1. 10:59 16th Apr 2014

    Notes: 99146

    Reblogged from mdphoon

    chandra75:

    George Takei,

    You rule. 

    He does. Witty, funny, good-natured… Takei is hilarious. No arguments there.

    …except…

    Except that rational arguments do not change minds. It’s that simple; you can state your case and prove your point as eloquently and perfectly as you like; opinions and viewpoints aren’t going to change strongly-held beliefs or opinions. Only in the rare instances where the person is on the fence, or wobbling, or you catch them right when they’re vulnerable do you manage to get your words into their heads. Otherwise, you’re preaching to the choir.

    Just like ‘the other side’.

     
  2. 22:58 13th Apr 2014

    Notes: 1

    This Shit Might Actually Happen**

    A good night*. Henna glanced at a turn of her wrist; 7.57. For a full house, it was surprisingly early. There were a few seats left, but any more walk-ins would have to try the bar stools near the back of the house or stand in the back. From downstairs came the sound of a hoot and the ragged strains of an Irish Drinking Song. A good night.

                “Hello!” Henna beamed. The slightly lost girl returned a nervous smile and adjusted her overlarge spectacles. She muttered something about being here to catch Garen — “Just in time, we’re starting soon, we’ve saved you a seat near the front!” — and bustled off, lost slightly in her own world. Henna took a moment to admire the girl’s long, glossy hair before she disappeared into the throng.

                “Oh no, wait!” But it was too late, the girl was lost in the bustle and hustle of the crowded, rowdy room Henna frowned; didn’t Garen reserve two tickets? Was she bringing a friend? Thumping footsteps suggested that the performers were coming upstairs, then suddenly —

                “Holy Cow! Janice, what are you doing here?” Garen’s exclamation thundered up the stairs. The remaining performers shuttled past, ‘Variations on an Amused Smirk’ playing across their faces. Henna wished them luck as they passed her at the door, with a slightly panicky Garen bringing up the rear with an unfamiliar girl, her long hair in a complicated braid. Hmm. Were long hairstyles back in fashion?

                “Hi, uh, Henna, yes, this is my, um, this is Janice, hello. She’s a walk in, she doesn’t have a ticket.” Garen’s eyes widened urgently and his lips mouthed shapes. The penny dropped and something clinked. Janice handed over money, Henna stamped a mark, and Garen gestured vaguely towards the empty seats. “Yeah, she, uh, decided to surprise**** me at my show. I’m really surprised, wow. Okay. Um.”

                “Oh, um, no, those are for the online bookings.” Tim was gesturing frantically from the stage. “Garen, why don’t you get onstage, come with me, Janice, this way please.” Expertly, Henna guided Janice to the other side of whoever else Garen invited. This was a strange, unusual turn. The show kicked off, Henna returned to guard the door, before suddenly –

                 “Hello, I’m Mindy!” Henna’s jaw dropped. No way. Mindy was gorgeous in the way a girl could be gorgeous to men, but absolutely repellent and unattractive to women. Low-cut top, short skirt that didn’t fit, skin flashing everywhere except for her face, caked with make-up, breathy voice and vacant look…Setting aside the politically inexpedient question of what she saw in Garen was the larger and looming question of what in the world Garen saw in her. Shallow was the least offensive word she could summon up*****.

                Before she could react, though, a pair of hands gently shifted Mindy out of the way, revealing a pleasant-looking girl with long dark hair. She smiled and dug in her purse for a card, which she presented to Henna. “Hey there. Garen gave me this, he said he saved me a ticket? Mindy’s along for company, she came along at the last moment as a walk-in.” The card turned out to be a namecard from the company, scrawled with Garen’s florid flourishes:

    Dear Henna, please let Wanda in. Cheers, G.

                Henna had no choice but to lead her over to where G’s previous guest was, doing her best to catch Garen’s eye, onstage. He winked, then blanched immediately as he noticed Janice joining Wanda, Mindy and spectacles at the same table. Well, at least Garen had some standards (sniffed Henna). Long hair, eh?

                Oh boy. Intermission was going to be fun…

    SCENE!


    *Based off true stories***. Henna, for example, is a girl’s name that resembles a shade of brown often used to describe trees and nuts, cough cough. Tim is a rhyme for a less common name (which experiences immense popularity in North Korea, cough).

    ** Holy shit this is actually happening. #fuck

    *** I just want to ask why so many people on Tinder chat me up by asking if I sing, act, and dance. As a matter of fact yes, I am trying to round off my triple threat, but suddenly the Reindeer Ears, Red Corduroy Trousers and Crimson Suspenders seem to detract from my personality, rather than expand it. I have become objectified by my accoutrements, and I must ask why.

    ****True story, though not mine.

    *****Well, I am on Tinder…

     
  3. How to **** up a date like nobody can.

    1. Meet hot girl on Tinder.

    2. Invite her for coffee. Budget about an hour and a bit. Have her be late for half the time, and warble about Marxism for the remaining half-hour.

    After that, spot her some hours later with some other dude wandering around.

    3. Invite her, on a whim, to watch a friend do his stand-up comedy shtick. 7-9pm, Tuesday night in a random bar with 1-star reviews online: probably should have set off warning signs.

    6.52, the only two people in the bar are you and the bartender, definite warning signs. Decide to save her from awkwardly empty, silent bar and disinterested comedians by bringing her to improv night with some stand-up comedians. Change locations from random-1-star-bar to regular, well-established bar.

    Arrive at bar. It begins to drizzle. Bar is booked for private event. Improv is moved to basement of corporate building. Text her and change locations again.

    Have her come in to watch and play improv games. Comics do two hours plus of scat, crude sex, mild misogyny and really crappy improv. Later, comics invite themselves to dinner with you and date, and chatter away happily with her about everything but keep rubbing in how they’re crashing “your first date!”.

    4. Have her wonder aloud why you haven’t tried to sleep with her yet.

    5. And that, kids, is how I became an alcoholic.

     
  4. 00:59

    Notes: 267101

    Reblogged from mdphoon

    mdphoon:

    k-lionheart:

    themaidenofthetree:

    I want you to imagine a ten year old version of yourself sitting right there on this couch. Now this is the little girl who first believed that she was fat, and ugly, and an embarrassment.

    This is groundbreaking

    Always tell yourself that you’re fine. That you’re perfect.

     
  5. Library Run

    I love borrowing books.

    I used to love reading books, but since I discovered my library card, I’ve also discovered I love borrowing books more than reading them. Each book, each cover, each blurb seems to beckon and call with a whole new world of new experiences, discovery, and interesting promises, images that fade away once I start reading the lines and flipping the pages.

    I borrowed another bag-load today, so — I am excited! I never go home feeling like the bag contains any boring books at all, but end up reading barely half of them. If anyone’s going through my library records NSA style, they might be impressed by the voracity with which I read and the diversity.

    The eclectic selection is truthful; the book-completion rate is paltry.

    At any; here are the books I have borrowed this week.

    1: Death: A Survival Guide; 100 Ways We Die, and How To Avoid Them

    It runs from Aids to Z. Macabre, perhaps, but I thought to indulge the hypochondriac in me.

    2: PERV: The Sexual Deviant in All of Us

    I read Jesse Bering’s Scientific American column Bering In Mind for some years, while it was still in print. He writes about sex, paraphilias and kinks and all that. Part of it the reason I read the column was to accumulate excellent stories.

    An example of his stories: he began an article recounting how a young child gained an all-encompassing fetish for rubber when (so the adult wrote, many years later in a confessional note) his he saw his mother’s rubber bathing suit. Another tells of a girl who was spanked after being caught masturbating, and subsequently enjoyed, um, a bit of rough horseplay.

    Come on, like you wouldn’t want to tell that story.

    3: Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex

    I read Mary Roach’s Packing for Mars and quite enjoyed it. She’s not a superlative comedian, but she weaves snark and jokes into the text effortlessly. Of her work, of course, this is the most interesting.

    4: The Theory of Poker

    Victoria Coren could do it, why not? Interesting to dissect theories about game. Speaking of…

    5: The Art of Game Design: A Book of Lenses

    6: Chris Crawford on Interactive Storytelling

    After all, this is what I do.

    7: For Today I Am A Boy

    Very…very strange. It has an excellently designed cover. It’s about a boy with three sisters, Asian in America, and how he feels like he wants to be a girl. It’s written by a Chinese girl, a Masters’ in Fine Arts in a family of Scientists & Engineers.

    I can identify with otherworldliness.

    8: The Little Oxford Dictionary of Quotations.

    Popcorn for the eyes, comfort food for the text-processing part of my brain. Something light before bed. Always good.

     
  6. Ode to a Tech Firm: The Ballad of Jobb Hunter

    with apologies to A.G.B.W. & Ms. Aguilera

    Say something I’m giving up on you
    I’ll do that job if you want me to
    Anywhere I would’ve commuted to
    Say something I’m giving up on you

    And my CV is so smallMy degree’s too general
    I know nothing at allllllll

    And won’t you just callI’ll do anything you ask
    Even leopard crawwwwwwwwl

    Say something I’m giving up on youAll I want is to work for you
    Anywhere I would’ve commuted to
    Say something I’m giving up on you

    And I will swallow my pride
    You’re the job that I wantYou asked me to apply

    Say something…

     
  7. Come on baby light my Tinder

    This is strange, because people I know read this, and there is some stigma, but oh well.

    A friend put me on to Tinder lately. I dunno why, he’s a thirty-something stand-up comedian with time and money to kill, and I’m just an overgrown kid wandering about trying to find something I like (Any Dream Will Do). Still, it has been some time, since; and I’m not doing anything else…

    I learnt a couple of things about myself, and a couple of things about Tinder, and I’m going to talk about a few of these.

    I want to hang out with more people. I guess this is something all the ‘adults’ have to deal with; they always talk about how hard it is to find a passion or meet new people. I’ve always been pleased with a small social circle, but even that has dwindled away to a deflated crescent. I have a lot of interests, and I do hang out in big groups, but it’s not fulfilling; I meet lots of new acquaintances, very few new friends.

    Or perhaps I need to learn how to cultivate friendships, after seeding them.

    I am shallow. Okay, this isn’t really a surprise, nor is :

    I need to take more photos of myself. I don’t think my life is entirely uninteresting, but there aren’t so many great photo opportunities. I enjoyed myself thoroughly running the Improv 101 Workshop this afternoon, and — hard-earned, of course — everybody fell in love with me. And that felt great, but (1.) no photos, and (2.) the photo would show me in a purple shirt, in strange poses with strange expressions. The photo wouldn’t capture all my incandescent wit and easy charm.

    /humblebrag. Seriously, though,

    A photo is not enough story. So much for a thousand words.

    It’s Secondary School O’Levels Oral Examinations again: look at the pictures, and tell me a story about what is going on. I try, sometimes.She’s got all selfies and nobody else in her pictures; what does that mean? All these photos are clearly professional photoshoots, what does that mean? She’s always in a club, I think I know what that means.

    Trying to figure out whether she’ll take my money / when I’m in need / yeah she’s a triflin’ / friend indeed, is she an ASSPEEGEE or perhaps a weirdo, etc… Sometimes I just wanna know more.

    Which, I guess, is what the date is for. I don’t know, it feels like I grew up with a messed up idea of dating. I thought you asked out people you vaguely knew, thought were nice, and suspect to be into you; not just pally about with strangers and date to figure out who the hell they are.

    My notes about TINDER, in contrast, relatively shot:

    Everyone is using it. I worried somewhat when my age was 35; I worried a lot more when I saw some nineteen-year old. Apparently the default setting is 18-55, so, strange danger creeper deeper.

    Friend of a friend. I kind of worry a little about the mutual-friends feature; mostly, though, it helps me triangulate ‘em and figure out who they are or how I might six-degrees them.

    Ang Mohs aplenty. Despite the Facebook linkage and all that, about half the entries aren’t Singaporean? Or perhaps it’s just where I live.

    Skin Deep is enough, whaddya want, a beautiful liver? Tinder is something that, once the spark is struck, helps build it into a fire. Maybe the spark of shallow face-looking is enough. It’s a common point — you enjoy each other’s (carefully cropped, tastefully curated and selected, artfully chosen) face, that’s a free thirty minutes over coffee to figure out if there’s anything else to light.

     
  8. 15:31 17th Mar 2014

    Notes: 10059

    Reblogged from mdphoon

    image: Download

    my favourite kind of thigh gap

    my favourite kind of thigh gap

    (Source: meme-meme)

     
  9. 17:20 3rd Feb 2014

    Notes: 2027

    Reblogged from fuckyeahemmawatson

    
"Believe in yourself, and go for it" - Emma Watson

She has been gorgeous lately (cf. Wonderland covers).

    "Believe in yourself, and go for it" - Emma Watson

    She has been gorgeous lately (cf. Wonderland covers).

     
  10. 11:50 18th Dec 2013

    Notes: 2

    Awkwardness @ Destination Ink

    I feel like I should blog a little bit about what I do.

    On Monday, at Destination Ink, a minor Poetry/Creativity/The Arts™ event, a boy read out a disgusting, creepy, overly-attached poem about his ex, who was in the audience, and stood up, and they had a huge mudslinging argument.

    No, (surprise!) the boy wasn’t me. All I did was teach the boy and the girl how to act.

    In what will possibly get me jailed, I worked on a prank/performance piece with the boy and the girl (brilliant actors), an Australian (the scriptwriter/inceptor). I coached them through their lines, tightened the script, and made sure they came off sad/weird/angry/loud/emotional enough. And ground them to bits over tiny details.

    It’s strange what people praise, what people notice from the performance. It’s the stuff offstage, the little details that really push people over the edge into gushing. And of course we can’t run that little “show” again since the boy+girl achieved immediate notoriety.

    What I learned was how to work with people a little better, the importance of logistics, and most importantly, how to plan.