just minishorts.

I don't know, maybe I've got high expectations. I happen to expect the people whose duty is to educate younger people to be of a certain quality. Educators ought to be dignified individuals who deserve the respect people want to give–they have to know their stuff, so to speak, and be able to present their views eloquently, IDEALLY, to be able to convey their opinions in flawless English. But then again, this isn't always necessary.

And then they've got to know things beyond their expertise, at least, on a touch-and-go basis. You want your Accounts teacher to know that Leonardo Da Vinci was one of the greatest artists and thinkers of the Renaissance period, you want your Science teacher to know that Jane Austen was a famous female writer who wrote in English, you want your Mathematics teacher to realize that 'practise' and 'practice' are two different words. And then, you also want your English teacher to realize of course, that drugs don't really kill, it's drug-abuse that does the job.

To put it simply, you don't want your lecturer to be crapping you and not realizing that half the time she doesn't know what she's talking about. You want her to be AWARE of her misgivings, and her weaknesses, and you want her to be able to identify and admit that there are some topics that she is just NOT qualified to comment on, simply because she lacks general knowledge.

I don't know about you, but if I stumbled upon my economics lecturer's website, and then find out that she's talking about interesting non-economic related topics like sexual reproduction, and dangers of smoking, and the effects of second-hand smoke, I'd be delighted. And then of course I'll move on to find out what she's got to say, my lecturer mah, I wanna know what makes her tick. I would be looking for opportunities to engage in some kind of intellectual discourse with her, of course, I've always respected her for the exciting classes she gives, and that pleasant smile of hers seems to always give her a glowing aura.

And then when I find out that she comes up with something like, 'I feel very strongly that we should not ask smokers to quit smoking, it is after all their human right to do whatever they want,' I'd be very, very, disappointed. I'd be SHOCKED to know that my lecturer actually writes down that 'The essential passport to a better relationship is knowing how to have sex and practising sex.'

And then when I read more and I realize she quotes from sources like Ezyhealth & Beauty , I'd be quite aghast. You don't have to profess to lecture in a private university to KNOW that Ezyhealth isn't exactly academic material.

Honestly, I expect better of lecturers. I'm not asking them to be PERFECT, I realize that they do not have to know everything under the sun, but they've got to at least, demonstrate some kind of self-awareness, and definitely not ignorance. Teachers ought to be confident of what they know, but if they really don't know something, I feel that they've got be confident to ADMIT that they don't know their stuff, not act all holy and mighty and walk around making fun of the teaching profession, one that is SUPPOSED to be noble. And it isn't always about how some lecturers can't even string English words together to form a proper sentence. It's not about the form, it's the substance that matters.

I don't think this is too much to ask for.

Related link:
When superficial thoughts rule…

I'm not sure if most of you have caught the latest anti-dadah advertisement on TV. You know, the one that shows an addict who's got bubbles frothing out of his mouth, and then as he almost dies (I suspect the dude's dying in his epileptic fits lah) he gets flashbacks of what's happened prior to his downfall, the life he led, and the things he gave up for drugs.

It's a pretty heavy advertisement, it shows the main character's life being screwed up thoroughly from the day he gets addicted to the substance. The message is clear, 'You don't take drugs. You don't mess around with it. You shouldn't even start using it.'

And then the advertisement ends with two sentences.

Don't start!
Drug kills.

There is something very wrong with the second sentence. The copywriters for the ad should be shot. YOU DON'T MAKE SUCH AN OBVIOUS GRAMMATICALSEMANTIC ERROR ON NATIONAL TV DAMN IT. We're not talking about perfect English, of course, it's not necessary at all times, but when you're talking about an anti-drug advertisement, funded by the government I presume, you have to get the sentence correct and without any grammatical or semantic flaws. Saying 'Drug kills' and 'Drugs kill' just mean two different things.

Eric says I fit perfectly into the Category 2 of women, 'The Anything Lor… girl' according to this video (thanks Paul!).

As much as I've to admit my guilt, I am not too happy with the entirety of that opinion. Oh you know that conversation from generations ago, the one where the man very courteously asks 'What do you want to eat?'

'Anything.'
'Would you like to have Japanese?'
'Nah, I don't feel like Japanese.'
'Would you like Thai then?'
'Errr… I have an ulcer.'
'Ok, let's go to a hawker centre, you can choose from anything you want.'
'Don't want lah, I don't like the crowd.'
'Errr, then what do you want to eat?'
'Anything.'

It's overdone, it's repeated, and all the MID have told me before, 'I wish there were a restaurant called 'Anything Restaurant.'

I think both sides of the gender are to be blamed for this mind-boggling situation. It's like this, most guys can't be bothered to think about a place to have a date PRIOR to the date, and then they leave the decision making to the girl. But the girl usually hopes that the guy was romantic enough to decide on the dating place first, she wants a surprise (most girls love surprises). Unfortunately, it's a futile hope.

Then again, how come people don't ask about the other side of the coin, like, why can't guys make the decision, take you to the place, and surprise you. As far as I know, I've never heard of a girl who isn't thrilled when her man takes her to a place where he's already reserved a table, and pre-ordered the dishes. He doesn't even have to order her favourite foods, neither does he have to know that his girl HATES eating cream of celery (I had this the other day and it sucked), but it's the thought that counts. The ingenuity of actually PLANNING out a date prior to taking her out is what increases his sex appeal, rather than the usual option of picking her up, and then asking her, 'What do you want to eat?'

Repeat the conversation, but instead of 'What do you want to eat?' Just sit her in the passenger seat, and tell her, 'I'm not sure whether you're going to like this restaurant, but you tell me after the meal all right?'

My first date was fun, a long long time ago, that date where I sort of knew he was going to ask me whether I'd be interested in a serious relationship with him. That was a date where he sat me in his car, and instead of asking, 'What do you want to eat?', he told me this, 'I'm taking you to this restaurant, it's nothing classy okay?'

I so happen to like a man who can make decisions, mmkay?

At the restaurant, he asked me first, 'Do you take fish?'

I nodded, and he turned to the captain, 'Patin, steamed.'

And then he turned to me, 'Any vegetables you don't take?'

'Err… I don't like bitter gourd.'
'All right. Choy-tam okay for you?'
'Sounds good.'

And he told the captain, 'Stir-fried choytam.'

Then he asked me once more, 'Tofu?'

'Yeah sounds okay.'
'How'd you like it?'
'Urm, any way's fine by me.'

And then to the captain, 'Hot-plate tofu.'

Just like that, the order was made, quickly, and in a very sexy decisive way. I still think it was a damn sexy way of taking charge, and despite the unromantic atmosphere in that typical Chinese Tai-chow restaurant, that first date still goes down in my memory bank as one of the greatest dates of all time.

I guess after a while, the guy gets tired of taking the reins, and resort to very un-macho-like questions like, 'So what would you like to eat?'

Eh, all it takes is a rephrasing of the question, and something simple like this, 'Can I take you somewhere nice?'

Of course the catch is that you have to decide on that somewhere nice before you ask her, okay? You can HELP HER decide on what to order once you're both there. And even if the food turns out tasting horrible, fret not. Usually we females are too nice to complain about bad dinners out. The most we'll do is laugh about silly dining choices, and that date will be one to remember for life.

Sometime ago, we fell out.

That's all right, we didn't have to have similarities to be friends, neither do you need differences to be enemies. That's fine.

You keep up.
You read things like this.
You cringe.
You choke.

That's natural.

You're so vain, you think this post is about you.

The kink in disgruntled people who are unable to disentangle themselves from the hauntings that rope them down, is just that. When something bad happens (that in no way, refers to them), they think, 'Is it me?' 'What's wrong with her?', and then they brainwash themselves into the chant, 'Must be, must be, must be, no one else.'

The truth is this: it might be you, it might not be you. Because that that you've done, it's not just once and this post could have appeared in another person's blog. Another person that I might know, but more likely than not you won't know whether I know that person, more than likely it's happened before.

Then you'll die trying to scratch your innards thinking about whether it's got to do with you, why does it have to happen to you.

I like the flattery of the finger pointing, if it rocks your socks, then I say whatever makes you happy, dude, babe, honey, sweetie, then okay, this post is about you. But then I'm sorry, you're really wrong. Come, come, we should really just smile at the weekends, and then our friends don't have to cringe so much and talk up other meet up spots, just so that we can genuinely talk about things that matter, definitely not you, but bags and clothes, and stupid things people do, like think that written rants are about them.

You're that aunt-in-law, but then actually, you're a man, no you're just a tired mother, actually you're that lost child. Was it you? All right, I'll give you a clue. We shared a drink once.

But because you think, it's all about you. You think, I was am talking about you. You think, it starts from us. Because of that once.

When in truth, it never was about you.

My take: it's CNY around the corner, and spring means starting afresh, maybe not with me, but definitely with yourself.

I get asked by other writers, bloggers, journalists, how I feel about, how I handle, the hate or the criticism. If it's genuine criticism it comes in the spirit of kindness and good intention, with an obvious sentiment to help me improve or consider things in a new way. Hateful remarks or judgments like, "you're as jappy as they come," or "want to try something new for the new year, try killing yourself" come from fear or the hate they have for themselves. I know I sound like a self-help tape; I don't care. I'm not perfect, either. I judge and lash out, usually about the things I don't like within myself. I've never lashed out at another blogger, been hateful, even when provoked. Really provoked. It's not about high and mighty or some higher road. It's not. It's about taking the time to let it settle in, without reacting straight away. Then understanding what it's really all about. And for a change, it's not all about me.

From Greek Tragedy

But unfortunately, I'm not as dignified as Stephanie. Being young isn't even an excuse. I'm clumsy, I stumble, I fall, I make my mistakes, as does everyone, and honestly, I flop more than most people do… and then the self-awareness kicks in, and I realize, in places, I'm almost like her, because I reveal almost everything there is to reveal except the parts where I can't because there are things more important than the self.

I'm not even halfway near there, even now, I have to admit it, my ideals are different, I'm not anywhere qualified to say, 'It's not all about me,' but I'll get there one day I hope. Of course it's all about me, why would it be about anyone else? I cannot say I've never provoked anyone, the opposite is the fact. And even on provocations, I can be nasty, but when I've done what I've done, a few months later, I don't bind myself to the options not to let these go, change is inevitable anyway.

I've shamed myself too many times, but I've never said I'm proud of my faults. I allow myself the slips, and then instead of burying them in sand I jot them down because I want to remember the falls, and sometimes, yes, the 1% takes over me, I'm not proud of that either, unlike some people who're pretty much conceited in the belief that they're fighting for the right thing. Occasionally I know exactly what I'm talking about, but occasionally I don't, but that isn't all that bad, is it?