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Mia: Don't you hate that?
Vincent: What?
Mia: Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable?
Vincent: I don't know. That's a good question.
Mia: That's when you know you've found somebody special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence.

-From the movie, Pulp Fiction

Observe closely the daily interactions in your life, and you will find that there is more than a grain of truth in the above.



Lecture, tutorial, lecture, tutorial, lecture, tutorial...

Other that those, I still have to juggle a problematic soccer CCA, commitments to friends and family, and my personal space. The seemingly interminable currents of work are threatening to burn the nebulous wires within my brain. I don't strive to be the best of the best, but I do expect a certain standard from myself. Reaching these expectations are going to be a true test of my mettle, I know. My father said so too. After the 'A' Levels, it will be less stressful (excluding the NS). Hence, I will bear with the hardship and trudge on tenaciously.

Life's hard, but my cock's harder, and that's all I need to weather the ordeals I'm going to face.











With considerable effort, the evanescent memory surfaces from an ocean of thoughts. It was during the embryonic stage of my secondary school life. Being ever so averse to change, adapting to an entirely different environment was, it seemed to me at that time, an onerous odyssey. I was still reminiscing about the colourful life in my alma mater and hadn' t really accepted the absence of the opposite gender. Of course, there were the execrable she-males that have become the hallmarks of elite institutions. That was another minus point. Therefore, I found my peevish and mischievous temperament not inexcusable.

And so, a particular boy happened to be on the receiving end of my devilish side. As many of my cronies can attest to, my skills of annoyance and condescension are top drawer. They weren' t something I would be proud of exactly, but it has become a unique personality trait that many of my cronies feel ambivalent about. To go into the nitty-gritties of how I tormented him would muddy the gentlemanly disguise I have fought tooth and nail to preserve all these years. So, I would not encumber the readers with the unnecessary information.

Parody of parodies, as time dissolved, a frienship was forged. A paradox - in which foes turned into friends. How it had developed was unclear to me, but the camaraderie and brotherliness were unmistakable.

Then, time did its vanishing act, and a little less than four years fleeted by. It would be absolutely apposite to quip "Time flies" at that very moment. Whether the bond withstood the test of time, it was hard to figure out. There were too many variables. In fact, the only invariable was variation. "Time would tell," they say. It wouldn't on this occasion.

He had his issues, his troubles, and his vexations. We understood that he was probably slightly different, and he was grappling with his vertiginous life. That wasn't his fault. The previous generation should be shouldering the blame and make amends accordingly. Not him. That was why we tolerated his foibles. Nobody is perfect. We could accept that. However, he wanted to be perfect. For so long, he felt like a mote -- aimless and insignificant. Each minute movement of his is dictated by the gusts and draughts. He had no control over his unenviable life. "This has to stop," he told himself.


He wanted change. He resented the staus quo. Therefore, he began to formulate his own perfectionist philosophy. He set himself unattainable goals and endeavoured towards them. He tried to put on a brave front, and even acted egocentric. Deep down inside, he was quietly wallowing in self-pity for his inadequacies. At that juncture, there was no question he was inching towards the cliff of insanity.


Insanity works like gravity -- all you need is a push. And the push did come eventually, unfortunately. Attending a series of workshops, which purports to elevate your self-esteem, was the perfect recipe for disaster. By the time we realized it, it was too little too late. He had already gone up and over the edge. There was no turning back. Only a bottomless pit looming ahead of him.

As he sinks further into the pit, we stand hunched over on top, extending our helping hand. But, he chooses to ignore it because he is too ashamed to accept our aid, maybe? Or he could be blind to our hospice for it is pitch black inside? We don't know.

Presently, if I were to meet him, I wouldn't know how to react. He is like a stranger to me. Not someone I can understand truly and deeply. It is ironic how human beings are subjected to the caprice of Fate. We start off as strangers, and we end as strangers.

Then, I came to a rude awakening. We cannot expect each and every relationship to be long-lasting, much less eternal. He has let us go, why not we reciprocate? Maybe we should live and let live. He will be asphyxiating if we hold on to him.

Maybe we should forgive and forget, as the saying goes. Not that he needs to beg for any forgiveness. He has done no wrong.

Maybe? Not anymore. Surely, we should.








I was struck with a malady. I am not aware of the ubiquity of this disease. It is neither incurable nor excruciating. Nonetheless, I would prefer to live without it. The disease I was afflicted with was paedophobia.

I was seriously concerned with this particular affliction because it seemed like I was the only one to be bothered by paedophobia. I made up this disease. Whether it exists or not, I do not know. Since I made it up, I should be able to tell you what it is.

Paedophobia, as its name suggests, is the fear of children. In my case, it was very mild. I would neither go berserk nor shun them when I met children. However, I had a proclivity to avoid contact with children. The rationale was unclear even to myself. I did not know if I was afraid of hurting them or I just lacked the love for children. Whenever I saw people cajoling children so effortlessly and yet I could not do it, I always tell myself it was because they had taken care of a child before. Of course, it was a poor excuse.


Initially, I thought nothing of it. It was no big deal to me. However, as time went by, I became increasingly bothered by it. Get-togethers with relatives were quite frequent and usually toddlers and small children would be around. Being introverted by nature (and this is substantiated by the DISC Test and Myer-Briggs Test), I naturally feel awkward in such occasions. Furthermore, I could not horse around with children due to my ailment. Therefore, I was somewhat like the proverbial sore thumb. And as more time went by, people began to ask questions. 'Why am I so quiet?' or 'Why do I talk so little?', they would ask. This was an especially pressing issue as my sister was an absolute contrast to me. She was helpful, gregarious and most of all, good with kids. This was despite the fact that she had never taken care of children before. I knew everyone perceived me as some kind of weirdo. That feeling was dreadful and yet I felt I could do nothing about it. Probably, I was being apathetic.


All these changed on a fateful trip to Malaysia last December. I did not know why but I always either learned an important lesson or was touched by a poignant moment whenever I visited in Malaysia.

I went there, as usual, to visit my Malaysian relatives, primely my grandmother who was getting on in years. This time I went to Taiping, Sepatang, which was a quaint coastal village. From what I know, the place was the main exporter of charcoal and cockles in Malaysia. The pace of life at Sepatang was very slow. The village did not have high-tech entertainment like we had in the cities. Computers, handphones, gaming consoles were a rarity.

During the stay, my Second Aunt had arranged my mother and I to reside in her abode. When I stepped into her house, lo and behold, there were two children, who were both my nephew and niece. I felt the sky crashing down on me. I had no qualms living in a slightly backward village. However, throw in two children and it became mission impossible. As I had said earlier, there was nothing much to do bar watching the television. Consequently, clowning with the kids became the main preoccupation. As my mother could not be around me all the time, I was left defenceless against the menacing tykes.

At my wit's end, I decided to grasp the nettle. I was not going to run away from the problem. Instead, I was going to face it head on. I plucked up courage and opened up. A path of uncertainty laid ahead of me but I remained undaunted. Fight, I would, 'til the very end.

I was apprehensive but did not want to appear incompetent in front of my relatives. Moreover, my nephew was like a soft toy in flesh. His reactions were totally unpredictable, which were both good and bad because he brought so much amusement to me; on the other hand, he was difficult to look after.

After seven days of 'rigorous' training, I came out of Malaysia a new man. It was a deeply rewarding expereince for me. I strided across Woodlands Checkpoint and was greeted with a refreshing breeze . I felt a new lease of life breathed into me as the breeze coursed through my nostrils and enriched my lungs with that oh-so-good oxygen. I stood rooted and closed my eyes for a second to fully comprehend this momentous freedom. I could now receive children with arms wide open.

I was cured.



Quite some time ago, I watched a documentary entitled 'The History of Joke'. It was basically a documentary on how humour has evolved since the dawn of civilisation. From the jesters of medieval ages to the stand-up comedians we have today, the art of comedy has come quite a long way indeed.

Despite the ways humour has morphed and transformed, the one end in mind is almost always invariable. Its aim is to make you laugh. Laughter, however, is only the reaction. To put it in another way, laughter is a manifestation of an emotion. Happiness or euphoria happens to be this emotion. Your id builds up happiness through responding to a series of scenarios that stimulate the brain's emotive section. When happiness reaches its climax, it is released as laughter. Of course, laughter in true effect does not work so methodically. It is very spontaneous and instantaneous. As such, you do not notice the processes that trigger laughter.


Putting the neuroscience aside, laughter, as we know it, is something pleasurable. As a result, we are inclined towards the experience of humour. As paraphrased from 'The History of Joke', laughter is something you express when you are unable to put into words the feelings you feel. Very much like crying. When the sadness becomes unbearable or indescribable, you tear.


Going into the technicalities of laughter itself seem highly unreliable for I personally am bereft of the necessary expertise. What I am looking to discuss is humour. Probing into the cause rather than the effect.

Having said all that, I must clarify that humour is decidedly subjective. As an inexperienced being on Earth, I dare not exclaim what is considered humour definitively.


So let us begin.


First and foremost, what is funny depends very much on the circumstance and the atmosphere. That is why people do not crack up during a funeral because that means disrespect. Even if some dullard springs out and ejaculates 'I'm Indian and I'm gay!', you are supposed to stifle your laughter. Hang on. No. That thought should not even cross your mind. You may be thinking, 'Who the hell knows?' But, it is the thought that counts, if you know what I mean. I am being exaggerated over here, but you and I know that once in a blue moon some freak accident is going to happen and tickle your funny bone at the most inopportune moment. Then you have to bite the bullet and start hacking at your own neck to prevent your vocal chords from producing nary a snigger. Jigsaw fashion.

Hence, as a matter of fact, laughter has become a sort of moral volition instead of an instinctive behaviour. Maybe 'moral volition' sounds a tad too severe. However, one cannot deny that humour has metastasised into a complex issue. It is no longer a matter of 'funny' or 'boring'. There are too many considerations and consequneces at stake. I say these possibly because I have not worked in the society and thus, I may not comprehend the profound impact of social etiquette and behaviour yet.

Regardless of those, I believe that people still lack a 'primitive' side, so to speak. They are too uptight. They are constantly in distress, worrying over how they appear to others or whether they are offending someone. They cannot allow themselves to just let out a burst of laughter, right from the heart and soul. They become devoid of joy. They laugh because they want to conform. They laugh because it is a form of geniality. They laugh because it is right. They laugh because it is wrong. They laugh because they do not know if it is right or wrong. Actually, there is no right or wrong. It is not a sin to laugh. Just laugh. The only condition is to laugh genuinely. Laugh heartily. No longer is there a need to laugh at a joke to reward a person for his effort. If it is not funny, do not laugh. If you have the guts, tell him so. Stop laughing at anything and everything, unless you really mean it.

This is not about socialising. If you think so, you already missed the point. This is about being you. Stop sporting a mask like everyone else. Make yourself detest the peals of faux laughter. Only then will you nurture authentic interaction and communication.

And do not worry about laughing at someone's misfortune or plight. When you are able to laugh genuinely, you will not commit such evils. That is because you have shed the facade. You display extraodinary gumption in being willing to unfurl yourself. That, in itself, is meritorious. By filling your laughter with heart and veracity, you have attained that intimacy with your true self. Therefore, how will one, who envelopes the purity of the soul, bow down to such rotten behaviour?

Alas, I sincerely exhort you to laugh by your own free will. Curb the epidemic of faux laughter before it is too late. There is a dearth of mirth right now. Do not let it turn into the death of mirth.