airhead, who?

Some time ago, a dear friend of mine borrowed my NUS userid and password to access the internet in school when he was preparing for some obscure exam to gain admission for postgraduate studies overseas. I know he thinks I’m clever (; but he loves to be in denial about not being the only genius around. So, on top of invading my privacy by accessing my email, he felt compelled to defend his position. The hilarious product as follows:

Dear Ma’am,

Please be informed that we have received news that you are an Airhead. Due to Department Policy, we are required to inform all your friends and family members of this unfortunate fact. An official letter from the University confirming the fact that you are an Airhead will be sent to your immediate relatives, as well as cousins to the third degree (Please allow two to three working days for this). Please be informed that University Policy requires you to wear a sign around your neck labeled “AIRHEAD” when on University premises, and to ring a bell every 30 seconds to warn all other University students that an Airhead is within 200 metres of them. Failure to comply will result in a hefty fine.

Please direct all irate comments and complaints to this email address.

University policy on newly discovered Airheads also compels us to remind you that drooling and gibberish are disallowed on campus. Thank you.

Regards,

Iamsmarterthanyouare
Head, Airhead Control Force
National University of Singapore

Best part about this email is “Please direct all irate comments and complaints to this email address.” Hmm, I think the fact that I did not spend an indeterminate amount of time corresponding with myself sufficiently invalidates the claims of this email. Quite funny ar. Gotta love his nonsense haha.

i like money but…

“i am often asked why i don’t do commercials or ad campaigns or music videos and why i’ve turned down small fortunes from the corporate universe in favor of just carrying on with my own things.

i like to take walks. i like hiking in the woods around here and climbing the foothills and exploring the coast. it clears my head. i find new things. it’s something i’ll probably always enjoy doing. 


so somebody comes along and says hey, i hear you like to take walks. how about i pay you to walk? you just have to walk around my house in circles for eight hours a day wearing a sandwich board that has a picture of my product on it.

no, i’d rather just walk through the woods and explore my own places out there, thanks.

but what difference does it make? as long as you’re walking, why not make a lot of money from it at the same time? 

because money’s not the reason i take walks. it doesn’t really factor into it. i take walks because i enjoy doing it. it’s something i’d do if i was rich and it’s something i’d do if i were poor. i guess maybe someone might pay me to walk around in the woods someday but i’m gonna keep doing it anyway.” – Don Hertzfeldt

This is why I’m giving up copywriting.

…I love writing more.

SEX and a severe digression.

Sex is beautiful. It is wonderful. And I think it must feel out-of-this-world. No, I did not just have sex. We’re abstaining.

The point is, we should be teaching our young to appreciate sex as a most physically intimate expression of love. To be responsible, yet unreserved; to see sex as an important aspect of romantic love, yet discriminating in whom it should be shared with. Not guilt-tripping them with religious commandments and stifling, passé traditions.

And then you bug them about grandkids afterwards. Idiotic.

Sex with the person you love, the one you professed a lifelong commitment to love, is many glorious moments of actualizing that love. If love were a concept, sex would be (one of) the operationalized function(s) of that concept (couldn’t help it; too much research methods swimming in my head). But there’s more to it. I think love consummates the act of sex, too. That would be a ‘reciprocal’ relationship between love and sex, where reciprocal is defined by cyclical causality, alternating asymmetry, meaning each variable can be both cause and effect (in a sense of speaking).

How can casual sex and masturbation ever replace sex with someone you want to wake up to everyday, someone who fulfills you emotionally, someone who turns you on without even trying? I can’t imagine. They’re a short-term gratification that only amplifies the deep hunger for a meaningful satiation.

I like meaning. I think an ugly painting can be rendered beautiful when you discover there was a meaning to it and a beautiful painting just wouldn’t please me if there was no reason to it other than sheer mindlessness. Of course, finding the meaning is another story altogether.

Oh sometimes I think it is like how Douglas Adams put it in Hitchhiker’s Guide. Maybe we can only know one and not the other.

“There is a theory which states that if ever anyone discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable.

There is another theory which states that this has already happened.“

(Hitchhiker’s Guide is incredibly wise at times. And bizarrely funny as well. I’m trying to finish asap, Divy! Keep getting waylaid by schoolwork.)

Or, it’s like Schrödinger’s cat. Something like if we know there must be a reason, we won’t be able to find the reason. Not thinking there should be a reason might reveal a reason that we don’t know what for. A sound articulation of my thoughts seems to elude me. I think I stopped making sense after ‘Idiotic.’, right?

No no, I think I do make sense. I keep trying to find this deep meaning and grandiose reason to why we should stay together because I refuse to settle for superficial reasons like he takes my shit and embraces my compulsive peculiarity and he never refuses my requests. What is the big point of it all that justifies the humdrum of dating and talking and blah blah? And it just pissed the crap out of me when I realized last night I may never understand the big point of it all. And despite that I snapped a curt goodnight to him and hung up because I got so pissed at something whose importance to me perhaps eludes him, he still loves me all the same and with that enduring patience. Maybe, I should stop chasing the abstract. Maybe the real meaning is just that, plain and boring. I should stop taking apart everything.