Relationships and Baseball

Iz had a party at his house about a month back. It was around Hari Raya period, so it was sort of a Hari Raya "open house". However, it was also past Hari Raya, so there was no need for green packets. (Just kidding, Iz. We all enjoyed ourselves at your party. Green packets or not. =P)

The main point of me introducing the party was to bring up this Skype conversation we had with H. He happened to be online and we started Skyping to find out when he would return from Aussieland and what our next big project will be. (FYI, this blog started as one of those "big projects", but the 3 contributors gave up. Some just took longer to give up.)

H had just watched a whole documentary series called "Penn and Teller's Bullsh*t!", which tries to argue against certain pre-conceived notions prevalent in the USA. For example, the one episode I watched had them pointing out that the general American public feels that circumcised men will not carry STDs, then arguing that it was bullsh*t. Very candid. H wanted to do a similar documentary series, written, directed and starring us.

H's first suggested topic was "Non-sexual relationships like [myself] and M's is bullshit".

The issue about sex before marriage has been a major discussion point amongst the members of the bachelor's club. It is probably a serious topic that we touch on more than once. Most of the topics that we touch on more than once are more light-hearted. (N will always bring up the topic: "which girl in JC did you think was cute?". C and I will always bring up "[insert name of latest video game fad here]".) As far as I remember, H has always held the stand that sex is a natural progression of relationships. If it goes that way, then it goes that way. I have always held the view that sex should always come after marriage. C, Iz and N are usually indifferent.

H is probably the most "seasoned" member within our Bachelor's club. He's had to drop his membership status and convert to being an "honourary member" several times, if you get what I mean. And it is no secret that he's "done the deed" several times as well. Now that I'm an honourary member as well, he's been egging me to "develop the relationship" in that direction.

Being in a relationship has helped me develop a sense of what I want to achieve from it. Right now, it's about a "strategic partnership". It's like 2 corporations finding common ground and growing together. It's about leveraging on synergistic benefits based on a common vision/mission statement. Decomposed in this way, even warm, fuzzy relationships are cold and calculated in the engineer's mind. As such, M and I try as much as possible to share a common understanding on as many topics as possible. Our goals are not sex; they are of growth of the individual and the relationship. Personally, I'd like to think that it's a longer-term view, that it's about developing our expectations of what a future life partner should be like.

Evolution has wired in the minds of all species the need to reproduce. Logically, if a creature has a gene that doesn't give them the urge to reproduce, the gene will die off with the creature. Evolution has also wired in their minds the best way to ensure the continuity of the species. Fishes generally just lay eggs en masse, kittens can be weaned off their mothers very quickly, but elephants take longer to fend for themselves. Human young take several years of attention before they are mature enough to fend for themselves. Who takes care of the mother while she tends to the young brood?

I choose to believe that the chemicals that are released and the electrical impulses that fire between our synapses while we're building the relationship with a possible other half is meant to ensure that we will stay with each other while bringing the young brood up. The personal growth I talked about earlier prepares us to take on the eventual responsibility of parenting. Developing the relationship toward sex only fulfills the "reproduction" criteria, but developing the relationship towards a common understanding develops the stability required for the "continuity" criteria. So why no sex before marriage? Well, marriage is just a rite of passage to signal to others that we (as a couple) have reached that milestone in life and that we feel stable enough as a couple to bring our kids up on a good environment. Call me a prude, go enjoy your instant gratification of exchanging bodily fluids, but I'm entitled to my opinions.

More disturbing than one person's viewpoint, however, is that it seems like a contagious opinion. C had always been indifferent about this issue, but it seemed to have changed as of last week. We were out having dinner and ribbing one another as an expression of friendship. We told him that 2 years was enough time to befriend a girl and turn it into a meaningful relationship. He directed his retort to me, "What have you done in one year? First base only what!"

Now, the baseball analogy of sexual encounters is quite a popular term within the Bachelor's club, and probably amongst other Singaporean guys too. It almost seems like a contest to "score home runs", whether or not such remarks are said in jest or in all seriousness. With C saying that, it occurred to me that maybe he now sees relationships as a way to "move up the bases", rather than being a special friendship, support network and a search of a possible life partner. Could a relationship just be viewed as an entrance ticket to sexual experimentation? Could this be an isolated incident, or does this indicate the general view of the male population of our demographic?

I choose not to question C's views on this matter. I'm open about the fact that "we're only at first base". I don't impose my views on other people. I'd say it out candidly and argue it logically. To me, a relationship is about life, and not just a game. -Jimmy

Words of Wisdom from a Comic Strip

A man needs 3 things to be happy: Something to do, something to love and something to hope for.

This ties in to an older post: Link here. In it, I mentioned that it's not just enough to live, but there is also a need to have something to live for.

When I saw this from a comic strip, it struck me that it was a much more robust statement, yet it is even more true.

Strangely though, I can't seem to put into words how these three add up. They just made sense to me the moment I read the statement. I'm either losing touch with my ability to express my thoughts into words, or I'm losing the inspiration to express thoughts that nibble away in my head.

Spot the Flaw in Logic!

Food is left out for spirits to feast on.
Cat feasts on food.
Spirit must reside within the cat!

Kids and Exaggerations

I was walking past a playground one day when I overheard a kid telling his father a story he had heard in school earlier. The story revolves around 2 animals that refused to help one another despite their unfortunate circumstances, thus resulting in their demise. The dad patiently heard his kid out, egging him on with, "Yes", "Uh hmm" and "And then?".

I say "patiently" because the kid was being very animated and kid-like in his discriptions. He had this shoutish voice that you'd expect of a 5 year old boy and kept pausing every 2 or 3 sentences to think about what to say next.

But the most interesting thing about the kid's story telling was how he seemed to be exaggerating everything. The two animals weren't just angry to be caught in their predicaments. They had to be "very very very very angry". They weren't willing to help each other. They were "very very very very unwilling". In fact, in every 2 or 3 sentences he had to take a pause, you're bound to hear some form of exaggeration. It's an exaggeration of the "very very very very" kind.

It got me thinking about how kids pick up languages. Obviously, the more commonly used words are picked up and put into sentences much faster by kids. (However, the exception is the Singapore Pledge. I only began to understand the meaning of "democracy" some time in secondary school, despite having to say the word "democratic" every single day since primary school.) Despite kids' amazing abilities to grasp and learn languages though, you cannot expect a 5 year old to possess a very comprehensive vocabulary.

My opinion here is that the exaggerations that make kids kids, with their truly enthralling brand of storytelling, is the result of a lack of vocabulary. Whereas adults will get straight to the point of saying the house is "huge" or "extremely big" or "immense", a kid will wildly flail his arms to encompass the "huge-ness" while pouting his lips to emphasize how "very very very very big" it is.

However, adults have lost the capacity to handle another adult telling stories in the same way. They think it's childish, immature and just plain freaky. Adults hardly get enchanted with one another. I guess it's a good thing, because that leaves all our attention for such enchanting antics for the kids. -Jimmy

The Teenage Exercise Book

(Parody warning!)

YKK nervously eyed the girl from the corner of the book. Class reading time was supposed to provide the students brilliant, creative story writing ideas for their essay writing. However, the teachers who had begged the principal to reinstate the program after reading about the 2009 Budget in their students essays for the nth time were now regretting their call. They now had to contend with renditions of "Sweet Valley Secondary" for the nth time.

YKK put down his book "Guns: Relative Stopping Power and Projectile Ranges" (he did not believe that reading Neil Gaiman or Stephan King to add value to his knowledge) and turned to his good friend, Ar Lot.

"Ar Lot, I can't help it. Ever since school started, I can't help but feel all light-headed seeing Aimee."
His good friend put down his Enid Blyton compendium, carefully closing the pages to make sure the Playboy magazine he had hidden inside did not peek out. "Do you seek advice from the great Master, then?" He asked coyly.
YKK pensively licked his lips then nodded slightly. Ar Lot seemed to have a way about girls; they didn't mind going out with him after school. There were days when YKK would jealously watch as Ar Lot refused to level up their WoW characters after school and instead went out with a whole gaggle of girls. If YKK wanted any chance to strike up conversation with Aimee, Ar Lot was his first step.
"Waikaykay, in order to initiate you on the intricacies of intimacy, you will have to acknowledge me as master."
YKK sighed. If there's one thing he wasn't comfortable with having Ar Lot as a friend, it was his huge ego that needed to be pandered once in a while. He mumbled, "I recognise thee as master, Ar Lot."
Ar Lot smiled smugly, "The full name, dumbo."
YKK said less commitantly, "I recognise thee as master, Bates Ar Lot." He sighed at the end, thinking how his life story would make for MAD magazine type stories with bad puns. It would be written by testosterone-charged teenaged boys for hormonally-overflowing teenaged boys.

"Waikaykay, the first thing you need to understand is that there are four kinds of attraction. When you see someone you like, the kind of attraction you have dictates how you should respond." Ar Lot started his lecture sounding all self-important.

YKK nodded eagerly to egg Ar Lot on. Ar Lot needed to be shown that his grand theories were being accepted as fact.

"The first kind is gravitation. This kind appears when you are attracted to a person's gravitas, or status, or credentials. This explains why so many girls in all-girls schools end up liking head prefects."

Ar Lot paused as YKK nodded in agreement. So those rumours about all-girls schools were true!

"You must be careful with this kind. They probably have seen all kinds of requests from all kinds of people. My advice is to find out if you could progress to other froms of attraction.

"Which brings me to the 2nd type, electro-magnetic. This is what most boys our age experience. It explains why they call the attraction a 'spark'. It happens when you identify something in common with the girl and you are 'induced' into strengthening that commonality. Soon, a magnetic bond may form!"

YKK admired how Ar Lot ended the sentence with flourish. Somehow, though, the found the lecture someone reminiscent of a certain subject he was taking, but he buried that thought.

"The third type is the weaker attractive force. Now we're moving to mutual attraction. However, it is weak because some girls LOVE to play hard to get! Once you're here, you'll have to pull all the stops to get to the next stage!

"Speaking of stage, when you get to the stronger attractive force, they'd be like rabbid girls at a Tom Jones concert! They'd be dying to get up on stage and jive with you!"

YKK's mind was fervently processing the information, but finding it hard as he frequently got distracted by Aimee, who was flirting with his peripheral vision. He had so many questions, he had to find out more! Just as he started formulating his first train of questioning, the school bell went off, marking the end of reading period and the start of lesson proper.

YKK cursed the deus ex machina that always seemed to pepper his life. It seems like he will have to wait till the next issue of MAD magazine to have his questions answered. -Jimmy

The Interview Call-up

(You know the author is looking for a job when his blog post talks about waiting for the interview call.)

If you don't have callerID.
So you never know who's calling you and you can never return the missed call.
And you receive a call during class time.
It may or may not be that company who's interested in asking you in for an interview.
Do you leave the classroom to pick the call up?

If you decide to let them tell you about the interview over email, and you choose not to leave the classroom.
And they decide to give the interview to someone else and forget about you.
Is that God's way of telling you that He has bigger plans for you? -Jimmy

Job's Last Hour

The figure in the mud stared up at the oncoming rain. It lay in an awkward position, like a doll thrown carelessly by a girl throwing a tantrum. The right leg was twisted up, the right arm ended in a stump and its wings were torn. They shouldn't even be called wings; they had an ornamental look about them and you wouldn't believe they could provide lift for such a figure if you ever saw it.

There was blood all around the figure. A-ha. So now you know the figure is a carbon-based life-form. If you really want to know, she's a female human. And yes, it's her blood around her. Mostly her blood, anyway. She watched the rain wash down against her mask and just lay still.

An old lady walked past the figure silently, holding an umbrella to shield her from the rain, making painstaking progress with her walking stick. She'd pause to catch her breath once in a while, but she'd continue on her way, because she had to get somewhere. The old lady happened to catch her breath while she was over the figure and commented simply, "What are you doing lying there in the rain?"

The figure grunted, "I'm hurt. I can't move."
"I can't help you. I don't know first aid."
"I know, it just so happens that my right arm's gone. I won't be able to fix myself without my arm."
"Would you rather die instead?"
"Without my arm, I don't think I'd have much of a life anyway. Stop staring at me. Get lost. I want my own time."

A little girl skipped past the figure, holding up a little toy. "Would you like to know more about the latest technology?" She held the toy up gaily. The figure wanted to turn away, but she was finding it hard to do so.

"It's the newest thing called assisted mobility," the girl held up the toy.
"You wear this thing around you and you'll be able to move like a sprinter! The thing is powered by a small power source and responds to slight motions the body makes and moves the relevant portion of the frame that surrounds that body part!"
The little girl obviously doesn't realise how difficult it is for free movement: she's young and energetic and unhindered. The figure finally spoke,
"Such technology is still propriety. Only a select few people can benefit from it before the price finally drops. Only a few people can truly enjoy unhindered movement that this promises."
"By the time I grow old, it'll be mainstream! I won't limp about like my grandma with osteoporosis does!"
The figure smiled sarcastically. The girl was naive; she'd learn the ways of the world soon. The little girl skipped away with the toy.

A teenager with a book walked past. She swooned over the words and spoke randomly to the figure, "I never figured Norsk myths to be so romantic!" The figure hardly batted an eyelid. She'd continue talking about the book whether or not you want to hear it or not.
"It's so interesting how the warrior race had mythology regarding these creatures that picked the bravest warriors and accompanied them to Valhalla.
"Isn't it an empowering feeling, knowing that you get to pick those you felt fought the hardest or were the bravest? There's a balance of the genders, unlike books where only one gender was perfect."

Just as the teenager walked beyond the figure's peripheral vision, a shape appeared in the sky above her. It looked pretty bulky, although she could vaguely make out a homonid shape. It had spindly extensions from its shoulder blades, pretty much like a bat's wings without the skin stretched across the fingers. From the clouds formed under the wings, the figure knew that huge amounts of hot air were being vented out from the spindly appendages, providing the lift. The figure noticed that the shape was occupying more of her vision; it was going to land near her.

As the homonid shape busied herself near the figure, the figure noted how under the face mask was the wrinkled face of an old lady. This surprised her, since the figure had danced in the air like a nubile dancer performing a ballet. The shape touched her thigh armour, revealing a wide array of interesting looking implements.

"You're looking worse for wear." The shape's voice sounded muffled under her mask.
"Yea, I think I lost quite a bit of blood."
"Don't worry, I'm here to help you. I'm a valkyrie." The shape selected an auto-injector from her thigh pouch and twisted the dial, presumably to select the dosage quantity. Maintaining her conversation, the shape said, "I'd like to give you painkillers, but I think your heart rate might drop too low. Adrenaline will help get you up and give you enough kick to get back to the field surgeon. The clotting drugs you took before this probably saved your life."
The shape jabbed the auto-injector on the figure's neck, giving her a jolt of awareness. Around her, the sounds of explosions became apparent. The shape smiled and said, "Can you make your way back to the field surgeon?"

"I don't see any reason I'd want to preserve myself. I can't imagine living without my right arm. Do you even know what I am when I don't don this face mask? Do you even know why I agreed to don this mask? With my osteoporosis, I'm hunched over in day-to-day life. I'm growing old, when I walk, I make painstaking progress. What is my life if there's no quality to it?"

The shape stayed still kneeling beside the figure. Her lips were pursed into a straight line.

"With assisted mobility, I felt young again. Life was worth living for, even if that meant I had to be fighting a war."
"Is life really all about quality of life? I think there are other things worth living for despite being disabled. I've read stories of how amputees can be happier than multi-millionaires."
"At the crux of this issue is how happy these people are. Life has less meaning for me just because of who I am. It seems like a cosmic joke that I only truly feel alive on the battlefield."
Tears were streaming down the figure's face. The conversation wasn't going anywhere; they both knew it. Perhaps it was good that the shape beside her stirred and turned to assist other fallen soldiers on the battlefield. She did not know how to continue the conversation with the shape anyway.

The shape leapt into the air to fly towards her next casualty. She would have to find them, decide if she had the tools to administer first aid, diagnose the injury and provide either the drugs or dressing necessary. She could pull casualties great distances with her assisted mobility suit, taking them to the relative Valhalla of the field surgery. She was a Valkyrie.

A sudden bright flash lit up the figure's view of the sky. Where she last saw the shape, there was now a cloud of black smoke. She couldn't see clearly, but she knew that a cannon shell had exploded against the shape's right arm. The armour could withstand small-arms fire, but not an anti-aircraft shell. She knew how it felt falling through the air now that the wing was destroyed. The shape was probably teetering on consciousness from the shock of the explosion and from the massive haemorrage. Even as the shape dropped below her field of vision, she knew that she would land awkwardly on her right leg, driving her left side into the soft, sticky mud. She knew that the figure would lie in that awkward position for a good two hours.

She knew because the little girl, the teenager, the old lady and the Valkyrie are all the same person. From being naive and idealistic, she'd become disabled to the point of being crippled, tottering about her life finding no rhyme or reason. Assisted mobility offered a respite from this life that was proving painful to live. It was so amazing that even her seventy-year old frame moved like a young teenager's within the suit. But unlike the ideal vision her eight year old self foresaw, assisted mobility remained in the domain of the military. They gave her a new lease of life, and they're the reason she's dying in a wet, muddy, unidentified battlefield.

As the ultimate irony, the Valkyrie, the one who chooses warriors and gives them a new lease of life, loses hers in return.

I just want to die, the Valkyrie, numb from its pain, bleeding to death in the muddy field, screamed in her mind. -Jimmy