The Villain in My Life

"Surround yourself with only people who are going to lift you higher"

That's not what I've been doing. Lately, I found myself stuck with people who drag me lower and lower until I hit the depth of despair. People come in different shape, size and personality. I'm not naive: I don't expect to meet angels and saints all the time. However, I also didn't expect to meet so many devils.

Villain #1: YOU MAKE MY LIFE A LIVING HELL! (And this is really unfortunate considering that when I'm dead, I might not make it to heaven.) So, because of YOU I will never know what 7th heaven feels like.

It's amazing really - people don't do their jobs properly and the problems begin to snowball - oftentimes right at me. I'm sitting at my desk, minding my own business and KABOOM - the bazooka falls on my head. Of course, the people who started the snowball are nowhere to be found.

I should have signed up for a janitor position since I've been cleaning other people's shit all the time. (no offense to janitors)

Villain #2: Oh, I don't know who is worse: you or #1? Those who has power, but don't use them properly or those who have power, but abuse them absolutely. You remind me of Mr. Arafat: 'He never missed an opportunity to miss an opportunity'.

So, there you have it. The two villains of my life. In my own narcissistic world, you two would be...thump thump thump...(I'm banging my fist on the table). You get the message.

The Joker Steals the Show

Batman da da dah da da... Batman da da dah da da... The opening tune to the TV series Batman should be common to everyone who has lived in the U.S. in the past 20 years.

Out of all the superheroes, I like Batman the most. Why? Well, he IS human just like us. Superman is a Kryptonian, Spiderman is, well, an arachnia while the Hulk is...green. Second, Batman is the penultimate philanthropist.

Out of all the villains, I like Joker the best. Joker has always struck me as evil, chaotic, yet silly person. I mean, remember Jack Nicholson's rendition of the Joker? Who would be scare of that? Ok, until this new version of Batman: The Dark Knight.

The Joker (Heath Ledger) is freakingly freaky. Okay, there's the smiling face except it's a scar and not a red paint (like earlier versions). And then there's the tongue that keeps sticking out like a lizard every time he talks. Creepy...yet sadistically humorous.

Every time he is on screen you feel like covering your face with your hands like you always do in a horror movie. The laugh, the hair, the face and the tongue...and you realize, despite his name, the Joker is hardly the funniest person in the world.

At the end of the movie (and it's a long movie), the scene where the Joker is hanging upside down, laughing away with skyscrapers as backshot...is artistically creepy and beautiful. It shows the difference between our hero and the villain. Batman, his mission accomplished, is grim while the Joker, captured, is having the time of his life.

And as soon as you are out of the movie, you just want to go back in again. Hell, if only HE could scare the living shit out of you again.

On Loneliness

"When you close your doors, and make darkness within, remember never to say that you are alone, for you are not alone; nay, God is within, and your genius is within. And what need have they of light to see what you are doing?"

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Missing my friends very much...

Dreadful Sunday

** This post has nothing to do with Van Gogh -- except for the author's mental state that remotely resembles the great painter **

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It's been one of those days when making a decision on an easy topic is as taxing as solving algorithm problem. So, it's only obvious when facing with a difficult problem, trying to decide the best course to take is just mind goggling.

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On the other hand, I can absolutely say that I hate hospitals, doctors, medications -- anything that has to do with the medical system.

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I should be listening to the voices inside me, that soft whisper coming from the heart. Yeah, I should listen to that. The more I listen to it, the clearer its message will be. It will ultimately lead me towards the right direction.

The smartest thing my doctor has ever said to me.

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Saturday's evening: caught a movie called 'The Counterfeiter', which won the Oscar for best foreign film. The story is about a group of Jewish printers/artists who were forced to make counterfeit money (Pound & Dollar) in a concentration camp. Operation Bernhard it was called - after inspector Bernhard Kruger. The goal at the beginning was to flood the British market with counterfeit money causing inflation, but since the forged money was so perfect, the Nazi decided they would use the money themselves.

I like the movie overall although the movie drags on in the middle especially at the failure to replicate the dollar. This is where the movie tries to explore the ideal of one person against the lives of fellow mates. Is it the right thing to do?

Best phrase from the movie has to be when a young Jewish artist gave a picture to Sally and said 'The Academy didn't like my style of paintings. But, who cares? I like it and it is my painting'.

Well said, mate.

The Big 3 0

This past week I celebrated my 30th birthday. Nothing special – just dinners with friends. But, then again, I wasn’t expecting nor feeling anything special.

People kept asking me how does it feel to finally turn thirty years old and my answer was always ‘it feels like every other day’. No life changing events occurred to me – I didn’t wake up with any kind of epiphanies that would distinguish that day more than any other days.

Life begins at 30. Or so someone said. And you could change the number…life begins at 40, 50, etc…

Not exactly. For me, life begins as soon as you are out of college and looking for your first job. Full of zest, motivation, ideas – just full of life. Those are the time that you can try living out your dream – willing to work odd jobs to pay the bills. By the time you hit 30, that’s when you have to start contemplating about the future. Life doesn’t start at 30, adulthood does.

But, no matter. All of the above theories are wishful thinking to me now. My life was decided two years ago when I walked into a hospital and heard that fateful voice. For some unknown reason, I was thinking of one of the Guns n’ Roses songs…

old at heart, but I’m only 28, much too young to let love break my heart/ Young at heart, but it’s getting much too late, to find myself so far apart…

So that was it. Things that I could do in the past, I can’t do them anymore. Places I could go in the past, I can’t go anymore. So, life doesn’t begin at 30 – it ended two years ago. And it’s quite annoying to hear people tell me I should do all the things I wanted to do before time runs out…only to have them turn around and say that I shouldn’t do them because of my fragile health.

It’s always easier to tell others what to do or how to live – somehow, it makes us feel better about ourselves – like we have contributed something beneficial to society. Or maybe it’s a feeling of guilt…If I don’t have to see it, I don’t have to be responsible for it – therefore, I’m not guilty of it.

I don’t know…sometimes making a simple decision can become such a difficult task as if my brain was being asked to solve some complex calculus formula.

Or maybe it’s a sign of becoming too old and too tired.

I don’t know.

Vanity Fair: A Novel Without A Hero

Sigh...I tried...I really did.

I tried to finish this book, but at 800 pages, it is just too long. Not that this is the major obstacle that kept me from finishing. Oh, no...the main problem has to do with Amelia Osbourne. I knew it would be a problem when, after page 10, I just cannot stand this character. I found myself wanting to grab a snow shovel and hit myself in the head until I bleed to death.

Oh, whatever happened to Elizabeth Bennett? Amelia makes Jane Bennett looks like Lady Macbeth

My favorite character, of course, is Rebecca Sharp. Realistically, Becky would be your worst nightmare. She is shrewd, deceitful, smart and charming (in an evil kinda way), but since this is a fantasy, she is so much fun to read. (Whereas Amelia is naive, kind, generous, but at times can be whining and (oftentimes) stupid).

The novel basically follows the lives of these two characters from their marriages to being mothers -- covering reversal of fortune (Becky from poor to rich to poor and vice versa for Amelia). Obviously, there are a lot of in betweens, which I won't go into.

The novel starts out well for me. I particularly like the scene where Rebecca threw out the dictionary from the carriage when she leaves Mrs. Pinkerton's school. But, like I said before, the character of Amelia got on my nerves and I just couldn't take it anymore. This is really a shame for me because the novel is a really good satire on the aristocracy/social status in England during Waterloo and some of his writing is really witty and funny.

EXCEPT FOR ONE THING: AMELIA OSBOURNE

So, which book do I want to read next? It has been raining every single day and I'm in a gloomy mood so I will pick up a book written by the greatest story teller in the world: Boccaccio's Decameron.

This will be my second reading of this wonderful book -- this is a book about greed, proper social conduct and death. And most importantly, there is no character that remotely resembles Amelia Osbourne

Black Dogs

“Shutting it all out was how I found peace. If I’m bitter, it’s because I haven’t forgiven myself.” June, Black Dogs

Black Dogs is my first encounter with Ian McEwan's writing – and a disturbing one. First, a brief synopsis of the book. Black Dogs is a story about crumbling marriage as told by their son in law, Jeremy. Like other McEwan’s novels, the plot involves one life changing incident (in this case, it’s June’s) that transform their union into downward sprial. The novel is broken up into two major parts: June and Bernard’s.

So that’s that. Here’s my opinion: I like the novel as a whole. I really like June’s version of their union and estrangement. And I think McEwan writes some of the most beautiful and thoughtful prose, especially about how June perceived their love for each other.

“The truth is we love each other…And we failed to do a thing with it. We couldn’t make a life. We couldn’t give up the love, but we wouldn’t bend to its power.”

And of course, once you get to Bernard’s version, everything that is romantic and sentimental is shattered by his rationality. “…how people like June bend the facts to fit their ideas instead of the other way round.” And I have to confess that I didn’t particularly enjoy this section as much as earlier section. What is life if it is just about cold hard facts with no embellishment? Which leads to my first disturbance:

Which version do I believe? Obviously, being a romantic meself, I lean towards June’s. Sure, it may not be the true version, but who the heck cares? Much like the doctor in Big Fish who said “If you ask me, I would’ve preferred the fantasized version rather than the truth.”

Second disturbance: Black dogs. Do they really exist? I mean, I know June says she encountered them, but really? If we take Bernard’s words that she likes to fantasize things, can this be another event that she twisted the truth?

It’s been almost two weeks now that I’ve finished reading and still, I find myself thinking about the ending and about June’s character. Throughout the novel you are reminded of how she found God after she had met evil. But, did she? She seems to not have found peace of mind because of her emotional attachment to things. Instead, Bernard looks the more likely to find some sort of tranquility in his life. Maybe this is a reflection of truth: the more you want some things, the more elusive they become. And I’ll end with June’s opinion on this:

“Happiness is an occasional, summer-lightning thing.”