Age.

One of my pet topics again, yes, but just posting what I actually noted in the train ride back from paris the day after my birthday, and expanding a little on it. Well, quite a little, I have to admit.

It is as if once we hit adulthood, we are somehow blessed with excellent reasoning, have an infinite capacity to think rationally (hence saddled with immense responsibility), and are allowed to run free with our deluded minds aren't we? I am 23 today and still feel I am but a day older than I was 5 years ago. Granted, I have been to more parts of the world than perhaps many might dream of - and I am not being pretentious or 'elitist', if you will, in saying so - yet, I feel I have merely dissected and accumulated what I have seen, heard and experienced; it has but piled on layers upon layers of artificial guises with which to switch on(and off) in times of necessity. Looking from far, you might term this 'maturity'; at certain angles, it might seem as if these layers of textured dispositions have all but blended into my 'personality', and are thus indications of growth, literally and metaphorically (for I have gained weight, and it shows as such on my pudgy face) - have I really grasped the complexities of human interaction, though? Have I gained some insights into the meaning of life, the marvellous nature of our souls, the way this self-imposed farce of a thing we call society works?

I cannot say I have. For what I have been through thus far is just a sheltered, watered-down version of a life gone 'right'; I have absolutely no idea how Johnny feels in his 9-5 job he deems a chore, I do not know why that teenage girl wants to commit suicide, I can only imagine what it feels like to be in a different environment, only try to listen, empathise, and perhaps take off my masks - just for the moment - to feel for a fellow human being. And I have not listened enough. Try as I might, I have too often forgotten that the world is larger than myself, that we are all but tiny creatures that roam the corners of this Earth, and that everyone has a life story to tell.

And of course I haven't figured out a way to join the billionaires' club without joining the workforce.

Hmm I think I've gone off tangent, so I shall stop here. OK I have to confess I actually wrote only up till '5 years ago' in the train, and somehow squeezed out some cheem-looking words from the nether regions of my brain. Well technically not the nether regions, it's more like the back (and front coordinating as well), but we shall not delve into neuroscience now shall we? ;)

I guess what I was trying to say is that I don't believe adults necessarily make better decisions than hot-headed testosterone-fuelled teenagers (and not just in the realm of relationships), I guess we just learn to accept what is fashionable in our societies at certain moments in time, and act accordingly, don't we? Oh and we learn to crave for new toys, big and small. But definitely more expensive.

(I could go on to rant about commercialism, but again, I shall refrain myself from doing so.)

So yeah. What defines an adult? Is it merely age? Are we losing our way, and becoming over-aged kids with cash to spare? Can we justify the crap we dispense to those junior to us? So many questions, yet left unanswered, with nearly a quarter of my life gone already.

CCleaner

I've downloaded a program recently that I've found quite useful, and which I think would be quite useful to lazy people who can't be bothered to clear their cache regularly (*hint hint*). Basically it does that, and resolves some differences between windows and the assorted programs you've installed forcefully on your computer, so it starts up faster. It's worked for me, my laptop starts up in like less than half the time it used to take (really!) and so I've included a link which you can find on the right side of my blog. Sorry it's only for windows though ;p

CD shops.

I somehow recall that I used to find solace in browsing for CDs in CD shops around town, especially those that had like headphones for listening to CDs privately. I would find pleasure in just walking into any one, really, that had like random soft music playing and rows upon rows of neatly-catalogued CDs waiting to be discovered, explored, a whole universe to be traversed. Maybe it's because I've been buying my CDs online (they're so much cheaper here than shops in the city centre like HMV), or maybe I just haven't been going to the city centre, now that I seem so much further away. Or that it's just different, the record stores here seem to play mostly pop songs masquerading as emotive meaningful rock music with a god-fearing soul.
I guess it's only one of the multitude of reasons why I'm missing home.

Benches.

As you might or might not know, I was staying at Mark's place in Stanford for most of the days I was in the US. And as you might guess, Stanford is a bloody very rich and huge university, where palm trees are aplenty and BMWs are commonplace, amongst other interesting sights. Now amidst this chaos of decadence, there are numerous benches nestled amongst the multitudinous rows of neatly-pruned trees (of assorted shapes and sizes) and bushes. Now these benches are not the ordinary ones you see in Bishan park or the like, but appear to be magnificent works of art spread throughout the campus, with their interesting (for lack of a better word) and varied designs. (Yes Mark go take a closer look at them.)

OK basically I attended a walking tour of the campus when I was there, and as you had to take this free shuttle bus to the train station, that goes around the immensely magnificent campus before going past this huge shopping centre on land that is owned by the university and then finally the station, I watched quite a few trees go by, and of course, underneath them, conveniently, aforementioned benches.

So yah, I was looking at all these beautiful benches, and some neurons started firing off randomly (as usual) in my little brain. I thought to myself, how thoughtful they are! To provide these places where you can laze in during hot summer months, congregate and play hide-and-seek (or peek-a-boo), or maybe enjoy a delicate little romantic moment before the bus roars by yet again and splatters some dirt on you!

And I thought about the imagery associated with benches, the emotions that can be conjured by a simple image of an empty bench, or of a lone elderly man, sat hunch-backed, and gripping his walking stick, gazing into the horizon.

And I was truly impressed with Stanford.


Incidentally, I've discovered I quite like taking pictures of benches. Here's one I took in Sydney last year, Mei you'll recognise it.

The Pursuit of Happyness.

Somehow got reminded of this movie I watched on the plane. If any of you have watched it, you might have wondered how Will Smith got to enter the Bay Area Transit (MRT-like thingy) stations so frequently throughout the film. In one particular scene, he inserts just 10 cents into a ticketing machine, and manages to enter the station with that ticket. Now I hadn't tried it myself, but it seems quite possible, as they do have some 'topping-up' machine inside the gates for you to use if you don't have sufficient value in your ticket when you try to get out of a particular station. The toilets in the stations, however, were closed when I was in SF, they mentioned sth abt 'criminal acts', or sth like that. Which is particularly inconvenient when you need to use the washroom urgently. Like that poor dude who probably wanted to use the toilet when Will Smith occupied it in that scene.

Yeah just some random thoughts from the movie that's stuck in my head.

Back.

I am back from my holiday in the US, and have come back with appropriate bribes for various people (mei that includes you lah ;p). I have also realised certain truths, collated new experiences, re-ignited old flames (lol) and enjoyed myself, basically.

Will elaborate more, of course, in due time.