<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586</id><updated>2012-02-17T09:41:46.806+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The (partially-)true reflection of a 17-year-old.</title><subtitle type='html'>Being 17 means I'm now closer to 20 than I am to 10. Help......</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>190</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-7604147945909977263</id><published>2012-02-16T02:08:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2012-02-16T02:11:02.281+08:00</updated><title type='text'>(Title becomes Unnecessary)</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe width="400" height="233" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/cA1nL9TejXM" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-7604147945909977263?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/7604147945909977263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=7604147945909977263' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/7604147945909977263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/7604147945909977263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2012/02/title-becomes-unnecessary.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;(Title becomes Unnecessary)&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/cA1nL9TejXM/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-7886388193876211599</id><published>2012-01-28T04:49:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-28T04:50:36.416+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dream</title><content type='html'>I woke up from a dream in which my mother was diagnosed with some terminal stage heart disease and father died in car accident. Cried like siao in the dream.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-7886388193876211599?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/7886388193876211599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=7886388193876211599' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/7886388193876211599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/7886388193876211599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2012/01/dream.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Dream&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-4948267825706843675</id><published>2012-01-18T13:13:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-18T13:35:22.807+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shopping Period</title><content type='html'>One fun thing about most American colleges is that the undergraduate students get to "shop" for classes in the first one or two weeks of the semester, which means we can add or drop classes as we like during the two-week shopping period. That is possible because in most cases, students have the chance to take any course they like, regardless of their majors or concentrations, provided they meet the course pre-requisites. For example, although I only plan to take 5 courses this semester, my time-table for Wednesday look like this because of "window-shopping":&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8:00 - University Writing Seminar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9:00 - Introduction to Thermodynamics and Statistical Mechanics&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10:00 - Modern China - Ming to Mao&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11:00 - Organic Chemistry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12:00 - Quantum Theory&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1:00 - Introduction to Computers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2:00 - Introduction to 3D Animation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3:00 - Multivariable Calculus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which effectively means classes from 8:00 in the morning until 5:30 pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of these courses I'm sure I will be taking:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. University Writing Seminar&lt;br /&gt;2. Multivariable Calculus&lt;br /&gt;3. Organic Chemistry&lt;br /&gt;4. One Physics course (Thermodynamics or Quantum Theory)&lt;br /&gt;5. 3D animation or The Economics of Third World Hunger&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reason I'm shopping so many courses is that I want to avoid the horrible experience in my Modern Physics class last semester, where I learnt less than a third of the material and not knowing what the lecturer was talking about for the entire semester - by shopping for more courses, if anything went wrong in one particular class, I can just substitute that class with another.&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also....I'm a bit worried about Multivariable Calculus because I decided to skip the Single Variable Calculus course, since I've learnt most of the content in STPM. However, STPM Math didn't help students to develop a good understanding of calculus....so.....ya....very sien one. I did pretty ok for math last semester, hopefully history will repeat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-4948267825706843675?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/4948267825706843675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=4948267825706843675' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4948267825706843675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4948267825706843675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2012/01/shopping-period.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Shopping Period&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-445230252805366543</id><published>2012-01-10T14:11:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-10T14:28:47.864+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Racism</title><content type='html'>Racism hurts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not just other people's racism, but my own racism, or rather, my concession (concede) to white supremacy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eats me up from inside. Something like internalized homophobia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reading this is therapeutic:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://stuffwhitepeopledo.blogspot.com/2010/07/wonder-if-they-should-call-out-what.html#comment-form&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-445230252805366543?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/445230252805366543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=445230252805366543' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/445230252805366543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/445230252805366543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2012/01/racism.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Racism&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-6952319924057163823</id><published>2012-01-10T12:27:00.012+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-10T12:59:29.239+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Yes I Had Sex with a Stranger</title><content type='html'>oh my god I'm so lazy to write about all this shit. Sex, penis, penile-centric, oral, anal, foreplay, virginity, partriachy, civilization, modesty, morality, heterosexism, ethics bla bla bla bla bla.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going to blog about how I never lost my virginity even though I had sex, because I had renounced virginity before I ever had sex(*1). About how I refuse to let a distorted, ugly product of partriachy and religion to prevent me from seeking pleasure and exploring my OWN body. About there being nothing special of the first time and I would not "save" it for anyone but myself. About how I will not apologize for being homosexual and therefore would not apologize either for being sexual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About how I can totally live without anal penetration and with just kissing and foreplay as an end to itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bla bla bla.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just lazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;(*1) Alright strictly speaking that's not true. It's just that even though after I had my first oral sex (which is sex. If you feel sexual, than it is sex. Imagine if a heterosexual come tell you anal sex is not sex because there is no vagina involved.) , I still felt like a virgin until I renounced virginity soon before I had sex again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-6952319924057163823?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/6952319924057163823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=6952319924057163823' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6952319924057163823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6952319924057163823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2012/01/yes-i-had-sex-with-stranger.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Yes I Had Sex with a Stranger&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-5037908352786351343</id><published>2012-01-03T10:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2012-01-03T10:31:18.589+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Which Would Look Stupid If I Posted It on Facebook</title><content type='html'>A piece of my heart just died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(anti-climax: you have heart attack izzit?)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-5037908352786351343?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/5037908352786351343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=5037908352786351343' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/5037908352786351343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/5037908352786351343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2012/01/which-would-look-stupid-if-i-posted-it.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Which Would Look Stupid If I Posted It on Facebook&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-4453195922482872382</id><published>2011-12-21T18:59:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-21T19:01:14.053+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Reminder</title><content type='html'>1. buy bag for travel.&lt;br /&gt;2. Decide want go New York or not. &lt;br /&gt;3. Pack stuff. Things to bring to new apartment?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-4453195922482872382?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/4453195922482872382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=4453195922482872382' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4453195922482872382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4453195922482872382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/12/reminder.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Reminder&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-3607823957918498280</id><published>2011-12-21T18:41:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-21T18:55:08.628+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Culture! Culture!</title><content type='html'>One day, me, Chinese girl, European guy, Chinese American guy working on our Linear Algebra finals in the library. (Yes, it was a take-home finals, and we could work together!)&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;(earlier I asked them whether getting a "B" is bad, because I talked to one of my HOT physics American coursemate, and he was like "oh if I got a B I'm going to quit school", and I was like WTF.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hey, so we need to fill up the course evaluations before we can check our grades?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chinese girl: Yes, you need to do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Oh okay. We have until the 23rd to do that right? Cuz, it's like, if we fill up the course evaluations earlier, then we can check our grades earlier, but I'm like, "No! I can wait!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chinese girl: Well you can wait but your parents might not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: (surprised of what she said but understand where she's coming from) Oh. Meh. I don't think my parents care about my grades as long as I pass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;European: Wait. Why do you need to tell your parents about your grades?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: (自作聪明）Oh it's culture-specific.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chinese American: Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;*I don't really think it's really a cultural phenomenon la. Maybe just that girls' parents.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-3607823957918498280?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/3607823957918498280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=3607823957918498280' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/3607823957918498280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/3607823957918498280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/12/culture-culture.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Culture! Culture!&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-8220328938626607048</id><published>2011-12-19T07:43:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-19T07:56:14.406+08:00</updated><title type='text'>DeluSion's Theorem</title><content type='html'>For any non-empty set of men and one observer, there exists  some distances to each man in the set observed from which they are handsome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-8220328938626607048?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/8220328938626607048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=8220328938626607048' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8220328938626607048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8220328938626607048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/12/delusions-correspondence-theorem.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;DeluSion&apos;s Theorem&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-6802731049419273193</id><published>2011-12-17T22:12:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-17T22:15:50.417+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random</title><content type='html'>I saw an unused condom on the pavement on my way to the library. Does that mean I'm going to get laid soon?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or...*gasp* because I picked it up and put it on a rubbish bin, I'm going to miss an opportunity *ahem*?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-6802731049419273193?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/6802731049419273193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=6802731049419273193' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6802731049419273193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6802731049419273193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/12/random.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Random&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-265625327916366230</id><published>2011-12-10T12:58:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-10T13:16:52.180+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Quote from Book</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;"If Christian Preachers had continued to teach as Christ &amp;amp; his Apostles did, without Salaries, and as the Quakers now do, I imagine [religious] &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/No_Religious_Test_Clause"&gt;Tests&lt;/a&gt; [for state officers] would never have existed: For I think they were invented not so much to secure Religion itself, as the Emoluments of it.--When a Religion is good, I conceive that it will support itself; and when it cannot support itself, and God does not take care to support, so that its Professors are oblig'd to call for help of the Civil Power, 'tis a Sign, I apprehend, of its being a bad one. But I shall be out of my Depth if I wade any deeper in Theology..."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---- Benjamin Franklin (1780) (on the Massachusetts Constitution)&lt;br /&gt;--- extracted from The Founding Fathers and the Debate Over Religion in Revolutionary America&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;words in [square brackets] by DeluSion.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-265625327916366230?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/265625327916366230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=265625327916366230' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/265625327916366230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/265625327916366230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/12/quote-from-book.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Quote from Book&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-6304524696573774870</id><published>2011-12-06T18:54:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-06T19:35:54.105+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What Do I Want to Do with My Life...</title><content type='html'>It was 3am, I was studying for the Physics mid-term in the computer room. Quantum mechanics. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm an intellectually LAZY person. I don't really care whether space is absolute; the universe has an origin in time; nature is deterministic; or the earth is flat for that matter. I'm sure, in principle at least, I could be oblivious to all these statements collectively we call knowledge, yet still live a happy, fulfilled life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'm just generally lazy. There's nothing I really like to do, or am passionate about doing. I don't draw, don't play music, don't camwhore, don't dance, don't work out（*1), don't have serial one night stands. I'm even lazy to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I can't be THAT lazy. I just feel that, sometimes the things I am passionate about, like having multiple orgasms and, oh well, reading, are not what people count as hobbies. It sounds kind of sad to (have to) say one's hobby is reading. Furthermore, like I said, I'm intellectually lazy. A lot of times when I read, I don't feel I'm engaged with the thoughts of the author, rather, I skim through pages, absorbing all the authors have to say, or what I like to read. The way I read, is like watching TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like I'm, to use the phrase I just learnt, emotionally dead inside. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, I still experience emotion. I was angry as hell when Seksualiti Merdeka was banned. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was 3am. On my skinny left arm, I wrote "I want my RIGHTS!" (*2)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to &lt;br /&gt;1. cure AIDS&lt;br /&gt;2. stop climate change&lt;br /&gt;3. end poverty&lt;br /&gt;4. eradicate religion and &lt;br /&gt;5. invent a drug that will turn one hot guy gay and the other gay guys straight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All these will not happen, unless I actually go out and do something!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First I need to improve my mind, body and skill sets! Do something! Learn new stuff. Challenge ideas, mine or others!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do something or else nothing will ever change!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Notes:&lt;br /&gt;*1 unless you count the Physical Education class I'm taking.&lt;br /&gt;*2 which looks rather silly the next morning when I bare my arms during the PE class.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-6304524696573774870?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/6304524696573774870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=6304524696573774870' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6304524696573774870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6304524696573774870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/12/what-do-i-want-to-do-with-my-life.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;What Do I Want to Do with My Life...&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-6916622332471208063</id><published>2011-12-02T12:30:00.012+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-03T14:28:48.789+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Assimilating Histories</title><content type='html'>Bangsa merujuk kepada sekumpulan manusia yang biasanya menetap suatu kedudukan geografi dan mempunyai persamaan dari segi bahasa, budaya serta pengalaman sejarah. -- some of the useful concepts I picked up from SPM Sejarah in a textbook sea of rubbish.&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is an entire shelf of books in the library with titles like "Homosexuality and Psychoanalysis", "Sexual Culture" etc. Hence I've been indulging in a little bit of light reading of late when I should in all seriousness be studying relativity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of the very small sampling of LGBT writings I have had (our malaysian gay blogs notwithstanding), I noticed that the AIDS epidemic/pandemic is a recurring theme of angst and grief. In one of my favourites, &lt;a href="http://www.historyisaweapon.com/defcon1/queernation.html"&gt;The Queer Nation Manifesto&lt;/a&gt;, I found the following excerpt that wailed against the apathy of the US government agencies during the early days of the AIDS epidemic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"I'm angry. I'm angry for being condemned to death by strangers saying, "You deserve to die" and "AIDS is the cure." Fury erupts when a Republican woman wearing thousands of dollars of garments and jewelry minces by the police lines shaking her head, chuckling and wagging her finger at us like we are recalcitrant children making absurd demands and throwing a temper tantrum when they aren't met. Angry while Joseph agonizes over $8,000 a year for AZT which might keep him alive a little longer and which does make him sicker than the disease he is diagnosed with. Angry as I listen to a man tell me that after changing his will five times he's running out of people to leave things to. All of his best friends are dead. Angry when I stand in a sea of quilt panels, or go to a candlelight march or attend yet another memorial service. I will not march silently with a f---ing candle and I want to take that goddamned quilt and wrap myself in it and furiously rent it and my hair and curse every god religion ever created. I refuse to accept a creation that cuts people down in the third decade of their life."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In "On the Meaning of Friendship Between Gay Men" I found the following:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"As for Greg's illness, it was said to have been cancer, although a friend in San Francisco phoned to tell me - to warn me, really - that it was due to a new and lethal gay-related disease. &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;The syndrome was so recent that the term AIDS had not yet been coined&lt;/span&gt;; Greg's case was among the first in the nation. I was also told that I could expect to be interviewed by the Centers for Disease Control....I lived with an immense fear of AIDS for the next few years, until researchers finally established its mode of transmission."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And grief in "The Best Little Boy in the World Grows Up".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"The morphine level was set high enough to make it easy. But not breathing is not something most of us, let alone those of us as bright as Peter, readily do......And so after a quiet, peaceful while longer, his sister gently leaned down and softly said, 'Peter, it's okay. It's okay. You've done enough. You can go now.' And he did. He was forty."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I was weeping in bed on that page.And I realize I shouldn't reduce thousands of people's struggle with the disease to "mere" emotional kitsch. Those works above described (partly at least) the experience of the American gay communities and individuals with the epidemic. How, on the other hand, did the disease affect our(*1) Malaysian LGBT scene/subculture/community and the "public" (are we not part of "the public"?) perception of "us"? What were the similarities between our encounter and reaction to the disease and those of the Americans?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Start purple bullshiting:)&lt;br /&gt;The &lt;s&gt;gay&lt;/s&gt; LGBT rights movement is already budding in Malaysia. I would say we are very much behind some European countries in state recognition of LGBT rights(*2). But the term "behind" is problematic in a country whose muslim majority thinks Islamic customs must prevail when in conflict with the western modern human rights traditions. With the fight having been fought so many years in those "western" countries, we might find it convenient to adapt their rhetoric on rights, equality and adult privacy into our plight for greater freedom. Yet, will such rhetoric resonate with our local opponents who are often armoured with the notion of incompatibility between human rights and eastern culture or social stability? Is it necessary to explore strategies different from our western (imagined?) comrades, which hopefully would better promote our cause, or will our histories (thanks to globalization and our history of colonization?) prove so intertwined that we find ourselves treading again the western footsteps, as with women and labor rights?(*3)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Notes: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*1 - Curious how I use "our" when I only know not more than 5 gay men. I suspect I know more lesbians (or otherwise-queer female-bodied individuals) than I do gay men. (I dare not count!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*2 - It must be emphasized that the so-called LGBT rights are just the same set of rights and privileges enjoyed by heterosexual Malaysians - freedom of expression and from harassment, whether by the state of individuals - which the LGBT people have systematically been denied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*3 - I sometimes wonder whether Malayan women would have the right to vote, given the current ultra-religious climate, if the British had not "come" here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="400" height="301" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8mkp-Of8sZQ" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-6916622332471208063?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/6916622332471208063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=6916622332471208063' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6916622332471208063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6916622332471208063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/12/assimilating-histories.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Assimilating Histories&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/8mkp-Of8sZQ/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-716147142351834055</id><published>2011-11-27T02:21:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-11-27T02:23:06.291+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Do Not Procrastinate Liao!!!!</title><content type='html'>1. Do homework.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Plan your major (Go talk to Department advising head)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Plan your winter break &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Look for Jobs (Don't procrastinate liao!!!!!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-716147142351834055?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/716147142351834055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=716147142351834055' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/716147142351834055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/716147142351834055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/11/do-not-procrastinate-liao.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Do Not Procrastinate Liao!!!!&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-5052693039831169825</id><published>2011-11-20T13:27:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-11-20T13:34:17.670+08:00</updated><title type='text'>On Making English the Compulsory-Pass Subject</title><content type='html'>There has been talks to make English a "compulsory pass" in SPM. I don't know the exact definition of a "compulsory pass", but I understand it to mean -- if you don't pass English, you won't get the sijil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Absurd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elitist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Colonialistic!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's the purpose of denying a student the SPM cert JUST BECAUSE he failed English? I mean, he might have passed other subjects! Can't give him the cert and just say he didn't pass English ah!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-5052693039831169825?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/5052693039831169825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=5052693039831169825' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/5052693039831169825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/5052693039831169825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/11/on-making-english-compulsory-pass.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;On Making English the Compulsory-Pass Subject&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-200936354168903826</id><published>2011-11-20T09:24:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2011-11-20T09:42:00.606+08:00</updated><title type='text'>假</title><content type='html'>So there was this Pakistani guy, whom I shall assign the name Daha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We know each other, but not well enough to call the other friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Daha and I are both taking Linear Algebra this semester.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daha took the "normal" Linear Algebra whereas I took the supposedly honors Linear Algebra which emphasize more on the theoretical (read: obscure) aspects of the subject, e.g. proving theorems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daha thought I was good at Linear because I got an A in the first midterm when he failed his.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he'd asked me a couple of times, sort of informally, to teach him Linear, which I gently and politely declined, because the reason I got A was because the test was easy (evidence： in our second midterm, we got an open-book, open-laptop test. We got to work with partners. And the professor ordered pizzas. One angmoh sing during the exam, and I was like - "do you have a more soothing song?"）&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daha said I was very hardworking, because his friend saw me pulling all-nighters in the computer room a few times, supposedly studying, when in fact the reason I had to stayed up all night was due to poor time management and prior procrastination. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said I wasn't hardworking, cuz I wasn't even studying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To which he snapped, "Dude, why are you lying?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He told me he got a B in this second-midterm. I told him B is not bad (since that should be a vast improvement from the F he got for his first mid-term, and I'm only hoping for a B　for my Modern Physics).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said yeah B is not bad but he's still sad. I walked forward to hug him and he walked away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;I...am...not...a...liar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-200936354168903826?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/200936354168903826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=200936354168903826' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/200936354168903826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/200936354168903826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/11/blog-post.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;假&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-4719242330236602949</id><published>2011-11-13T02:27:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-11-13T02:45:12.537+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Deadweight Loss</title><content type='html'>Men discriminate against women, women teruk, but at least men can gain something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slave trade in America, whites discriminated against blacks, made them slaves in cotton plantation, blacks worked teruk teruk sometimes like animals, but at least cotton is produced, in a sense there is still productivity (at the expense of the black people of course).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heteronormative people discriminated against homosexuals. Can I know what do they gain?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hFOm3lyiXoU/Tr68UCpKRGI/AAAAAAAAAQk/GeDOuTF8IpA/s1600/300px-Deadweight-loss-price-ceiling.svg.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hFOm3lyiXoU/Tr68UCpKRGI/AAAAAAAAAQk/GeDOuTF8IpA/s320/300px-Deadweight-loss-price-ceiling.svg.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5674179633026319458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All these hooh-hah's against homosexuality by the Muslims recently, and their assumption that Islam is above every human rights instruments...make me realize how comfortable life must be for a majority who never needs to challenge his own assumptions, whose values allign with the mainstream society, by the definition of mainstream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For one millisecond, I thought, kanineh, how good it must be as a Muslim in country. But I can't think of any good. No sex before marriage. Crazy people have say in all your private life. People tell you how to wear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, got any good? But I guess there is no good in religion one la. Waste resources only.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Islam is a religion of peace：&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="400" height="301" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/hU7T5fbJbq0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;*Islam belongs to the 7-th century.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-4719242330236602949?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/4719242330236602949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=4719242330236602949' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4719242330236602949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4719242330236602949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/11/deadweight-loss.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Deadweight Loss&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hFOm3lyiXoU/Tr68UCpKRGI/AAAAAAAAAQk/GeDOuTF8IpA/s72-c/300px-Deadweight-loss-price-ceiling.svg.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-9012604377246449698</id><published>2011-11-07T07:34:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-11-07T07:42:05.767+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Absolutely Heart This Song</title><content type='html'>In light of the falsehood that has been voiced over thiese few weeks regarding Seksualiti Merdeka by certain segments of Malaysian society and the subsequent upset of the festival, I thought we could use some saccharine sweet music to boost our morale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="400" height="301" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/1mUE-jY8_Wk" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-9012604377246449698?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/9012604377246449698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=9012604377246449698' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/9012604377246449698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/9012604377246449698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-absolutely-heart-this-song.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;I Absolutely Heart This Song&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/1mUE-jY8_Wk/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-7345769056396112577</id><published>2011-11-06T14:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-11-06T14:39:28.118+08:00</updated><title type='text'>This is Why I Hate Your Islam</title><content type='html'>Taken from here: http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=445968578489439861&amp;postID=3945137238038412655&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We don't hate you. We accept the fact that there is LGBT among us. We are willing to work among you. We will never randomly spit or harm you. But please don't force us to accept your sexual ideology like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why you want to BOLD PROMOTE your lifestyle? It is like telling us that you want us to be like you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Islam, LGBT is SINFUL/PROHIBITED as similar to drink winery, eating pigs, pre-marital intercourse, or killing without any good reason. If there is any LGBT who also a Muslim, he/she/etc obviosly SINNER. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many convention agreement or legal enactment about human rights but when certain part of it clearly contradict with Islamic practice, we Muslim accept the rules by Islam above the other no matter how not popular the rules is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadly you're in Malaysia, you are living right in the middle of muslim community, so please don't contradict much when it comes to issue like this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU ACTION IS LIKE ONE CHEERING FOR ROONEY WHILE SITTING AMONG THE FULL ENERGETIC CROWD OF LIVERPOOL DIE HARD."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-7345769056396112577?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/7345769056396112577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=7345769056396112577' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/7345769056396112577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/7345769056396112577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/11/this-is-why-i-hate-your-islam.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;This is Why I Hate Your Islam&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-5387962180986156315</id><published>2011-11-06T06:46:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-11-06T07:05:45.176+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Meeting Someone in Cambridge</title><content type='html'>Met a gay Malaysian guy this afternoon. This is like, my second time meeting someone who is gay whom I know online (does facebook count, haha). So I was quite excited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walked around his campus, found some place to sit and have tea (Indian Chai which taste like teh tarik I suppose). Basically just chat. And you know, I'm very bad at talking one...so it ended up him asking me a lot of questions and I answer. Haha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: Which part of Malaysia are you from?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Kedah. (I already know he's from KL.)&lt;br /&gt;(chat chat chat)&lt;br /&gt;Him: What are you studying?&lt;br /&gt;Me: I'm not quite sure yet. But it's probably Biology, or Biological Physics, or Biochemistry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(ok it's not just him who ask questions la...I also got ask, eg&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: What's your thesis about?&lt;br /&gt;Him: Oh...I'm writing on the topic of (bla bla bla)&lt;br /&gt;Me: ooh...(oh shit DeluSion! Think! Think! What to talk next!!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he asked me whether I'm strictly into guys. So I say yes lo. "I'm quite strict. haha." [Actually not. Would I really care if someone in every way conforms to my (deeply colonized) ideas and expectations of a man and is extremely hot but has a vagina? I think no lo. But I think this is just an academic question la. How often do you bump into such guys.]&lt;br /&gt;(Disclaimer: This statement shall not be construed to mean that I'm top.][Disclaimer2: The preceding disclaimer shall not be construed to mean I'm bottom.][Disclaimer3: Disclaimer 1 and 2 shall not be combinedly interpreted to mean that I'm versatile, versatile bottom or versatile top.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see the thing is that I usually avoid asking personal questions in a conversation because I'm scared of making people uncomfortable. That means I will even avoid questions like "Do you like coffee or tea." haha. So...haiz...like that how to talk? Sure run out of topics right...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So don't say I didn't do anything in the weekend!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yay, now go study.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-5387962180986156315?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/5387962180986156315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=5387962180986156315' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/5387962180986156315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/5387962180986156315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/11/meeting-someone-in-boston.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Meeting Someone in Cambridge&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-8661383291134302116</id><published>2011-10-27T14:26:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-27T15:04:14.894+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Swallowed Words</title><content type='html'>It is a truth universally acknowledged, that we should think before we speak. A few days ago, I happened to be in the position of feeling fortunate after having prevented the utterance of an impulsive comment of my own, the materialization of which would potentially bring significant awkwardness to the social situation in which I found myself at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was this gentleman on my floor whose name was Ian. As we were no more than acquaintance of each other, in addition to my unfamiliarity with the American names, I had always assumed, though without much certainty, that his name should be pronounced as "Iron".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It so chanced one day, when I had to ask Ian about some petty matter not worthy of my readers' knowledge. Not wanting to bypass any social etiquette which I might not be aware of, I decided to address Ian by his name properly before the conversation should proceed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Me: Hi! Erm....can I know what's your name? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ian: (In his puzzled look) Ian. (ee-yan 燕）&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surprised by the correct pronunciation of the name, I quipped, "Do you know that means 'swallow' in Mandarin?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you possibly imagine how I relieved I was by the fact that the last sentence was never actually spoken to Ian?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-8661383291134302116?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/8661383291134302116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=8661383291134302116' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8661383291134302116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8661383291134302116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/10/swallowed-words.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Swallowed Words&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-1803918598958374959</id><published>2011-10-26T00:53:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-26T01:13:10.693+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Moody Update</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Things that made me sad:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. CB Singaporean who exposed my weakness to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Having to pull an all-nighter to finish my Physics problem set tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Scoring less than 1 standard deviation above average in my Organic Lab mid-term when I thought I answered all questions correctly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Falling behind in lectures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. CB Singaporean&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. CB Singaporean&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. CB Singaporean&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. And to finally realize my sadness stems from my own weaknesses rather than what the Singaporean had said to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things that make me happy:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Knowing I got a median score for my Physics mid-term, which mean I'm not the worst in the class. (build happiness on other people's pain ==)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Getting an A for Linear Algebra mid-term, while the math genius (whom I really admire) in class got A-, which actually showed me getting good grades in exam does not correlate with how smart a person is, which in turn devalued all the good grades I got in my school years, which make this a sad revelation actually. The American education system spat on my face. Lol.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Came up with a strategy to cut my food expenses, which is working well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-1803918598958374959?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/1803918598958374959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=1803918598958374959' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/1803918598958374959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/1803918598958374959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/10/moody-update.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Moody Update&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-1078322809832495142</id><published>2011-10-23T00:34:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-23T00:37:15.422+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sensual Pleasure</title><content type='html'>Hey I want to share a choir video with you guys. I saw it on tv a few years back, the soloist damn cute right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="378" height="286" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/QpjF3tRK1Sg?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-1078322809832495142?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/1078322809832495142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=1078322809832495142' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/1078322809832495142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/1078322809832495142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/10/sensual-pleasure.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Sensual Pleasure&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/QpjF3tRK1Sg/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-2230380239367383090</id><published>2011-10-21T18:11:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-21T18:13:39.209+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Seriously Need to Get More Organized</title><content type='html'>1. winter clothing (either order online or shop! expensive or not you'll still have to get one! And soon!)&lt;div&gt;2. winter break housing (observe deadline!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. thanksgiving&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Finish lab report after lab tomorrow, and pray lab will go smoothly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-2230380239367383090?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/2230380239367383090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=2230380239367383090' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/2230380239367383090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/2230380239367383090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/10/seriously-need-to-get-more-organized.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Seriously Need to Get More Organized&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-1751873897969688014</id><published>2011-10-21T05:29:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-21T05:40:41.345+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Complaint</title><content type='html'>Roommate trying to teach someone differentiation OVER THE PHONE. And the thing about American men is that their speaking pitch is very very low! It makes me feel very uncomfortable most of the time.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It can be sexy when you hear it for 5 seconds, but the roommate has been speaking for like half an hour. It's really CB.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think I can understand why the Singaporean so tulan my accent, though my pitch is definitely not as low as a "typical" American male. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-------------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seriously, the Americans I have met so far are very informal. If I were on the one on the phone, I would have walked out of the room. Like, I apologise beforehand whenever I'm going to have a skype session with my parents. (e.g. "hey guys I'm going on skype for the next 20 minutes or so, is that alright?")&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Good, now I can skype to my hearts content. Apparently American's tolerance for noise is much higher than mine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-1751873897969688014?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/1751873897969688014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=1751873897969688014' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/1751873897969688014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/1751873897969688014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/10/complaint.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Complaint&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-4047529209637442415</id><published>2011-10-21T03:15:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-21T03:40:38.960+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ineptitude</title><content type='html'>As much as I yearn for social interaction, I consistently find myself feeling anxious when they actually become available.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Usually I become very nervous as I'm uncertain of the progression of the conversation. Especially the case when I'm talking to someone "new". Once the conversation began, I will worry about how to end it nicely to avoid any potential awkwardness. So you see even before the conversation started I'm already thinking of ending it ==. I really don't know where this "performance anxiety" stems from. On one hand I &lt;s&gt;am keen&lt;/s&gt; know it's good to form new relations, yet on the other I am tired of observing the social protocols that leads to the formation of such a new relation. I suppose in a world that works the way I want, people skip the introduction and start hugging and connect on a personal level immediately. So I suppose what I truly want was not so much social interaction but some intimate (YES! Intimacy is the word!) person-to-person, one-on-one...talk. Perhaps not just talk.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now that I consolidated my anxiety into a blog post, what I need to do is to let the conversation happen "naturally" (Nothing is natural. Everything is cultural.) instead of worrying about it. But that's always better written than done.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-4047529209637442415?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/4047529209637442415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=4047529209637442415' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4047529209637442415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4047529209637442415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/10/ineptitude.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Ineptitude&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-4205724066202323173</id><published>2011-10-17T15:57:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-17T15:59:09.009+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Letter Unsent</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;div style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); color: rgb(0, 0, 0); padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 8px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 12px; display: block; font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; "&gt;&lt;div id="yui_3_2_0_13_131883499259340"&gt;Dear Papa and Mi,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="yui_3_2_0_13_131883499259340"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="yui_3_2_0_13_131883499259340"&gt;我华文废掉了。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="yui_3_2_0_13_131883499259340"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="yui_3_2_0_13_131883499259340"&gt;英语半咸不淡，怎么办zzzzz....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="yui_3_2_0_13_131883499259340"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="yui_3_2_0_13_131883499259340"&gt;父母家书迟未覆，主要也是最近没干什么新鲜事。倒是刚才下午去了趟苹果园，生平第一次亲睹果树....也是这样罢了啦。不过很多苹果。终于明白榴莲为什么这样贵了。我们一粒榴莲，他们不知道几粒苹果了。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="yui_3_2_0_13_131883499259340"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="yui_3_2_0_13_131883499259340"&gt;文化/语言/人事冲突？新加坡人讲我的英语腔很假。quote: "Do you speak like that at home? ...... It feels very.....not genuine." not genuine, 意思是“假”. 我的天，我希望他是用错字。不过.....not genuine.....很严重的leih.....(我知道我知道....不要太在意人家怎样看我们。有缺点就改....)有人给意见也好。ZZZZ. haiz, 这个课题可以写好几本书。有人讲学ang mo lang 讲话是"haolian", 可是你知道吗，我之所以不想Malaysianize 我的英文部分原因是我不想让他成为马来西亚的一部分，我觉得如果我用ang mo lang 的accent说英语，我就是acknowledge英语是外来的，是foreign的，非“本土”的。（那么华语又是“本土”的吗？）我觉得，当我们说着Manglish, 自豪的当作他是我们所谓文化的一部分时，我们真的是被殖民了而不自觉。当然马来西亚有它的殖民史，英语也的确已经融入我们的政治与社会文化，不过我觉得还是有必要好好梳理他的殖民元素，要有更多的反思，更多的自觉。不然，你看，英语教数理，我们的论述总是绕在“马来文没有经济价值”，“英语是国际语言”，“母语教学”。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="yui_3_2_0_13_131883499259340"&gt;英语社群最常说“英语是国际语言”，我觉得好恶。以为自己英文厉害是后天努力，其实根本就是环境因素居多，然后当人家英语差是落后，懒惰。Zzzz....一副英语代言人的模样。就是这副态度，你要马来人怎样相信英语教数理不会menggadaikan bahasa dan maruah bangsa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="yui_3_2_0_13_131883499259340"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="yui_3_2_0_13_131883499259340"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="yui_3_2_0_13_131883499259340"&gt;话说回来我跟那个新加波人说话的态度也有问题。不过我真的觉得不是我的问题咯。好吧，我会注意。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="yui_3_2_0_13_131883499259340"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div id="yui_3_2_0_13_131883499259340"&gt;记得download照片。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-4205724066202323173?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/4205724066202323173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=4205724066202323173' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4205724066202323173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4205724066202323173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/10/letter-unsent.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Letter Unsent&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-3827976676414473662</id><published>2011-10-17T08:46:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-17T09:37:16.854+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Identity Politics</title><content type='html'>Singaporean complained my English doesn't sound genuine.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Do you speak like this at home?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(extremely cautiously) "Erm...what do you mean...Like how I usually speak to you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Yes. Just like the way you usually speak here."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"erm...it depends." (oh shit.) "Like....erm....you see I rarely speak English at my hometown. I mean, I usually use English in an academic context. It's not a life language to me. Erm....so.....it's not like I'm &lt;s&gt;trying to feign superiority over your Singlish accent by adapting to the accent of a white male American&lt;/s&gt; trying to purposely sound different."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Cuz when you speak like that, it feels......&lt;b&gt;not genuine&lt;/b&gt;." (wtf - I think your Singlish and 超级标准punya Mandarin cukup "non-genuine" lo, but I've kept it to myself all this while, understanding it as a result of politico-cultural conditioning.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(pause 10 seconds)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I'm just trying to adapt to their accent. I mean, I always thought of English as a foreign language, so I try to speak like how a foreigner would speak."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"But they are brought up to speak this way, you are not."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(American beside me looked awkward.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;More socio-politico-cultural analysis coming soon. (Gee.....我真的很假meh? 我尽量做到真了leih...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-3827976676414473662?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/3827976676414473662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=3827976676414473662' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/3827976676414473662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/3827976676414473662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/10/identity-politics.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Identity Politics&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-5631024168103572578</id><published>2011-10-14T13:54:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-14T13:57:17.080+08:00</updated><title type='text'>To-do List</title><content type='html'>1. Finish orgo reports in less than 12 hours. (不然吃自己。）&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Write my own non-binding moral code.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Declare death of god.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-5631024168103572578?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/5631024168103572578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=5631024168103572578' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/5631024168103572578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/5631024168103572578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/10/to-do-list.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;To-do List&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-2241077234902195698</id><published>2011-10-13T12:17:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-13T12:52:40.219+08:00</updated><title type='text'>University Application Essay</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;u&gt;To Walk or Not to Walk&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;It was 7:30 in the morning. The voice from the public address system from afar was instructing the lower form students to assemble for the morning briefings. With my heavy bag on my shoulders and 2 textbooks in my hand, I hurried through the road beside the school sports field, hoping that I would be sitting safely in the classroom before the morning prayer started. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The prayers or recitals were a daily reminder of the special status of Islam in this country. We had them&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;every morning, and sometimes before a lesson, if the teacher who entered the class was a Muslim&lt;span style="color:#CC99FF"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;Living in a multi-religious society, Malaysians have been taught to respect each other’s religions since young. As students, we were expected to exhibit that respect by standing still for the prayer recitals.&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;In the classroom, students who sat down during the recital were asked to stand up; outside the classroom, students who walked during the morning recital might be stopped by a teacher or stared by people around them.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;When I enrolled into this school, I was curious about the rationale behind these frequent prayer recitals. According to a Muslim classmate, they were praying for gaining knowledge and benefiting from the lessons. I thought that was a beautiful, almost poetic cause for prayer, as it signified a student’s sincerity towards learning; however, I felt uncomfortable with&lt;b&gt; &lt;/b&gt;the prayer’s undue pressure on students, be they Muslims or non-Muslims, as I believed it was the freedom of religion and belief that needed respect rather than religion itself. As a result, occasionally, I would continue walking even though I heard the prayer, to make a point that respect for a religion should not be forced upon students. I had been stopped by teachers, but sometimes, one whole class’ disapproving eye stares were enough to put my subtle rebellion to a stop. Over the years, I had found a delicate balance between walking in the presence of lenient teachers and stopping at once when the risks were too great.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;In front of the staffroom, I could hear the voice of the ustaz (male Islamic religious teacher) from the loudspeaker reciting the morning prayer. After 5 years of secondary schooling, I was again in the same struggle that September morning. Should I stop? Continuing to walk right in front of so many teachers would no longer be seen as an innocuous mischief, but an open challenge to school authority!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The political atmosphere was tense after the 2008 general election. A parliamentarian had been detained without trial after having allegedly complained about the volume of sermons at a Muslim mosque. Given the racial tension, I questioned myself whether it was wise to walk amidst the prayer. For sure, I would be seen as being provocative.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I did not want to offend any sensibilities, but the very act of enforcing “respect” for a religion constituted an infringement upon the freedom of religion. I was aware of the status of Islam as the religion of the federation, yet as a minority it was crucial that I did not blindly waive my right and conform to societal pressure. We had constantly been reminded to respect all religions practiced in this country without an equivalent emphasis given to the freedom of religion. We were scared into our collective memory that if we were to freely exercise the rights enshrined in our constitution we might offend racial and religious sensibilities and put our long paraded peace and harmony at risk. But by giving away those rights, we not only learnt to “respect” religion, but essentially succumbed ourselves to authority. At that moment, I felt the need to liberate myself from the shackles of absurd political discourse normalized by repetitions. I decided to walk.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Just a few steps and Mr Fauzi was already shouting at me.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“HEY!”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I clenched my teeth and continued walking.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“HEY!”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“HEY BOY!”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I really had to stop. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;--&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;When the prayer was over, I approached Mr Fauzi to clarify the reasons I continued walking despite his yelling. What was intended to be an exchange of opinions turned into mutual shouting. Angrily, he ordered me to go for class.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The aftermath of the incident was not felt immediately; however, I realized its full impact a week later when I discovered that a teacher had spoken badly of me in front of another class. Some teachers were no longer as friendly as before. I was thereafter labeled as the “smart but arrogant kid”.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;After the incident, I grew defensive about my conduct at school, fearing that any mistake would further hurt my reputation. I was angry with the school, but also myself for acting impetuously. As a defense mechanism to my internal conflict, I tried to hate the Muslim teachers; however, that became impossible as soon as I thought of those the teachers who had nurtured my growth. How could I hate Mr Zulkifli who had come to my guidance at this hard time, or Ms Nurhaliza who had taught her Accounts class so diligently?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The damage to my relationship with the teachers took months to repair. As the prayer recital was rescheduled to take place during the daily assembly, I was saved the pain of deciding on whether to continue my rebellion or not after the incident. Nevertheless, I doubt if I would have the courage to continue walking even if the situation had remained the same. The ostracism I experienced had taken a significant psychological toll on me. Also, I would be applying to college soon, and I needed the recommendation letters.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The dilemma of walking during the religious prayer was never truly resolved. It opens up more questions regarding tolerance, freedom, and my ethnicity. Would the outcome have been different if there weren’t a language barrier between Mr Fauzi and me? When I thought about the real people I had hurt by my actions, I asked myself, “Is it worth it? Have I done anything wrong?” I couldn’t answer my own questions. This experience has forced me to re-examine the racial and religious identities of Malaysians and brought my understanding of the complexities of racial relations to a new level. &lt;b&gt;(bullshit) &lt;/b&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Malaysia&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; prides itself on being a harmonious&lt;b&gt;, &lt;/b&gt;multicultural society. Strangely, it was through this conflict that I identified more strongly as a Malaysian.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;-----------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;s&gt;Islam sucks.&lt;/s&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-2241077234902195698?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/2241077234902195698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=2241077234902195698' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/2241077234902195698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/2241077234902195698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/10/university-application-essay.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;University Application Essay&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-8912045106347639770</id><published>2011-10-11T22:47:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-11T22:50:47.666+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Your Islam Sucks</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Quoted from &lt;a href="http://www.hmetro.com.my/articles/2011101100565220111011005652/Article"&gt;Harian Metro&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;"Tiada Hak Bagi LGBT"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KUALA LUMPUR: “Budaya di negara ini sama sekali tidak menerima hak LBGT (lesbian, biseksual, gay dan transeksual), apatah lagi Islam kerana perbuatan itu amat bertentangan dengan agama,” kata Menteri di Jabatan Perdana Menteri, Datuk Seri Jamil Khir Baharom, semalam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beliau berkata, hak yang diperjuangkan mereka tidak akan diiktiraf kerana negara masih berpaksikan ajaran Islam dan kegiatan itu amat bertentangan dengan syarak termasuk bercanggah dengan budaya negara ini.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Katanya, perkahwinan sesama jenis jelas berlawanan dengan sifat hakiki manusia dan gejala ini belum berlaku di negara, namun kerajaan tetap tegas berhubung isu berkenaan dan berharap semua pihak menghormati agama Islam sebagai agama rasmi negara.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Memang diakui, hak LBGT sudah mula diterima di negara barat yang berpendapat itu hak mereka. Namun, kita tidak seharusnya mengikut mereka kerana negara ini mengamalkan prinsip Islam, ia sama sekali tidak boleh diterima.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sedangkan pertukaran jantina pun tidak dibenarkan menerusi pendekatan undang-undang, apatah lagi menerima dan mengiktiraf hak perkahwinan sejenis yang jelas berlawanan dengan agama mahupun moral,” katanya pada pemberita selepas merasmikan Seminar Pemahaman Kedudukan Islam di Institut Kefahaman Islam Malaysia (Ikim).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mengulas mengenai seminar berkenaan, Jamil berkata, tujuan seminar itu diadakan bagi memberi penerangan lebih khusus berhubung kedudukan Islam dan makna Islam dalam perlembagaan negara.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Penerangan itu amat penting bagi memberi kefahaman kepada masyarakat bahawa Islam digunakan sebagai cara hidup dan tanggapan Islam hanya digunakan dalam majlis rasmi adalah salah. Tanggapan itu perlu diperbetulkan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Saya berharap seminar ini dapat membentuk satu kefahaman yang konkrit berhubung Islam dan melihat maksud agama Islam dalam gambaran yang menyeluruh, sekali gus selaras dengan perlembagaan negara,” katanya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-8912045106347639770?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/8912045106347639770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=8912045106347639770' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8912045106347639770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8912045106347639770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/10/your-islam-sucks.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Your Islam Sucks&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-8800296994764104254</id><published>2011-10-10T06:33:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-10T07:01:44.014+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Conversations</title><content type='html'>Setting: Dining Hall. Lunch Hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------&lt;br /&gt;Bulgarian: So what do you think about the Economics mid-term?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Malaysian: ermmm...I think it was quite easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bulgarian: Ya~! No wonder everybody studies Economics in Bulgaria.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Malaysian: ???????Sorry I don't understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bulgarian: Oh. I mean in Bulgaria, usually people who don't know what they want to do with their lives, they study Economics. And law. We don't have many people doing the sciences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Malaysian: Oh I see. Hmm....I think in Malaysia we tend to go for the sciences. (I stand corrected on this.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bulgarian: Yeah...you're like Asian countries. You're good at science and math.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Malaysian: No! You know, in a lot of Asian countries, the school place a lot of emphasis on the exams. So the students tend to do better in exams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bulgarian: Yeah! I just talked to (the &lt;s&gt;kiasu&lt;/s&gt; Singaporean). He spoke like if you didn't get a perfect score in SAT it's like you fail! And my score was like....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Malaysian: Ahahaha. Then you must be exceptional in other areas.(omg I sound so fake) Though rumour has it that they expect higher score from Asian students. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bulgarian: What? Because you Asians are smarter?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Malaysian: No! It's because we're so good at tackling the test questions! We're more used to taking exams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bulgarian: Like isn't that good! If you can answer the questions you have the knowledge!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Malaysian: It's not like that!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bulgarian: It's better to solve problems (science) than memorizing those commentaries on literature and philosophy and write them down in exam and forget the next day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Malaysian: zzz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-8800296994764104254?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/8800296994764104254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=8800296994764104254' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8800296994764104254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8800296994764104254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/10/conversations.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Conversations&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-5517003748560843250</id><published>2011-10-09T09:09:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-09T09:40:09.614+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Islam Sucks Sucks Sucks Sucks</title><content type='html'>Serbian guy: So, you want to go back to Malaysia after you graduate?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: (like why not?) Yeah. I don't know. I just want to be happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Serbian: Yeah of course. (==)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: It doesn't really matter where I stay. You know Ali? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Serbian: What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: In Pakistan homosexuality is punishable by life imprisonment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Serbian: Yeah, I heard his story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: We have it better in Malaysia. It's just 20 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Serbian: (change topic)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Even till this day, I'm still unhappy that Chuah Soy Lek wasn't prosecuted for his "carnal intercourse" that was caught on video tape. I know the law is archaic, but law is law. If you don't think the law should be enforce, you repeal it, which Chuah Soy Leik as both a member of Parliament and Health minister had the resource to. But he did not. So we should judge him by the standards of the very laws which our parliament has found no need to amend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;377A. Carnal intercourse against the order of nature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any person who has sexual connection with another person by the introduction of the penis into the anus or &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;mouth&lt;/span&gt; of the other person is said to commit carnal intercourse against the order of nature. Explanation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Penetration is sufficient to constitute the sexual connection necessary to the offence described in this section.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;377B. Punishment for committing carnal intercourse against the order of nature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whoever voluntarily commits carnal intercourse against the order of nature shall be punished with imprisonment for a term which may extend to twenty years, and shall also be liable to whipping.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-5517003748560843250?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/5517003748560843250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=5517003748560843250' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/5517003748560843250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/5517003748560843250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/10/islam-sucks.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Islam Sucks Sucks Sucks Sucks&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-4438658069639985579</id><published>2011-10-07T11:05:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-07T11:06:40.633+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Islam and Our Future</title><content type='html'>http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=147972871887834&amp;set=a.142153495803105.22862.116341248384330&amp;type=1&amp;theater&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-4438658069639985579?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/4438658069639985579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=4438658069639985579' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4438658069639985579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4438658069639985579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/10/islam-and-our-future.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Islam and Our Future&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-3346364538942121147</id><published>2011-10-02T08:48:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-02T08:50:25.634+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Somebody's facebook status</title><content type='html'>Proof of how divisive religion can be:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;firman Allah:Wahai orang-orang yang beriman! Janganlah kamu mengambil orang-orang yang menjadikan ugama kamu sebagai ejek-ejekan dan permainan – dari orang-orang yang telah diberikan Kitab sebelum kamu, dan orang-orang kafir musyrik itu: menjadi penolong-penolong; dan bertaqwalah kepada Allah, jika kamu benar-benar orang yang beriman.Dan apabila kamu menyeru (azan) untuk mengerjakan sembahyang, mereka menjadikan sembahyang itu sebagai ejek-ejekan dan permainan. Yang demikian itu ialah kerana mereka suatu kaum yang tidak berakal."-Al maidah:57-58&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*roll eyes*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can somebody be so clever yet religious is beyond me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-3346364538942121147?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/3346364538942121147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=3346364538942121147' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/3346364538942121147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/3346364538942121147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/10/somebodys-facebook-status.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Somebody&apos;s facebook status&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-2857627948403044271</id><published>2011-10-01T15:26:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-01T15:26:51.009+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sex Etiquettes</title><content type='html'>Is it acceptable to let your partner hear you pee in the bathroom before you have sex?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-2857627948403044271?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/2857627948403044271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=2857627948403044271' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/2857627948403044271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/2857627948403044271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/10/sex-etiquettes.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Sex Etiquettes&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-5212300828033822782</id><published>2011-09-30T15:47:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-09-30T16:33:31.274+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Macam Macam</title><content type='html'>I generally feel uncomfortable talking about people. I can't stand the cynical undertone which usually perfuse the entire conversation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there's this Singaporean friend. Nice person. Easy to communicate since, you know, he's Singaporean I'm Malaysian. Totally understand my lah's and ma's. (But you know la, each person is different, and sometimes their difference just happens to irk me. Please don't judge him by this post ok.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we share this mutual friend (Steven), or rather acquaintance, whom I personally find comfortable to be with, though socially awkward at times. That said, I'm not a social butterfly in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So whenever I brought up this topic about this mutual friend (international student), the Singaporean will comment on how weird he is. And I'd be like, "no...he's such a nice person". I mean, c'mon, is it really weird to follow a friend back to his dorm after having dinner together while engaging in a conversation?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Singaporean: But is it normal....to follow people back to their dorm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I would have done the same if I were in that situation. I mean, like now, we're talking, so it's natural to just follow you la, even if my room is at another side of the campus. (i'm stuyding at a small college. Every place is within 10-minute walking distance.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Singaporean：(ok whatever)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dropped the topic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Another American "weird guy" -- Collin &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Singaporean: I know he's very smart, but he's weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: (enthusiastically) But he's so smart!!! (I　took the same math class with Collin)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another Malaysian girl: And he sang everything in the class. Like everything!(course: Music in TV)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: But I like his voice. (heard him singing theme song of Pokemon before, lol)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Singaporean: He shouldn't be here. A person smart like him should be in MIT. The reason he wasn't accepted was because he didn't do his homework and so his grades suffered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: (suddenly tulan the Singaporean) Why MIT?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Singaporean: Because he applied there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yeah. He also applied to Yale and so many other schools. Why should he be in MIT?! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Singaporean: Ok fine. MIT or Yale or anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: (resist the urge to roll eyes.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That said, MIT does have a healthy reputation of being nerdy. But nerd is great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------&lt;br /&gt;And yesterday, Steven, Collin and I just walked around the campus while sembang-ing! It all started with Steven asking Collin, "so...what do you want to do? Do you want to come to my dorm?" LOL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't know what the Singaporean would think if he knew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Conclusion: I worship smart people. == It just became clear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still remember the observation made by my cousin-in-law:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cousin-in-law: 我发现DeluSion他很渴望从人家身上吸取知识。一旦你告诉他一些他不知道的东西，他就会一直缠住你，你就可以掌握他的注意力，然后......控制住他！！！&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cousin-in-law's wife, i.e. Cousin: ==&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-5212300828033822782?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/5212300828033822782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=5212300828033822782' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/5212300828033822782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/5212300828033822782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/09/macam-macam.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Macam Macam&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-6988464141831016755</id><published>2011-09-26T09:57:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-09-26T11:13:09.141+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Trauma</title><content type='html'>I was reading a book on the emotional trauma went through by western/American gay men. One of those are betrayal by their first lovers (cheating etc), which the author pointed out may have a long-term effect on the psychology of gay men bla bla.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I'm going to write on has nothing to do with sexuality though. The diagnostic criteria for "trauma", as written in the book were as follows:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Reliving the trauma: This can happen through nightmares, flashbacks, or reexperiencing as a result of being in the presence of stimuli reminiscent of the traumatic event.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Efforts to avoid thoughts or feelings that are associated with trauma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Efforts to avoid activities or situations that arouse memories of the trauma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Inability to remember some important aspect of the trauma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Marked reduced interest in important activities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Hypervigilance (heightened sensitivity to possible traumatic stimuli).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I read those, I immediately recalled this particular &lt;a href="http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2010/09/stpm-trial.html"&gt;encounter&lt;/a&gt; with my form-6 math teacher. Sure enough, I dreamed about the teacher again, and he was yelling at me (and me yelling back) in the dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been more than one year, but every time I recall this incident, I still feel the angst and sorrow for having it to happen. The reason this conflict with the teacher had such a traumatic effect on me was because, of all the form-6 teachers, I was the least defensive to him (对他最没有戒心）。He was the type of teacher who came in class, taught, and left. He knew the subject he taught, and there were not much gossip or idle "sembang-ing" from him in class. Before the incident, if I had been asked who were the teacher I respected the most, I would probably say him. At that time, for some reasons, some teachers didn't really like me and passed bad comments about me, so I really appreciated a teacher who could just keep the teacher-student relation simple and professional.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But in the end, I was verbally abused by the same teacher for like 10 minutes. No, I let him verbally abuse me by choosing to remain in the room despite the crazy insults and accusations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even till this day, despite recognizing the knowledge he imparted (which I would have acquired myself if he had not), there was still so much angst for him, so much that I want him to die, to disappear. If I know he dies I will feel relieved from the implosions of shame inside me. Only if he dies I would forgive myself for my naivety.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="450" height="259" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/lrSCkZsDORA?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-6988464141831016755?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/6988464141831016755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=6988464141831016755' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6988464141831016755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6988464141831016755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/09/trauma.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Trauma&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/lrSCkZsDORA/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-8913467617612200153</id><published>2011-09-23T05:26:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-09-23T05:33:30.562+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Not My Intention</title><content type='html'>8:59 a.m. - Woke up. Shit, Physics on 9 a.m. So sleepy...can I skip class? Ok I'll skip, I wouldn't learn anything even if I went since I was so tired and sleepy. Ok, I'll go to the Organic Class on 11 a.m. Set my alarm to 10 a.m.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10:30 a.m. -- Still felt very sleepy. Ok, ok, I just need to get more sleep. Today's lecture material already covered in STPM. No need go. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;12:50 p.m. -- Are you sure you don't want to go to the Econ class on 1:00 p.m.?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3:30 p.m. -- Shit. Brushed my teeth and went to Econ professor's office to hand in assignment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;First time skipping classes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-----------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm pulling an all-nighter again to do my lab reports.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lalala.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-8913467617612200153?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/8913467617612200153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=8913467617612200153' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8913467617612200153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8913467617612200153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/09/not-my-intention.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Not My Intention&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-3849611136264643865</id><published>2011-09-13T14:01:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-09-13T14:08:20.284+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Update</title><content type='html'>I really shouldn't be blogging.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's 2 in the morning and I still have 2 chapters of Organic lab techniques to read. One weekend's procrastination has casted the ensuing week into a total upheaval. I'm lagging behind in all subjects, perhaps except Economics. But that's because I haven't started doing the homework yet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, this semester, I'm taking the following courses:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Modern Physics&lt;/b&gt; (Vibrations, Wave Mechanics, Introduction to Relativistic Mechanics) -- killer subject&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Linear Algebra&lt;/b&gt; (with emphasis on proofs)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This one is rather interesting, but quite scary as I'm slow at understanding proofs. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Math Prof: Alright. We're going to define what is a plane in an n-dimensional space.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Organic Chemistry&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Introduction to Economics&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The schedule should be manageable, until you throw in the labs! I hate labs!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-3849611136264643865?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/3849611136264643865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=3849611136264643865' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/3849611136264643865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/3849611136264643865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/09/update.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Update&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-8978858319037236015</id><published>2011-09-10T12:55:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-09-10T12:56:20.713+08:00</updated><title type='text'>O!M!G! I Love this!</title><content type='html'>http://youtu.be/G51k-Kq61C8&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do you think these women really did a lot of homework to be so pro???!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-8978858319037236015?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/8978858319037236015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=8978858319037236015' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8978858319037236015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8978858319037236015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/09/omg-i-love-this.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;O!M!G! I Love this!&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-4988685068567158787</id><published>2011-09-01T10:03:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2011-09-01T10:54:24.713+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun Home</title><content type='html'>It's a book by Alison Bechdel, some sort of graphical memoir of her distant father, whom she found out to be gay/bisexual after she came out to her family as a lesbian.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was supposed to have read this book during the summer, which I did, and had a discussion among us freshmen and the author. I said it was an emotionally moving book to me. And that was mainly because her father was gay, and had hid that from his family, his wife etc. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I didn't really understand some parts of the book, because of the deep vocabulary and extensive reference to some western canon literature (e.g. Odyssey, however you spell it ==) which I had not read before. Homosexuality shouldn't be the focus of the memoir, but rather the relationship between the author and her father, as I understood from our discussion. Yet the part that moved me the most is the fact that the author's father was gay. I just felt so sorry and sad that he (presumably) was forced to hide, not able to share this delicate but significant part of his life, his being. To be honest, this was not explicitly mentioned in the book, but I sort of "imposed" my own personal (and short) journey onto the plot of the book, and I cried whenever the book was dealing with either the author's or the father's sexuality, even though I failed to have a full grasp of the book.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That said, I don't understand why we had to "dissect" the book by overarching analysis. For example&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Professor: Ok, let's talk about the word choice of the title. Fun Home. What are the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;b&gt;conn&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;otations&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt; of "fun" or "home", anybody want to share their thoughts?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Student1: The author's home is not a fun place to be, it's actually dark.....creates a sense of &lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;surrealism&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;.....connotation.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Student2: bla bla bla....which is what contributed the most to the &lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;emotionality&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; of the book.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Student3: bla bla bla....which is akin to the works of (some famous author I never heard of) ...... through the &lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;portrayal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; of.......&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;transition&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That said....I recognize the benefits of being able to analyze and criticize a literature or an artwork and the impression one gains from the work. I suppose it helps us to clarify our thoughts and opinion or sentiments rather than simply allow ourselves to be flooded by emotions, which is a rather lazy thing I often allow myself to indulge in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-4988685068567158787?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/4988685068567158787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=4988685068567158787' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4988685068567158787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4988685068567158787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/09/fun-home.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Fun Home&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-4765652705925479087</id><published>2011-08-31T05:05:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-31T05:23:53.799+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Funny things I Heard and Learnt</title><content type='html'>I heard,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"and look at his body! Everytime he shows up, it's like all the evil in the world just vanquish!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I learnt,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;how to say "Bitch, make me a sandwich" in American sign language.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;==&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;---------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh, not to mention:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wednesday, August 31:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8:30am - 9:30 am&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;LGBTQA Breakfast&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"xyz queer and allied group, would like to welcome all incoming students to a breakfast with other students, faculty and staff that are members and supporters of the LGBTQA community."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So going.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-4765652705925479087?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/4765652705925479087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=4765652705925479087' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4765652705925479087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4765652705925479087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/08/funny-things-i-heard-and-learnt.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Funny things I Heard and Learnt&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-5590238654881965481</id><published>2011-08-29T11:28:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-29T11:37:19.911+08:00</updated><title type='text'>1st post from USA</title><content type='html'>I met someone from Georgia who look like you. It was crazy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-5590238654881965481?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/5590238654881965481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=5590238654881965481' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/5590238654881965481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/5590238654881965481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/08/1st-post-from-usa.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;1st post from USA&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-8436198535094190255</id><published>2011-08-25T02:30:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-25T02:32:54.731+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Departure</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="400" height="330" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/f4hsC0nRvZM?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-8436198535094190255?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/8436198535094190255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=8436198535094190255' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8436198535094190255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8436198535094190255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/08/departure.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Departure&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/f4hsC0nRvZM/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-9148548861136702123</id><published>2011-08-22T13:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-22T13:58:54.114+08:00</updated><title type='text'>College Admissions Essay</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;Describe your intellectual interests, their evolution, and what makes them exciting to you. Tell us how you will utilize the academic programs in the College of Arts and Sciences to further explore your interests, intended major, or field of study. (500 words) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;-----------------------------------------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Biology and Me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I had hardly enjoyed attending Biology classes for the first half of my high school years. There were always names to memorize, processes to detail, and worst of all, most of the so-claimed facts could not be verified in a high-school lab. My focus was with the physical sciences then, as I felt the need to understand the fundamental laws of nature first before I examine a considerably more complex biological system. With that sentiment at heart, I dropped Biology after SPM and proceeded with Physics, Chemistry, Mathematics, and Further Mathematics in A-levels.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;In the midst of endless calculations, I became aware of a missing element in my intellectual pursuit – the connection between my knowledge and my life. Without connection to my life, all the knowledge for which I was studying became meaningless. Almost everyday, I came across health news titles like “Chocolate Protects Against High Blood Pressure”, but I had no idea how much truth there was in that claim. It was in that exam-oriented environment that I realized I was not a cold, rational robot interested only in the circular motion of satellites, but a person who wanted to know the world and himself better. Biology, by painting a clearer picture of the obscure relationship between my human experience and the objective physical world, gives meaning to my life.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I took a U-turn in my academic career by quitting the A-level program and picking up Biology again in STPM. That proved to be a right decision. Studying Biology at an advanced level, I have been able to consolidate the biological knowledge gained over the years and synthesize new understandings from that foundation. A major in Biological Sciences would allow me to delve deeper into the subject and expand my perspective of life, in the biological sense and also in the general sense. With programs of study ranging from Biochemistry to Systematics and Biotic Diversity, any new area of interest I discover will be catered for at the &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;College&lt;/st1:placetype&gt; of &lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Arts&lt;/st1:placename&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; and Sciences.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Perhaps my enthusiasm in learning Biology is not entirely scientifically motivated. The heated debate on GM food, cloning, and embryonic stem cell research show that advances in Biology, notably in genetic technology, often have significant ethical impacts on society. Also, as most discoveries of modern Biology can be attributed to the western world, I personally feel that my Biology education would not be complete without a cultural and historical analysis of the discipline. As such, I would want to complement my Biological education with courses from the social sciences domain, or even major in Biology and Society.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Lastly, as a gay individual, I am aware of the power of social discourse in shaping the destinies of sexual minorities, thus I hope a solid background in Biology, perhaps coupled with a minor in LGBT(*1) Studies would empower me both socially and psychologically to see myself for who I am beyond the labels, and also remind me to exercise caution in using my power derived from knowledge.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;---------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;*1 LGBT means Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgendered.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was admitted by the school...but financial aid rejected. CB.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-9148548861136702123?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/9148548861136702123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=9148548861136702123' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/9148548861136702123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/9148548861136702123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/05/college-admissions-essay.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;College Admissions Essay&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-8808008865527219459</id><published>2011-08-13T22:24:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-13T22:26:58.476+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Letters, to the tune of 《笑忘书》</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe width="400" height="330" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/oB5oNo8_qf4?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Go to video site for lyrics.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-8808008865527219459?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/8808008865527219459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=8808008865527219459' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8808008865527219459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8808008865527219459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/08/love-letters-to-tune-of.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Love Letters, to the tune of 《笑忘书》&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/oB5oNo8_qf4/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-1296246764452551896</id><published>2011-08-13T22:09:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-13T22:12:14.552+08:00</updated><title type='text'>On the Stage</title><content type='html'>It was grandfather's birthday a few days ago. We had a family dinner at a restaurant.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Because everybody was like "ohh...DeluSion, I never hear you sing before lo" , so I sang Eyes on Me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After that they were like "ohh...DeluSion, I don't know you can sing lo".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-1296246764452551896?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/1296246764452551896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=1296246764452551896' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/1296246764452551896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/1296246764452551896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/08/on-stage.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;On the Stage&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-6810239898937919085</id><published>2011-08-13T03:54:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-13T04:06:41.772+08:00</updated><title type='text'>American Conversation</title><content type='html'>Calling to a US government department office. (a bit difficult to reproduce the speech patterns of the Americans)&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;American1: Hello this is Michael, how can I help you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;DeluSion: erm....I'm a caller from Malaysia, I just submitted my....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;American1: ooo...Malaysia...from Kuala Lumpur? Wait. What time is it in Malaysia?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;DeluSion: erm....three.....half past three.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;American1: In the afternoon, or is it in the morning? （这个真的是废话的, 他那边都afternoon着。）&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;DeluSion: In the morning. (continue talking about my problem.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(somewhere in the middle)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;American1: Your English is very goooooodd.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;DeluSion: (ter-flattered) Oh, thank you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That doesn't come very often you know, lol. Good customer service.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-6810239898937919085?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/6810239898937919085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=6810239898937919085' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6810239898937919085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6810239898937919085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/08/american-conversation.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;American Conversation&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-1084150932123689068</id><published>2011-08-07T16:34:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-07T16:55:22.916+08:00</updated><title type='text'>2010年父亲节</title><content type='html'>前言：顾及个人与家庭隐私，本文父亲匿名“顺吉”。（跟真名差很远,haha.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;u&gt;爸爸 我可以叫你顺吉吗？&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;几年前开始，当我认真仔细的看着你或想起你时 ---- 不单只是想起“爸爸”这个词，而是当你这个人的画面出现在我脑海时，我会有一种错愕 ---- 那是一种对你，这个人之存在的清醒意识。我会讶异 ---- 这个人，这样的脸孔，这一副身形，是我爸爸。“爸爸”这个词所指的是，这个人。这样莫名其妙的感觉几年来间断地出现 ---- 似乎我，有将你 ---- 我称为“爸爸” ---- 与一个有机体做连结的障碍。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;或许我儿童时期从来没把你当成人 ---- 你是爸爸，“爸爸”就是你的身份，你就是你的身份。你载我上学回家，你修理水喉，你上屋顶，拿锄头，砍树，修剪篱笆草；你给我零用钱，你放假带我去旅行，你年尾大扫除布置家。我是通过你的功能认识你的。有什么麻烦，一声“爸爸”，你都能替我解决。上了中学，我们搬家，你也不再教书。你载我去等巴士，从巴士站载我回家，载我去补习，从city plaza载我回家，买晚餐，周末买早餐，换账单，给我补习费，给我零用钱，给我买书钱，换旧灯泡，修理马桶，载我去槟城绑牙，处理新屋的事。这是大部分时间的你。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;我现在想，长期以来我是否工具化了你。你知道，我对这样的状态开始感到不安。你是“爸爸” ---- 你在我上学补习，买晚餐，修剪屋外的椰树枯枝......等等等等。但不知什么时候开始你已经开始变成人，我逐渐意识到你的“人性”，而这也造成我早期的困惑。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;我爸爸是个人。我对我爸爸的感情，是对人的感情。我记得2008年的父亲节，我对你说：“爸爸。我爱你。”那是一句非常没有功能性的“爸爸”。我觉得我叫你顺吉可以让你 ---- 我认知中的你 ---- 摆脱“爸爸”缠人的功能性。就情感交流而言，他或许更能让我意识到你的人性 ---- 你不只是“爸爸”，你是一个有历史，有个人经验，的人。你不只是一个在30多岁时进入我认知的人，你还有，很多很多的层面。那是我以前不了解的。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;写到这里，我又觉得顺吉或爸爸，可能都只是称呼。或许当我“长大”，“爸爸”的功能性也慢慢减少，你也越来越有了“人性”。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;感谢你这么多年为我的付出，爸爸。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;25/06/2010&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;01：50 a.m.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;后记：感谢也只是讲罢了啦。没有行动。也不敢给我爸爸看到这封信, lol.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-1084150932123689068?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/1084150932123689068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=1084150932123689068' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/1084150932123689068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/1084150932123689068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/08/2010.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;2010年父亲节&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-4599079160777339739</id><published>2011-08-05T12:06:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-05T12:07:44.578+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Beans</title><content type='html'>Cook bean burn bean pod&lt;br /&gt;Bean cry in the pot&lt;br /&gt;"Both of us same stalk&lt;br /&gt;Grill me why so syok."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-4599079160777339739?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/4599079160777339739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=4599079160777339739' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4599079160777339739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4599079160777339739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/08/beans.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Beans&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-191617180787050832</id><published>2011-08-03T16:07:00.015+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-03T18:26:42.191+08:00</updated><title type='text'>An Account of Masturbation Habits and Self Discovery</title><content type='html'>It is a truth universally acknowledged that 95% of men have masturbated in their life. The other 5% lied.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I discovered the joy of masturbation at quite young an age. A lot of &lt;s&gt;literature&lt;/s&gt; books on sex education I had read spent a few lines talking about the emotional guilt arising from masturbation, male or female. Funny, but I never felt guilty until I read those chapters. (What? So I'm SUPPOSED to feel guilty for doing this?????)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I never quite fathomed the supposed "guilt", although I did feel anxious when I realized I had been fantasizing about guys rather than girls. So to sum it up guilt rarely influenced the masturbation frequency in my early teen years. That was until I read an online article discussing the health hazards of "excessive masturbation". At that time the article was convincing enough that I decided to reduce my masturbation frequency. To make sure I achieved that goal, I made a masturbation log book for myself, in which I recorded the times I masturbate on each day. Apart from masturbation frequency, I also recorded the time I woke up and went to bed everyday. Because of the sensitivity of the information contained therein, I devised a lot of codes for my record purpose. For example, the second and third days of my masturbation log book read something like this:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;Wed. 23/11/05&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wake up - 0850&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On Bed - 0015&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;'T' of MsB - 1  1/2   [Times of Masturbation] &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ej - 1 [Ej - Ejaculation]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;R - No MsB for next week. [R - remarks]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;Thu 24/11/05&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wake up - 1030 (sore troat)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On Bed - 0046&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;'T' of MsB - 0&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ej - 0&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At some point, feeling anxious about my attraction for the same sex, I decided to record the thoughts I had for either sexes while I was masturbating or when I climaxed. Such notes first appeared on the 3rd week of my record.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;Mon. 12/12/2005&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wake up - 1035&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On Bed - 0040&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;MsB - 1&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ej - 1&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;R - (tragically torn between double-H) - need some mind exercises.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;[Translation for readers: "&lt;b&gt;double-H&lt;/b&gt;" means "heterosexual" and "homosexual". So what I meant was that I was very very torn whether I was heterosexual or homosexual on that day. "Need some mind exercises" means try to think about females instead of males to arouse myself.]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The entries became more detailed as time passed. For instance, at the first month anniversary of my log book, I wrote in the "remarks" column:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;"struggling between Double-H (Aroused seeing G pictures)."&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;[Translation: G means "gay"]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As time passed, the log book served the purpose of monitoring my "sexual preferences"  more than the original purpose of recording my masturbation habits. On some occasions in that period, I found myself masturbating just to confirm whether I feel homosexual or heterosexual on that particular day. I even quantified my homosexual tendency relative to my heterosexual tendency (e.g. Homosexual 60: Heterosexual 40) Perhaps I believed if I had begun to "feel" heterosexual on enough days, I would finally leave my "homosexual phase" behind and become "normal" like my peers. Of course, such phase transition never occurred. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The logbook ended on Friday, 24/02/2006. I stopped halfway while I was updating the entry for that day. If I remembered correctly, I was horrified by the amount of days I had "homosexual thoughts". The only conclusion for that was&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;The State of Mind of a Gay Teen&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sun. 01/01 - &lt;b&gt;struggling&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mon. 02/01 - confused&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tue. 03/01 - confused&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wed. 04/01 - no reaction when talking abt Hets [translation: no reaction when talking about girls. School started. Guy friends probably talking about sex and women at school.]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thu. 05/01 - &lt;b&gt;greatly confused&lt;/b&gt;; torn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fri. 06/01 - same&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sat. 07/01 - Same&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sun. 08/01 - Same&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mon. 09/01 - torn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tue. 10/01 - torn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wed. 11/01 - &lt;b&gt;torn, aroused seeing cute guys in movie&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thu. 12/01 - torn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fri. 13/01 - torn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sat. 14/01 - &lt;b&gt;severely&lt;/b&gt; torn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sun. 15/01 - severely torn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mon. 16/01 - severely torn [note: probably just learnt the word "severe"]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tue. 17/01 - &lt;b&gt;severely torn&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wed. 18/01 - heart speeds up when XYZ near.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thu. 19/01 - same&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fri. 20/01 - heart speeds up seeing XYZ movie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sat. 21/01 - heart speeds up (H and also H) [Translation: heart speeds up in both homoerotic and hetero-erotic situations]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sun. 22/01 - torn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mon. 23/01 - TORN&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tue. 24/01 - &lt;b&gt;TORN&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wed. 25/01 - heart speeds up seeing ABC movie&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thu. 26/01 - &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fri. 27/01 - Homosexual 70: Heterosexual 30&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sat. 28/01 - Homosexual 60: Heterosexual 40&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sun. 29/01 - torn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mon. 30/01 - torn slightly&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tue. 31/01 - torn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wed. 01/02 - H [homosexual]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thu. 02/02 - H&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fri. 03/02 - &lt;b&gt;TORN&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sat. 04/02 - Torn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sun. 05/02 - torn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mon. 06/02 - torn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tue. 07/02 - undecided&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wed. 08/02 - &lt;b&gt;undecided&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thu. 09/02 - 40:60&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fri. 10/02 - Torn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sat. 11/02 - H&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sun. 12/02 - Torn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mon. 13/02 - Torn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tue. 14/02 - &lt;b&gt;Torn&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wed. 15/02 - torn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thu. 16/02 - less torn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fri. 17/02 - less torn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sat. 18/02 - attracted to M [i.e. male or men]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sun. 19/02 - Torn (same as above)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mon. 20/02 - &lt;b&gt;torn immensely&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tue. 21/02 - H&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wed. 22/02 - H (ere seeing M)  [Translation: had erection seeing nude male pics]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thu. 23/02 - H&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fri. 24/02 - [note: last day of entry]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I rediscovered my log book a year later in 2007 under a deep pile of rubbish I kept in my drawer. As I reread the entries, it dawned on me that I must no longer subject myself to this pointless pain and struggle and begin working on accepting myself. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Weeks later in the bathroom, for the first time I looked myself in the mirror and went: "You...are...gay. omg... lol."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Alone in a car: "I....AM...GAY!!!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Towards the end of the year, I began coming out to my close friends, and continued to do so in my form 5 year. The coming-out would not have been possible without the empowerment from the book by 欧阳文风《同根生》. Because I knew so few LGBT people, I thought everybody's experience was similar to mine, and if I told my stories to the people around me, perhaps, just perhaps they would understand. And with enough understanding the future gay teens or even children would not have to face the same fear. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once I communicated the discrimination and prejudice I thought gay people face with a heterosexual peer. He was very accepting of me (I think), but his response to my complaint of prejudice was: "Sorry. But how did society discriminate against you gay people?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was flabbergasted by that question. (Like isn't it so obvious that we've been discriminated against all along?) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This whole long post attempts to answer that question. It is wrong for society to instill prejudice in children against a group of people, because like it or not a significant portion of children will grow to discover they are "those kind of people" whom they have been taught to fear, to mock and to ignore. Don't let gay teens and children fear, mock, and ignore themselves.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="400" height="330" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8Af372EQLck?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-191617180787050832?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/191617180787050832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=191617180787050832' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/191617180787050832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/191617180787050832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/08/account-of-masturbation-habits-and-self.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;An Account of Masturbation Habits and Self Discovery&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/8Af372EQLck/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-8047322028729315862</id><published>2011-08-02T07:49:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T08:09:13.456+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Night Travel</title><content type='html'>Last midnight, I returned home only to discover that I had been locked outside. Since I was lazy to call my family to open the door, I decided to spend the night driving around. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I didn't really know where I wanted to go, so I ended up in Sungai Petani. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sungai Petani's town centre at night is really beautiful. For some reasons it reminded me of the night scene near Pudu Raya, KL. I especially like the building of a certain bank, whose name I have forgotten &amp;gt;.&amp;lt; (shit~!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also went to my old house in Simpang Empat before I drove to Sungai Petani. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I went to 7-11 in Kota Sarang Semut to buy tissue papers....because my stomach felt a bit "weird" while I was driving. Very happy I didn't need to use them in the end.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I regret not taking the chance to pee outdoors, since it was night time. I thought about peeing in front of the longkang of my current home, in front of police station, pee at the traffic light, or just roadside. But in the end I went to a petrol station instead.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="400" height="257" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/kn6-c223DUU?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-8047322028729315862?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/8047322028729315862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=8047322028729315862' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8047322028729315862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8047322028729315862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/08/night-travel.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Night Travel&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/kn6-c223DUU/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-7638889556283573791</id><published>2011-07-29T02:38:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-29T02:53:15.558+08:00</updated><title type='text'>For the Record: Torn Page of Notebook</title><content type='html'>I'm cleaning up my room, throwing away the exercise books and papers I no longer need. Unsurprisingly instead of getting rid of them I end up keeping a lot of my old notes and essays.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm keeping this page from my a memo notebook as well. It dates back to 09 July 2009, when I just quit A-Levels and returned to my SPM secondary school for Form 6.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;09 July 2009 &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Apologize with Bio Teacher. (tick)  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Ask L H H about the form, need to "sahkan" or not. (tick)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Ask Ch'ng about taking 5 subjects. Plausibility of taking practical assessment or opting for paper 4. Format of paper 4. Jior 鸟（old classmate name).  (tick)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Go library. Study Latin prefixes &amp;amp; suffixes.  (no tick)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. MUET essay (tick)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;16 July 2009&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. MUET Essay&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Study Biology. Copy Biology Notes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Catch Up with the class - Chemistry (tick)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Pre-Reading: Partial Fractions&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Why is the sky red before sunset? (DeluSion's note: Sim 教Chemistry时讨论的。）&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;b&gt;04 August 2009&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Biology experiments. (Fern!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Study Physics.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Clear Maths Chapter 3.  (DeluSion's note: 这里埋下一年后和数学老师冲突的伏笔。）&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm making myself a Form 6 life archive! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm still unsure whether my Form 6 experience is what makes me or breaks me, though I definitely dread the thought that I did so little in past 2 years that no experience whatsoever had been precipitated.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-7638889556283573791?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/7638889556283573791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=7638889556283573791' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/7638889556283573791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/7638889556283573791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/07/for-record-torn-page-of-notebook.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;For the Record: Torn Page of Notebook&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-6539938645688406315</id><published>2011-07-28T19:12:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-28T23:52:51.495+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Immunization Requirements: Chicken Pox</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I'm trying to satisfy my university's immunization requirements for the past few weeks. The reason the process has to drag for a few weeks was none other than my procrastination.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some of the vaccines necessitated by the university are:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. MMR (Measle, Mumps, Rubella) *Mumps is probably "猪头皮"。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Tetanus, Diphtheria, accelular Pertussis (Tdap vaccine)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Hepatitis B&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Varicella (i.e. chicken pox)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Meningococcal &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had MMR and DTP (number 2) vaccines 3 days ago, and took a blood test this morning which will hopefully show that I am immune to chicken pox, since I caught the disease when I was 5. The blood test (antibody titre) would not have been necessary if I knew which clinic my parents had brought me to for chicken pox!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now that I think about it, I felt so stupid for testing for chicken pox antibodies, because the test costs me RM80, while the vaccine is probably cheaper. So I could have just taken the vaccine instead. ==&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And the reason I kapsiao want to do a blood test was because 科技发展日新月异, I was under the impression that only 1 DROP of my blood was needed to run the test. But apparently they needed 10ml, which is about a third of the volume of a rolled-out normal Durex condom?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dviTGxbF7wk/TjFOQj4q-GI/AAAAAAAAAQc/U027hCgK6mw/s1600/Najib%2B1Malaysia11.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 310px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dviTGxbF7wk/TjFOQj4q-GI/AAAAAAAAAQc/U027hCgK6mw/s320/Najib%2B1Malaysia11.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634370655235012706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;*1 drop niah!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-6539938645688406315?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/6539938645688406315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=6539938645688406315' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6539938645688406315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6539938645688406315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/07/immunization-requirements-chicken-pox.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Immunization Requirements: Chicken Pox&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dviTGxbF7wk/TjFOQj4q-GI/AAAAAAAAAQc/U027hCgK6mw/s72-c/Najib%2B1Malaysia11.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-5658690249873697260</id><published>2011-07-27T08:08:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-27T08:22:57.679+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Surviving the 21st Century</title><content type='html'>Develop these skills in the next few &lt;s&gt;years&lt;/s&gt; months:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. basic web design (for a start, learn how to change your blog template from the present ugly green to something more refreshing.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Improve English. (How? Tentative solution: improve mind to improve language.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Become familiar with various online businesses, e.g. e-bay, online banking, Amazon, whatever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Learn how to differentiate Windows from Apple. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Know what is Android, smartphone, i-Pod, iPad, iRobot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Understand how unsupported ceiling does not fall down. (architectural, physical and engineering considerations.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*ok I'm just kidding with the 6th one. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-5658690249873697260?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/5658690249873697260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=5658690249873697260' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/5658690249873697260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/5658690249873697260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/07/surviving-21st-century.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Surviving the 21st Century&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-534391349267082747</id><published>2011-07-27T06:30:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-27T06:31:57.223+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Die liao la, Unemployed liao</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;li&gt;At least 1 year(s) of working experience in the related field is required for this position.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Fresh graduates are encouraged to apply.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How am I going to have 1-year experience if I were a fresh graduate?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-534391349267082747?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/534391349267082747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=534391349267082747' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/534391349267082747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/534391349267082747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/07/die-liao-la-unemployed-liao.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Die liao la, Unemployed liao&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-595894774425593084</id><published>2011-07-25T03:47:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-25T03:48:14.909+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random</title><content type='html'>If I die, can I have my funeral held at night?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And play Clair de Lune by Debussy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-595894774425593084?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/595894774425593084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=595894774425593084' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/595894774425593084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/595894774425593084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/07/random.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Random&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-3231307827672627724</id><published>2011-07-24T00:16:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-24T00:18:37.545+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Vaccination</title><content type='html'>Just taken 2 shots of vaccine this afternoon.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A fever is on its way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sieh ah~&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-3231307827672627724?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/3231307827672627724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=3231307827672627724' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/3231307827672627724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/3231307827672627724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/07/vaccination.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Vaccination&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-637082917077409112</id><published>2011-07-23T01:48:00.007+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-23T02:24:08.349+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Marriage D'amour</title><content type='html'>I don't know what this song should be about. From its title "marriage d'amour", I guess it is about marriage. Perhaps a wedding.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I always knew the song by its Mandarin name on the score I used to learn this song - 《梦中的婚礼》literally "Wedding in Dream".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since the wedding is in a dream, presumably it was not real. Is the wedding the kind the pianist/composer has longed for, or the kind the pianist dreads? Is it a happy song or a sad song?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've thought that it is a sad, more precisely melancholic song. The wedding is something beautiful, and it is in the pianist's dream, if only the bride** were there. The bride is dead. So the wedding never materialized. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The bridegroom was recovering from grief. So I think this piece should be played with a tinge of grief of bridegroom from reminiscing his lover's and his past. Now that the lover is gone, the beautiful wedding remains a dream.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My current interpretation la.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="383" height="317" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/SJ25fiVsEvg" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;**note: I used to "feel" the persona as the bride grieving over her fiance's death. Gave up figuring out how the transition of the gender of the persona occurred. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To be honest I suspect it occurred because I accepted my homosexuality. So it's okay to love men as a man. Of course, you can argue it both ways. For example, when I "feel" the bride playing, it could be that I am thinking of a male lover, which is natural of me. On the other hand, if I "feel" the bridegroom, well, I'm a man after all. But how do I explain the change of the gender of the dead lover (from male to female)? I don't know, but I guess my impression of a heterosexual wedding would be stronger than a gay wedding which I have never witnessed before, hence the difficulty in imagining a two men's wedding. Like who's going to wear the white gown, you see.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, to what extent do our feelings originate from our "inner self" rather than being the product of our social norms and collective imagination?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-637082917077409112?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/637082917077409112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=637082917077409112' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/637082917077409112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/637082917077409112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/07/marriage-damour.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Marriage D&apos;amour&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/SJ25fiVsEvg/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-286345325689866307</id><published>2011-07-22T23:46:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-23T00:08:27.916+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Workers of the world, unite!</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe width="383" height="317" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/U06jlgpMtQs" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I was Form 2, for a few months I was interested in the national anthems of different country and spent some time to look them up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The anthem of the former USSR (Soviet Union) is now my favourite.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't you think Russian sound so sexy in these men's voice?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Transliteration:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; white-space: nowrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0.4em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;Soyuz nerushimy respublik svobodnykh&lt;br /&gt;Splotila naveki velikaya Rus'!&lt;br /&gt;Da zdravstvuyet sozdanny volley narodov&lt;br /&gt;Yediny, moguchy Sovetsky Soyuz!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;dl style="margin-top: 0.2em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; "&gt;&lt;dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;Chorus:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/dd&gt;&lt;dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; "&gt;Slav'sya, Otechestvo nashe svobodnoye,&lt;/dd&gt;&lt;dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; "&gt;Druzhby narodov nadyozhny oplot!&lt;/dd&gt;&lt;dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; "&gt;Partiya Lenina — sila narodnaya&lt;/dd&gt;&lt;dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; "&gt;Nas k torzhestvu kommunizma vedyot!&lt;/dd&gt;&lt;/dl&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0.4em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;Skvoz' grozy siyalo nam solntse svobody,&lt;br /&gt;I Lenin veliky nam put' ozaril,&lt;br /&gt;Na pravoye delo on podnyal narody,&lt;br /&gt;Na trud i na podvigi nas vdokhnovil!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;dl style="margin-top: 0.2em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; "&gt;&lt;dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;(Chorus)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/dd&gt;&lt;/dl&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0.4em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;V pobede bessmertnykh idey kommunizma&lt;br /&gt;My vidim gryadushcheye nashey strany,&lt;br /&gt;I krasnomu znameni slavnoy otchizny&lt;br /&gt;My budem vsegda bezzavetno verny!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;dl style="margin-top: 0.2em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; "&gt;&lt;dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;(Chorus)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/dd&gt;&lt;/dl&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; white-space: nowrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;-----------------------------------------------------------&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; white-space: nowrap; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0.4em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;English Translation:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0.4em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;An unbreakable union of free republics,&lt;br /&gt;Great Rus' has welded forever to stand!&lt;br /&gt;Created in struggle by the will-of-the-people,&lt;br /&gt;The united, the mighty Soviet Union.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;dl style="margin-top: 0.2em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; "&gt;&lt;dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;Chorus&lt;/i&gt;:&lt;/dd&gt;&lt;dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; "&gt;Sing to the Soviet motherland, home of the free!&lt;/dd&gt;&lt;dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; "&gt;Bulwark of people, in brotherhood strong!&lt;/dd&gt;&lt;dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; "&gt;Party of Lenin, the strength of the people,&lt;/dd&gt;&lt;dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; "&gt;It leads us to the triumph of Communism.&lt;/dd&gt;&lt;/dl&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0.4em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;Through tempests the sun of freedom shone to us,&lt;br /&gt;And the great Lenin lighted us the way.&lt;br /&gt;He raised peoples to the righteous cause,&lt;br /&gt;Inspired us to labour and to acts of heroism.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;dl style="margin-top: 0.2em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; "&gt;&lt;dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;(Chorus)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/dd&gt;&lt;/dl&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0.4em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.5em; "&gt;In the victory of the immortal ideas of Communism&lt;br /&gt;We see the future of our country,&lt;br /&gt;And to the Red banner of our glorious Fatherland&lt;br /&gt;We shall always be selflessly true.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;dl style="margin-top: 0.2em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; "&gt;&lt;dd style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-left: 1.6em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; "&gt;&lt;i&gt;(Chorus)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/dd&gt;&lt;/dl&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-286345325689866307?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/286345325689866307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=286345325689866307' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/286345325689866307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/286345325689866307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/07/workers-of-world-unite.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Workers of the world, unite!&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/U06jlgpMtQs/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-3971461130061708344</id><published>2011-07-21T16:38:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-21T18:14:28.911+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe I Just Hit Puberty Yesterday</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;我觉得我从来没有best friend这个概念。可能是我人际关系的失败。不过我中学时觉得我有蛮多good friends, so我也觉得ok lo...不会觉得内心空洞还是什么。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So你知道啦，中四的时候。不知道zomok, 朋友当中一群人就开始anti某个人（Q)。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;我认为我没有跟着anti啦。当时我觉得这样做太恐怖了。当时还没出柜，完全不想让另一个人也同样感受那种精神与社交上的孤立与无助。况且我和他5年级时参加一个生活营，我的队员全部讲我Ah Pon 时只有他一个参我罢了。（谢谢。）所以当很多人下课吃饭时都不跟他坐同一桌，我（有时）就会去跟他一起坐。不是我跟他特别好，只是觉得有必要抗拒这种集体的愚蠢。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;后来，另一个人，R，也被anti了咯。这次我没有这样“伟大”了。因为....我个人不是很喜欢他。Form1时一整天叫我Piano Girl，后来又给其他人起外号。我不知道为什么R这样还能受欢迎！我觉得是因为他很能做事情咯，就是不是单单会读书罢了。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;中五华文有一段课文：&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;“因为朋友之间的关系是建立在平等和真诚基础上的，所以我们并没有太多的精力和理由去责怪朋友的不忠和背叛，最好的方法就是远离。”&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;我觉得再Q被孤立的情况下，我跟他很难建立友谊。因为我们的关系不是对等的。我对他的“好”（如果下课一起吃饭也能叫做“好”的话）在那样的环境下，不是纯粹情感的流露，而是富人的施予。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;我不明白我们一群人为什么能够容许R不断的对周围的人施行语言暴力。I have no idea how R commanded the popularity that once was among our small circle of people. How did he earn the privilege of verbally assaulting anyone without any repercussions for so long a time? Friendship to him seems to be suspending the otherwise constant verbal assaults on his friends. Friendship, in his case, was endowed upon his friends. Maybe I am unfair towards him. Not that I really tried to understand him. And I don't think my heart was strong enough for that. I've never seen him in person again after an OldTown session interspersed with his jokes about a guy who broke up with his apparently lesbian girlfriend in 2009. (or 2010)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Translation: 为什么他能够这样受欢迎har? 我觉得他的友情是一种施舍lo。就是没有讲人就已经很好了。讲人而不需承担（政治？）后果是他的特权。或许我这样讲对他很不公平吧。我重来没有真正理解过他。我觉得我没有这个能耐。）&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;***&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Last year, a form 6 friend (S) deleted me from his facebook friend list. I have no idea what were the exact incidents that precipitated in his action. I understand I do have flaws that might annoy him, and I wasn't really the ideal friend during my form-6 years, so to his defense (which some of you may find unnecessary) that deletion perhaps was not without basis. But what exactly those bases were, I haven't a clue. And he did not delete from the MSN friend list at first (since I could still see his activity). But I chose to delete him after some struggle. My pride would not allow me to be on MSN everyday just to await his pardon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;***&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; "&gt;o.O~if somebody don't feel syiok to watch with us, you have ur right for not following us~You can join your others friends~I dun mind~but pls dun everytime also not happy even with just watching a movie~No offense~lalalalalalalalala&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;This is not the first time you threaten to exclude me from a friend outing or gathering.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;“因为朋友之间的关系是建立在平等和真诚基础上的，所以我们并没有太多的精力和理由去责怪朋友的不忠和背叛，最好的方法就是远离。”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;But you have nothing to threaten me. My only question to your repeated threats is:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Are you serious?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-3971461130061708344?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/3971461130061708344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=3971461130061708344' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/3971461130061708344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/3971461130061708344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/07/maybe-i-just-hit-puberty-yesterday.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Maybe I Just Hit Puberty Yesterday&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-1471473742875931532</id><published>2011-07-21T04:05:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-21T04:07:52.155+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Facebook Quarrel</title><content type='html'>==&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Whatever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;人人有人人的样子。我有我样子。人有人样子。高兴就好。&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I do not always have to be right.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I do not always have to be right.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I do not always have to be right.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I do not always have to be right.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I do not always have to be right.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I do not always have to be right.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I do not always have to be right.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-1471473742875931532?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/1471473742875931532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=1471473742875931532' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/1471473742875931532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/1471473742875931532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/07/facebook-quarrel.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Facebook Quarrel&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-3002138317663505489</id><published>2011-07-20T04:04:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-20T04:11:13.974+08:00</updated><title type='text'>okokok</title><content type='html'>okokok...I never studied economics (and always skipped the Finance section of newspapers), but I just developed the intuition that having the wealth of the country concentrated at a tiny class of people is bad for the economy as a whole.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Because &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;even if one person possess an awful lot of money (or wealth), and however extravagant its spending is, there is still a limit to how much it can spend*. So those money not spent is stagnant money, and somehow that is bad for the economy...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For the same amount of wealth spread to say 10 people, we have 10 people spending instead of 1. More spending, better economy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;---------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;You never heard of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Investment&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;izzit?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-3002138317663505489?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/3002138317663505489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=3002138317663505489' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/3002138317663505489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/3002138317663505489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/07/okokok.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;okokok&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-979310100556118696</id><published>2011-07-15T01:23:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-15T01:29:10.018+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Posted Here Because Cannot Post on Facebook</title><content type='html'>I must try to develop a more effective communication model that applies on people whom I just met, instead of keep using exclamation marks to artificially induce an atmosphere of excitement and unwarranted enthusiasm.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Like:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Omg!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, I also know her!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How you know!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;LOL!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not that the emotion is fake, but over time the enthusiasm tires me and emptiness creeps in silently.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;KILL ME BAH!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-979310100556118696?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/979310100556118696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=979310100556118696' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/979310100556118696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/979310100556118696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/07/posted-here-because-cannot-post-on_15.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Posted Here Because Cannot Post on Facebook&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-8339354627645889270</id><published>2011-07-13T21:38:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-13T22:00:20.929+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Annoying Ppl (sometimes I'm one of them, I confess)</title><content type='html'>Met Ah Beng and Sakky Nah this afternoon. I'm not complaining about you two in this post, just other people with whom I coincidentally speak on the same topic.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do you find it annoying that when it came to choosing education path, people can just come to you and be an idiot? (Like, do I even know you?!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Annoying Ppl (AP): Where you going to study?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: US.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;AP: ooo, which U? MIT?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: == Brandeis University.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;AP: Why you reject Singapore?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: (Is it any of your business?!) I don't like the country.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;AP: Why you don't want go Imperial?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Because I like US.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;AP: Why not Purdue?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Because I didn't apply. Bye.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10 minutes later:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok. AP's questions are really not that offensive. Maybe I'm just feeling insecure with my decision. But. It would help if he rephrased the questions as follows:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;AP: Hey, where are you going to study?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: US. You?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;AP: oo...which U are you going? (I'm going to Antarctica by the way.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Brandeis University. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;AP: So that means you rejected Singapore right? Can I ask why?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: ...just don't like the country.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;AP: I remember you got an offer from Imperial College also right? Dunwan go UK?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;HALA HALA MAYBE IT'S JUST ME LA!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;20 minutes later:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And when I say I'm going to major in Biology, you say:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;AP: What a &lt;b&gt;waste&lt;/b&gt;. You so pro in Physics.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: (like wtf, did you see me do anything Physics-intensive before?!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-8339354627645889270?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/8339354627645889270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=8339354627645889270' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8339354627645889270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8339354627645889270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/07/annoying-ppl-sometimes-im-one-of-them-i.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Annoying Ppl (sometimes I&apos;m one of them, I confess)&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-384749212274436513</id><published>2011-07-11T20:18:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-11T20:27:36.474+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Posted Here Because Cannot Post on Facebook</title><content type='html'>死鬼，竟然讲我的笑话lame!~&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10 minutes later:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;OMG how can he say me lame!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-384749212274436513?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/384749212274436513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=384749212274436513' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/384749212274436513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/384749212274436513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/07/posted-here-because-cannot-post-on.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Posted Here Because Cannot Post on Facebook&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-6647367912201930173</id><published>2011-07-07T21:39:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-08T02:34:38.184+08:00</updated><title type='text'>In Support of Courage</title><content type='html'>A great deal of my teen years was spent on struggling with my sexuality and learning to understand and appreciate my emotion and desire as what they are regardless of what our heteronormative society portrayed them to be.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After mentally and spiritually liberating and purging myself of some of the ridiculous notions of normalcy, I felt alive again. For the first time, not only women can be beautiful, men too. For the first time, the beauty of maleness (which I obviously appreciate) was not limited to the dry vocabulary "handsome". Now, men are also gorgeous, pretty, and sexy. The (self-acclaimed) liberation has opened up a plethora of new aesthetical experiences.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I met up with a few friends coming home from studies. Apparently police has set up road blocks amidst the tension of Bersih 2.0 Assembly, even here in Kota Sarang Semut, 400 kilometers from the capital. We're not joining the street protest or the indoor assembly, but I think all of us expressed concern over the danger of wearing yellow on this Saturday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The concern was valid and I don't question it. But who has given our government and its machineries the mandate of imposing restrictions on clothing? The roadblocks may have purposes other than banning yellow shirts, but without adequate transparency and proper explanations on the purpose of setting up roadblocks, the effect achieved are the same - now people avoid wearing yellow, whether the Bersih logo is printed on the clothes or not. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I grew up being told that some of my innocuous feelings go against the law and values of this country. When I thought I have freed myself from fear of being different, having found space to channel my suppressed feelings and people who would understand, it was so easy to believe that nobody could take away those internal freedom from me anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was wrong. Now, I dare not wear yellow for fear of being stopped by police, for fear of what would happen after being stopped by police. I felt being forced back into the closet again. I am appalled. After so long a way I have come, this is fucking not happening.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You know the &lt;a href="http://www.dayofsilence.org/content/getinformation.html"&gt;Day of Silence&lt;/a&gt; that is observed in some schools of the US, where students voluntarily stay silent for one day to raise awareness of the silencing effect of anti-LGBT bullying and harassment at school. This Saturday, we will see a lot of yellow, but at the same time some yellow will be wiped out from our vision because of fear. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The blog will be in yellow these few days in acknowledgement of the courage of Malaysians in pursuing freedom and happiness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-6647367912201930173?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/6647367912201930173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=6647367912201930173' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6647367912201930173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6647367912201930173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/07/in-support-of-courage.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;In Support of Courage&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-1091172881955732962</id><published>2011-07-06T06:26:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-06T07:41:18.633+08:00</updated><title type='text'>So What Is This?</title><content type='html'>I had a dream when I was sleeping in the afternoon. (No, it was not a nap. I stayed up late, and only slept in the afternoon.)&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;About my mother wanting to have* suicide. (*note: I don't like the word 'commit'. It's too loaded.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was both confused and frightened as the dream was unfolding.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There was my "mother" who's exhibiting this strong urge to take its own life, me in the dream who was a confused, distanced spectator of the drama, and me on bed who could see the dream and was frightened.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There was one scene when father in the dream questioned my mother's suicidal intentions(*2) and my mother insisted on suicide because it's her plan. And my father gave a rather comical response. Basically he was like, "wtf, if I had known you would want to commit suicide at 50 years old then I wouldn't have married you." And then I woke up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;[*2note: The me-on-bed actually experience the emotion of my "mother" in the dream, whereas father is just him. His character is convincing, but I was not able to read his mind in the dream.]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Throughout the dream, my mother did not do anything immediately dangerous. The tension of the dream was controlled by the strength of my mother's intention to end its life and its open expression about it. Obviously I am the person who experienced the tension as I am the one who had the dream, but the reason I was able to link the tension to my mother's intent or emotional state was that I, the person who had the dream, experience the SAME thought of my "mother"-in-dream.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are two possible inferences from that:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. The suicidal "mother" in the dream was me. She played out my thoughts, expressed by feelings, but assumed the identity of my mother.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. I projected myself onto my mother. (This sentence doesn't really make any sense, does it?)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And there's another "me" in the dream - the third-person "me" who was just confused about what's happening. He's a third-person, because I, the real-life me, cannot read his thoughts. But I know he's pretty distanced from the drama.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And that I started to think more deeply about the dream as I write, I don't know which "angle of view" did I use to observe the dream. First I was the "mother"- her emotion are largely the emotion I went through in the dream, but the story was not told in the "mother"'s view. It was like watching opera, scenes after scenes, "mother" solo-ing on how she wanted to die. And the in the next scene father confronted "mother". Then the camera focused on the third-person "boy"(me as a character of the drama) about how he feels, how he's confused about the scenario. Actually his presence is quite annoying now. WTF is he doing there? Who am "I" in the dream? The "mother" or the "boy" who's just watching and frightened? The presence of the "boy" annoys me because I couldn't decide on what he felt about his "mother"'s death. When I felt frightened, did that feeling come from the "boy" or the objective, real-life "me" who was lying on the bed? Because at some point of the dream I can tell that the "boy" was just "whatever-I-don't-care"!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Are you familiar with the story line of the Harry Potter series? In Book5, Order of the Phoenix, when Harry had a dream and saw Nagini (the snake) bit Mr Weasley? He was also confused by the dream wasn't he, because first he saw the event from the eyes of the snake, but later when he recounted the dream to Dumbledore he talked about it as if he was watching the dream from a television. &lt;a href="http://www.leakylounge.com/index.php?showtopic=61702"&gt;http://www.leakylounge.com/index.php?showtopic=61702&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So at this moment I guessed that there were 3 personas whom I played in this dream.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. The "mother" who expressed my suicidal thoughts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. The "boy", who was confused and indifferent about what was going to happen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Me. The real-life me. Omniscient about everybody's thought. (But I still don't understand! Why the "boy" was there when I already AM both the "mother" and "me" (real-life me).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To a certain extent, everyone in the dream was me! Even my "father" was me! He was expressing anger about the "mother" thinking about killing himself. Outraged at how things did not go the way he wanted etc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And to a certain extent again, the dream exposes the interaction dynamics of me and my parents. My father, as represented in the dream, is the parent who gave a stronger impression to me. In the dream he expressed anger and frustration, and I could see a clear image of him in the dream. In real life, I usually think that I know him better than mother, because I feel that I could more easily sympathize with him. Whereas my mother, over the years my teenage temper has made her cautious of the words she speak to me. And I really never felt what I understand she was thinking. Her life is mundane - she cooks, she sweeps, she stitches my clothes; all the stuff I don't really care - I don't have to care. I understand this sounds ungrateful but it is what it is. I understand so little of her, that she felt so.....hollow. Empty. And was her character so empty that I could already fill up thoughts and actions in her shell as happened in my dream?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*My mother had better not read this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-1091172881955732962?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/1091172881955732962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=1091172881955732962' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/1091172881955732962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/1091172881955732962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/07/so-what-is-this.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;So What Is This?&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-2256484637144029913</id><published>2011-07-02T05:25:00.009+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-02T05:41:27.655+08:00</updated><title type='text'>综艺节目</title><content type='html'>有一个电视相亲节目的对白。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;男和女。当然，我不是说一定要男和女或女和男，不过那是一段男人和女人之间的对白，我只是忠实的重组那段对话。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;男：你最喜&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;欢什么&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;蔬&lt;/span&gt;菜&lt;/span&gt;？&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;女：嗯...大白菜吧。&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;男：那，你认为我像什么菜&lt;/span&gt;？&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;女：茄子吧。&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;观众：=="&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;女：就...他人长长瘦瘦的。&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;男：你知道我刚才多么希望你说我是你的大白菜吗...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;哈哈哈哈哈。是不是很好笑？&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif" alt="Add Image" border="0" class="gl_photo" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-meAQhg0dAlA/Tg49mPM3-WI/AAAAAAAAAQE/yK4RMVa69Ag/s1600/aubergineC5-B5.62135223.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 186px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-meAQhg0dAlA/Tg49mPM3-WI/AAAAAAAAAQE/yK4RMVa69Ag/s320/aubergineC5-B5.62135223.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624500711757183330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-2256484637144029913?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/2256484637144029913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=2256484637144029913' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/2256484637144029913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/2256484637144029913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/07/blog-post.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;综艺节目&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-meAQhg0dAlA/Tg49mPM3-WI/AAAAAAAAAQE/yK4RMVa69Ag/s72-c/aubergineC5-B5.62135223.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-4467274890484106291</id><published>2011-06-29T23:31:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-29T23:40:48.606+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Once Upon A time</title><content type='html'>I like to tell some people about my time at Taylor's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"每天8点上课到下午4点。然后就去图书馆读Chemistry或者做Maths。过了一阵子就变成去睡觉了。大概一小时后去买便当或回房间磨磨蹭蹭一下，晚餐时间到。晚餐过后做Further Maths到2点，Chemistry有assignment的话做到3点。整天读书读书读书，那段日子超幸福的。"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(but my further maths is bad...only got C...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haiz....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If only life is about studying studying studying. So many things need to factor into daily decisions now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm probably going to the US studying (any course except engineering, medicine, dentistry, pharmacy, law, accountancy). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to become unemployed~!!!! OMG.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think medicine is the best in a way. As long as you have the motivation and brain for it, everything gao tim. Everyday lecture lecture lecture, study study study, scold by lecturer and professor, scold by patient, scold by patient's family, scold by nurse, scold by hospital janitor etc....10 years later --- a successful doctor who can scold your subordinates! LoL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(The way I see it from other medic students' blogs. Feel free to shoot me.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-4467274890484106291?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/4467274890484106291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=4467274890484106291' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4467274890484106291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4467274890484106291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/06/once-upon-time.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Once Upon A time&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-5391890269006165556</id><published>2011-06-28T23:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-28T23:23:17.939+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pressure Pressure Pressure!!!</title><content type='html'>NEED TO ESCAPE!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="300" height="255" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/-6pUQWwSK_E" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-5391890269006165556?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/5391890269006165556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=5391890269006165556' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/5391890269006165556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/5391890269006165556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/06/pressure-pressure-pressure.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Pressure Pressure Pressure!!!&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/-6pUQWwSK_E/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-6856537479518186703</id><published>2011-06-27T06:28:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-27T06:31:59.545+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Common App short answer</title><content type='html'>Please briefly elaborate on one of your extracurricular activities or work experiences in the space below (150 words or fewer, 1000 character maximum). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During my 10th grade, together with 5 good friends, I took part in a debate competition. We lost miserably. The next year, we got into the semifinals. We were also given the “Best Team Award” ad hoc; in a visit to our school, the organizer found out we’d been preparing for the competition without a team coach. Debate has developed my logical-thinking and rhetorical skills; however, after a few competitions, I came to realize its limitation. I enjoyed debate as an intellectual exercise, but in real life, debate is unlikely to resolve conflicts. Debate needs a common ground on which arguments can be constructed, which is [what] lacking in a conflict. Also, facts alone are cold, yet conflicts are often charged with emotion. To resolve a conflict, we need to acknowledge the underlying emotions and sentiments of all parties involved. That can come through dialogue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to Nicholas for reviewing this piece.&lt;br /&gt;(and everybody for the mental support)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-6856537479518186703?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/6856537479518186703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=6856537479518186703' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6856537479518186703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6856537479518186703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/06/common-app-short-answer.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Common App short answer&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-8325645475255941769</id><published>2011-06-26T20:22:00.007+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-26T20:51:55.044+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cornell Gathering</title><content type='html'>Went to KL to meet an online friend and a group of Cornell admits and current students and alumni.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some reasons feel so motivated after talking to them (or rather, listening them talk, lol).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-8325645475255941769?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/8325645475255941769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=8325645475255941769' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8325645475255941769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8325645475255941769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/06/kimigayo.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Cornell Gathering&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-4056607612837212849</id><published>2011-06-24T02:55:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-24T02:56:38.588+08:00</updated><title type='text'>n-lemma</title><content type='html'>I can't believe I'm going to have to choose between a University that ranks 15 worldwide and another that ranks 280!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;FUCK ME!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-4056607612837212849?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/4056607612837212849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=4056607612837212849' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4056607612837212849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4056607612837212849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/06/n-lemma.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;n-lemma&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-7417098817370039817</id><published>2011-06-19T20:54:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-19T21:09:33.081+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Le Chatelier's Principle</title><content type='html'>Any system in stable chemical equilibrium, subjected to the influence of an external cause which tends to change either its temperature or its condensation (pressure, concentration, number of molecules in unit volume), either as a whole or in some of its parts, can only undergo such internal modifications as would, if produced alone, bring about a change of temperature or of condensation of opposite sign to that resulting from the external cause.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is what written in the notes given by my A-level lecturer. It's a bit 变态right....but I think it's useful in helping students to understand Le Chatelier's Principle, because the students need to analyse the (archaic) language, and when they understand the language, they understand the principle. One bird two stone! Sorry, is one stone two birds. Also, you can 顺便agak the historical understanding/development of the relevant theories, like what they meant by "cause", "influence", "external" etc, and what are the modern equivalents of those terms.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I really think this is better than those "concise" notes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;---------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Likewise, Newton's First Law:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Every body perseveres in its state of being at rest or of moving uniformly straight ahead, except insofar as it is compelled to change its state by forces impressed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This sentence and I printed out and stick on the wall in my room when I was Form 4, because (if I'm not mistaken), this is the English translation of what Newton has written in his Principia Mathematica in Latin.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-7417098817370039817?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/7417098817370039817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=7417098817370039817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/7417098817370039817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/7417098817370039817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/06/le-chateliers-principle.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Le Chatelier&apos;s Principle&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-3127585789517614736</id><published>2011-06-18T16:24:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-18T16:41:29.332+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sonnet 130</title><content type='html'>Some Englishman says, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; line-height: 21px; "&gt;&lt;h5 style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 14px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 14px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;“An aesthetic experience is one in which your senses are operating at their peak. When you’re present in the current moment. When you’re resonating with the excitement of this thing you’re experiencing. When you are fully alive. Anasthetic is when you shut your senses off. And deaden yourself to what’s happening.”  School should be about waking kids up. Waking their senses. Teaching them to be fully present. Alive. Operating at their peak. Pursuing their passions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h5&gt;&lt;div style="font-size: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Sonnet 130 by William Shakespeare, more commonly known as Will Shake (*ok I made this up.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-size: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-size: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); line-height: normal; font-size: medium; "&gt;My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;&lt;br /&gt;Coral is far more red than her lips' red;&lt;br /&gt;If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;&lt;br /&gt;If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.&lt;br /&gt;I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,&lt;br /&gt;But no such roses see I in her cheeks;&lt;br /&gt;And in some perfumes is there more delight&lt;br /&gt;Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.&lt;br /&gt;I love to hear her speak, yet well I know&lt;br /&gt;That music hath a far more pleasing sound;&lt;br /&gt;I grant I never saw a goddess go;&lt;br /&gt;My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:&lt;br /&gt;   And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare&lt;br /&gt;   As any she belied with false compare.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-size: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); line-height: normal; font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-size: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;a href="http://www.shakespeare-online.com/sonnets/130detail.html"&gt;http://www.shakespeare-online.com/sonnets/130detail.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-size: 14px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-size: 14px; "&gt;Summary of the poem: My lover not extraordinarily pretty pun, but I still love her loh.  (haha)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-size: 14px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;You know what one of the big failure of school education? They killed your appreciation for the arts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;Tell me how are you going to like any English poetry again when for one whole year you had been reading the same 3 poems and doing the same questions? I can still even remember the celaka questions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;1. What does "eye of the heaven" refer to? (Sonnet 18)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;B. The Summer's Sun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;2. What does "veils of the morning" refer to? (Lake Isle of Innisfree)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;C. Mist   (&lt;b&gt;the most sickening question! Same question from form 1 to form 3!)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;I don't often take delight in the flowery words of literature, but I'm happy now I can just read and be. No more idiotic exam questions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-size: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-size: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-size: 14px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-3127585789517614736?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/3127585789517614736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=3127585789517614736' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/3127585789517614736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/3127585789517614736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/06/sonnet-130.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Sonnet 130&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-7219862113375655288</id><published>2011-06-17T22:09:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-17T22:52:52.538+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Civic Participation (with lab) 101</title><content type='html'>So I received an e-mail this morning with a link that brought me to the following page:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://allout.org/call_un?akid=118.394133.7rGAjh&amp;amp;rd=1&amp;amp;t=4&amp;amp;utm_campaign=callun&amp;amp;utm_content=english&amp;amp;utm_medium=email&amp;amp;utm_source=actionkit"&gt;http://allout.org/call_un?akid=118.394133.7rGAjh&amp;amp;rd=1&amp;amp;t=4&amp;amp;utm_campaign=callun&amp;amp;utm_content=english&amp;amp;utm_medium=email&amp;amp;utm_source=actionkit&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Apparently the UN Human Rights Council (of which Malaysia is a member state) is going to vote on "an historic resolution to protect LGBT (i.e. Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgendered) rights. What the page says was:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(47, 47, 47); font-family: proxima-nova-1, proxima-nova-2, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, sans-serif; line-height: 15px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;"It's down to the wire, and many nations are undecided. It's critical that the foreign office in your country hears from you right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The vote is &lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; "&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "&gt;THIS FRIDAY JUNE 17&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. Please contact your ministry of foreign affairs, and ask them to Vote YES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for taking action! "&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(47, 47, 47); font-family: proxima-nova-1, proxima-nova-2, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, sans-serif; line-height: 15px; "&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I did a little bit of &lt;s&gt;research&lt;/s&gt; information gathering on the internet and decided that it is worth to make a phone call to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I didn't take much effort on me to find the contact details because everything was on the website above, including what I was supposed to say, lol.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I made the phone call in the morning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Officer : Selamat Pagiiiii........&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me : erm....I'm calling to enquire about a resolution that will be voted on this week by the United Nations Human Rights Council.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Officer : mm hmm? (encouraging)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me : So I read from the internet....(read from script) that the United Nations Human Rights Council will vote on a resolution concerning human rights violations based on sexual orientation and gender identity this week. Erm.....can I know how Malaysia is going to vote?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Officer : erm. A moment please.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(call got redirected)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Officer2 : Selamat Pagiii......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me : Erm.......sorry, can I speak in English?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Officer2 : Yes!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me : (thank goodness.) Erm, I have some questions regarding a resolution that will be voted on this week at erm....the United Nations Human Rights Council.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Officer2 : okay. (anticipating my question)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me : (read from script again, lol) This Friday at the United Nations Human Rights Council Malaysia will vote on a resolution concerning human rights violations based on sexual orientation and gender identity. Can I know how Malaysia is going to vote?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Officer2 : Well, erm, I'm just a receptionist. (Me: CB) You can try calling the International Law Division. 03-8887 4001&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me : Ok, thank you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;---------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me : (call, but nobody picked up the phone.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Call a few times, then sien liao, gave up.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hope Malaysia will vote Yes, or at least abstain from voting. &lt;b&gt;Please don't vote No.&lt;/b&gt; Mempersiasuikan diri sendiri seriously. I think voting No is analogous to voting No on a resolution that calls for an end of slavery in 19th century.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you read the website, it suggests me to somewhat persuade or make a point to the Ministry to abstain from voting in the case that Malaysia is going to vote No.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I understand a single citizen's voice won't change the country's stance, but IF the person on the other end of the phone actually tell me Malaysia is going to vote No, how am I going to persuade him/her that Malaysia should abstain from voting? Imagine:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Officer3: Sir, Malaysia is going to vote against the resolution.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me : yor....jangan lah ..... jangan lah.....jangan macam ni lah......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*palm on face*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;According to the script, this is what I should say:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(47, 47, 47); font-family: proxima-nova-1, proxima-nova-2, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, Geneva, sans-serif; font-weight: 200; line-height: 15px; "&gt;No human being should face violence, torture, stigmatization and abuse, on any grounds. Please don’t block this important measure based on the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Will you abstain from voting?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Officer3: yor...I'm not the person who make the decision okay.....Who are you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me : I'm a Malaysian citizen!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*LOL*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;“革命不是请客吃饭。” -- 毛泽东&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I dislike 毛泽东 by the way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;“革命尚未成功，同志仍须努力。” -- 孙中山&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yeah I like the tone of this one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Update:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The resolution is passed with 23 countries voted in favour, 19 opposed, 3 abstained.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://edition.cnn.com/2011/WORLD/europe/06/17/un.lgbt.rights/index.html"&gt;http://edition.cnn.com/2011/WORLD/europe/06/17/un.lgbt.rights/index.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-7219862113375655288?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/7219862113375655288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=7219862113375655288' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/7219862113375655288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/7219862113375655288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/06/civic-participation-with-lab-101.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Civic Participation (with lab) 101&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-4730349370911021535</id><published>2011-06-14T19:46:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-14T20:03:05.602+08:00</updated><title type='text'>English and Alienation/Alien-ness</title><content type='html'>"Life at the moment is so unbearably real, that I need to speak in a foreign tongue to detach myself from reality; only a foreign tongue can properly insulate me from the harsh bombardment of reality."  --- DeluSion, 3 weeks ago, lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;I find it easier to express myself in English.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No...sometimes I still run out of words and have to think in Mandarin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm more used to process my thoughts in English, especially if I'm trying to convey a certain message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(e.g. blogging)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But English feels so un-real. It's like a white man fucking himself into my body and speak for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's alien.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not an accurate 100% reflection of what's inside my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet I have so many words ready at my disposal, that I could easily toss out strings of them and make them sound as sound as possible, but it's not me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like a talking machine when I write this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it, if I'm most familiar with Mandarin, that I find English so useful, so expressive, yet so alien?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Daniel Khaw:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You talk too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you forget it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-4730349370911021535?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/4730349370911021535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=4730349370911021535' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4730349370911021535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4730349370911021535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/06/english-and-alienationalien-ness.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;English and Alienation/Alien-ness&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-4921571642354908238</id><published>2011-06-12T04:31:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-12T04:44:05.112+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Glee Video</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I think I'm such a 失败 gay guy. Didn't even watch Glee. Then perhaps this has nothing to do with being gay but just being outdated.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Found this video on youtube anyway. Orgasmic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="400" height="257" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/REIXS44hiAg" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-4921571642354908238?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/4921571642354908238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=4921571642354908238' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4921571642354908238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4921571642354908238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/06/glee-video.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Glee Video&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/REIXS44hiAg/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-1981142873967357062</id><published>2011-06-11T08:50:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-11T08:53:20.116+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Letter from Florida</title><content type='html'>Dear Father,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;It's 2 in the morning here, and I am so sleepy. We started our first day at Universal Studio, Florida this morning. Tried lots and lots of supposedly exciting games, e.g. roller coaster. I think at the end of the day, I already felt numb. I totally didn't bother to shout on the roller coaster. Not even afraid.....&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;We went to a kind of Harry Potter theme park within the Universal Studio. I had a great time there. It's a pity the souvenirs couldn't be priced cheaper.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The food here is horrible. You know what I mean.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I can tell that I feel most comfortable mixing with 2nd uncle's daughters. I can be as natural as I can get when I speak to them. I had some nice chats with (my cousin-in-law) too these few days. He thinks he's weird, but guess what, I'm weirder, haha! But he's so much more knowledgeable than me. I really enjoyed talking to him.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Cousin ABC - we've had some conversations which we've never really had in the past. She got herself a (temporary) tattoo. I told her now the school can cut her hair, but if things go more wrong, one day the school could also cut her skin to remove the tattoo. She wondered why I had to be so extreme in my views. I don't think I'm extreme, I just like to incite. There are so many things which don't go the way I want, which I am incapable of changing, that I hope talking about it would at least encourage people to solve the problem for me while I just sit and eat and sleep. Hahaha.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;We went to Walmart, the hypermarket chain in USA. It's not very different from Tesco. But things are so much cheaper. Can you imagine 7 slices of cheesecake for USD 2.50? It's still cheap even if you convert back to RM.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;So much for today. I hope I could access the Internet later, else this would be my last e-mail from USA.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Send my regards to mommy.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;DeluSion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;*Sambil menulis sambil menangis in the hotel lobby. Walau A.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-1981142873967357062?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/1981142873967357062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=1981142873967357062' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/1981142873967357062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/1981142873967357062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/06/letter-from-florida.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Letter from Florida&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-9041986401673318788</id><published>2011-06-11T04:11:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-11T04:28:37.742+08:00</updated><title type='text'>O Mio Babbino Caro</title><content type='html'>Dear Father,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The instruction for executing the payment is at the end of this personal letter*. We have just concluded our second day in New York when I was composing this letter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;New York, is, basically, very big. Many many lights. Not many people actually, by that I mean not as crowded as we had seen in Hong Kong. But perhaps that was because of the three consecutive public holidays here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One thing I observed during this trip is the ongoing conflicts between a few of us cousins - conflict of opinions, conflict of personality, conflict of interest, and by interest I mean the things we enjoy doing, e.g. shopping or going to museum &amp;gt;.&amp;lt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm not saying we were always arguing. The mood of the trip cannot be better, but as you may know, this is the first time I had to LIVE with my cousins for all 24 hours 7 days a week, and conflicts arise naturally. E.g, cousin XYZ is always asking for the details of our plan -- "Where are we going?" "What time should we meet?" "How do you know what time the shop close?" It's good to be detail-oriented, but sometimes, it really gets to my nerves when she asks me questions when I was most unprepared to answer. Before you get the wrong meaning of this (shall I say unexpectedly?) long letter, let me clarify that I'm just trying to illustrate the "conflicts" I have mentioned earlier (I'm just using her as an example.) And then ABC, I understand she's undergoing a "transition" stage, but sometimes when she speaks I really want to slap her face. Same goes to other cousins, perhaps with the exception of PQR and UVW. They are all very quiet and easy-going with everybody &amp;gt;.&amp;lt; I'm not all perfect too, as I'm pretty sure I also had my stupid moments.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We're going to Florida tomorrow afternoon. I have bought a painting for Mom. Well, not exactly. I just saw the painting on the street and thought she would like it, which I hope she would, because I was very much fond of it too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No gifts for you yet, unfortunately. I hope this letter would compensate for that at present.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;DeluSion&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-------------------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="380" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ZRuYQ9KRJms" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-9041986401673318788?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/9041986401673318788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=9041986401673318788' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/9041986401673318788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/9041986401673318788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/06/o-mio-babbino-caro.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;O Mio Babbino Caro&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/ZRuYQ9KRJms/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-6586112730496909839</id><published>2011-05-23T12:26:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2011-05-23T12:51:24.677+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Old Rant</title><content type='html'>You know, I was thinking of telling someone who wants to apply to some universities that he should maintain his school grades bla bla bla, try to always get A, don't slack off etc.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I remember! Last year Chemistry Mid-Year Exam! The teacher gave me 6 marks less than what I am supposed to get due to miscalculations when he summed up my marks, resulting in my getting an A- instead of an A as I would have had the marks been summed correctly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I went and found him, told him about the mistake. To my horror, he told me, "I will see what I can do, because I already passed up the marks."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;WTF.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So what to do, I can only say ok lo....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Because I don't trust the teacher (haha), so I go and find him again after school.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Sir ah...please try your very best to correct my marks. I may need to use this exam result to apply for something."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Okok."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Walau, you see, no guarantess one right!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the end the teacher corrected my marks la, but I don't think it was THAT hard to get the scores corrected right!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But you know, the teachers LOVE power games and exert authority on us poor students.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just like other government servants, ask them do the things they're obligated by law to do, also have to merayu merayu, tolong la cik oay, tolong la....terima kasih ya, hahahahaha.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;CB.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;---------------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*I seriously need to get a life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*2 Speaking of government servants, of all I have encountered before, I think those from the Ministry of Education is the worst! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The ones in Kedah State Library are polite enough.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The ones in JPA Putrajaya is .....well ..... ok lo. No complains. And the air-con very cold summore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Putrajaya Ministry of Education one:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me : err...Cik, boleh minta nombor telefon mana-mana pegawai keh?  Takut nanti ada apa-apa lupa tanya.....(pardon my BM)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bitch: Tak dak.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: &lt;b&gt;wtf&lt;/b&gt;  &lt;b&gt; :-)&lt;/b&gt;   (smile in contempt) Saya dah cuba nombor dalam borang ni banyak kali, tapi tak ada orang jawab. (show the bitch the number)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bitch: (find find find the number)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  &gt;UGH!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-6586112730496909839?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/6586112730496909839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=6586112730496909839' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6586112730496909839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6586112730496909839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/05/old-rant.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Old Rant&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-6534983606078757784</id><published>2011-05-21T11:30:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-05-21T11:58:18.554+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cook</title><content type='html'>Dear Khai,&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I cooked! Penne, but oriental style. &amp;gt;.&amp;lt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well not exactly. I boiled the pasta, then err....put oil lo....then my mother came....hwalalalala.....put all the ingredients in. Then I stir fry the ingredients and pasta....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Basically I used all the ingredients she prepared....except the onions I chopped myself &amp;gt;.&amp;lt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mother: "Faster! Charred already!!!" (add water)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: (fry) (fry) (fry)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Still not bad lo....but maybe because all the ingredients my mother prepared.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;lalala.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Irrelevant song:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="383" height="317" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/fWighMirhPQ" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-6534983606078757784?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/6534983606078757784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=6534983606078757784' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6534983606078757784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6534983606078757784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/05/cook.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Cook&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/fWighMirhPQ/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-3008962055391428564</id><published>2011-05-16T05:27:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2011-05-16T06:29:21.582+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Epiphany</title><content type='html'>It's 5 in the morning. Gosh.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-----------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You know the talks about "women as sexual objects" etc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Although I am inclined to agree on that claim, I never really understand what that claim means. Now I just revisited this paragraph in my "Yes Means Yes! Visions of Female Sexual Power &amp;amp; A World Without Rape": (page 19)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Aggression is such a deeply entrenched characteristic of maleness that it is often justified through references to nature and evolutionary biology. It further bleeds over into the sexual sphere, wherein men are expected to be aggressive sexual actors attempting &lt;b&gt;to "get" sex from passive women who both &lt;i&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;hold and embody sex&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt; itself&lt;/b&gt;."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"We" focus so much on male's (penile) sexual experience, as evident from the common notion of sex as an act which begins with penetration and ends with ejaculation. Men are the ones who initiate sex, who yearn for sex, that he must be THE sexual agent "who is capable of acting with reference to his sexual urges"[1] . Men are asexual, just like a moral agent is itself amoral. The quality of sexuality is in women. Since men, being capable of sexual decisions, he is a "sexual subject", the object of which, &lt;s&gt;of course,&lt;/s&gt; are women.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Notes:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;[1] Moral agency : &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moral_agency"&gt;http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moral_agency&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I adapted the definition of "moral agent" to that of "sexual agent".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;----------------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(page 33)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;[quote]Recently, as soon as I hook up with a girl, I start to resent her, because it was SO easy to seduce her. My skills have gotten pretty good, and I've seduced two girls this past week, and immediately after it happened, I wasn't attracted to them anymore. I feel like, how can she be a high-value female if she was THAT easy to get in to bed.[/quote]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wonder if the women around me face the dilemma of whether "giving" "it" or not. Not "give", boyfriend got things to say; "give", haha boyfriends might still have things to say!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think the way to get ourselves[2] out of this shitty situation is to attempt to actively "lose" our[2] virginities, or rather, to actively SEEK OUT and GAIN sexual experience. By doing so, we[2] remove the availability of virgins from the market, "depriving" men of the choice between a hard-to-get woman who would enhance the masculinity of men once she falls to him ("even hard one like her can't resist me") and otherwise an easy slut.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;[2]Although I used "we", I am well-aware that I have lived my life as a boy and teenage "guy" so far and hence my experience might differ to a great degree from other women and hence it should not represent any woman's experience but an individual's observation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;----------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;More to come, insya-Allah.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-3008962055391428564?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/3008962055391428564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=3008962055391428564' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/3008962055391428564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/3008962055391428564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/05/epiphany.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Epiphany&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-2469290239314271212</id><published>2011-05-12T03:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T04:48:58.397+08:00</updated><title type='text'>ex-perimental</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;b&gt;1: La Door&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I saw myself on the glass door. I am still a kid.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;1: La Airport&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;About to fly. Flying should be light, an ease, like a feather floating in the air. Yet I feel so heavy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's last 9 months ago when I was coming back from The City. On my way to Le Airport in the shuttle bus I cry and cry, silently. Oh, words are light in my mind, I could cry any moment but not.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;2: Check-In&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A couple in front of me. Man and woman. I feel sad, I could fuck the man, even if he's not tempting. Man hug girl. The airport officer wrinkled his face. Malay - he must not approve of that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"We check-in already."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Must be KL people(*). I can't stand people speaking English to a Malay. It makes me sad. Now I felt like I should have kissed the officer and said I'm sorry.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;3: Security Scan&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Security seems to be tighter today. The airport officer actually issued a "cabin luggage approval tag" for me. Is it just a new measure or is it because of Osama's death.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I took out my pencil box. I know the security personnel is going to search my bag if I didn't take it out. Last time, there was actually a blade in the pencil box. Not because I was careless, but because I'm lazy. I don't care, don't care about anything, like Lim Hong Hock said. Actually he did not.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I also took out my wallet. Aunties speaking Hokkien behind asked me whether it's required to take out the wallet, the handphone, the ticket - everything I had taken out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She asked in English. Maybe because I look English-speaking today. I was surprised.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Oy don't know. But I think it's a common practice Right?" I said, pulling my tongue to most possible back for the "r" when I pronounced "right".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;4: Kiddy&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After the security check I walked through a long aisle to the waiting lounge. Me in the glasses looked at me. Gosh, I look beautiful. The shirt I wore today concealed me into a man. When my eyes reached my legs however, I realize they are so thin and short, I am at risk of being toppled. //But when my eyes reached my skinny legs in the jeans, I'm a kid again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;6: La Cabin&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am stuck at row 20. A group of passengers can't decide on their seats and are blocking everybody behind them. I saw their green passport books. Nepalese, Bangladeshi or Burmese? I am very patient when it comes to this, but I lost my patience. I squeezed my petite body through the two of them. In the process I thought, "would I have done that if they were Malaysians or Western tourists?" Of course not. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Row 11. A man is sitting on 11C. "Ikscuse me sir, I think you should move inside." Gosh, my English sounds so nice today. He gazed at me in puzzlement. "Y(ou) see," I showed him my seat number. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think he reads English, because he keeps staring on my paper as I write.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He gestured that I should take the window seat instead. "Alright, fine." I said lightly to myself, thinking that he might not understand English. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was to move into the window seat; the funny thing is that he remained seated with no sign of making way for me. Seriously I'm not that thin.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nepalese kept glancing out of the window throughout the flight. I offered to switch place with him before the plane took off. I don't think he understands me. The conversation attempt ended with my "nevermoind".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;7: Landing&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The plane is descending already. Before take-off, a stewardess approached the man behind me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Sir, you're sitting next to the emergency exit. Are you willing to assist the cabin crew to open the gate in case of emergency? Ok. To open the door first you need to pull down the handle, unlock this latch and push the door outside, can you do that sir? And before you open the door sir, please assess the situation to see whether it's safe to open the door. In case of crash landing you should check for fire and smoke near the exit, is that ok? Thank you for your cooperation sir."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I kept looking at the man. He seemed understanding enough to endure the formality, while I find the statement from the stewardess simply amusing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe we might crash this time?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;8: LCCT&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The emergency door was left intact.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Sorry for the stereotype.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-2469290239314271212?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/2469290239314271212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=2469290239314271212' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/2469290239314271212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/2469290239314271212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/05/ex-perimental.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;ex-perimental&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-7013461082901890808</id><published>2011-05-07T19:27:00.007+08:00</published><updated>2011-05-08T03:59:55.875+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Motivational Song and Words of the Month</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/L5UBXRR2j3c" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; "&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;stop crying, being a slut, grow up, face the reality, else﻿ you will end up being nobody..&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;Gosh I don't want to go for the interview! Somebody please tell me Singapore sucks!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;“何必这样委屈自己呢？难道为了一个奖学金就不要展现真实的自我吗？”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;----- chim到要死的理发师。我去剪头发压力到要死。那天梦到他不屑剪我头发&amp;gt;.&amp;lt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;----------------------------------------------------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Look what I found:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-So5Ppn2vvck/TcWdF57a6DI/AAAAAAAAAPY/6K7qS6uJ1kc/s320/tumblr_livtsa5cXG1qisf2ko1_1280.jpg" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 320px; " border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604058036107405362" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7HmEUlU5bMk/TcWi0_h67nI/AAAAAAAAAPg/bEqWv1yaX1o/s320/PalletShipping.png" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604064342623055474" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5fkVEhMtdXE/TcWjF2Gs1RI/AAAAAAAAAPw/XXrR6M9oC6o/s1600/74534-gary_oak_large.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5fkVEhMtdXE/TcWjF2Gs1RI/AAAAAAAAAPw/XXrR6M9oC6o/s1600/74534-gary_oak_large.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 225px; " src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5fkVEhMtdXE/TcWjF2Gs1RI/AAAAAAAAAPw/XXrR6M9oC6o/s320/74534-gary_oak_large.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604064632150742290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bu0loga-4hM/TcWi-Af-rpI/AAAAAAAAAPo/emV4nFwWZJA/s1600/pallet271.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Bu0loga-4hM/TcWi-Af-rpI/AAAAAAAAAPo/emV4nFwWZJA/s320/pallet271.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604064497502170770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;See his heart-breaker face:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fENVBx1eHW0/TcWjjfdTn3I/AAAAAAAAAP4/jjKCj4yiuaA/s1600/gary12.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fENVBx1eHW0/TcWjjfdTn3I/AAAAAAAAAP4/jjKCj4yiuaA/s320/gary12.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604065141467619186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-7013461082901890808?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/7013461082901890808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=7013461082901890808' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/7013461082901890808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/7013461082901890808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/05/motivational-song-and-words-of-month.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Motivational Song and Words of the Month&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/L5UBXRR2j3c/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-2648689096704171488</id><published>2011-05-07T00:36:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2011-05-07T01:01:54.316+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cibai</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;tThis happened long long time ago.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I used to share a room with my grandfather. And I didn't like that. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I do believe I &lt;s&gt;love&lt;/s&gt; am emotionally attached to him and his well-being. I just don't like to share my room. Of course, the so-claimed ownership of the room could easily be dismissed by chanting the "your room ah? You got pay rent meh?" mantra. Anyways.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I was quite happy when he stayed almost on a permanent basis on one of the uncle's house. Whole room to me finally.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nevertheless, once he complained about diarrhea and the heat in his room, so the uncle who lives in (and owns) the house invited grandfather to stay in my room, again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wouldn't have raised a word if somebody in the house would inform me about grandfather's stay, but no, they just assumed I shouldn't have anything to say in that matter.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Grandfather snores in the night, and maybe because I just masturbated on that morning, it irked me so much that I got up from bed, wrote a big "CIBAI" on an A4 paper and sticked it onto my cupboard.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I got back from school the following afternoon, I noticed that the A4 paper had been removed. So I went to my mother and asked her, calmly:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Where is my Cibai?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Why did you tear away my Cibai?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Why did you tear away my Cibai?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;---------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(to be continued)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(no guarantees though)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-2648689096704171488?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/2648689096704171488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=2648689096704171488' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/2648689096704171488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/2648689096704171488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/05/cibai.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Cibai&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-8067986872679234135</id><published>2011-05-06T17:33:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2011-05-07T02:56:55.559+08:00</updated><title type='text'>O Fortuna</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="448" height="279"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/QhG-d_YnhhU?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/QhG-d_YnhhU?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="448" height="279" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am very impressed by the exaggerated gesture at the beginning of the video. The first thing that came to my mind was, "Wow, 'we' can do this during a protest or something".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Always have a penchant for hyperboles in musical performance. I thought instead of shouting slogans, we could just sing. It might not be the most effective way of protest, but it'd be so much more fun, in my very very humble opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine some 30 people gather in front of Kompleks Kerajaan (A/B/C/D/E) in Putrajaya and sing in this manner. I doubt it'd be legally dangerous to do so....not like we have provisions against noise pollution in our law....though it may come under "illegal assembly"....haiya who cares la. (omg, i'm no naive, lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or do it when there will be a by-election. Najib/Muhiyuddin walking around here and there shaking hands with people, then 30 people start singing with vivid facial expressions (七情上面). Could just make news headlines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I can really be a fan of behaviourial art. I must participate in a demonstration some time, else my life is so fucking boring and I have nothing to put in my resume.&lt;div&gt;-----------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;edit:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You know, I think I can't be exclusively homosexual, because one of the things that came to mind when I saw the women in the video was "wah, big breasts". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Though that could be a manifestation of my latent male chauvinism that prompts me to assert dominance (over women) through some crude remarks of their bodies (despite being gay!).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-8067986872679234135?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/8067986872679234135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=8067986872679234135' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8067986872679234135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8067986872679234135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/05/o-fortuna.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;O Fortuna&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-4708558723449564791</id><published>2011-05-04T00:20:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-05-04T00:23:07.060+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Again...</title><content type='html'>Another interview.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Problem is I will be rushing another application on same day. (procrastinate la. When so much time you don't want to work on the application, emo what emo....padan muka.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;s&gt;WHY AHhhhh!!!!! Why I can't I just study STPM and get good results and want to become a doctor??!??!?!??!?!! &lt;/s&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-4708558723449564791?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/4708558723449564791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=4708558723449564791' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4708558723449564791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4708558723449564791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/05/again.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Again...&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-8946777035174795854</id><published>2011-05-03T01:38:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-05-03T01:51:06.006+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Night</title><content type='html'>都不知道要怎样开始写。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;已经断断续续的消极，低沉一段时间了。要讲压力，又好像不是。我去那个Physics camp 够压力了。厉害的人一大堆，我一讲话就觉得自己很白痴，不过也不会像现在那么糟。感觉一回到家，人就很sien。很消极。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;一直有自杀的念头。不过我又没有胆自杀的。&amp;gt;.&amp;lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;那天跟我爸爸说我想自杀，他跟我讲“有时候人烦，会像死了一了百了。没有什么的。”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Walau A. 我妈妈也是。她只会叫我不要乱乱想。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;我看过一下我要去看辅导师还是心理医生了啦。我觉得，我跟我父母谈等于没谈。而且我还觉得他们也是我烦恼+焦虑的一部分原因。等下，好像不是。我是觉得，haiz, zomok我这样没有用。我一想到以后“出社会”，walau A, 竞争激烈，适者生存这样....我就觉得，我还是现在就死死掉算了。不要等到20几岁才来....超没尊严的。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;还有，如果我自杀的话，希望人家不好上报纸讲什么“没有啊，我今早看他出门还有说有笑”etc. 请不要这样insult my memory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;我现在很痛苦。&lt;br /&gt;谢谢。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table style="BACKGROUND: #000" cellspacing="2"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;th style="WIDTH: 200px; BACKGROUND: #000; COLOR: #fff; FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;Disorder&lt;/th&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;th style="WIDTH: 120px; BACKGROUND: #000; COLOR: #fff; FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;Your Score&lt;/th&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;td style="PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; BACKGROUND: #cda; PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a style="COLOR: #000" href="http://www.depressedtest.com/major_depression.html"&gt;Major Depression&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;td style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; BACKGROUND: #cda; COLOR: #000; PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;Slight-Moderate&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;td style="PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; BACKGROUND: #eeb; PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a style="COLOR: #000" href="http://www.depressedtest.com/dysthymia.html"&gt;Dysthymia&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;td style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; BACKGROUND: #eeb; COLOR: #000; PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;Slight-Moderate&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;td style="PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; BACKGROUND: #cda; PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a style="COLOR: #000" href="http://www.depressedtest.com/bipolar.html"&gt;Bipolar Disorder&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;td style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; BACKGROUND: #cda; COLOR: #000; PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;High-Moderate&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;td style="PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; BACKGROUND: #eeb; PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a style="COLOR: #000" href="http://www.depressedtest.com/cyclothymia.html"&gt;Cyclothymia&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;td style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; BACKGROUND: #eeb; COLOR: #000; PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;High&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;td style="PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; BACKGROUND: #cda; PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a style="COLOR: #000" href="http://www.depressedtest.com/sad.html"&gt;Seasonal Affective Disorder&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;td style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; BACKGROUND: #cda; COLOR: #000; PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;Slight&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;td style="PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; BACKGROUND: #eeb; PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a style="COLOR: #000" href="http://www.depressedtest.com/postpartum.html"&gt;Postpartum Depression&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;td style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; BACKGROUND: #eeb; COLOR: #000; PADDING-TOP: 3px"&gt;N/A&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;td style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; PADDING-LEFT: 3px; PADDING-RIGHT: 3px; BACKGROUND: #cda; PADDING-TOP: 3px" colspan="2"&gt;&lt;b&gt;T&lt;a style="COLOR: #000" href="http://www.depressedtest.com/"&gt;ake the Depression Test&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-8946777035174795854?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/8946777035174795854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=8946777035174795854' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8946777035174795854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/8946777035174795854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/05/good-night.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Good Night&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-5022781463497152994</id><published>2011-05-03T01:11:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-05-03T01:21:19.662+08:00</updated><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>I lost my language, again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-5022781463497152994?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/5022781463497152994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=5022781463497152994' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/5022781463497152994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/5022781463497152994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/05/blog-post.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;...&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-6975975157995167373</id><published>2011-04-22T02:52:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2011-04-22T04:06:38.130+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Posted Here Because Dare Not Post on Facebook</title><content type='html'>24 April - Interview in Kelantan&lt;br /&gt;25 April - Interview in Kedah&lt;br /&gt;28 April - Interview in Penang&lt;br /&gt;25 - 29 April - Camp in KL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WTF??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How how how?!?!?!?!?&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Edit: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Current Plan:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Skip the Kelantan interview. Go for morning interview in Kedah, fly to KL for camp, take night bus back to Kedah on 27th. Father bring me to Penang on 28th morning for  interview, take taxi to airport after interview, fly back to KL on same day. Take bus back Kedah on 29th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two airtickets = RM199 (including those "service charges")&lt;br /&gt;Taxi = RM 40?&lt;br /&gt;Two bus tickets = RM 80&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;credit: Potential Travel Subsidy for Camp = RM40 (bus)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Total personal expenditure for transportation = RM 280&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WTF.&lt;br /&gt;------------------&lt;br /&gt;edit2:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or should I just forgo the camp instead?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-6975975157995167373?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/6975975157995167373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=6975975157995167373' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6975975157995167373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/6975975157995167373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/04/posted-here-because-dare-not-post-on.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Posted Here Because Dare Not Post on Facebook&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-78899916945113228</id><published>2011-04-21T17:53:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2011-04-21T20:19:04.264+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Personal Theology</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;STRONG Disclaimer: I do not identify as a Buddhist.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On our trip back from Subang Jaya, my parents and I, together with a number of cousins went to a Buddhist temple to BUY a buddha statue. I think people would like to avoid the word "buy", because referring to what my parents called "inviting the buddha to our house" with the parlance of trade would be akin to loading the holiness of buddha with earthly mundaneness. (oh my english.) But as the saying goes, form is emptiness, emptiness is form; so let's not get trapped in semantics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok where was I? So in the temple, I saw a book called "The Heart Sutra for Children". I　was pretty fond of it, because it explains the Sutra in simple words. From what I can remember and in my own words:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Form is emptiness, emptiness is form does not mean nothing exists. What it means is emptiness and existence are inseparable, &lt;s&gt;like space and time, electricity and magnetism, mass and energy.&lt;/s&gt;  This is a bit difficult to explain, but let me give you an example. Imagine a lake with quiet water, and a sea with waves. Both lake and sea are made of water, so we say they are the same thing. When the wind blows, we can ripples on the lake surface like waves, but without water there is no waves. Or imagine a wood. A wood can burn when heated, but when we cut the wood, we cannot see fire inside the wood." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haiya I dunno how to explain la. Just like we think we are concrete solid matter, but in fact (how you know is fact?) we are made of atoms with vast empty space within, all mass concentrated in a tiny nucleus. Life is not a discrete entity (closed system) but an open system which exchanges matter and energy with its surroundings. &lt;s&gt;Life is but a concentration of many many chemical reactions.&lt;/s&gt; Dying is the diffusion of that collection of chemicals in the universe. When the chemicals meet, there is life. This is 缘起缘聚。(But I believe once you die you die, no such thing as karma.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm, like that la. Anyway, when the pihak bertanggungjawab knows that we came from a faraway land, he offered to bring us to see the big big Buddha statute on the upper floor. (爬楼梯爬到半死。）So you know, when you see the patung, you have to sembah. So most my family members sembah lo. So I quick quick walk away, cuz I don't want to sembah as a matter of trivial principle. Because I don't want to let people think I'm a Buddhist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why? Many many years ago, there's one 死尼姑 (sorry, I meant "nun", oh my english.), when she was interviewed on the "Buddhist view of homosexuality“, she said along the lines of "According to the buddhist view, all sexual relationships are not good. So just because two men like each other, why must they have sex. No, better just like each other. No need sex." Me being a narrow-minded person, I just can't stand her. Cuz she appeared quite a few times on the newspapers. So I decided to reject Buddhism. This is not a matter of whether the nun misintepreted the teachings of Buddha or not, but I just don't like religious institutions. It's just like when people talk about Islam and terrorism, some like to say "ohh...Islam is a religion of peace." Like who cares la. Who cares it is "actually" a peaceful religion if its followers appear so violent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that night, when I taking a bath, I tell myself, wah....all those religions better be wrong, if not I'm so going to hell, hahaha. &lt;strong&gt;I WISH all those things are not true.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Talking about the abrahamic religions here:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it hit me, what could be more devillish than wishing for the inexistence of God, in the eyes of its followers? To &lt;strong&gt;wish&lt;/strong&gt; for the absence of God's grace, actively hope for the impossibility of salvation, is "worse"  than the strongest form of atheism, which is the rejection of the belief that god exists. That is because strong atheists KNOW that god doesn't exist, while me, I WANT god not to exist while unsure of its existence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sin beyond salvation, hahahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Haiz my English. Irrelevant song:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="432" height="351"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZGT6AKt3eYM?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZGT6AKt3eYM?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="432" height="351"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-78899916945113228?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/78899916945113228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=78899916945113228' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/78899916945113228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/78899916945113228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/04/personal-theology.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Personal Theology&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-2505093532872002072</id><published>2011-04-18T00:22:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-04-18T00:27:09.582+08:00</updated><title type='text'>67geir;h</title><content type='html'>I'm going crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been 10 days...actually longer...since I've done ANYTHING productive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just can't bring myself to do it. There's a simple letter which I need to write, but I just can't bring myself to write it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm FUCKING GOING CRAZY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I CAN GO OUT DRIVING ON A CAR AND JUST CRY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JUST DROVE TO GUNUNG JERAI WHEN I WAS ON MY WAY TO THE STATE LIBRARY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I WANTED TO STOP AT THE TRAFFIC LIGHT AND GET DOWN FROM THE CAR AND SHOUT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WANT TO CLIMB ONTO THE CAR AND SHOUT!!!SHOUT!!!!SHOUT!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AHHHHH!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU CAN'T IMAGINE HOW I LOOK LIKE WHEN I TYPE THIS!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JUST...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AHHHHH!!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-2505093532872002072?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/2505093532872002072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=2505093532872002072' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/2505093532872002072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/2505093532872002072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/04/67geirh.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;67geir;h&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-1278609405234634288</id><published>2011-04-15T01:30:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-04-15T01:38:51.522+08:00</updated><title type='text'>One of My College Application Essays, haha</title><content type='html'>Just thought of posting it up. Felt that it'd be a waste if I did not, considering the amount of time spent on it (4 days only actually). It's not necessarily thoughtful or anything, but...well.....haiya, post just post la, need explain so much for what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Brandeis University&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please include a short response to one of the following prompts. (250 words or fewer)&lt;br /&gt;1. Why would you like to attend Brandeis?&lt;br /&gt;2. Supreme Court Justice Louis D. Brandeis said, "If we desire respect for the law, we must first make the law respectable." Tell us about an unjust law(written or unwritten) that you believe should be broken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. If you could choose to be raised by robots, dinosaurs, or aliens, who would you pick? Why?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who would I choose among robots, dinosaurs, and aliens to spend my growing years with? This is not a decision I would love to make. We know too little about aliens. Could it be that the fundamental construction of alien life forms are so different from ours that communication is impossible? As for dinosaurs, I doubt I would want to spend all my childhood looking for food and running from predators; that would be a waste of my human intellectual capacity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, what I fear losing the most in this childhood-exchange game is my human qualities. Because of that, I choose to be raised by robots, in the case of&lt;br /&gt;which I would probably acquire a distinct world view while still retaining my human identity. I can imagine a parallel world of robots in which different robots are programmed to carry out some specific tasks, such as repair, oil drilling, and other engineering works. Of course, there would be a robot who could prepare organic food for me instead of feeding me new batteries. I would learn from the robots, and with the breakthrough of artificial intelligence, these robots are able to communicate in a human language. Albeit being raised by robots, I don't think I would grow into an emotionless adult. The lives of robots are similar to ours. We humans have our limits inherent in our biological existence, while robots are programmed with different capabilities and limitations. We exist with limits, but to live is to function in a way that makes that existence meaningful, whatever that means to a robot. Growing together with robots, I will have a different attitude towards machine and a different notion of what life is. The experience of growing up with robots would make me unique among my human peers, but not to the extent of preventing exchange of ideas among us. I could learn the human perspective after returning to our world and offer my "robotic" perspective in return. This would make growing with robots much more exciting than the remaining two options.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;*Essay (barely) finished 5 minutes AFTER the deadline. Oh...the horror...the thrill.&lt;br /&gt;*I got admitted by the way, probably not because of this essay, haha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-1278609405234634288?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/1278609405234634288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=1278609405234634288' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/1278609405234634288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/1278609405234634288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/04/one-of-my-college-application-essays.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;One of My College Application Essays, haha&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-1032390428864033950</id><published>2011-03-30T01:42:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2011-03-30T03:14:44.523+08:00</updated><title type='text'>It Gets Better</title><content type='html'>I was chatting with a girl friend of mine, asking her about Singaporean lifestyle and guys in general. Since she's aware of my romantic inclination for men, at some point of the conversation we talked about certain issues to which I should pay particular attention if I was considering studying in the Lion City. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some point in the conversation, I suggested that (straight) women in general should support gay guys for their own good, since they would not want closeted gay men to marry them under societal pressure and be heartbroken when they found out their husbands' true desire. Albeit the persuasive tone of my words, the mood of the chat was a relaxed one. After a few rounds of exchanges, she replied with the following: I support, but no in m'sia. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was a tingling sensation - a very brief free fall of my stomach. I could proceed, now, with an analysis of her statement, followed by a rebuttal expounded with reasons as detailed as I could. That was not what I did. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was brought back to an old classroom which we used as St John's sickbay in 2008. A guy friend just said, in a cold, rational and composed manner, that gay people should move out to western countries, because "they" already had a community there, which he claimed had not been established here in malaysia. His speech brought my experience of anger to a new level. Never was I so angry even when politicians suggested chinese as a collective whole to return to china. His speech was perceived as a direct threat to me, the only silent homosexual in the room. I wanted to push him to the wall, choke him till his face turns violet, dash out the room and slam the door on everybody. You'd think my blood boiled, but instead it froze over. I was shivering out of anger and fear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the female friend said "not in m'sia", the emotional response her words elicited was of a gentler variety. It was not rage, but a slight disappointment. Why, even though we've talked about guys and my sexuality so openly together, she still did not bring herself to accept the gayness in this country? Then I figured out, I was....hurt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It hurts when you say not in m'sia and tell me to move out from the soil which has nurtured me over the past 20 years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It hurts when you say not in m'sia, it makes me feel lesser of a citizen of this land. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is estimated that 5% of the human population is gay. Imagine one day 5% of them vanished out of air. Think about the voices you'll miss, the silence you hear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are your brothers, sisters, aunts, and uncles. We're doctors, engineers, teachers, janitors, firefighters and soldiers. We live and contribute to this country and society. All we ask is that you let us. &lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="432" height="351"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/To-KMihn9pM?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/To-KMihn9pM?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="432" height="351"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said she began to sympathize with how gay people feel, after I wrote the last few lines to her. So come out, we can make a change.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-1032390428864033950?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/1032390428864033950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=1032390428864033950' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/1032390428864033950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/1032390428864033950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/03/it-gets-better.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;It Gets Better&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-9027071269927325276</id><published>2011-03-19T22:53:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-03-19T23:01:13.666+08:00</updated><title type='text'>惊</title><content type='html'>妈妈今早说她小学同学去世了。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“我也不知道做什么事。还没有打电话去问。”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“不知道什么事。”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;她都年过半百了，不知道此事对她有什么冲击。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. 爸爸下午去KL. 我才知道。后来也才知道他去Setapak, 本来以为明天才去。早知道我跟去，可以跟Harry, Jiie讲Hello一下。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;晚上他打电话给我。我看到是他的电话几怕一下 --- 万一有什么事情....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;一切无恙。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. 去日本的亲戚几天前抵返都门，方才到家。突然庆幸他不是去东京。核危机的缘故，尽然也会担心。平时灾难发生我都挺冷血的。&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-9027071269927325276?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/9027071269927325276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=9027071269927325276' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/9027071269927325276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/9027071269927325276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/03/blog-post.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;惊&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-4433582093663174299</id><published>2011-03-07T19:51:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-03-18T23:48:41.049+08:00</updated><title type='text'>s = ut + (0.5)at^2</title><content type='html'>I'm not sure whether I should take science, cuz I'm not exactly an original, hands-on, practical, imaginative person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was on the ground floor of Alor Star Mall, just about to get into an elevator. The other elevator beside me had just started moving up. The situation led me to ponder on whether the distance between the two elevators would remain (roughly) the same or would keep increasing with time. As the mall was just a 2-storey building, the change in the distance between the two elevators, if any, would not be noticeable. Therefore, in the spirit of Physics ala SPM, I &lt;s&gt;simplified&lt;/s&gt; reduced the problem into a theoretical one, that is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Given two objects at rest on the same point/level of reference. One begins to move with (constant) acceleration a, followed by the other at the same acceleration k seconds later. Does the distance between the two objects change with time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The paths of the two objects can be modelled by two functions of time, t.&lt;br /&gt;First object : f(t) = (0.5)at^2, t &gt;0&lt;br /&gt;Second object : g(t) = (0.5)a(t-k)^2, t &gt;k&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, the distance between the two objects at time t,&lt;br /&gt;D(t) = f(t) - g(t)&lt;br /&gt;= akt - (0.5)ak^2, t&gt;k.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hence, the distance increases linearly with time, i.e. the longer the time elapsed, the greater the distance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;The Point of This Whole Junk&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Real-life Analogy&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A sad implication of this physical model is that:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Even if you are just as good as another person, as long as he (yes i'm sexist!) starts earlier than you, he's going to lead forever, and the gap between you two is not going to stay the same, but will widen as time passes. ("good" analogous to acceleration)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. To catch up with him, you really have to put in extra effort and work real hard. (Effort analogous to Force.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. If you happen to be not as bright/physically-appealing as the other guy, working as hard as him might not be enough, even if you start earlier. From F=ma, you need to put in the extra effort to offset your dumbness/ugliness/other negative load. (negative load analogous to mass.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Even if you are leading in a game, chances are people will work hard and try to overtake you. You cannot be lazy and let inertia drive your course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is tough.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-4433582093663174299?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/4433582093663174299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=4433582093663174299' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4433582093663174299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4433582093663174299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/03/s-ut-05at2.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;s = ut + (0.5)at^2&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22032586.post-4730244035347255721</id><published>2011-03-06T23:20:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-03-06T23:38:40.678+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Still Not Dead</title><content type='html'>Dear Wenny &amp;amp; WenJie,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had my Toy-Story-3 moment this evening when I was browsing the DVDs at Alor Star Mall's Speedy Outlet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw Doraemon, Pokemon and Digimon movies, and really wanted to buy one. No point buying Doraemon since the comics are better and much cheaper. I was torn between Pokemon and Digimon. The prices were roughly the same. I was particularly keen on Pokemon 2000, since I never understood fully the storyline when I watched it as a child, due to my level of English that time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NNyhed_NjK4/TXOng9DM8qI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/77Ap_epNddw/s1600/220PX-%257E2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 220px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 211px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580988547827823266" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NNyhed_NjK4/TXOng9DM8qI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/77Ap_epNddw/s320/220PX-%257E2.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I decided against another Pokemon DVD, because it only runs 42 minutes for RM 19.90, whereas for Pokemon 2000, I would have approximately 102 minutes of entertainment at RM 19.90 (or boredom you might argue). Pretty random (or calculative) way to decide on a movie you think? So anyway, I was going to take this Pokemon 2000 DVD, until I saw a digimon movies compilation - 7 digimon movies at RM 16.90, very dai2 (worth it) ahhh!!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Exactly the moment I had that thought - that excitement of discovering a 划算deal, I became aware of a loss inside me. Exactly that instant, I knew something inside me was gone. I could no longer enjoy or appreciate a cartoon for it's on worth, as evident when I compare their prices and worth with each other. I even preferred the English version over the Cantonese one, because I believed the English version would help to improve my English. You see, even a simple purchase has been loaded with so many expectations, calculations, considerations..........I suddenly felt, that I was growing up. And began to emo, though in a blissful way. And I doubted I could enjoy the cartoons as I had as a (gay) boy; perhaps I would not feel as excited, happy; I might analyze every scenes, what Ash or Misty just said, how credible was their theory etc....I thought, maybe there was no point buying the movie anymore...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I bought a DVD anyway, feeling reluctant to admit such loss. And I have yet to play it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Just in case you were still with me, I sticked with Pokemon 2000.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;-----------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;*Sorry my English.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/22032586-4730244035347255721?l=depressiveguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/feeds/4730244035347255721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=22032586&amp;postID=4730244035347255721' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4730244035347255721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/22032586/posts/default/4730244035347255721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://depressiveguy.blogspot.com/2011/03/still-not-dead.html' title='&lt;p align=center&gt;Still Not Dead&lt;/p&gt;'/><author><name>DeluSion</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16076216566505426369</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NNyhed_NjK4/TXOng9DM8qI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/77Ap_epNddw/s72-c/220PX-%257E2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry></feed>
