Weblog
Friday, July 25, 2008
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He’d make a crappy superhero
Someone’s voicemail:
Hi, I can’t come to the Bat Phone right now because I’m too busy saving Gotham City from the Joker!
My office probably spent the entire afternoon calling this dude just to hear his voicemail. When he finally picked up, no one could say “Bruce, is that you?!” or something retarded like that with a straight face. We had to hang up on him.
Now we know that Batman’s real identity is some IT chump in New York. What a disappointment.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
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I want to be his muse
If I could obtain immortality without living forever, I would achieve it by becoming a piece of art. I’m not talking about a stick figure doodled on a notebook paper, but it doesn’t have to be a painting or even anything that bears the likeness of me either. Whatever I inspire, it has to be his magnum opus, the work that defines his life. It has to be something that he pours all his talent and passion into. Whatever form it takes, I want it to tell our story or contain a hidden message only decipherable by me. And of course, I have to like the work as well.
I want to be who
- Harriet Smithson was to Hector Berlioz (Symphonie Fantastique)
- Mumtaz Mahal was to Emperor Shah Jahan (Taj Mahal)
- Amytis of Media was to Nebuchadnezzar (Hanging Gardens of Babylon)
- Clara Schulman was to Robert Schulman (All his work)
- Rose was to Jack in Titanic (That naked picture)
I once declared that I would marry the man who writes me a symphony. I'm really nothing but a hopeless romantic deep down.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
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I am an epic failure in geography
My friends and I had a little geography game during lunch today. We had 10 minutes to locate as many U.S. states as possible on a blank map.
This exercise has taught me that:
- The entire Midwest region does not exist in my mental map.
- Small states on the East coast also do not exist.
- I cannot spell the states correctly. Not that I can spell anything correctly on a normal basis anyway.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
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PDA
Jigg and I have collaborated to write about PDA. Please read his perspective here.
Once upon a time, my boyfriend of one week visited me on my college campus. As I greeted him with a hug, he picked me up and twirled me around in such a way that you could almost picture it in slow motion with some orchestral soundtrack in the background.
Everyone stared; he was probably the only one who thought acting out sappy movie scenes in real life was normal.
I have not been on the giving or receiving end of any PDA for some time, a fact that may unfairly skew my perception of it. Nevertheless, I still think some form of PDA is necessary, such as holding hands and a quick kiss on the cheek. These acts make a girl feel special because I'd want the guy to show he singled me out to be his girlfriend.
But from a spectator's point of view, anything beyond that is disgustingly unnecessary. I have girlfriends who turn into fawning idiots around their boyfriends. They talk in a high pitch baby voice, refer to their significant others by all sorts of dessert arrangements, whine about a paper-cut, and act totally helpless to be "cute". Many women don't realize how uncomfortable PDA is for their audience until they witness someone else doing it. I know I didn't.
Monday, July 07, 2008
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Why are you single?
I hate that question. Or any variations thereof. Such as “why are you still single?” Especially from those overly affectionate and inseparable couples who love to flaunt their PDA.
When I give a stock response, such as “I’m not ready to settle because I’m still looking for the right person” with a forced smile, the girl (and it’s always the girl) gives me the sympathy speech about how there is someone out there for everyone. She then goes into an unnecessarily detailed account of how she met her boyfriend, how they overcame so many obstacles, how she forgave him for cheating on her for 23940832 times (ok fine, slight exaggeration), etc. But nothing matters because they’re meant for each other in the end.
Gag.
Jealous much? Maybe. It’s almost as annoying as my family going into a tirade about me finding only divorced men with children the longer I wait. There is something about deformed babies in the conversation as well.
Honestly, it’s not like I want to be single. But unlike most people, I know why I still am: I have too much baggage that I’m not willing to dump. Maybe that’s why I hate it when people ask me that question – I hate admitting that the problem is mostly from my end.
