Man

Happy Anniversary, Armstrong

Hey, so it's the 40th anniversary of man's first step on the moon. How does it feel, that 40 years from now, it's still too expensive to send another man there? Lunar rovers are obviously cheaper at only a few million dollars each.

But they say that the moon is full of minerals, rich for exploitation. We just can't leave anything alone, can we? Five millenia from now, Al Gore's descendants will be pissed off because we mined the moon dry. What then? Will its light mass cause it to have a reduced effect on the tides? Will it drift off into space? Will humanity care?

Anyways, here's to the future of space exploration. Don't screw it up, humanity.
The Edna Man.

Book in Advance

Come on, you know you want to.
The Edna Man

Half-Bloods and Handphones

So I watched the Half-Blood Prince yesterday. It was kind of a let-down, seeing as there was no epic battle scene at the end, which should have been there ANYWAY. It's like they're saving it for Deathly Hallows. And to top it all off, Luna Lovegood didn't get enough screen time. Seriously, Luna is AWESOME. And I don't remember Tonks being so dreary and brunette. She's supposed to have pink hair, dammit.

Anyway, I guess it's not really worth the $10 you pay to watch it on a Friday night, so I guess I got my money's worth from the people you sit with. I have the feeling that we pissed off the other people sitting in the cinema though. But man, it was fun.

Oh yeah, my mom got me a new (free) phone. The number's the same but it's switched to one of those newer 3G SimCards, so they cancelled the line on my old card on Thursday. It goes to show how different/deprived* (delete where appropriate) I am, because when my mom told me I was like, "What? You got me a new phone?" not in that excited, jubilant voice but with that affronted and disappointed tone. So you get my friends' reactions: "Wah, your mom gets you a new phone, still not happy arh?"

I guess I value my old phone very dearly. It's 3G - three generations old, used to be owned by my aunt, who passed it to my mom, who passed it to me. It's old, but not so old as to not have colour images and polyphonic ringtones. I've had it for about five or six years (yes it's THAT old) and it's been working fine for me up till now. You know how you hear those stories of people losing their phone all over the place, or dropping it and it breaks, or it's got weird battery or start-up malfunctions. My phone served me well for one-third of my life, and it's outlived anything my friends have. Or had.

I guess having a communications antique keeps you humble. You've never had anoy of those sexy new iPhones or flashy paper-thin showpieces which might crack if you bend it too much; so you never feel the need to show off. And its antiquity means it is the least likely to be stolen, because who would want it? It's got no camera, so it fits perfectly into the army knapsack, and has never been the subject of controversial discussions about camera-phoning people in public. It was perfect. But the SimCard's been Avada Kedavra-ed, so now it's just a clunky contact-storage device.

Gonna miss you, old pal,
The Edna Man

Readme!

DFtL v3.1 Changelog
1.0 New Features
2.0 Supported Songs

------------------------------
1.0 New Features
------------------------------
1.1 Added two-word limit on eponymous backup

------------------------------
2.0 Supported Songs List
------------------------------
2.1 Coming soon...


====================
WATCH THIS SPACE FOR CHANGES
====================

Movies in Disguise

Woohoo! Today I spend six bucks on awesome computer animation and visual effects. Really, movie critics need to spend a break once in a while and watch something for the pure visuals of it. Besides, you notice that many scenes are ripped from major motion pictures of the past decade (or so). Warning: SPOILER ALERT, though the plot is so thin there's not much to spoil anyway.

Scene: Megatron explodes from beneath the waves, breaking a aircraft carrier into two and it sinks into the depths
Ripped from: Titanic

Scene: A bunch of Decepticon constructions transform and merge into a giant four-legged and anatomically-correct vacuum cleaner.
Ripped from: Power Rangers

Scene: Two new Autobots, hillbilly automobiles with buck teeth.
Ripped from: Cars

Scene: The Tomb of the Primes is lost, hidden deep in a random Egyptian desert. Guess where?
Ripped from: Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade

Scene: Bumblebee, containing the heroes, is made to stop in a checkpoint in the middle of the desert. A strangely familiar midget sergeant comes out to greet them.
Ripped from: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

Scene: Sam starts seeing runes and symbols as a secret message after he touches the sliver of the Allspark.
Ripped from: The Matrix

Scene: The Fallen is standing on top of the pyramid, and with a wave of his hand, sends the Jordanian helicopters crashing into its rocky sides
Ripped from: Magneto, the X-Men

Scene: Sam dies and goes to robot heaven, where the Primes tell him that the Matrix of Leadership has to be earned (NO, REALLY?), and that he is now worthy of wielding it.
Ripped from: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone ("find it, but not use it...")

Scene: The Major tries to get rid of his government liason, and tells him that it's time to jump the plane, and gives him a briefing unintelligible over the roar of the wind.
Ripped from: Finding Nemo

But seriously, the transformation scenes are quite teh awesome. I think it was worth it.

I didn't see the giant hands that came in to change them though.
The Edna Man

Famous Last Words

SEE YOU TOMORROW, ON THE OTHER SIDE OF FREEDOM
The Edna Man

Now All I Need is a Mask and a Television Broadcasting Studio

Good evening, Bethesda. Allow me first to apologize for this interruption. I do, like many of you, appreciate the comforts of the classmate, the familiarity of the friend, the association of acquaintance. I enjoy them as much as any Singaporean. But in the spirit of commemoration - whereby those important events of the past, usually associated with a school holiday or the end of some awful bloody examination, are celebrated with a nice outing - I thought we could mark this July the thirteenth, a day that is sadly no longer remembered, by taking some time out of our daily lives to sit down and have a little chat.

There are, of course, those who do not want us to speak. I suspect even now friendships are being shattered, and enmities of hatred being formed. Why? Because while lies may be used in lieu of social interaction, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this class, isn't there?

Selfishness and neglect... intolerance and discrimination. And where once you had cohesiveness and solidarity of a second family, you now have cliques and detaching debutantes, rending the relationships and and shattering the class spirit. How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well certainly there are those who are more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable. But again, truth be told... if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror.

I know why you did it. I know you were apathetic. Who wouldn't be? Revision. Prejudice. Laziness. There were a myriad of reasons which conspired to occupy your time and prevent your participation. Self-interest got the best of you and in your shallowness, you turned to your cooler acquaintances. They promised you acceptance. They promised you fun. And all they demanded in return was your silent, subliminal disregard.

This afternoon, I sought to end that disdain. This afternoon, I organized a movie outing to remind this class of what it has forgotten. More than six months ago, a certain person wished to embed the class spirit forever in our hearts. His hope was to remind the world that friends, classmates and compatriots are more than acquaintances - they are family. So if you've seen nothing, if the crimes of this study group remain unknown to you, then I would suggest that you allow this thirteenth of July to pass unmarked. But if you see what I see, if you feel as I feel, and if you would seek as I seek... then I ask you to stand beside me, one day from today, outside that movie theatre. And together, we shall give them an end-of-exams celebration that shall never, ever, be forgot!

-----

A humble vaudevillian veteran,
The Edna Man

Dream Sequence #003

Okay, so I just woke up and I had this dream, of which I can only remember half. All I remember was wandering through some spookily-lit shopping mall, with the Joker (again) on the loose somewhere. I vaguely remember walking past Darrell Neo, because I recognized his super-white glasses, and thinking that he (the Joker) must not have been able to catch up since he was behind Darrell and Darrell was on the other side of the site under construction and/or rennovation (in the mall).

Then I bump into one of the other weird villain wannabes, this batty old lady called the Frightler, which is vaguely traumatizing, but she just carries a large blue cardboard box with a bunch of random junk, which isn't quite deadly. So anyway she thinks it's cool to come threaten me, and pokes the corner of the box under my chin like a gun (I remember another lady passing by just hold up her hands in surrender and walking by nonchalantly at this point) and the Frightler introduced herself and made some scathing remarks about her being better than the Joker, etc. etc. She must have been quite insane, no matter what.

Anyway, she mentions something about "What type of idiot goes around with a yo-yo with 'The Joker' printed on it?!" and in that split second you know something is horribly wrong, I spotted the yo-yo in the matted bunch of junk in the box.

So like any self-preserving civilian, I jump to the side as it explodes dramatically, landing behind a row of plastic seats with shrapnel and fire licking the floor all around me. So with my head in my hands and my eyes squinted shut, I hear that familiar Heath Ledger voice who mutters, "One more hapless victim of the Batman," and I feel that hand on my shoulder.

Then I woke up 'cos I needed to pee.
The Edna Man

Lifesaver

All Hail Chemguide!
The Edna Man

Because We Really Need It in the Future

He spotted his colleague hammering away at an early-morning report. "Morning, Rob," he called.

"Hey, Joe," replied Rob, easing back into his chair and greeting his colleague. "Had a good weekend?"

"Can't complain," said Joe, grinning. Sitting down, he set down his mug of coffee onto the desk and glanced around conspiratorially before saying in a low voice, "I won the lottery."

"YOU'RE KIDDING!" Rob exclaimed, while Joe shushed him and glanced around again. "It's nothing, no big deal; it wasn't like the first prize or anything, just one of those smaller draws. But I'm now ten thousand dollars richer!" he hissed excitedly.

"Congratulations, then!" said Rob, shaking his friend by the hand rather vigourously. "Lady Luck must really be smiling down on you!"

"Yeah, I couldn't believe it either," Joe remarked. "Like, what are the chances...?"

There was a split second in which the two men stared at each other, instinctively realizing that they had just done something incredibly stupid.

"Oh my god, did I actually say --"

"You did! Bloody hell, you did! They'll be coming for you, Joe, they'll --"

"I know what they'll do! Just - quick! Get me some paper! We need to solve it before they get here --"

"Oh my god, they're going to get us, they're going to get us --"

"Stop blubbering and help me, dammit! There are 49 numbers to choose from, right? But you only pick six --"

"Do you have a calculator? You need to do combinations, unless you can somehow calculate factorials in your head --"

Just then, the lights cut out and the men were thrown into darkness.

"Oh god, they're here..."

There was a deafening crash as a number of men in dark uniforms and heavy firearms burst in through the window. Fragments of glass showered across the two men now cowering under the desk. Then the door burst open, and more men in uniforms charged in, weapons and voices raised, yelling, "Freeze! Thought Police!" and "Get down! You two, get down!"

One of the men in uniforms threw himself upon Joe and held him down on the ground with his knees. Arms pinned behind his back, the office worker could do nothing but whimper, "I don't know the answer, I just - I wasn't even thinking about it, and it slipped out - it's an figure of speech, dammit! It's something to do with combinations and --"

"Silence!" shouted the man on top of him, and Joe's protestations fell mute. A light flickered on from somewhere, and the room was thrown into a pale florescent glow. Joe spotted three chevrons on the officer's sleeve, above the infamous logo of the dog-eared document with the golden "A+" superimposed on it. It didn't make him feel any better, especially since a dozen gunbarrels were now aimed his direction, laser sights dotting his face and clothes.

"You have the right to be warned that any unauthorized material found in your possession will be taken to mean that they are intended for dishonest use," recited the sergeant, nuzzling the muzzle of his handgun against the back of Joe's head. Joe whimpered.

"Name?" barked the sergeant.

"J-J-Joseph T-Taylor Smith," he stammered.

"Index number?"

"Uh, Nine - oh god - nine, four, t-two, one, s-six."

"And...?"

"Th-that's it!"

"YOU FORGOT ZERO-A!" roared the sergeant. All around him, hands gripped the holsters of their rifles more tightly.

"Z-Zero-A," Joe muttered. He cast his head around as much as possible, hoping for a glance of his colleague. Had Rob managed to escape?

"Stop fidgiting," barked the sergeant, pushing Joe's head back to the floor roughly. "You have a minute to answer this question, and you cannot go to the toilet in the first thirty seconds and the last fifteen seconds of your alloted time."

"Wh-what?"

"For two marks: What is the gravitational field strength experiened by a fifty-kilogramme satellite in geosynchronous orbit around the equator, assuming its centripetal acceleration is nine-point-five-three metres per second squared?"

"I- I don't know!" Joe sobbed. "I did those kind of problems so long ago, and it's not like I need them in my everyday life... I can't remember!" he wailed. "Don't shoot me, please!"

"Time's up," said the sergeant. "You've failed." And he squeezed the trigger.

With a click and a splat, a red "F' spread across Joe's forehead, seeping into his skin like tattoo ink. With that, the men in uniforms started to withdraw. "Have a nice life, Balrog," growled the sergeant as he got up and left with his men.

-----

Woah, I managed to use the word "conspiratorially". A mix of V for Vendetta - whose speeches I have been watching - and College Humour, which combines to form quite a traumatizing picture. I guess it would look better as a video.

YOU SHALL NOT PASS!
The Edna Man

Comedy is Life

You know how you're supposed to take in real life and apply it to what you learn in school? Well, this is real life, and you can't learn it in any school I know.



Eat your heart out, Economics
The Edna Man

It's like 14th March all over again

The area of a triangle is half-a-b-sin-theta or half of the modulus of vector a cross vector b. Look out for differential equations, where dy/dt = dy/dx times dx/dt. Point of inflexion exists where d2y/dx2 = 0 and the sign changes from one side to the other; stationary point means dy/dx = 0 but not the other way around. Don't forget the modulus when converting complex numbers from cartesian form to cis form. r dot n equals p. A singular matrix means that the determinant is zero, and does not have an inverse matrix. Hypergeometric distribution is used for sampling without replacement; N = total number of objects, M = number of successes and n = number of trials. Standard deviation for a sample is the square root of the population variance divide by the size of the sample. Volume of revolution must be multiplied by pi, and f(x) is squared.

Happy Youth Day.
The Edna Man

Memories are Made of This

Thirty years from now, I'll be able to look back on today's Economics Paper 2 and remember that I did it dressed as Michael Jackson.

Dare to be different,
The Edna Man

Quantity over Quality

Talkin' 'bout my g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-generation,
The Edna Man

In All the Unlikely Places

But, I forget! While leaving the bus, I bumped into another person I know, from MGS OM! How pleasantly surprising! This would have to be the first time I have unexpectedly met someone I know while out of my house. Granted, the circumstances were slightly more fortuitous (this is probably the first and only time the bus has trundled by at around MGS dismissal time), but still, nice surprise today.

Everywhere,
The Edna Man

With friends like these

Who needs friends.
The Edna Man

Damned Lies and Statistics

We lie a lot, don't we? As a human species, we lie more than statistics can tell us (and who listens to statistics anyway, since they lie through their pie chart-encrusted teeth). Everybody lies, it don't matter if they're black or white. Stretching the truth, concealing facts, asking no questions.

Why? Why do we lie? Do we do it because it's a form of protectionism, a way to shield yourself and others from the truth? Do we do it to withhold knowledge, which is power, and lord over the ignorant? Do we do it because we fear others' reactions when they find out the truth, and that they'll never miss what they never had?

I lie a lot. I lie a hell lot. To friends, to family. For many of the above reasons. It doesn't seem right to let other people know the truth about yourself, if that truth is going to burden them or something. I've told so many white lies that if I had a pack of them, I'd have a couple of royal flushes, four aces and a joker. But what else can you do. Tell the truth and people will hate you. Keep silent and you die an unsung martyr.

Here's to fooling all of the people all of the time.
The Edna Man

You Are Not Alone

What, no song tribute? No dance-off in memorandum? Not even a single announcement? Some school this is. (Granted, I was racked with exhilarating stomach contractions at the time and I might have missed it, but I received no word of it afterwards, even.)

Ahh, well. Here's my sendoff to Michael Jackson, one of the greatest dancers the world has, or will ever know. Weird Al parodied you twice. I don't think I need to say more. Maybe one day, people will learn to accept your differences. Knowing this humanity, I highly doubt it.

English exam today was WTFont. Random inclusion of your maternal parent is never a sign of cohesive writing. And after talking to other people who did the poem, now I know too much. Too little, too late. Couldn't you have been clearer, Margret? Econs seemed fine, but I doubt I filled quota. Oh well, live and learn.

Though we're far apart, you'll be in my heart,
The Edna Man

Techno Trance Remix!

I LOVE THIS SONG!



It really does make you happy!
The Edna Man

Comic Lessons

For all you people happily mugging your life away, here's another life lesson from anthropomorphic tigers:



And for all you people unhappily mugging your life away, take comfort in the fact that they can't take everything away from you:


I'm just selective about the reality I subscribe to.
The Edna Man

Life is like prom night

It's all just one big masquerade.

High School Never Ends,
The Edna Man

Sail around the world and tell them all to keep singing it

You know that "Don't Forget The Lyrics!" game I made last year? That low-budget low-tech one which failed miserably because Singaporeans are too embarrassed to stand up in front of a crowd and sing? That one. Well, I've tinkered with it occasionally over the past few months and I'm happy to announce (to nobody who's interested) that I've TRICKED IT OUT! v3.0 now supports full sound effects (I managed to figure out the code!) and state-of-the-art Lyric-Recognition technology. It's probably still in Beta (because bugs are easy to overlook in this thing) but hey, it's awesome.

I think I completed it at the wee hours of 3am this morning, and when I finally shut down my com I couldn't sleep, because of the adrenaline rushing through my veins. It's funny, because I just read a Ultimate Spiderman collection (#14 or #20 I think) and there were words in there to describe exactly how I felt. It's the thrill you get when you finally finish a creation that you've been working, and the amazement and pride you experience when you realize that YOU did this, all by yourself, with your bare hands, resourcefulness, creativity and a boring application like Microsoft Powerpoint. Creation gives you a high that doing exams or playing music or OM or anything else can give you.

Then you wonder if god is looking down on us all right now and having that very same high, of pride and amazement. Or maybe he's scrapping this project and moving on to something else.

Shut up and SMILE!
The Edna Man

Imaginary Friends

----------

Tried making my stories more visual... hooray for typography.

Imaginary numbers are all about i,
The Edna Man

Much More Beautiful Person

Much More Beautiful Person by Bowling for Soup

Jeanie has a dad that might as well be dead.
A case a day habit and three other kids.
She's a much more beautiful person
Than you'll ever know.
She hates the world
At least the one outside.
She's a Myspace kid livin a virtual life.
She's a much more beautiful person
Than she'll ever know.

Close your eyes and let time tick by.
In this life, it's OK to cry, sometimes.
It can be hard to see when it's right in front of you.

You're gonna smile sometimes,
And worlds will collide.
I know you're tired of waiting,
So when you're through with hating,
You'll be a much more beautiful person,
And now you know.
And now you know.

Tommy can't help but feelin' alone,
Walking the halls with his head hung low.
And he's a much more beautiful person
Than he'll ever know.
High school kids can be so nasty
In a cut-throat war for popularity.
A much more beautiful person
Than he'll ever know.

Close your eyes and let time tick by.
In this life, it's OK to cry, sometimes.
It can be hard to see when it's right in front of you.

You're gonna smile sometimes,
And worlds will collide.
I know you're tired of waiting,
So when you're through with hating,
You'll be a much more beautiful person,
You'll be a much more beautiful person,
And now you know.

And you don't feel so lucky,
But I've seen so many things in you.
Believe me, I know just what you're going through.
So stand up and take a bow,
Hold your head high
Don't ever let them get you down.
It's all about you
And it's not what they do.

You're gonna smile sometimes,
And worlds will collide.
I know you're tired of waiting,
So when you're through with hating,
You'll be a much more beautiful person,
You'll be a much more beautiful person,
You'll be a much more beautiful person,
And now you know.
And now you know.
And now you know.

-----

The sad truth is, some people will never know.
The Edna Man

I want to ride my bicycle...

...I want to ride my bike...

Went cycling with my class (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, fractions of a whole) today. This being my second time on a two-wheeler, I was exhilaratingly overjoyed to find out that yes, just like elephants riding a bike, you'll never forget.

Zeng Jie, Guangda, Hao Lei and Wang Jun were all biking veterans, so it was hard to the rookie to keep up with them all. I kinda was the only one who crashed in the entire biker gang; my instinct keeps me using my legs to brake instead of the handlebars, which results in brusied knees and sore rear ends.

But it was EPICLY FUN. On a hot weekday like today, the bike paths are mostly empty, but scattered here and there are all the happy people who are enjoying a normal school holiday. It's so much easier to weave in and out between all the roller-bladers when there are fewer of them jamming up the express lanes. And it's roaring fun to blaze down a straight trail void of other cyclists, feeling the wind in your face, your hair...

The seat needed more cushioning though. And suspension. Argh, my black-and-blue butt. Oh, and bike chains have the unhappy habit of slipping out of their gearshafts. But not to worry, just a simple oil-stained maneuver and everything clicks back into place. We rode right up to the end of the trail, which was blocked off due to construction, then back up again, past the place I first sat on a bike, then up to Long Beach restaurants. We would have continued up the coast, if our time hadn't run out. The bike rental owner's cat is adorable.

I think the time is ripe for a bicycle revolution. We pull up half the roads and convert them to bicycle paths. It's much greener and you get all the affordable exercise you'll ever need. Once you start biking, you'll never know why you would want to walk anywhere anymore.

On a totally unrelated note: Hey, look! A semi-non-emo post!

I want to ride it where I like!
The Edna Man

The Inverse Friend Law

"Your worth as a friend is inversely proportional to the number of friends your friend has."

And you'll never know what the spread or distribution, or weight is. Good fences make good neighbours, after all.

If you suddenly turn completely invisible, how long would it take for people to notice that you're not there anymore?
The Edna Man

A Place for Everything

The teacher stopped racking her brains and sighed. “Why did I have to be so good at my job?” she thought. “I could have just kept my head down like everyone else, but noooo… I was the fool who tried to be the best. And now I have to work overtime just to fulfill a small requirement of some stupid award. It’s not like I even believe in the whole thing anyway. Graaah…”

She turned back to the trilogy-thick stack of paper, which was somehow held together by a single reality-defying staple, and read the title again: “Superfluous Quantifiable Accolades: Chapter 16, Part IV, Section 32, Subsection 7f (iii), Rubric Prime-epsilon - A Child’s Place in Society.”

She flipped though the pages, searching desperately for some inspiration, but ten pages in, the introductory novel about educating children about their place in society ended and the endless list of individually scored rubrics and criteria began. Not wanting to go through that again, she put the booklet aside, thinking that “booklet” was not the correct term to use here; “tree’s corpse” would be more appropriate.

Twirling her pencil between her fingers absentmindedly, she thought about how all the credit for the task she had been given would be directed at the school in the end, or at least the entire staff in general, and how her individual contribution would be lost in the grand scheme of things. It didn’t make sense to her how the world could work this way.

“A Show-and-Tell, then,” she muttered to herself, picking up a second memo (which, at five pages thick, was quite long for a memo) neatly typed with the principal’s photocopied signature printed below the letterhead. “Show-and-Tell would be easy, and I’m sure the primary school students could cook up something spectacular if I tell them it’s assessed. Or at least their parents will. Who knows,” she muttered, “it might even turn out to be fun…”

She paused, with a look of incredulity on her face. Did she really say those words? No, she couldn’t have. She laughed lightly to herself, and went off to prepare the logistics.

* * *

On the day of the Show-and-Tell, the atmosphere was cheerful and expectant. The children, rarely having an opportunity for something outside the rigid curriculum, rose to the occasion magnificently, decked out in multicoloured costumes and clutching a number of homemade props.

The teacher was nervous. Seated behind the excited, chattering students was the principal, in his best suit and tie. He was attempting to initiate conversation to the assessor from the Board of Award Giving for Schools, who was sitting next to him. He looked stiffer than the principal, in a finely-cut black blazer, dark sunglasses and an earpiece trailing a wire from his ear. He looked more like a government agent than an assessor; but then again, he probably was a government agent to begin with.

“All right class,” she said loudly, “we’re about to begin. Remember, when I call your name, you come to the front of the class and tell everyone who you are and what your place is in society. Alright?”

There was a loud cheer of assent from the students. They couldn’t wait to begin. The assessor unclipped a pen from his pocket with a loud click, and, without even looking down at the notes in front of him, made a small mark on the paper.

“Now, who wants to go first?” the teacher asked.

Instantly, a hundred hands were in the air, bouncing up and down, with jubilant cries of “Pick me! Pick me!” echoing in the confined classroom.

“Emily, why don’t you start?”

The little girl squealed with delight, and skipped to the front of the classroom. She was dressed in a pure-white blouse with a trim white skirt. A stethoscope dangled from her neck, and a small hat with a red cross sat on her head, which never moved when she ricocheted across the floor. She was wearing thin rubber gloves, and holding a small wooden ice-cream stick in one hand and a portable flashlight in the other.

“I yam a dock-ta!” she proudly announced. “When people are sick-sicky, they come to see me, and I see what’s wrong with them, and then I use my med-shun to make them all betta!” She brandished her torch wildly as she said this. “That’s my place in so-shai-tee!”

“Thank you Emily, that was great,” said the teacher, glancing back at the assessor sitting at the back. He was still writing notes on the papers in front of him while staring straight ahead; she noticed that the principal was getting slightly freaked out by it.

“Who’s next? Umm… how about you, Robert?”

The boy stood up with much difficulty, since he was carrying a large briefcase which was almost taller than him. He straightened his tie and dusted off his pinstriped suit before dragging the case to the front, his polished black shoes making clack, clack noises as he walked.

“My place in society,” he said smartly, “is that of a businessman. Like my father,” he added. “We carry fortunes of money and important documents in a suitcase like this” - he pointed at his baggage - “and travel around the world, doing deals with other business men and making money. Oh, and boosting the economy, whatever that means.”

“Thank you, Robert. Err… Madison! Your turn!”

Madison was wearing a brightly-coloured skintight suit, complete with curled slippers and a plumed hat. A Shakespearean-style ruff circled her neck. “I am a stage actress,” she declared with a sweeping gesture, “an entertainer of the finest art, who will take to the stage and bring drama to the audience. My place is to perform, never to forget my lines while I… um, while I… uhh…” she fumbled in her pocket, pulled out a square of paper and unfolded it, and read: “uh, while I play the part and bring the house down.” She was blushing as she returned the sheet to her pocket.

One by one the students appeared at the front of the class, each one different, each one unique. Lawyer, policeman, game show host, impressionist artist, rock star, superhero; all forms were present and accounted for.

“Alright, Calvin, how about you next?”

He was the only one without an exuberant costume. He was dressed in a simple plaid shirt and jeans, nothing special. He remained silent when he reached the front of the class, and the students broke out into mutterings.

“Calvin? Go on with your presentation.”

He remained mute. The children, getting impatient, did what all children would do: start guessing.

“A cowboy without a hat?”

“A mannequin! With bad fashion sense!”

“Oh, oh, oh! You’re one of those emo pop stars!”

And Calvin began to speak.

“I am one who is cursed with selfless good nature. One burdened with a sense of morality less pliant than yours. In doing what I thought was right, I helped. I did my best to help anyone and everyone who crossed my path and needed assistance in one way or another, asking for nothing in return.

“And nothing did return. For a moment, a sliver of time, they needed me; then, once they had what they wanted or needed, I was discarded, thrown aside, ignored, left to fester in my own decomposing thoughts. I was useful in one thing and one thing only; not a friend, but an asset. Maybe because I am different. Nobody likes different people, because people can only relate when they are on similar frequencies. My assistance was all they needed; everything else was inessential.

“I wear no costume today because I am not one person. I am the stagehand behind the curtain, while the actress bows in front of the applauding audience. I am the squire to the chivalrous knight who shining armour blocks me from view. I am the insignificant name two minutes into the credits which nobody pays any attention to. Used, once, then ignored for the rest of eternity.

“Now, I must fade back into obscurity: inaudible, inconspicuous, invisible. I have broken the vow of silence that I imposed upon myself. Even now, criticisms are winging toward me, castigating my ideals, retorting that I should be the silent selfless philanthropist, who gives and gives until he has nothing left to give. Because that would be the right thing to do. That would be where they want to place me in society.”

The jaws of the three adults were hanging open, even the assessor’s. It was the teacher who recovered first. Remembering that her job was on the line, she said quickly, “Uhh, yes, well, Calvin, people like you, they’re… they’re essential. Necessary. Like - like gears, in a watch. You’re an integral part of society. Thank you; please sit down. Now, who’s next? Alicia, how about you…”

As Calvin wandered back to his seat, the hubbub of the children masked out his next few words: “Just because you are necessary doesn’t mean that you have any worth.”

-----

And everything in its place.
The Edna Man

Close Every Door

Close every door to me,
Hide all the world from me
Bar all the windows
And shut out the light

Do what you want with me,
Hate me and laugh at me
Darken my daytime
And toture my night

If my life were important I
Would ask will I live or die
But I know the answers lie
Far from this world

Close every door to me,
Keep those I love from me
Children of Israel
Are never alone

For I know I shall find
My own peace of mind
For I have been promised
A land of my own

Close every door to me,
Hide all the world from me
Bar all the windows
And shut out the light

Just give me a number
Instead of my name
Forget all about me
And let me decay

I do not matter,
I'm only one person
Destroy me completely
Then throw me away

If my life were important I
Would ask will I live or die
But I know the answers lie
Far from this world

Close every door to me,
Keep those I love from me
Children of Israel
Are never alone

For we know we shall find
Our own peace of mind
For we have been promised
A land of our own

Superpower

Have you ever wished that you had superpowers? That you could do things no ordinary man could do. Control fire, bend space and time, leap tall buildings with a single bound? Powerful stuff.

I realized today, that if I could have a superpower, this is what I would want: the power to absorb a book with a single touch. And photographic memory. Just imagine: I could walk through a bookstore, running my finger along the shelves, and I'd have my own personal library. Rows upon rows of stories, encyclopaedias, journals, artbooks, graphic novels... I'd reach out a psionic hand, pull a book down, and start reading. Anytime, anywhere. When teachers get boring, I'd be able to flip through a thriller. Or on the bus. A whole reference section for exams. Hundreds of tomes, stored in my head. Wouldn't that be a blast?

All I need is to live in Kinokuniya.
The Edna Man

Everybody deserves to shine.

Thanks to Mr Ng Yew Hong for this one.

Why do you have to be like others?
The Edna Man

Sickening

When you think about it, I could be on a aeroplane right now, sailing towards the most awesome competition of a lifetime, spending the next week only worrying about how much fun to have everyday.

Yet I'm still here.

Sigh.
The Edna Man

Viva la Voce

Doin' my Viva Voce, parody of Livin' da Vida Loca by Ricky Martin

I got a new assignment
At first it looked so small;
But it was harsh confinement,
Four thousand words in all.

I had to pick a topic,
Research it day and night.
This text is microscopic;
Gonna make me lose my sight.

It occupies your whole mind
while you're sitting on the train;
And when you're finished writing it,
There is one thing that remains:
Essay verbally explained.
(Oh no!)

"What's your EE 'bout?"
Doin' da viva voce
"You really shouldn't shout,"
Doin' da viva voce,
The teachers stare at me:
"What's the point of this here survey?
Please explain page three,"
Doin' da viva voce,
Doin' da viva voce,
I'm doin' my viva voce.

I spent my whole holidays,
At the local library;
It was all work, and I never did play
My Guitar Hero or mp3s;

It makes you want to give up
and lobotomize your brain;
You better hope you get it right
Or one more year you're retained;
It will make you go insane!
(Oh no!)

"Where are your footnotes?"
Doin' da viva voce,
"You'll need to add good quotes,"
Doin' da viva voce,
"This is, without doubt,
the students' biggest cliche,"
I need a time out,
Doin' da viva voce,
Doin' da viva voce,
I'm doin' my viva voce

You can't cope with the pressure
And you cannot take the strain;
But you volunteered for this course,
So you really can't complain;
Or you'll do it all again!
(Please, no!)

"Please elaborate,"
Doin' da viva voce,
"And this point: can debate,"
Doin' da viva voce,
"And these sections aren't joined;
What's this paragraph trying to convey?"
"What's your learning points?"
Doin' da viva voce,

There to check for lies,
Doin' da viva voce,
In case you plagarize,
Doin' da viva voce,
He hands back my essay,
"Thank you, and that's all for today,"
I hope I get my A,
Doin' da viva voce,
Doin' da viva voce,
I've finished my viva voce.

Iiiiiittttt'sssss... HANGMAN!

Another day, another diary doodle. I haven't done one of these in a while.





Because every execution needs an angry mob,
The Edna Man

Silenced

We just love our freedom of speech, don't we?
The Edna Man

Very Busy People

Very Busy People by The Limousines

We'll end up numb from playing video games
And we'll get sick of having sex
And we'll get fat from eating candy
As we drink ourselves to death

We'll stay up late making mixtapes
Photoshopping pictures of ourselves
While we masturbate to these pixelated videos
Of strangers f**king themselves

We are very busy people
We are very busy people

There's crusty socks and stacks of pizza boxes
Making trails straight to the bed
And when we're done sleeping we'll stay busy dreaming
Of the things we don't have yet

Well, there's a long long list of chores and shit to do
Before we play, oh, let's just piss away the day
Crank call the cops down at the station just for friendly conversation
Requesting songs they've never played

Let's hear the one that goes like
We are very busy people
We are very busy people
But we've always got time for new friends

So come on over and knock on our door
It's open what'cha waiting for
We might be sprawled out on the floor
But we still make lovely company
Pull up a chair I'll pour some tea
We'll shoot the shit 'bout everything
Till you get sick of politics
And flip on the TV screen
We stare at the TV screen

That Donnie Darko DVD has been repeating for a week
And we know every single word
I've got an iPod like a pirate ship
I'll sail the seas with 50,000 songs I've never heard

And all the best of them go la la la la la la
La la la la la la
Fa la la la la la
Fa la la la la la

We are very busy people
We are very busy people
But we've always got time for new friends
Yeah

Fa la la la la la
Fa la la la la la
Fa la la la la la
Fa la la la la la

-----

Kudos to Juzzie for this one.

Note to self: finish parody of November.

We are very busy people,
The Edna Man

"Cheaters Never Prosper...

... and never change their spots, either," muttered Evnik, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly. He steeled himself before striding over to the door, casting a wary eye over the numerous windows, each potentially hiding a quiver of crossbow bolts aimed in his direction. In an act of both great courage and lunacy, he grasped the brass knocker and rapped it three times.

Instantly, a small peephole slid open, and a pair of beady little eyes scrutinized him from head to toe. "You don't have to do this, Evnik," said the owner of the eyes. "You should turn back while you still can."

"I am a man of honour, Salin," said Evnik calmly. "Perhaps you should let me in, old friend. Your boss is expecting me."

The peephole slid shut with a snap. There was the sound of muffled clinking, before the stout wooden door creaked open. "On your own head be it, then," muttered Salin. "If it's still on once the Thief of Kings is done with you."

Evnik folled Salin through the winding corridors, never taking his hand off the hilt of his sword. They passed few people along the way; those Evnik made eye contact with greeted him a dirty look and a sneer.

"Don't expect good manners from anyone in here," said Salin, quite unnecessarily.

"Of course," said Evnik. "The Thieves' Guild is infamous for its hospitality."

"This ain't a hospital, innit?" a cloaked figure they had just passed shouted out. "You think we s'all clerics or summat? Greatest fool o' a warrior I've ever seen."

Evnik ignored him. "Now I know why this is called the Thieves' Guild. Its members have all had their brains stolen."

"We did have that Illithid insurgency a couple of weeks back," said Salin, "caused huge problems with the shadowmages on Level 9." He stopped abruptly in front of a pair of wrought iron gates. Beyond it was a short passway leading into an small arena. Evnik could see the rings of seats filled with thieves, vagabonds, muggers, robbers... every rogue in the city must have been there. Directly opposite him sat Kulthas Daggerhand, the Thief of Kings, atop a throne which appeared to be made of solid gold, encrusted with gemstones, sitting on an ornately carved stone dias.

"Good luck, old friend," said Salin, pushing the gates open. "I have a front row seat, in case you need - you know - help."

"I'll be fine Salin, thank you." Evnik strode through the gates, into the centre of the small ring. Jeers rained down on him from all sides, not to mention the various rotten fruit and broken bottles. Kulthas Daggerhand remained motionless, his face hidden by the shadow of his hood.

The arena fell silent. "Greetings, Lord Daggerhand," Evnik said loudly. "I believe it's time to attend to our unfinished business." He drew his sword, and leveled it at the Thief of Kings.

With a short, harsh laugh, Kulthas Daggerhand rose from his seat. "You have great courage, little man. Few would dare venture into the very heart of the Thieves' Guild. And of those who do, none make it out alive."

He stepped off the dias, walked over to Evnik, and placed his chest against Evnik's leveled sword. "Go on then," he growled. "Strike me."

Evnik didn't even flinch. "I will not strike a man while he is unarmed. Draw your weapon, and let's finish this."

The Thief of Kings threw back his head and roared with laughter. "I knew it! You are weak. Weak like all the others."He turned and put one foot on the dias, then stopped. "You have the chance to finish me off and you throw it away."

"It would not be right," said Evnik. "I am a man or honour, Lord Daggerhand."

"Your warrior's rules do not apply here, little man," Kulthas Daggerhand growled. With astonishing agility, he grabbed the hilt of his blade and whirled around, knocking Evnik's sword away with the force of his turn. "There is only one rule here: you die, you lose."

"Let's hope that you're not a sore loser, then," retorted Evnik, and he brough his sword around for another blow, only to be parried by the Thief of Kings. The clash of steel on steel was drowned out by the cheers of the surrounding rogues.

With a mighty kick, Kulthas Daggerhand sent Evnik flying into the stands. He landed, disoriented, in the hands of Salin, his old friend. A mighty cheer erupted from the rogues, and the Thief of Kings turned to face them, hands held high in victory.

With the Rogue Lord distracted, Salin whispered in Evnik's ear: "There is no hope of you winning this fight. I can help you. Just cheat a little. Your warrior's code of honour does not apply here."

"It might not apply to you," said Evnik, "but it applies to me." He struggled to his feet, his sword at the ready. "En garde, Lord Daggerhand."

Angered, the Thief of Kings charged at him. Evnik sidestepped, leaping onto the dais and falling into the seat of the golden throne. Kulthas Daggerhand lunged at him, but Evnik managed to evade once again, but stuck out his foot and tripped the Thief of Kings, sending him sprawling into the throne, knocking it over with a loud thunk.

The crowd roared. A dagger knifed through the commotion, but bounced off Evnik's armour. "This is between me and him," Evnik shouted. "Stay out of this!"

Kulthas Daggerhand had gotten to his feet. The crowd fell silent at the sight of his second sword, its blade gleaming in the flickering torchlight.

"The Plunderer's Blade," someone whispered, and before long the whole arena was muttering these three words. Evnik, however, wasn't privy to the weapon's legacy, and merely called out, "One weapon only, Lord Daggerhand."

Grinning, the Thief of Kings rushed at him again, the Plunderer's Blade whistling as both blades sliced through the air. Evnik managed to parry him again, but was still adamant. "One weapon only!" he shouted again.

"Chivalry is dead, boy," Kulthas Daggerhand growled. "You die, you lose."

He glanced over Evnik's shoulder, catching the eye of one of his trusted assassins. The assassin nodded inperceptibly, then unsheathed his dagger. With a mighty war cry, the Thief of Kings shoved Evnik backwards, impaling him on the knife. Evnik gasped with shock, and his sword slipped from his hand.

As the life ebbed from his body, Evnik's last vision was of a crowd surging forward, daggers drawn. He heard the Thief of Kings growl, "He's all yours, boys," and slipped into blackness as his corpse was dragged under a hundred merciless blades.

-----

We had English test today.
The Edna Man

Our World

Our World
What a world we live in.

We live in a world of superficiality,
Of shallowness and triviality;
In an age of cosmetic countenance,
Where first impressions dictate our lives.

We live in a world of revulsion,
Of hatred and spite;
In an age of destruction and death,
Where violence is prevalent and war is the norm.

We live in a world of apathy,
Of detachment and disinterest;
In an age of wanton disregard,
Where everybody stops caring about others, the environment.

We live in a world of seclusion,
Of pampering and luxury,
In an age of overindulgence,
Where we are blind the the rest of the world's needs.

We live in a world of speed,
Of quick-fixes and focused destinations;
In an age of instant gratification,
Where the results, not the process, is important.

We live in a world of deception,
Of white lies and deceit;
In an age of diplomacy and duplicity,
Where a smile is the best disguise you will ever wear.

We live in a world of sensationalism,
Of boasting appearances and hyperbole;
In an age of exaggeration,
Where anything can be made true enough.

We live in a world of competition,
Of cannibalistic canines and the paper-chase;
In an age of rat racing,
Where diplomas maketh the man.

We live in a world of materialism,
Of eternal greed and the root of all evil;
In an age of economics being the backbone of our society,
Where even time is money.

We live in a world of practicality,
Of pragmatism and monochromatic rainbows;
In an age of stifled creativity,
Where there's nothing the world loves more than the taste of really sweet dreams.

We live in a world of insignificance,
Of individual unimportance and statistical negligibility;
In an age of infinitesimal irrelevance,
Where one man cannot hope to change the world, let alone the people around him.

What a world we live in.
The Edna Man

First of May

When I was small, and Christmas trees were tall,
we used to love while others used to play.
Don't ask me why, but time has passed us by,
some one else moved in from far away.

Now we are tall, and Christmas trees are small,
and you don't ask the time of day.
But you and I, our love will never die,
but guess who'll cry come first of May.

The apple tree that grew for you and me,
I watched the apples falling one by one.
And I recall the moment of them all,
the day I kissed your cheek and you were gone.

Now we are tall, and Christmas trees are small,
and you don't ask the time of day.
But you and I, our love will never die,
but guess who'll cry come first of May.

When I was small, and Christmas trees were tall,
do do do do do do do do do...
Don't ask me why, but time has passed us by,
some one else moved in from far away.

Guess who'll cry, come first of May.
The Edna Man

Oh Blimey!

Life's To-Do List:

Do a Bollywood Dance: Check
Break a world record: Pending

Well, it was a hellotta fun. I've got to hand it to the choreographers: they really made it look Indian. Now all I need to do is to find a chiffon shirt with a low-cut V-neck which reaches to my knees. That's the Indian costume look.

And no, not Red Indian. Please.

Going to Bollywood,
The Edna Man

ODYSSEY OF THE MIND 30TH WORLD FINALS IN IOWA

AND I'M GOING! THEY LET ME GO! IOWA, HERE I COME!

DELIGHTED,
THE EDNA MAN

Reality Check

It's been only forty-eight (coincidence?) hours and I'm already missing OM.

It's like a drug, like a boost of unreality and awesomeness. For three days I was on a high, having fun and making people happy. That's always good, right? And then today I'm brought back to down to earth with the hard thump of normal distributions and carboxylic acids, with commercialized education and idiots who don't know when to give applause.

I need escape. I need OM. I need fun, laughter, peace and joy.

Withdrawal symptoms,
The Edna Man

Sweet, Sweet Victory

FORTY-EIGHT TROPHIES!

That's if you don't count Teach Yer Creature who should have got a silver, and Superstitions Team A who might have got a Third Runners-Up. Anyway, two teams with top Spontaneous and heading to World Finals. It's like Carlsberg: It doesn't get any better than this.

Again, cheering and screaming and clapping like a madman does wonders for your adrenaline system. Totally rock, and totally worth it. Got lots of friends, whom I hope will remember me ten, twenty years down the road. Might be interesting to see who they all grow to become.

OM: Can't Live Without It
The Edna Man

The problem is choice

I made a girl cry today.

We have to make a lot of decisions in life. That's what life is all about, that's what free will is all about. Most of the time, those decisions are superficial, are pointless, are insignificant in the grand scheme of time and space. But occasionally, just occasionally, we need to make the hard choices. The difficult and enigmatic choices which involve people, their emotions, their feelings. Their lives.

The average person can't deal with life-and-death choices. Would you push the button to blow up another ferry full of people knowing that by midnight a lunatic in a purple suit is going to blow up both boats anyway? A handful of people would relish in the prospect of having complete and utter control over another life. Then there are others who don't want anything to do with the control over another life, but have to make the tough decisions anyway.

Unfortunately, scattered across existence are these hard choices, and the world needs people to make them. It needs people to press the red button to launch nuclear war. It needs people to lay off the less-productive employee during a recession. It needs people to pick a group of five out of seven for a creative problem-solving competition. The tough choices have to be made. Sometimes, you have to be the person to make them. And I still don't know if I made the right choice. The greater good, over the individual. Maybe, one day, she will understand.

Maybe, one day, she'll forgive me.
The Edna Man

Predator's Gold

And a big thanks to Jonny for lending me his library book. I've never been able to find the second book of the series and I didn't want to continue reading them and spoiler. But thanks to Jonny I've read the second book and like the first one, it's AWESOME.

I can't wait till they make it a movie.

OM has been fun, and it's competition week so it's gonna be even more time-tight from here on. Especially since this looks like the week of multiple homework deadlines. And I still don't know if I can miss Thursday afternoon, with all that red tape blocking my way. I really would like to, of course. And I can barely wait for Saturday.

Believing in the power of stories,
The Edna Man

Comic Life

I just experienced something at dinner tonight. See, my dad took the bus to work today; normally he drives. My brother asked him why, and he says that he takes the bus to work when he's late; his office is undergoing renovations and the car park space is halved, so if he's late it's so much more convenient for him to take the bus. So when I heard that, I said, "Life is weird." So my parents as me why, and I say, "When dad's late, he takes the bus. When we're late..."

Aside from the fact that it's one of the few times I actually made my parents laugh, I felt really good about it and I just had this urge to repeat the joke sometime in the next few minutes of conversation. But I knew that you just can't do it again, because most jokes are one-time-deals, and it's worthless repeating the same joke to the same audience within a short span of time. It's useless because they're not unsuspecting anymore.

And you see how the above two paragraphs relate to life. People only like to talk about what they're interested in, which is the reason for the explanatory paragraph leading up to the punchline. Comedy is all about timing, and when the moment passes, it's often a good idea to give up the joke for the time being. Which is why you should learn to be opportunistic, and keep the timing of everything in consideration. Repeated jokes have no kick; people get bored with repetition, even in things like the personalities of their friends. So the comedian keeps coming up with new ideas to keep things fresh.

Life's a laugh anyhow,
The Edna man

The Right to Vote

I still haven't found anything more suitable, so here it is again.

"It is a curious thing, Harry, but perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it. Those who, like you, have leadership thrust upon them, and take up the mantle because they must, and find to their own surprise that they wear it well."

--Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Perhaps you can ponder this quote over as you mull over the idea of the limits (or lack thereof) of human greed. Like they've never seen a burger before. Then there's old Chinese women who lived in mountain who've never seen a car before. Or little African kids who've never seen a digital camera (or even themselves) before.

But well, that's life for you. And democracy.
The Edna Man

Dream Sequence #002

Okay, hey, I just woke up from doing my math portfolio, and I had another awesome-ish dream that I don't want to forget.

If I remember correctly the Joker managed to capture a bunch of superheroes but I can't remember where or when or what for. I do remember it was in some wooden crate thing and all he was using to keep them in there was some demoralizing taunts. So there's this whole bunch of superheroes stuck in the wooden crate but one of them, a girl with completely blue skin (I don't have details; don't ask me) isn't affected by the demoralization and slips out "disguised" as Harlequin. I say "disguised" because she wasn't wearing different from her original costume (which looked like one of Santa's elves except it was red, not green - but heck, I'm colourblind). So in the corridor she meets the Joker and her "disguise" works; the Joker asks who she is, and she replies that she's Harlequin. Then (I remember this very distinctly) the Joker bends over to sniff her, and says, "Well, you do smell like Harlequin... off you go then." So she roams around the lair, which is (I think) some modern castle with marble handrails and stairs and solid oaken doors, and she's rummaging around the place for clues and stuff. I can't remember exactly but I have a vague idea of Joker's plans to do something with packaged food. So little blue elf girl is sneaking around and I remember she narrowly avoids another face-to-face with the Joker while darting down a corridor. Then the whole cinematic tension-building scene where she runs through rooms and corridors until she reaches an area which looks like a delivery area full of plain white delivery trucks and large blue vats of dark liquid, which is in darker shades (dark blues, clinical colours, etc.) than in the other parts of the dream, and she swerves around another confrontation with the Joker by avoiding eye-contact and slipping into the shadow of a nearby pillar and walking in the shadows (a la Golden Sun Cloak Ball Psynergy) annd I remember hearing something about "Yes Mr. Joker, the delivery is in place..." or something like that. But when she gets to the dark blue double doors and bursts through them, the Joker is standing there with Two-Face, and they both look sad; Two-Face is leaning on the Joker's shoulder and crying. I can't remember what the Joker said at this juncture but it was something about how disappointed he was with Harley for something, but then he pulls out a gun, so little blue elf girl starts running past him into a large room with a black-and-white mosiac tiling on the floor. All this is in first-person view at this point, so she hears the gunshot and she turns round to look; at the same time flipping backwards (Matrix style) so that the bullet just misses her and as she lands on the floor she catches the bullet, which is considerably more like a silver ammunition shell than a tiny bullet. So as she was lying there on the floor with the cold bullet in her hands and the sounds of sobbing echoing off the walls, I woke up.

Wouldn't it be cool if I just psychically saw some upcoming DC comics issue?
The Edna Man

Eighteen

Happy Birthday by Weird Al Yankovic
Happy birthday
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday
Happy birthday to you

Well, it's time to celebrate your birthday, it happens every year
We'll eat a lot of broccoli and drink a lot of beer
You should be good and happy that there's something you can eat
A million people every day are starving in the street

Your daddy's in the gutter with the wretched and the poor
Your mama's in the kitchen with a can of Cycle Four
There's garbage in the water
There's poison in the sky
I guess it won't be long before we're all gonna die

Happy birthday
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday
Happy birthday to you

Well, what's the matter little friend, you think this party is the pits
Enjoy it while you can, we'll soon be blown to bits
The monkeys in the pentagon are gonna cook our goose
Their finger's on the button, all they need it an excuse

It doesn't take a military genius to see
We'll all be crispy critters after World War III
There's nowhere you can run to, nowhere you can hide
When they drop the big one, we all get fried

(Come on boys and girls, sing along, ok?)

Happy birthday
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday
Happy birthday to you
wow! (background screaming, sound effect)

Well there's a punk in the alley and he's looking for a fight
There's an Arab on the corner buying everything in sight
There's a mother in the ghetto with another mouth to feed
Seems that everywhere you look today there's misery and greed

I guess you know the Earth is gonna crash into the sun
But that's no reason why we shouldn't have a little fun
So if you think it's scary, if it's more than you can take
Just blow out the candles and have a piece of cake

Happy birthday
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday
Happy birthday to you
wow!

Happy birthday
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday
Happy birthday to you

(Happy Birthday!)

And a pinch to grow an inch!

On the Brink

It's Friday the Thirteenth, the one just before my birthday.

Tomorrow I'll be eighteen. This is probably the last moment I'm can be a juvenile delinquent, or sneak into a M18 movie illegally. The last moment before I start getting drunk, or driving (or both), or smoking, or taking dru- no wait that's illegal whatever age you are. Uhh, before I start having sex or getting married or childbirth (oh wait that's not for me). The last moment I can be a little boy, or think and act weird and interesting because society doesn't let adults do that. Far beyond getting children's price at restaurants and buffets, and the last moment I have leglistative immunity from being a child soldier. The last chance at Hogwarts sending my invitation letter, and to be young and sweet, like a Dancing Queen. The end of years of haiku syllables, and of distinct wallpaper groups, and of fashion magazines.

So once that clock strikes twelve, in three seconds, I'm- oh, it's twelve.

Damn, I'm old.
The Edna Man

Animusic

Boredom and monotony are the mothers of discovery. And this is what I discovered while doing my ToK essay:



Once again, I marvel at the brilliance of human ingenuity. And I laugh in the face of the people who look down on Midi music; this is all driven by a Midi file. Absolutely amazing. It's like a combination of Rube Goldberg machines, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and One-Man Bands all rolled into one. Brilliant. Go check out the others if and when you've got the time, or need to distract yourself from work.

Pipe dreams,
The Edna Man

The Billion Dollar Question

I have just finished reading the book Q&A, reprinted as Slumdog Millionaire because of recent silver screen popularity. How did I find it?

a) I picked it up off the floor.
b) With a bloodhound and a magnifying glass.
c) Using a GPS and Google Maps.
d) Absolutely brilliant.

It is my great fortune to have been able to finish yet another unparalleled piece of storytelling. This novel by Vikas Swarup has completely blown me away. Aside from the insights it gives us about modern India, which I cannot claim anything about because I don't know how accurate the depiction is, it does show us a lot about human nature and life in general. Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant. I love the plot twists. There's even a cipher in one of the chapters. This book has everything.

Because luck comes from within,
The Edna Man

Lost Generation

Lost Generation by Jonathan Reed

I am part of a lost generation
and I refuse to believe that
I can change the world
I realize this may be a shock but
“Happiness comes from within.”
is a lie, and
“Money will make me happy.”
So in 30 years I will tell my children
they are not the most important thing in my life
My employer will know that
I have my priorities straight because
work
is more important than
family
I tell you this
Once upon a time
Families stayed together
but this will not be true in my era
This is a quick fix society
Experts tell me
30 years from now, I will be celebrating the 10th anniversary of my divorce
I do not concede that
I will live in a country of my own making
In the future
Environmental destruction will be the norm
No longer can it be said that
My peers and I care about this earth
It will be evident that
My generation is apathetic and lethargic
It is foolish to presume that
There is hope.

And all of this will come true unless we choose to reverse it.

--------------------

Brilliant. Simply brilliant.

Which generation do you belong to?
The Edna Man

The Secret to Success

Yes, I've finally figured it out. It's not whatever all those grown-ups or principals or self-help books tell you. It's very simple actually, and everyone can do it.

You see, when I was doing my EE, I realized that I got distracted very easily and went to do other stuff to procrastinate. So I managed to do a whole lot of stuff, but my EE took very long to do.

THEREFORE

All you have to do to succeed in life is to find an immensely monotonous, long-term project which is VERY IMPORTANT. By putting it at the top of your "Things To Do" list, your procrastinative tendencies will ensure that all your other goals and work gets done, because they look more interesting by comparison. Voila!

Okay, now I should probably go do my English outline.

In other news: YAY EE DONE HAHAHAHAHA
The Edna Man

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Ocean

The harassed mother rushed frantically around the room, grabbing a handful of toys and throwing them into a nearby box. "Nicole!" she shouted, while attempting to fold up two blankets and nudge a teddy bear under the bed in one fell swoop; "Nicole! Come here and clean your room!"

The little girl wandered over to the doorway. "What's wrong, mommy?" she asked. "My room's always been like that."

"Your uncles and aunties are coming over," said the mother, untangling the books from the half-folded bedsheets, "and I want them to see how neat and tidy your room is."

Nicole stood silently in the doorway for a moment. "But mommy," she said, "isn't that like lying?"

--------------------

Seriously, Question your Aims
The Edna Man

S-A-M-A-N-A-S

I wrote this on Sunday, but because of my self-imposed boycott of Euler's constant I couldn't post it. There are some ideas that just hit you without warning, and then you start parodying a song in the middle of planning for your English Set Text Essay.

S-A-M-A-N-A-S, parody of Hollaback Girl by Gwen Stefani
Uh huh, ascetic
All the elders stomp your feet like this

I left home, no turning back
Met my best friend beside that shack
And I ain't at Nirvana yet
I ain't at Nirvana yet

The Brahmin don't work for me
So I seek my ultimate destiny
'Cause I ain't at Nirvana yet
I ain't at Nirvana yet

Oooh, ascetic, ascetic
Oooh, ascetic, ascetic
Oooh, ascetic, ascetic
Oooh, ascetic, ascetic

I heard those three walking through town
Silent and unselfed and cloaked in brown
People hear you talking like that, getting my own daddy fired up
So I'm ready to be last, gonna start to fast
Gonna get very numb, gonna reach transcendence
That's right, put your full name down, getting everybody signed up

A few times I've astral project
But I'm still not just that perfect
'Cause I ain't at Nirvana yet
I ain't at Nirvana yet

Everything just stank of lies
My gave grew icy when it reached my eyes
'Cause I ain't at Nirvana yet
I ain't at Nirvana yet

Oooh, ascetic, ascetic
Oooh, ascetic, ascetic
Oooh, ascetic, ascetic
Oooh, ascetic, ascetic

I use my soul, entered different creatures
Lived through their lives, just like my preachers
Both of us wanna be enlightened, but there can only be one (true path)
So I'm gonna die, gonna be born again
Going through the pain, of another cycle
That's right, I'm the last one standing, another one bites the dust

Many paths traveled my soul
But we're still not yet reached out goal
'Cause I ain't at Nirvana yet
I ain't at Nirvana yet

Ever since that I left home
I still haven't heard the "Om",
And I ain't at Nirvana yet
I ain't at Nirvana yet

Oooh, ascetic, ascetic
Oooh, ascetic, ascetic
Oooh, ascetic, ascetic
Oooh, ascetic, ascetic

Let me hear you say
We are the samanas, S-A-M-A-N-A-S
We are the samanas, S-A-M-A-N-A-S
We are the samanas, S-A-M-A-N-A-S
We are the samanas, S-A-M-A-N-A-S

A rumour's been going round
Of Gautama Buddha, much renowned
And I ain't at Nirvana yet
I ain't at Nirvana yet

Sublime One, I have no doubt
So we're all leaving to check him out
'Cause I ain't at Nirvana yet
I ain't at Nirvana yet

Oooh, ascetic, ascetic
Oooh, ascetic, ascetic
Oooh, ascetic, ascetic
Oooh, ascetic, ascetic

--------------------
Disclaimer: This parody is not intended to make fun of any Indian religion or culture whatsoever. It makes reference to Herman Hesse's Siddhartha, written in a fit of sian-ness and inspiration.

Victoree!

And the time has passed, and the lipogrammatic restriction has been lifted. It really is quite challenging to write continuously without using that glyph; think of the sabotage one could do if the whole world's "e" keys went mysteriously missing. It was most difficult to speak in past tense, because of all the -ed suffixes, as well as comparatively, because of the -er; and the present participle, because of the -en. This language really uses a hell lot of "e"s. But well, it was kinda fun while it lasted, but I didn't really talk much to many people.

Egad!
The Edna Man

A Void

So, tonight I commit my linguistic skills through a most taxing trial. Owing to my four-thousand-word horror-of-horrors, I will abstain from using that most common symbol in any digital communication for 24 hours. If it is fact that a book could abstain from that irrational not-a-consonant, this small dry run should turn out as a portion of pi.

Yours truly,
(Mom or dad's bro) (That short lady from that Pixar animation about a Fantastic family)

What EEducation?

[[As an aside, I slept through 13 and a half straight hours from last night to this morning. Total system crash, if you know what I mean.]]

Seriously, you learn more about everything else than what you're supposed to be researching on for your EE.

After another trek to the Central Library, I learnt that the Burger King at Raffles City has been closed for renovations; and I can't stick my umbrella in my bag for "look ma, no hands!" weather protection; today is National Tour Guide 2009, with free tours all around major parts of the city; I found out what modulus means (clock numbers!), as well as thinking in Euclidean space, finding the lies in statistics, and squaring the squares (pluperfect!); a good boyfriend is worth 6 times his weight in gold, and Hell has less people per square mile than Jarkata (according to Dante).

There are a billion books about everything else you'd want about maths, but not a single one about e.

Natural, my Arithmetic Series (AS).
The edna Man